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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 9 months

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I DREAM, NOW, OF A NORMAL LIFE WITH YOU ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; suguru isn’t a lightweight. this is your first time actually seeing him drunk — though maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’d be the sappy kind.

word count; 9.4k (..... i got carried away ok)

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader (shoko calls u "girl" but in a "girl help" way not a gendered way), written w a no curses au in mind, sugu is a sappy emotional drunk i said what i said, sickening amounts of fluff, depictions of intoxication, reader is averse to alcohol, sugu wants to marry u so bad it makes him look silly, lots of emotions & lots of love <33

a/n; this fic has been ROTTING in my drafts for the longest time but its super precious to me and now i finally get to post it!! @softgirlgonehaywire & @hayakawalove ily ty for being interested in sappy!sugu this is a treat for u <33

the bar isn’t all that far off from your apartment.

it’s a short distance, really. walk straight ahead, until you reach the record store that suguru likes to frequent, and then take a right; a minute or two uphill, and then you’ll be able to see the blue of the sea. once you’re there, all that’s left is to look for mellow golden lighting and descend a set of stairs.

which is what you’re currently doing, popsicle in hand, loose clothes and comfortable shoes on as you wallow in the mellow summer evening. everything is blue — the dark shade of the sky, and your ice pop, pastel and sweet, tasting of pure youth. the hoodie you threw on is a rich cobalt, suguru’s in name but yours in spirit. he only wears it when you complain that it doesn’t smell like him anymore.

humming a jolly tune, you take a sharp turn, allowing the summer sensations to curl around your subconscious. blissed out and content.

you were so, so bored — stuck at home with no one to keep you company, no one to mumble snarky commentary about the show playing on tv, no one to run their fingers through your hair while your head rests in their lap. pure torture, really, being faced with the consequences of your own actions. after you stupidly told suguru you’d be okay on your own.

he even asked you twice, just to be sure, even told you that he’d prefer you to join him on his night out. and again, you declined; because it’s been so long since he had some time alone with shoko and satoru, and you were feeling a little tired anyways.

so he gave in. heading out, with a promise to bring back a tub of your favorite ice cream, leaving you with the apartment to yourself. did you come to regret your little white lie? maybe. possibly.

but everything worked out in the end.

a pleasant breeze caresses your skin, brushing against the apple of your cheek, and you watch as peach blossoms dance in a faraway park. cicadas cling to every tree in sight, buzzing a pleasant tune, mingling with the giddy giggles of high school students enjoying their summer vacation. it’s been raining for a couple of days; you can still smell it in the air, feel it in the low tinge of humidity clinging to your skin, still hear suguru’s insistence that you bring an umbrella with you to work — just in case.

but today, the skies were clear, and it’s late, not too humid but not too chilly. and the stars are out, glimmering in that fuzzy sea of mellow cerulean, leaking out like little marbles cast into space. falling down, down, down, close enough for you to see. from here, it looks as if they’re waving. you resist the urge to wave back.

peace. bliss. a nostalgia so vibrant you could drown in it, feel it lick at your ankles like soft sea foam.

eager to scratch a certain itch in your brain, attention span zipping from one street vendor to the pop music blasting from a couple streets away, you take your phone out from your pocket. absently scrolling through your messages, until you get to the ones shoko sent you just ten minutes ago. the ones that brought you out here, into a summer evening soon to slip into nightfall, ones that have you walking to the bar you chose not to join them at.

messages that still have you pushing back a bout of giggles, chewing lazily on your ramune ice pop with a giddy smile.

sho 🚬: come get ur man sho 🚬: he’s drunk. sho 🚬: like DRUNK drunk

you: …… um. you: what happened to hi? hello?? good evening???

sho 🚬: no time for that. look sho 🚬: [ image ] sho 🚬: he looks so goofy lol

unable to resist the temptation, you press the pad of your finger against the screen — opening the image attachment, just to drink in the sight once again. what you see is a certain man, slumped over in his seat, cheek smooshed against the wooden table in front of him. messy hair, no longer tied into a bun, cascading down his shoulders and back. from the little you can see of his face, his skin is flushed a light pink, and his eyes are closed, fingers still curled around an empty beer jug.

like a sleepy puppy.

a coo tiptoes on your tongue, but you bite down on your lip in an effort to stop it, just grinning at your screen with pure adoration in your lovesick eyes.

he’s drunk, alright. an unfamiliar sight, but not at all unwelcome. because he’s cute, terribly so, so cute that it hurts, even when he’s obviously wasted. it’s almost funny — you know their drinking habits. shoko holds her liquor so well that it’s a little horrifying, and satoru can get wasted if he has more than a sip of it. and suguru?

suguru never gets drunk. he barely even drinks. out of consideration for satoru, maybe, or you. probably both. that’s just how he is; you thought he hated fish for years, because he was always so eager to give you the best bites of the sushi rolls you ordered. turns out he was just indulging you.

so, to be frank — the idea of him suddenly being drunk is a little bit of a shocker. but it’s also kind of exciting, in a ridiculous way. new, fun, just what you need when you’re bored out of your mind.

(or maybe you’re just happy to have an excuse to go see him.)

you: NOOOO you: MY BABY 😭😭😭 you: what did u guys DO to him???

sho 🚬: satoru and him made a bet 😐 you know how they are sho 🚬: he drank like a divorced mother of four ive never seen something so beautiful

you: …. you: have i told you that you’re both terrible

sho 🚬: u love us <33 sho 🚬: anyway he’s been asking me where u are for the past ten minutes pls come i can’t stand him sho 🚬: he’s crying.

you: HUH???????? you: WHY????????????????

sho 🚬: dude i dont know sho 🚬: please come get him he’s being so sappy that satoru’s abt to throw up

you: ???? okok 😭 you: im omw ig??

sho 🚬: girl hurry he just told me he genuinely appreciates my presence in his life 😐

an exhale — laced with deep amusement — drops from your lips and spills into the summer air. it tastes like a memory from long ago.

slipping your phone back into your pocket, you raise your gaze, searching for a glimmer of goldish light. soaking up the scent of the ocean, sparkling on the border of your peripheral. salty and sweet.

no matter how hard you try, all you can think of is that certain someone, waiting for you to pick him up. your mind keeps drifting back to the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way his hair falls over his face when he leans down, the sound he makes when he stretches in the morning.

you want to see him. badly. you want him near, want to feel the familiar warmth of his presence, want to see him smile and laugh and sigh and raise his eyebrow at your antics.

so there isn’t any time to waste. you’re walking towards that familiar set of stairs before you know it, shoes hitting the asphalt with a mantra of satisfying thuds.

and when you step in through the opened door, you’re immediately engulfed by a sense of overflowing comfort. mellow, warm lights, the soft buzzing of static from an old radio, low citypop beats trailing through the air. the bartender by the counter gives you a curt nod in greeting, before motioning towards a certain table. it’s over in the corner, covered in beer jugs and fancy glasses, with three beauties seated around it.

satoru notices you first.

a bright grin finds its way onto his face, and he waves you over giddily, happily. barely contained excitement in the motion. shoko’s gaze follows his, flitting over to meet yours — and you think she mouths an oh, thank god, before taking another sip from her glass. she brings a hand up in greeting when you come closer, and you can’t see her smile, but there’s a crinkle to her eyes; a warmth in them that you’d never miss.

”hey, guys.”

”yo!” satoru chirps, beaming in a way that’s so distinctly him it makes you soften. he looks so comfortable in his seat, with a cocktail you know is non-alcoholic and probably too sweet for anyone but him to stomach. giggling to himself, leaning over to poke suguru’s cheek, with a teasing declaration of your chaperone is here!

and there he is.

the man you came here for, still slumped over in his seat, unresponsive. not for long. as the lilt of your voice reaches his ears, his eyes flutter open, in a bout of recognition — even in the drunken state he’s in. an immediate sensation of familiarity creeps into his veins, rousing him from his cozy, half-asleep stupor.

he doesn’t even grumble over the way satoru keeps poking at his cheek, interest and attention focused solely on a certain someone. you, your presence.

and when your eyes meet his, he lights up.

it’s precious, you think, how his eyes widen, blooming with genuine affection, so endearing you could kiss him right then and there. his face is flushed, and his hair is tousled, and the warm lighting of the bar paints him in a golden hue. so perfect for him, your star in the sky.

a smile spreads across his lips, big and happy and warm, and you can’t help but mirror it.

(gosh, he’s cute.)

with a dizzy kind of eagerness, suguru sits up, palms flush against the table to support his weight. he stumbles out of his seat, paying no heed to satoru’s amused huff of careful! or the rattling of fragile glass.

it only takes a few uncoordinated steps for him to reach you, where you haphazardly lean against the wall, watching him amusedly. that delighted smile never leaves his lips, as his arms go to curl around your waist, big and heavy, his jaw finding its rightful place on the curve of your shoulder.

”baby,” he drawls, fond and affectionate. breathing you in. ”sweetheart. my angel.”

a flustered puff of laughter slips from your lips, stumbling a little under his weight. his voice is syrupy sweet, overflowing with love and adoration, soft in a way that has your knees buckling. a little raspy. murmured right into your ear, sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

he’s too sweet for you to handle, really, even sweeter than satoru’s overpriced cocktail. and he smells the same as always; a blend between coffee grounds, cigarette smoke and rain, one that never fails to soothe you. even when it’s tangled up with a vague but vivid stench of alcohol, courtesy of the drinking he’s been doing until now.

you crinkle your nose, but don’t let go of him, nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head. words buzzing with warmth. ”hey, sugu.”

suguru only squeezes you tighter, content to have you in his arms. finally, his world makes sense again. all he can do is bask in your voice, warmth, scent — he’s just so enamored by it all. almost in a trance, heartstrings dancing along to the beat of your presence, your very existence, that appears to him as something almost angelic. soft and familiar, something that feels right at home when it’s tucked into his embrace. where he can keep it safe.

”missed you…” he murmurs, sleepy, smearing an open mouthed kiss against the crook of your neck. ”i love you s’much…”

a chuckle. ”i love you too,” you echo, running a steady hand over his back. your voice is laced with something teasing, but awfully fond. ”you really are drunk, aren’t you?”

”mm…” he only hums, cheek pressed flush against your soft skin. ”’m sorry…” he mumbles, stifling a yawn. he sounds a little guilty, and it makes you want to coo. pull his cheek a little.

instead, you laugh. amusement vowen into the bubbly noise. ”it’s fine, sugu. c’mon — let’s go home, alright?”

at that, satoru visibly reacts, placing his glass on the table with a soft clink before getting up to stretch. he grabs suguru’s discarded jacket, letting it hang off his arm as he walks over to the two of you.

”i’ll help you carry him,” he smiles, always so dependable. so ready to be of service. maybe a little too eager to carry suguru around like a sack of potatoes.

a smile blooms on your face, and satoru gives you a playful wink. shoko just leans back in her seat, stretching idly. it feels like home with them there.

”i’ll stay here,” she hums, a faint grin tugging at her lips. ”he’s your problem now.”

”got it.” you meet her lidded eyes, sharing an amused look as satoru tries to coax suguru away from you, pulling at his cheek while he whines and clings to the fabric of your clothing.

finally, he relents, and you look back at the table with a grin. ”see you later, sho’.”

a smile is the only response you get, but it’s enough. it’s her, the same as always, still sipping from a glass of expensive whiskey and raising her hand in a silent see you. relaxed and cool, and so very lovely.

with one arm over satoru’s shoulder and the other clinging to your hoodie, suguru stirs.

”shoko…” he groans, craning his head to look back at her, even as satoru makes a move to leave. ”don’t drink too much. and watch out for strangers…”

he trails off, blinking drowsily, a protective tone to his voice. worried. awfully like him. neither you nor satoru can resist the chuckle you indulge in, but shoko just rolls her hazel eyes.

”i don’t need to hear that from you,” she scoffs, tinged with amusement and what you’re almost certain is embarrassment. there’s a fondness to her snark, one you’d never miss.

(shoko will always be shoko. you know that she appreciates suguru’s concern, even if she doesn’t want to show it.)

”alright, c’mon,” satoru quips, slapping suguru’s back with a grin. ”there, there, big guy. let’s get you home, hm?”

just as you suspected, he doesn’t let you help, doing all the heavy lifting on his own. not breaking a single sweat, flaunting his strength as he hoists suguru up the steps — while you do nothing but follow, a light jacket hanging off your arm.

cold midnight air embraces you, slathering your cheeks with the essence of summer as your shoes meet the asphalt. satoru smiles, a low exhale escaping him, dusting off his hands. ”there we go.”

suguru stumbles towards you, no longer caged in, slumping against your shoulder with a satisfied sigh. blinking slowly, as you link arms, his muddled senses adjusting to the outside world. a pleasantly blue sky, a sun long set, and a string of lamp posts to light up the street ahead of you. artificial fireflies, watching over the town you love so dearly.

you part your lips, and a soft exhale slips out, dripping with fondness. ”thanks, satoru,” you smile, meeting his gaze.

”don’t mention it,” he waves you off, but you know he appreciates it; always eager to be praised. ”can you bring him back by yourself?”

”yeah, we’ll be fine. it’s close, anyway. don’t worry.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, and his cobalt gaze drifts upwards, to bask in the starry sky. a moment passes, and then he’s looking back at you and suguru; a soft and earnest smile playing at his lips. so sincere you want to reach out, cup his cheek, make sure he knows how loved he is.

”i’ll go back to shoko, then,” he chirps. bubbly and graceful, giddy and playful. always so lovely. ”gotta make sure she stays out of trouble.”

a chuckle. you mirror his smile. ”of course.”

and with that, your precious best friend makes a move to return to the bar, taking a decisive step away from you. before he can get too far, though, a certain hand reaches out to hold onto his sleeve — keeping him still.

satoru turns around. blinking once, then twice, in confusion; faced with none other than suguru, still slumped against you. a little out of it, sleepy and disoriented, yawning quietly, but his eyes are as clear as ever. caring and sentimental.

his gaze cuts to the bone of things. it’s something you’ve grown used to.

”thanks, satoru,” he murmurs, letting go of said man’s shirt. the words that spill from his lips are straightforward, a little tactless, but overflowing with earnest appreciation. ”you’re my best friend.”

a moment passes. the stars burn in silence.

satoru blinks.

then he sighs, with what you know is nothing more than feigned annoyance. masking his embarrassment, the same way shoko did, the same way suguru always does. your repressed, beloved little losers.

”yeah, yeah. i got it,” he pats suguru’s shoulder, once, twice. not looking at him. ”you’re such a sap, you know that? geez.”

a grin crawls up to rest on your lips, fresh mischief blooming in your eyes. ”not gonna call him your best friend back?” you tease, a soft tilt of your head.

satoru gives you a glare, playful, one you can’t physically see from behind his shades but still somehow sense. ”don’t add fuel to the fire,” he grins, with a halfhearted flick to your forehead.

before you can bicker further, suguru yawns, loudly, closing his eyes and nuzzling into you. you share an amused look with satoru, until he shakes his head fondly.

”take care of him, alright?”

”i will. you guys have fun!”

and at last, satoru turns on his heel, coupled with a smile and a lazy wave. but suguru calls out to him once more, unwilling to part ways without saying his piece. so sentimental, so loving it comes to him like breathing.

”bye-bye, satoru,” he slurs, voice loud enough for the entire street to hear, tired and honest. raising his arm in a lazy wave. ”i love you!”

”go home already!” satoru shouts, descending down the steps with a flush to his cheeks that you’ll tease him for later. his soft laughter is carried away by the breeze, sweet and saccharine.

(satoru will always be satoru. you know that he loves suguru back, even if he doesn’t want to say it out loud.)

with a faint chuckle, melting into the summer air, you tug on suguru’s arm. ”alright,” you chirp, looking up at him. ”let’s go!”

he seems a little more awake now, at least, trying to match your steps. meanwhile, you do what you can to support his weight; he’s stumbling a bit, but you don’t mind. if anything, his weight is a comfort, your arms linked together like a lucky charm. a safe harbour.

suguru is acting kind of like a big puppy, gazing at you with hearts in his eyes. a little meek, clinging to you, trailing after you pliantly. he’s a little dizzy, still, and he needs you to get back home in one piece. it makes you puff out your chest, stand up straighter. makes you feel protective of your 6’2 boyfriend, all toned muscle and broad shoulders, the personification of scary dog privilege. but he needs you right now.

a soft bout of laughter spills into the air, as you try to ignore his heavy stare. it’s impossible, though — so you turn your gaze to meet his own, and he practically glows under the sound of your giggles, that cheeky smile you’re wearing. ”you okay, suguru?”

his eyes soften. silently, he runs a thumb over the knots of your knuckle, smoothing down your skin, thick fingers intertwined with yours.

he looks deep into your eyes, and a soft hum of affirmation buzzes in his throat.

”i’m just so happy,” he grins, with a sincerity that has your heart doing flips inside your ribcage. it flutters, flutters, flutters, in the wake of his unbridled joy. it buzzes like it wants to break out.

suguru has this dreamy look on his face, one you can do nothing but admire, painted over with fluorescent moonlight and pure summer bliss. one that reminds you a little of high school rooftops, midnight road trips, what it means to be in love.

you nudge him, softly, with the arm that’s tangled up in his own. tilting your head, teasing words on the tip of your tongue. ”you know, i never took you for a sappy drunk.”

suguru's only response is a cute little mmrn, steps heavy as he leans on you for support. trying his best to carry himself, not wanting to inconvenience you, but it’s just a little tough. especially when he feels this soft, this grateful — this blessed.

a giddy, dreamy smile tugs at his lips. his amber gaze travels up, towards the little pale dots of star clusters all across the night sky, gleaming like milk poured over rich coffee. then he exhales; a soft, blissful little sound. ”i’m so lucky.”

a moment passes, silently. in the distance, cicadas buzz. with a patient smile, you admire him, the reflection of starlight in his eyes. suguru has this forlorn look, etched into his expression, like he’s seeing something that isn’t quite there.

”i have satoru and shoko…” he mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear. as if he’s tasting the words on his tongue, as if he can’t quite believe them himself. that’s how lucky he feels, sometimes.

a nod. ”they love you a bunch, you know?”

(they do. they’re both horrible at saying it out loud, but you know they do. you know that they love suguru, just as much as he loves them, even if none of them are good at putting it into words. perhaps they don’t really even need to, in the first place.)

suguru mirrors the soft nod of your head, bangs falling over his eyes as he does. ”and i love them, too.” his smile grows. ”they’re my best friends.”

absently, you reach a hand out, brushing away the strands of hair obscuring his vision. and suguru stirs, his gaze shifting until it falls on you. like a moth to a flame. there’s something indescribable in his eyes, soft and heavy and tender and true.

”— and i have you.”

a stutter of your heartbeat, a jolt throughout your chest. his stare almost burns, but you can’t avert your gaze — suguru looks positively lovesick. admiring you with a dreamy gaze, as if he can’t believe you’re real.

he reaches a hand out; cradling your face with one big palm, the rough pads of his fingers smoothing down your skin so very gently. smearing his fondness from your jaw to your cheekbone, so loving your breath hitches in the back of your throat.

a soft, content sigh spills into the air, like a prayer that doesn’t need any words. his smile is serene.

”my angel.”

as the words fall, that peaceful smile of his changes shape, shifting into a big, giddy grin. it lights up his whole face. a chuckle leaves his lips, content and delighted. ”i’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

and for a moment, you fear that your heart will stop beating entirely. frozen, listening to the lullaby of your heartbeat resounding in your ears.

suguru has always been frighteningly good at flustering you — but isn’t this a little unfair? you clear your throat, hoping to regain some composure. it’s tough, though. your words could never measure up to his, could never flow as freely, but they’re honest. wholly and thoroughly. and maybe that’s enough.

”we’re the luckiest in the world, too, then,” you echo, smiling, words barely above a whisper. willing yourself to meet his gaze. ”since we have you.”

suguru looks into your eyes. there’s starlight inside them, he thinks, shining brightly, gleaming in the dark. with the hazy filter of intoxication clouding his mind, it’s all he can think. you’re his northern star, his lighthouse. his one and only saving grace.

(you’re so, so pretty.)

a pause. after a silent moment, spent etching your features into his retinas, suguru tilts his head. his expression is unreadable.

— he boops your nose.

you blink. once, twice, caught entirely off guard; and suguru giggles. soft, giddy little breaths falling from his lips like marbles, strewn over the sand of a warm beach. his eyes are crinkled at the edges, and his smile is sweet, meeting your surprised gaze with a honeyed coo. ”you’re so cute, baby.”

silence. you look up at him.

then you sigh, exasperated, more flustered than you’d like to admit. god. okay, he’s really out of it. for some reason, you still thought you could get a good one-liner in, but of course he had to ruin that by being a little tease.

you grab onto his bicep. gaze fixed straight ahead, giving it a tug. your steps are more decisive now, and suguru follows you happily. ”alright, alright. c’mon,” you beckon, slightly gruff. ”we’re almost there.”

when you finally reach the familiar front door of your apartment, you exhale a deep sigh, laced with pure relief. limbs tired from dragging suguru up the stairs, mind muddled and sleepy and senses practically engulfed by a man still clinging to you like his life depends on it.

after fumbling with your keys and hearing the click of the lock, you take a victorious step over the threshold, and a familiar scent greets you. soothing, comforting, a blend between fresh laundry and leftover curry and blooming hydrangeas. filling your senses with a fervent kind of bliss. of course, suguru’s does the same; intimately intertwined with the scent of home. that everlasting, never-changing blend.

with him clinging to you like this, it’s almost suffocating — but you truly don’t mind. suguru’s warm, and sweet, and being close to him like this makes you feel at peace. his hands rest on your hips, his jaw on your shoulder, and he adamantly refuses to let go of you for even a second. it’d be annoying if he wasn’t so cute, if he wasn’t suguru geto, if you weren’t so horrendously weak for him.

what you don’t know is that suguru has an agenda. one that isn’t just i want to hug the love of my life, although partially that as well. suguru has a plan, one he’s been absentmindedly dreaming of for the past five minutes; he’s a man on a mission.

but he’s patient. always has been, always for you. so he waits, and waits, for you to hang his jacket up, for you to kick your shoes off your feet. and when you’re finally, finally finished, suguru leans in to kiss you.

— you block his mouth with the palm of your hand.

a moment passes. silent, almost tense. in his stupor, suguru’s mind can’t quite seem to comprehend the situation before him; he doesn’t understand why he isn’t pressing a kiss to your lips, right now, why he’s kissing the skin of your palm. he doesn’t understand why you look so troubled, a faint guilt simmering in your eyes. he just doesn’t understand.

all he can do is blink, dumbly, surprised. a question written on his features clear as day.

”well, it’s just…” you sputter, sheepishly. avoiding his gaze, a little guilty. ”you know. since you’ve been drinking, and all…”

and it hurts, you think. it hurts a lot more than it should. it hurts to reject him, hurts to see the way he deflates at your clarification. like a big kicked puppy. like you just threatened to throw him out into the street.

suguru removes your hand, gently, holding it in his own as he speaks. those amber eyes are downcast, and a soft pout rests on his lips. the sight alone feels like a dagger to your chest.

”but…” he frowns, voice awfully meek. he looks so sad. ”i wanna kiss you…”

a soft sigh leaves your lips, before you can think to hold it in. oh, he’s being so unfair. guilt clings to your mind, an itch you yearn to scratch, and all you want is to kiss his pout away. but you really, really don’t want to kiss his alcohol-soaked lips.

so you settle for the second best option.

”’m sorry, sugu,” you coo, reaching a hand out to cradle his cheek. he leans into your touch, still pouting, and you tug a little at his bottom lip. wasting no time in closing the narrow distance between you.

the kisses you press against his skin are soft. peppering kisses all across his face; ghosting your lips along his jaw, trailing towards his cheekbones, and settling on his forehead. tiny little pecks, wherever you can reach. your voice is soft, muffled into his skin between butterfly kisses. ”tomorrow, okay?”

and suguru seems to brighten up a little, melting under the contact, exhaling in pure bliss. he fervently returns the treatment, planting open mouthed kisses all over your face, respecting your wishes and avoiding your lips. they’re a little sloppy, but you don’t mind.

it does make you a little flustered, though. with his palms cradling your face, engulfing you, there’s nothing you can do except drown in his affection, the love he showers you with. it tickles — and suguru’s smile only grows, at the sound of your soft giggles. his cheeks are starting to hurt.

the state he’s in is just a little bit hazy. despite his initial dejection, he no longer minds that he can’t feel your lips against his, disappointment warded off by your smile and laughter alone. he thinks you’re so, so cute, and all he wants is to kiss you forever.

but you have other plans.

and before you know it, you’re both curled up in bed, limbs all tangled up beneath the blankets, bodies pressed together as suguru cages you in. he squeezes you tightly, hugging you close, practically melting into you. usually, it’d be so easy to fall asleep like this. with suguru cradling you, covering your body with his own, warm and safe. he’s like a furnace.

but right now, it’s a little tough. you’re kept awake by open mouthed, ticklish kisses pressed against your skin, supplied by the love of your life. it’s sweet, but he’s being far too distracting — as soon as your consciousness begins to fade into the fuzzy realm of sleep, he leaves a sloppy kiss against your collarbone, and you’re jolted awake once more.

”suguuu,” you whine, dragging his name out with childish inclination. ”we need to sleep…”

”sorry,” he only murmurs, muffled into your skin. he doesn’t stop, though, planting a wet smooch on your cheek, and then another. you squirm a little in his hold, and he emits a shaky breath. ”jus’ love you so much…”

suguru knows that he needs to stop. he knows that both of you need to sleep, that you need to rest up. that he needs to recover from the intoxicated state he’s fully aware that he’s in — but he just can’t seem to follow through with it. every cell in his body burns with a certain desire, a need to shower you in love, and it’s unendurable. with every kiss, every giggle he manages to pull from your lips, suguru’s heart fills up just a little more.

your presence surrounds him, like a weighted blanket, and he clings to it with a desperation he never knew before you.

in the midst of his feverish consciousness, you’re all his muddled mind can think about. the way you fit together with him like a puzzle piece, like he was formed in the shape of someone meant to hold you. like you were formed in the shape of his embrace. with you pressed up against him, limbs tangled with his, everything feels so right.

but it’s so overwhelming.

you’re so, so close, so close he’s practically engulfed by your scent, your touch, everything that makes his heart burn with devotion. it’s beating so viscerally in his ribcage, stirring the protective instinct inside him; he just wants you to stay close, by his side, wants to keep you safe and happy. wants to make you feel loved.

suguru’s heart feels wet and raw and bare, fully exposed for you to see. beating just for you.

with the alcohol inside his veins, and the nostalgia of the summer evening on his mind, everything weighs on him just a little too heavily. everything feels just a little too much. every sensation, every emotion, every sappy thought. all of it together is almost too much for him to handle.

all he can think of is you. how lucky he is, to have met you, to have gotten to know you. how much you’ve changed him, changed him for the better, how much of him is directly tied to your existence.

suguru never truly appreciated his name until you came into his life. it was always no more than a simple fact, a gift from his parents that he hadn’t asked for. something natural, that he didn’t question, didn’t think about.

but you say his name with such warmth.

he wants to hear you say it, over and over again, forever. suguru — in that sweet, lovely voice of yours. better yet, just sugu, a cutesy, silly nickname he could never bring himself to actually hate. he just wants to hear you call out to him, with that warmth of yours, the one that never fails to soothe him. no matter how tired he is, how stressed. how much everything else weighs down on him.

at the end of the day, he’s simply your sugu. and that’s all he ever really wants to be.

with a hazy filter clouding his senses, coaxing him into closing his eyes, suguru should give in. he should fall asleep, let you fall asleep. but he can’t bring himself to stop thinking about it; he just loves you so wholly. who you are, what you do. as an equal, an individual, a little galaxy tucked into a body made of flesh and blood. no matter what you’re doing, no matter where you are.

and right now, you’re here, with him. curled up in bed, in your shared apartment, inhaling the same air, exhaling at the same time. by his side, when you could be anywhere else in the world.

his heart is yours. that’s all suguru can bring himself to think, the only coherent thought he can cling to and echo in his head. his heart is yours. forever and ever.

he makes no attempt to stop the tears from pooling in his eyes, even as he feels them cling to his lashes, even as his breathing clogs up in the back of his throat. they’re proof of his devotion, his carefully nurtured love. growing over the years, into something almost sacred, a kind of faith. something so fervent he wouldn’t dare deny himself of feeling it.

he can’t hold in a faint sniffle, either, just barely audible. one that breaks your heart in two. it aches, aches, aches. suguru is gazing at you with glassy eyes, a sight you aren’t used to seeing — but he also looks so genuinely glad. his tears aren’t ones of sadness. you know, because you know him.

”aw, honey…” you coo, the pads of your fingers reaching out to cradle his cheek. despite your efforts, your voice wavers when you speak, little more than a whisper. ”don’t cry... you’ll make me cry, too.”

suguru places his larger palm over yours, choking on another sniffle. the sight renders you completely helpless — you want so desperately to stop his tears from falling, but a part of you is too touched to speak. too mesmerized by how beautiful he is, translucent tears illuminated by softly flickering moonrays, lashes glimmering like shooting stars.

all you can do is smooth a thumb right under his eye, wiping away a stray tear with enough tenderness to stitch his heart back together. suguru emits a shaky breath.

”’m sorry,” he sniffles, closing his eyes. nuzzling into the crook of your neck. ”i’m just so happy… love you so much… you mean so, so much to me, i…”

an exhale, a little breathless, tears soaking through the material of the shirt you’re wearing. his shirt. that realization makes him cry even more, a shuddering breath that shatters like glass when it drops from his tongue.

and then, in a voice so quiet you barely hear it, a soft whisper worth a million words:

”i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

and it hurts. your heart aches so sincerely, thorns curling around your ribcage, because suguru is crying, and he’s telling you all this. with such an honest intonation that you don’t dare doubt him, even for a second. heavy thumps of blood rush through your veins; he’s still clinging to you, sniffling into your neck, and you’re so in love with him that you almost can’t comprehend it.

all you can do is press a kiss to his shoulder, chaste and tender, and hug him just a little tighter. echoing his words, in earnest, desperately trying to keep your voice from breaking apart. ”i love you, too. more than anything.” a sigh, full of wonder. little butterfly kisses scattered across the expanse of his neck. ”you mean the world to me. honestly.”

with a smile against his skin, you hope so tenderly that the soft kisses will comfort him, will stop the tears from falling.

”my sweet boy,” you murmur, lovingly, because he is. the sweetest boy you’ll ever know. suguru shudders when you press your lips against his jaw. ”i’m so, so lucky.”

with the combined efforts of your kisses, the alcohol slumbering inside his veins, and the tears running down his cheeks, suguru begins to feel awfully tired. sinking into sleep’s embrace, like a sailor lost at sea. comforted by the glimmer of a lighthouse, just out of reach.

everything feels right. he’s safe, and happy, and in love. so hopelessly, blissfully in love.

the exhaustion creeps up on him, tidal waves embracing a shore, beckoning him into closing his weary eyes. a yawn leaves his lips, and he shifts a little in your hold. you’re smoothing down the back of his head, almost protectively, and sleep is only a flicker away for the both of you. with the last of his strength, suguru snuggles just a little further into you, nose pressed up against your neck, close enough that he feels the flutter of your heartbeat.

”wanna be with you forever,” he murmurs, sleepily, stifling another bout of yawns. his smile is sweet and dreamy. ”gonna marry you one day…”

a moment passes.

for a second, you think your heart does actually cease beating entirely.

swallowing a gulp, you allow yourself the luxury of an inhale — and fresh air fills your lungs. grounding. all you can hear is the rapid beating of your own heart, heavy thumps reverberating in your ears. warmth flows through your entire body.

marry.

the word is spoken so casually, so sincerely, as if he’s said it countless times before. as if he’s repeated it, over and over again in his mind, just to get used to the idea. as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. marriage. something so foreign, so scary, enough to send shivers down every narrow of your skeleton. such a large step to take.

(but suguru says it with such tenderness.)

”… okay,” you whisper, at last. breathless. ”i’ll be waiting, then.”

there’s nothing else to say. you don’t know if suguru is even conscious enough to hear you, let alone understand the full weight of your words, of his own words. but you don’t mind.

a soft smile lingers on your lips, as you stroke his hair, mind hazy and limbs heavy. nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head, full of affection. dripping from your hands down to the column on his throat, through his windpipe, down to his heart.

”goodnight, sugu.” you press a kiss to his messy hair, tender and chaste. ”i love you.”

an incoherent mutter leaves his lips, in response, one you can’t quite make out — but you don’t need to. because you already know what it means, in the same way you know that the sky is blue.

(an echo buried deep within his subconscious, voiced without effort, as easy as breathing.

i love you, too.)

the sizzling of a pan and the whirring of a coffee machine form a beautiful morning symphony, bouncing off the walls of your kitchen. to your ears, and your still sleepy brain, it’s a soothing sound — coaxing soft little melodic hums from the depths of your throat.

with such a tantalizing aroma in the air, a blend between espresso and pancake batter, you can’t help but buzz with a mellow, groggy kind of joy.

honestly, you're beginning to understand suguru’s fondness for the morning hours. waking up to his soft snores and content expression was more than enough to give you the energy you needed to get out of bed; all sleepy and relaxed and pretty, with hazy morning sunrays kissing up his bare skin, caressing his messy bedhead.

a rare sight, awfully precious. a part of you wanted to stay in bed and admire him all morning, but the thought of taking care of him coaxed you into leaving. it’s the least you could do, really — after seeing him so sincere, so open and vulnerable.

hopefully, his headache won’t be too brutal when he wakes up. you left some hangover pills on the nightstand, courtesy of shoko’s advice: just get him ibuprofen and coffee. works like a charm. are you a little worried about her nonchalance? maybe. but you trust her judgement. they’re a handful, but you love them — even when they’re drunk or hungover.

which is why you’re standing in the kitchen, engulfed by the morning sunlight, in front of a sizzling pan. trying your very best not to burn the pancakes you’re making, patiently waiting for the coffee to be done.

in your blissful stupor, caught up with thoughts of suguru and breakfast and forevers, you don’t notice another presence coming up behind you.

two arms wrap around your waist, and a jaw attaches itself to the curve of your shoulder. you startle, a little, jolting at the contact — but then you recognize that telltale scent, the familiar weight of his arms, and immediately melt into the embrace.

suguru breathes out a raspy chuckle, amused at your surprise.

a sigh slips from your lips, content. ”good morning,” you hum, placing the palm of your hand on his forearm. suguru shifts a little, getting more comfortable as he leans against you. tenderly, not too much weight. he’s delicate like that.

”g’morning,” he rasps, leftover sleep clinging to the syllables. the usual smoothness of his voice is coupled with a deep, rough kind of tilt, one that always accompanies it in the morning. your heartbeat picks up, silently.

suguru smiles. dreamy, giddy, because you just looked so pretty, in the morning light, hair still a tad messy. humming happily, swaying slightly side to side. so irresistible. he’s beginning to understand why you love sleeping in so much; getting to wrap his arms around you like this, instead of the other way around, doesn’t feel bad at all.

he squeezes you just a little tighter, hoping it’ll convey his gratitude. there are holes in his memory, last night no more than a blurry sequence of still images, but some bits and pieces remain intact. he remembers getting drunk in a way he hasn’t since he made that bet with satoru back in high school — and he remembers that you were there to take care of him.

a smile tugs at his lips. a little giddy, butterflies erupting in his chest. he’s so damn lucky.

”thanks for taking care of me yesterday, sweetheart.”

a hum. you smile, sheepishly, patting his arm. ”don’t need to thank me for that. how do you feel?”

suguru smiles. you feel it, against your skin, a chaste kiss on your neck. ”better.”

the low purring of the coffee machine has stopped, but the sizzling of the pan remains. from beyond the opened windows, you can hear the chirping of cicadas, melodic and serene. singing a summery tune. both of you soak in the preciousness of the moment, the fragile silence, before suguru breaks it.

”everything from last night is kinda fuzzy,” he admits, clearing his throat. just a tad sheepish. you simply hum, a low noise of acknowledgement, and he continues. ”i don’t really remember anything… ’m sorry, baby. i hope i didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

your lips curl up into a tiny smile. such a sweetheart — always worrying about you. always so caring and attentive. eager to reassure him, you smooth over the skin of his arm with your thumb. ”not at all.”

then you’re taking a couple steps back, moving from the stove, and suguru follows. you turn yourself around to meet his gaze, his arms still attached to your waist, a comforting weight.

a grin blooms on your lips, a little teasing, and a flicker of mischief shines in your eyes. ”you were cute, you know.”

suguru blinks, before emitting a low chuckle. a raspy little thing. ”was i?” he drawls, as you brush his bangs away from his face.

”mhm,” you chirp, eyes crinkled as they meet his own. you just can’t help but want to tease him, a little bit. just a smidge. ”kept going on and on about how much you love us.”

hands moving to cup his face, you squeeze his cheeks softly. and suguru lets you, too tired to resist, only giving you a lazy raise of his brow. there’s a sense of amusement in his eyes, and something in you knows he likes the attention. your teasing words buzz with endearment, akin to a purr. ”my sweet lil’ sugu.”

all he does is lean into your touch, allowing himself to melt into the tenderness of the physical contact. even as you pull at his cheek, earning you a very gentle pinch to your side. but he lets you have your fun. you’re warm, and sweet, and he’s so in love with you he’d probably let you tug his body around however you please.

still, your words leave him just slightly perplexed. he’s still smiling with half-lidded eyes when he asks you to elaborate, basking in the feeling of your thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. ”us?”

your grin widens, by a tad, something deeply amused glimmering in the depths of your iris. ”yep,” you answer, popping the p. for some reason, suguru dreads the teasing edge to your voice. ”me, and shoko, and satoru.”

a moment passes. he stiffens, for a second or two, mind processing the words. then he groans, softly, squeezing his eyes shut.

it makes you laugh, soft and amused, and he can’t help but smile along. despite the dreadful realization you present him with. no wonder he was met with so many notifications when he tapped at the screen of his phone — he didn’t read through any of them, but now he’s apprehensive to do so at all. shoko and satoru can be so goddamn obnoxious when they feel as if they have blackmail on him.

he can see it now, in his mind’s eye; shoko nagging him to run her errands, satoru reminding him of his words every time they have a slight disagreement.

(grab me a coffee. three shots of espresso, one cube of sugar. got it?)

slacker.

(we both know i’m right. don’t be so stubborn, suguru! it’s okay to be wrong sometimes.)

asshole.

(c’mon. you said you loved me, right?

so mean. and here i thought you loved me!)

idiots.

(he does love them. more than anything. even when they’re being absolutely insufferable.)

suguru just sighs, deep and fatigued, already anticipating his doom. ”they’re never gonna let me live it down, are they?”

a giggle slips from your lips, and his heart flutters helplessly. ”probably not. my condolences.”

another sigh. it only makes your smile widen. there’s something awfully delighted, in your eyes, as you cradle his face in your hands. ”well, i thought you were very sweet!”

”yeah, yeah…” he mutters, vaguely amused. placing one of his large palms over your hand, where it rests on his cheek. ”i won’t be doing that again anytime soon.”

a chuckles bubbles up from within your throat. ”aww,” you pout, giving way to a teasing grin. ”that’s a shame. i wanted to hear you talk about how much you love me again.”

suguru blinks.

then he smiles. a very particular smile, characteristic, one you’ve come to associate solely with him. resting somewhere in the intersection between a soft grin and a teasing smirk. a flicker of mischief shines in his eyes, and you realize your mistake.

you can tease suguru all you want; but he'll always turn the tables on you, at the end of the day.

”oh?” he chuckles, fondly, thumb smoothing over the lines of your hand. his eyes gleam, looking straight into yours, shining with something mildly devilish. ”i don’t need to get drunk to tell you that, baby.”

in a smooth motion, one you can’t help but silently envy, suguru intertwines his fingers with yours and brings your hand to his lips. he never once breaks eye contact, gaze heavy as he basks in your flustered expression, planting a soft kiss against your knuckle. reverent.

”i love you. more than anything,” he purrs, lips still lingering on your skin. warm enough to burn. ”you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

a pause. heat crawls up your spine, and a flush rises to your cheeks. you couldn’t stop it if you tried.

”my everything,” he continues, intent on flustering you as much as humanly possible. voice low and smooth, honeyed and deep, and worst of all; terribly earnest. lips trailing over your knuckles, against every knot, so soft that you barely feel it. ”my entire world.”

”okay, okay!” you sputter, an embarrassed hue to your cheeks, your gaze landing on the windowpane to your right. his stare is just too heavy, too deeply in love. overwhelming. ”point taken. nevermind.”

suguru laughs, genuine and full. warm and amused, deep and real, and you catch yourself thinking that you don’t want to go a single day without hearing it. even if it’s at your own expense.

a coo rests on his the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back, opting to lean forward instead. he trails the pads of his fingers along your jaw, touch like a butterfly, lifting your chin up ever so slightly. then he closes the distance between you.

in your throat, your breath hitches.

— but he doesn’t kiss you. suguru stops right in front of your lips, so close you can feel his breath on your skin, taking a moment to simply look into your eyes. and despite how flustered the close proximity makes you, you can’t bring yourself to look away. heart fluttering madly, a string of staccatos against your parted ribs.

a tilt of his head. amber eyes gleaming, crinkled and fond. ”can i kiss you, now?” he asks, grinning softly. hand smoothing down your hip, big and warm, teasing. ”i made sure to brush away all the alcohol. or do you still not want to?”

you pause.

”hey, what happened to not remembering anything?” you pout, narrowing your eyes. the corner of suguru’s bottom lip twitches upwards.

but he only shrugs, feigning nonchalance, a playful glint in his eyes. ”guess i was just that disappointed.”

a giggle flows from your lips. he drinks it in, gazing at you with pure contentment.

”alright, alright... c’mere,” you coo, smile honeyed and sweet. tracing your fingertips along his jaw, brushing a silky strand of hair behind his ear. you take in the sight of him, meeting his lovesick gaze. he squeezes at your hips softly, a little impatient — so you finally lean in.

suguru’s lips are warm, when they meet yours. they taste like sunlight, devoid of any alcoholic flavour, just like he so kindly assured you of. and it’s a little amusing, the thought of him in front of the bathroom sink — desperately scrubbing his teeth, just to get his kissing privileges back. such a dork.

he’s your dork, though.

suguru sighs into the kiss, smiling giddily, satisfied at last. a sound you can’t help but mirror. he deepens it, ever so slightly, fingers squeezing gently at the plush of your waist. a hum of approval buzzes in your throat, and his smile only grows.

when he pulls away, that smile is all you can see, along with the ever so slight flush to his cheeks. a hint of peach dusting his skin, framed by the sunrays caressing his jaw, highlighting his handsome features. breathtaking.

before you have a chance to protest, he’s leaning in again, to press one more chaste kiss to your lips. your heartbeat picks up.

everything finally feels just right.

the warmth of the sizzling pan, the fragrance of freshly made coffee and now-burnt pancakes. the light of the morning sun, scattered across the open space of your apartment, splotches of life painting everything in a heavenly glow. the love in the air, all soft and light and comfortable.

domestic bliss. with suguru, who never seems to change, no matter how many years go by. if you could live in this moment for the rest of your life, forever and ever, you’re sure you’d die happy.

and wow, is that a heavy word. forever.

(but suguru makes it feel so very, very light.)

forever feels a lot more real, like this. cradled in the midst of a drowsy morning, bumping elbows with the man you love most, after getting to take care of him in his most vulnerable state. accepting every part of him, and having him accept you just as fervently.

just this moment alone is worth far more than you could ever comprehend.

suguru, with his warm hands, his familiar embrace. your shared laughter, bouncing off the walls of the kitchen as you try in vain to save your scorched pancakes. and his smile, his fervent devotion, coaxing him into eating them even though they’re burnt at the edges and don’t taste even a quarter as good as his. because you made them, for him, and that makes them taste sweeter than anything.

you stare at him, from across the table, admiring the sight you’ve grown so used to; suguru, with his slightly tousled hair, mug in hand and smile painted on his handsome face. drowned in sunlight, pink petals flitting in through the opened window. you don’t want a single day to ever pass without you seeing this. what does that mean, exactly? you think you know.

it means forever.

(forever, forever, forever. what a pretty word.)

marriage. you think of it, again, let it linger in the depths of your skull, bounce around until you grow just a little more used to it. and it’s a scary thought, for sure. a terrifying thought, even, something so foreign that it makes you nervous. but you truly wouldn’t mind doing this forever — not one bit. not if it’s with him.

and, unbeknownst to you, maybe that promise of forever isn’t all that far off.

maybe it’s only a couple rooms away, hidden within the depths of a certain drawer, until suguru finally gets the courage to bring it out. and maybe, just maybe — that day isn’t all that far off, either.

(suguru smiles at you, from across the table. he thinks you look ethereal, sipping from your morning coffee, blinking tiredly. so sweet and angelic.

all he can think of is forever.)

#finalllyyyyyyy took the time to finish this r u proud of me 👉👈#im very very soft for this sugu in particular :< kinda takes place in the same universe as the breakfast sugu fic !!!!#he’s ur smitten husband-to-be <333 i love to see suguru geto thrive and be happy i think being a househusband could save him #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #jjk fluff #geto fluff #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

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diorgirl444 · 4 months

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a week in outfits with sweetheart! reader… and dallas ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ •

• what sweetheart! reader wears & does in a typical week of her life + a peek into her camera roll! semi historically accurate but mainly just pretty stuff!!! • warnings: allusions to sex though not graphic, swearing, mentions of religion + not believing

she doesn’t see dallas much during the day of monday but when evening rolls around and she’s all sweet - smelling and soft after her bath, dressed in a nightdress and working on her diary/scrapbook she hears a tap! tap! tap! at her window! she eagerly opens it, smiling giddily her greaser boyfriend clambers in. they spent the night sharing cookies that she baked, telling stories about their day’s and he holds her till she falls asleep. when she wakes up he’s gone as her parents will kill her if they see him but she smiles at the dip in her bed from where he had once been.

dallas when drunk one night had promised her that he’d go antique shopping with her and that tuesday after school she decides to take him up on that offer. he’s grouchy to begin with but softens at all the old military stuff. he can see himself in the shoes of those boys, in a war of sorts himself. he’s also impressed by her ability to haggle prices down and she leaves with a basket filled with china figurines and a music box. when they get out into the warm sunlight she presses silver dog tags into his palm. saying “wear it with your st christopher and think of me dal”

wednesday is horse racing night for dallas and what sort of girlfriend would she be if she didn’t go to support him? she’s always so proud when she sees him out there racing on the dirt track and the confidence in his gaze gives her butterflies. she orders a shirley temple and brings a bag of books to read when it’s not one of dallas’s races. at the end to celebrate his inevitable victory they light sparklers. the hazy golden light reflects of his face and she wonders if he knows how beautiful he is.

on thursdays after he picks her up from school hang out with his friends and hers at the drive in. before they go to it though they stop at the fair where dallas wins her a pretty toy deer. she decides to name it bambi and tells dallas that it’s now their daughter so he better be nice to it. when they get to the drive in it’s a double feature showing of gidget which is one of her favourites and blue hawaii which she’s not so keen on. so after grabbing popcorn, cherry coke for her and pepsi for dallas they sit amongst his greaser friends and her soc girlfriends. by the time blue hawaii is on she’s started to get sleepy so dallas wraps his jacket over her shoulders to keep her warm and she snuggles into him clutching the deer plush.

friday’s are always parties at buck’s place and for reader it’s an excuse to dress up as pretty as possible + maybe kinda slutty for a change! beforehand dallas always steals the sickliest sweet drink he can find from a liquor store as that’s all she’ll touch. she’s also a total lightweight so the night tends to ends up one of three ways. one being that she’s so drunk that passes out and dallas has to begrudgingly tuck her into bed. another one being some jerk hits on her so dallas hits him. or both of their favourite options she doesn’t get drunk, dallas gets overwhelmed by the sight of her in that tiny dress and the two of them suspiciously disappear for the rest of the night…

saturday’s are her absolute favourite days when she can convince dallas to go to dances with her. when they first got together he said he didn’t wanna be involved with “all that soc shit” but one look at her all dolled up and the thought of how other guys might react had him shrugging on a smarter shirt and taking her to the local sock hop. he actually finds himself enjoying it as they play a lot of rock and roll that he likes and he feels like the luckiest guy in the world to get to slow dance with her at the end. afterwards they always stop at dq for greasy burgers, salty fries and creamy milkshakes. and he knows he is the luckiest guy to feel her knee press against his beneath the small table and to see her laughing so at ease.

and finally sundays are church days. her family are very devout christian’s so she’s been going since she was small. she enjoys the peace and quiet though she’s not sure if she actually believes in it all that much. and yeah maybe when her family are handing out the pie she’s made as a a sweet treat and trying to set her up with the pastor’s nerdy son she just might be creeping round the back to go make out with her boyfriend… aw young love, eh?

#diorgirl444 #flo answers #dallas winston x y/n #dallas winston #dallas winston x reader #dally winston x reader #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders dally #dally winston #sweetheart! reader ˚୨୧⋆｡˚

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observeowl · 2 months

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Second Chance | Chapter 3 - Choices Were Made

Series masterlist

In the past, you often avoided going back home for dinner because you didn’t want to face your parents half arguing, half not. There were times when you were sure if you weren’t there, they would have gotten a divorce or, at the very least, live separately. They are business partners, which was the root of their stress. Initially, you wanted to live in a dorm to experience dorm life and have fun. But after much deliberation, you stayed because you were too lazy to wash your own clothes and loved to have food prepared for you. Plus, the space was definitely a lot bigger at home as you occupied the dining table as your study space.

This time, you were going to make an effort to make them closer to each other. This is tough because you didn’t grow up in a family where you show love openly. It was often hidden under other actions and words.

Your first step was to bring them out more often. It could be just a lunch or dinner, but it relieves the stress of your mother thinking about what to cook and makes your father happy for not eating the same thing over and over again. You remember he loves to eat ramen for some reason. That was the only Japanese food that he would eat.

“I’m going out now! I’ll let you know if I need Dad to pick me up.” You shouted when you were at the door wearing your shoes. You were heading to the party that Fredrick was hosting at his house. Diana invited you, and you’d usually declined because parties were not your type as you were a lightweight, and you wanted to impress Nat with your grade. Now that you’re free from your shackles, you decide to join and meet someone new.

You meet with Diana and Camellia at her house before going together because you don’t want to enter some stranger's house alone and not know where to go. Diana has experience going to his parties and knows how it usually goes. She gave you a rough idea of how it goes as you took a cab there. No matter what, be aware of who is giving you a drink.

“Hey, Diana! You’ve come.” Frederick gave her a wide hug before ushering her to where the drinks were. I stick to my beer that I’m comfortable with, and we wander around the house until we find a group we’re comfortable with. Diana, the ever-social girl, found her friends and gave us a sheepish smile and waved before leaving.

“Isn’t that Nat and her friends?” Camellia asked as she saw a huge group at the corner. “Why don’t we head over there then? A chance to get closer to your crush.” She suggested. Having been in high school together, she knew of your crush as you texted her every time you managed to get closer to her.

“No. She’s not my crush anymore.” Usually, when you deny such allegations, there’s always a hint of shyness on your face, but this time you were glaring at Nat with some sort of anger on your face that made Camellia afraid to ask what happened.

Not wanting to be the only one walking around, you and Camellia joined the others on the dance floor to stretch your joints a bit. You started off with a few shakes before gaining more confidence and getting into the groove. “Hey ladies, why don’t you come and join us.” You shared a glance with Camellia before agreeing to join the group of guys.

The group introduced themselves, and you were pleasantly surprised that most of them were in the same faculty as you. When it came to asking about their clubs, it honestly slipped your mind that you were in the Archery Club because you wanted to get closer to Clint, who was Nat’s best friend. Now it doesn’t seem like a good idea. Furthermore, you were the logistic director, and can’t be seen quitting suddenly. You gave a mental note that you needed to check if you had gotten your bow at this point.

“Are you alright? You seem a little flush.” Andrew asked. “Do you need me to get you a glass of water?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s alright. I get red very easily.” A few more talks with them made you realise how much you missed. You could have been having fun with your friends, meeting new people, but you were nose deep into your books, chasing someone who abandoned you in the end.

All of you agreed to bid for the same modules if possible in the future, seeing as bidding for the new semester was going to start soon in a few weeks.

Andrew offered to get you a new beer because he hadn’t seen you drinking the one in your hand for a long time, but you shook your head. “It’s alright. I can hardly finish one bottle of beer.”

“A lightweight?” You nodded hesitantly. You have drank more than a bottle of beer and a few shots of soju. While you still were conscious of what you were doing, you ended the day by throwing up in a public restroom in some mall. You bet if you drank more often, you would build up a better resistance to alcohol, but you didn’t want to take the risk. “It’s rare to see a lightweight at a party.”

“I wanted to try something different.” You shrugged your shoulders.

He smiled and took the beer out of your hands, finishing it in a few gulps for you. “There, done. Do you want to get out of here?”

“I came here with my friends.” You weren’t sure if you wanted to leave with him.

“You can ask them. I don’t mind waiting.” He’s making it hard for you to say no. You interrupted Camellia’s conversation with Micheal and told her that you were heading out with Andrew. She gave you the thumbs up before continuing to talk. At least she was having fun.

Even though there was air conditioning inside, the cool night air was a lot more comforting. “Do you think you’d ever go to a party again?”

“Maybe a different kind of party, like a birthday party or something. Where it’s more about the fun and talking rather than drinking.” You answered.

“Where do you stay? I can drive you back.” You looked at him sceptically. “I’m a great driver. But, I’ll drive extra slow for you tonight,”

You decided to give him a chance and got in his car. “Just drive normally.”

Once you arrived home, your parents were intrigued that a guy drove you back but decided not to mention anything.

===

Natasha didn’t expect to see you at the party. Over the years, Tony has hosted many parties, and she tried to invite you as you were already a close friend of theirs, but you always declined, which was why you were always the one who picked her up from the parties she attended. You never gave her a concrete answer why and she didn’t push you either.

Maria nudged her slightly, which got her to turn her head. “I thought you were looking for Y/N? Why didn’t you ask her to come and join us?”

“I got my answer from her.”

“Oh? So you managed to meet her earlier?”

Nat shook her head. “I just got my answer when she looked over here and went away.”

“What did you actually want to talk to her about?” Natasha got up from her seat to get another set of drinks, and Maria got the notion that she didn’t want to talk about it.

Natasha knew you were in the same predicament as her when you walked away. Usually, you’d be the one pulling your friend to join because you were afraid to meet her alone. When she saw you glaring at her, she knew she wasn’t the only one to be brought back into this year.

When she saw you with your new group of friends, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy and anger through her. In her mind, both of you were still together. You were still married to her as of yesterday! How could you have gotten over her so quickly? You didn’t even give her a chance to talk and explain. And now she’s expected to walk away like she doesn't know you? How is this fair to her?

Natasha returned with more drinks for the group, and everyone took theirs before continuing with their conversation. “Are you ready to help Clint carry his part of the project?” Tony asked after rounding his talk with Vision. “Ready for the presentation?”

“Thank goodness I’m not in Clint’s group with you.” Maria said.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’ll have you know we’ll score A for this!” Clint defended. There are stories that Clint doesn’t do very well in his presentation or his exams, for that matter. But his debate and application are fantastic, which was why Natasha was willing to be in his group, as he knew which case law to use and which precedent case to cite. Since the bulk of the work is done, only the presentations left with Nat have a natural talent.

“There’s nothing to prepare for. I got it.” Natasha knew that was a lie, she had to check which topic she was going to present, but she knew every presentation, she scored an A.

“Ever the confident Romanoff,” Tony said. “There’s nothing that can strike you down, is there?”

Series masterlist

@dyslexic-dreamer @unexpected-character @eternalnight410

@leenasayeed @oh-thats-sad @skz-xii @gay-frogs-dancing-around

@justspance

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha x you #my writing #black widow 2021 #natasha romanoff fanfiction #second chance

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orange-demons-deactivated2024 · 2 months

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Ed's Outfit 1 and Outfit 2

Soo...what kicked this off was me looking at Ed's outfits and relating them to real boxers and trainers. I've just been passively watching boxing videos and noting the stylistic choices Capcom decided to use for Ed and Balrog. And how some things so minor to Ed can still be used as a way to show character growth.

This little rant is going to be focused on Outfit 2 and a little on Outfit 1. Not so much so Outfit 3.

The first major thing I noticed was his Red Gloves in Outfit 2 and I originally thought they were the ones with the velcro strap that most Boxers today use. But they're actually the lace-up ones, that a lot of old-school boxers use.

Lace-up gloves usually require the help of another person. This is usually fine in a gym or before a fight, but it can be a pain when training alone. They’re slower to put on and take off, so they are not ideal for shorter bursts of training.

The lace ends can cut opponents, so the gloves are usually taped up at the wrist before a fight.

Glove tape is intended to prevent scratches, scrapes, and cuts from loose laces or velcro. It secures the lace or velcro in place, ensuring the gloves stay in place for the duration of the match. Lastly, glove tape offers an extra level of wrist support.

Storywise, I believe Balrog would've laced them up for Ed and taped down the laces every time Ed would've put this outfit on.

And you can see it in this shot of his gloves.

Another interesting detail about his gloves that Capcom included was the NS on the tape.

Of course In-Game it's meant to represent NeoShadaloo. But there's a purpose for signing the tape in Real life.

In boxing, this is done to ensure that the hand wraps are not tampered with after being inspected. And it has to be approved by a boxing official. The official’s signature on a boxer's tape confirms that the wraps comply with regulations and haven’t been altered to provide an unfair advantage or added protection.

This has to be done when they're in the room or else they'll make the boxers do it all over again.

I can imagine the officials being on Ed's ass about this when the news broke out that he was training under Balrog. Moreso, not to lead to any foul play.

I'm not going to go too in-depth about the boxing Ed uses but know that because he doesn't have any formal padding in his Outfit 1, his fighting is considered bare-knuckles.

Bare-knuckle fighting today is growing popular in the underground scene.

And since Ed isn't hanging around Balrog like he used to, he probably opted to just use his wraps as the only form of protection for his hands.

ps. But boxers in the ring still wrap their hands before putting them in gloves to prevent any injuries to their hands.

Of course, in Ed's Outfit 1 he's dawning on some Boxing boots, but I can't say the same for his Outfit 2.

Most boxing boots are lightweight and they have a flat bottom to help boxers pivot and rotate, for technical movements.

But for day-to-day training, the tread at the bottom of the shoe gets worn down fairly quickly and boxers burn through multiple pairs within a year.

The only downside to them is that they are pretty expensive so most boxers would save them until they step into the ring.

And although they have a high top, the shoes don’t provide a lot of support for the ankles.

And since Ed doesn’t burn through many pairs of clothing like he used to in SFV, it seems reasonable that he would have a couple of official boxing shoes other than the ones shown in Outfit 1.

Another common shoe that boxers like to train in is Basketball shoes.

Most boxing shoes that have a low top, still have a flat bottom and in the pictures above, it looks to be thicker.

Like I mentioned before in SFV, Ed grew up relatively fast and he mentioned in his arcade mode how he kept growing into a new set of clothes every month.

Personally, I don’t think Balrog would’ve gotten Ed any official boxing gear until he settled into his own body. So basketball shoes are the way to go.

It’s also good for newer boxers because of the density and weight. They typically protect the ankles, the bottom of your foot, and the sides a lot more than a boxing boot would.

For someone starting off in boxing like Ed, getting the ability that he needs on his ankles, being able to move well without the fear of injury, and the bonus of moving around and performing fast, rapid movements, when he changes it out for a boxing boot, theoretically he would’ve been able to move quicker.

And with Ed’s playstyle, he's seen to be pretty light on his feet.

Wearing compression pants can help people check their form and correct things that don’t look right. Like if their knees are buckling, or if the athletes are staying upright, etc.

Performance: Compression pants are specifically designed for athletic activities. They provide a higher level of pressure to the legs, which can help improve blood flow and reduce muscle fatigue.

Recovery: These pants can aid in faster recovery by reducing inflammation and assisting the lymphatic system in draining lactic acid built up from exercise.

Support: They offer more support and stability, which can help with balance and proprioception during a workout.

Overall a good piece to add to one’s collection for working out.

Boxing-wise, there isn't really much to say about the other pieces of clothing in his Outfit 1 and Outfit 2.

And if it wasn't obvious, Ed's Outfit 2 was a redesign of his SFV outfit. This also seems to be an outfit one would use to train in the gym with, rather than in the ring.

Mostly because of the regulations of wearing a shirt and compression pants.

Ed did mention in the Official SF6 news that he did want to look like Balrog and how much Ed idolizes him, so I thought that was cute.

And that's what mostly inspired me to drop this as I'm currently stressing about my clinicals to start. haha. Don't procrastinate kids. Time to disappear again!

Also, I was supposed to do one with Bosch specifically, but I can't really get behind his VA defending a gRapist.

How to wrap hands in boxing: Everything you need to know on how to wrap hands | DAZN News US

What is the purpose of pro boxers writing on their handwraps? - Poe

What is written on the taped-up hands of mma fighters and why? - initials gauze | Ask MetaFilter

#street fighter #street fighter 6 #sfv #sf6 #street fighter x reader #street fighter ed #sf ed #sf6 ed #sf6 x reader #street fighter balrog #street fighter 6 x reader #sf balrog

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opossumloverr · 1 year

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✪ RAPHAEL HAMATO DATING HEADCANONS ✪

Summary:

Just some silly lil headcanons to start of the summa❗️🫶🏾

Warning(s):

None! all fluff up in here

A/N:

OKAY GUYS ITS SUMMER VAYCAY, IM BACK AND HAVE NOTHING TO DO FOR 75 DAYS, IM A FREE MAN, SO LET'S START IT OFF WITH MY FAVORITE BOY (Gender-neutral reader!)

I would like to start by saying this man loves you very much and would drop almost anything for you

You need help with a school project? Big red is on his way, you don't know what shoes will match the outfit you picked, oh what a coincidence! he just so happens to have a matching pair of shoes that fits you perfectly, you just want cuddles? lock and loaded baby, come at him

I think I can speak for everyone when I say we all need a Raph in our lives

He protects you from his brother's teasing, even if it's just playing or goofing, he is NOT taking any chances.

He loves to scoop you up randomly, you'll get used to it don't worry

Very cautious when picking you up though, doesn't want his spikes to hurt you, he will feel mad guilty if he was the one who caused you even a little bit of pain, even if it wasn't attentional (please comfort the man)

Appreciates the little moments he shares with you, oh my gosh I actually have the perfect scenario, just imagine...

After a long day full of fun cahoots and mysterious adventures, you two finally decided to go home, you usually go your separate ways after a day like this one, but it was rather late at night, and New York lets the creeps roam at this time, so he offered to ride the subway train with you, even though you were a bit hesitant but agreed cause there's no way your gonna allow yourself to get mugged in the middle of the night and like I said it was late at night so the subway cart that you guys were on was empty, he did wear a Hoodie and mask, just in case, the ride was silent, no noises but the constant screeching of the train tracks, but other than that it was just comfortable silence, Raph was lost in his thoughts, thinking about how the next day will be and how it will end, will it be a good or bad day? or something in the middle; what's the meaning of life? and what happens after death? Where does your soul go to, to heaven? or is it just pitch black forever, will today be his last day-- suddenly, he felt a lightweight on his shoulder, the thoughts that were coming in like a rapid wave started to smooth down to a calm stream of water, he glanced down at your sleeping figure, apparently you thought it was a perfect time to take a quick power nap, how cute! he coos softly at you, loving how you're so comfortable and calm around him. god, he loves you so much ♡,

"I promise I will always be here when you need me, you're my everything, sweetie"

Sorry guys I just felt a little kooky at the moment

If you like to play fight he's totally down, doesn't fight too hard obviously, and lets you win all the time, what a gentleman

He'll hold doors open for you, push your seat out, and then push it back in, hell, he would even do that thing where a guy puts his coat on a puddle so the lady could walk through it even though she's fully capable of walking around it

Takes so many pics of you and him at places, and has a particular folder on his phone with pictures of you guys

When it's family game night or movie night, he always invites you, you are practically a part of the family so why not? (The others don't mind)

It's so common to find you in the lair with how much you go down there on a daily basis

Yall have to do lovely dovey things in a private area cause of his brothers (mostly Leo, his bitchass) constantly changing the mood

Likes it when you watch him workout, it motivates him so much, sometimes he uses you as a weight

Loves to give you piggyback rides for some reason

He likes pickles, LISTEN LISTEN, if you don't like pickles in your burger you'll pick them out and give it to him cause you know he loves em (THE OLIVE THEORY ♡)

I GOT SOO MUCH MORE BECAUSE OF HOW MUCH I LOBE HIM BUT ILL KEEP IT INSIDE, FOR NOW, CAUSE ITS 5:08 AM RN 💀 sorry for being dead for 5 months, AGIAN, but imma be back on my grind now 🙏🏾 and I'll try to complete all of my 15 drafts 😓 and if you see any grammar mistakes, no you didn't.

#rottmnt #x reader #raphael rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #tmnt x reader

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satorus-leftarm · 1 month

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kenma hcs cuz i view him differently

(time skip ver.)

• sass god, will make you second guess everything decision you’ve ever made by one statement if u piss him off

• is actually a hell of a good cook but is picky as fuck

• when he was little up until the ripe age of 13 he had those plates that would separate all the food from each other, he didn’t like it when food got mixed and would claim it “takes away from his full eating experience”

• avid genshin player

• can actually be really funny when he’s in a comfortable environment (i.e, with close friends and family)

• spends most of his time in sweats and sweaters but when asked to he can and WILL out-dress you

• lowk was born into a loaded family. like his entire extended family lives in mansions n shii

• dabbles in the flute

• thinks toe shoes are fucking pointless and made an entire video essay on it in high school (is the reason he got internet famous)

• owns 2 cats, a black one and a calico one (obviously)

• used to be a lightweight but now can somehow chug beer after shot after beer and be un phased almost

• once streamed genshin for almost 24 hours

• will sit you down and explain the entirety of the fnaf lore because he memorized all of it (#projecting)

• favourite food is bread, just like, any type of bread, he fucking loves it

• i know hes canonically more closed off and doesn’t say much, but i feel like once he officially became a ceo something in him like turned and he suddenly started to become a pretty good spokesperson. he’d completely shut down almost completely afterwards tho. like he uses every fucking ounce of his social battery for events and meetings but then locks himself in his office or a small room w his headphones to help him recharge

• will go all out for halloween, no exceptions. he’s got a meeting? he’s dressing up. travelling? costume on. streams every year on halloween and plays horror games in the most intricate costumes (they all end up getting destroyed because of his tomfooleries during streams lol)

• he likes lofi, he’ll listen to it to fall asleep and when he’s working. but i feel like he’d also be a hyper pop type of guy too, maybe even sprinkle in some dad rock?? he doesn’t really go down rabbit holes for artists he just likes songs and adds them to a huge ass playlist

• chocolate ice cream truther, he loves that shit

• reading books doesn’t register in his brain. he can absolutely read!! but he can’t do books. comics, manga, news articles, paper work he can do!! but novels give him a hard time

• this lowk spicy but if hes doing the dirty, praise and hair pulling keep him going

• mans is a SUCKER for thighs. he just is.

• sneaker head tbh

• a strong believer in comfort sweaters

#kozume kenma #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu kenma #hq kenma #kenma headcanons #headcanon #headcanons #hcs #haikyuu kozume

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analysistics · 2 months

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A morning with y/n Sturniolo

Y/n wakes up to the alarm going off on her night stand. She puts the pillow over her ear and hides under the covers. She wants to just smack her hand over it but it’s out of her reach. She grumbles and emerges from the covers and drags herself across the bed to turn off the alarm. 7:07 AM. She sits there for a moment, her body willing her to go back to sleep, but she hauls herself out of bed and heads across her bedroom to the bathroom. She flicks the lights on, another groan of pain escapes her mouth. She rubs her eyes and sighs, looking in the mirror for a moment before finally moving to get ready.

Y/n trudges down the stairs, the sunlight streaming in through the open bedroom doors helping her stay awake. She comes to the bottom of the stairs and walks towards the kitchen island.

“Morning.” Chris says as soon as he sees me, getting up to open the fridge.

“Morning.” She says back to him, her voice still a bit rocky from sleep. She clears her throat, rubbing her eyes. She grabs her meds from the cabinet and goes to grab a drink, but Chris has already presented her with a glass of water and is sliding a bowl of strawberries to a seat on the island. Y/n smiles at him and heads over to her seat. “Thank you.” She says before noticing the leaves are cut off and the strawberries are sliced in half. Chris is back in his seat, but still peering at her with a small smile on his face. She looks up at him. “You cut them for me?”

“Yes I did. Cuz you’re a child.” He smiles and laughs, returning to his own food.

“Oookay. Well thank you.”

Y/n finishes her strawberries, putting her dishes in the sink, then heads back upstairs to her room. She shuts the door, walks over to her computer set-up and opens up her Spotify. She selects a song and walks over to her closet. Opening it up she scans over her clothes. She picks up her phone to double check the weather before going for a simple lightweight black sweatpant and oversized dark blue shirt. She grabs her clothes and walks to the bathroom to get dressed. She typically puts her bra on first, then finishes her routine before getting dressed. Once her bra was on, she put her hair in a low pony, slid a headband on and grabbed her toothbrush off the counter where it always sat, charging. She splashed water on her face, grabbing a face wash from her bathroom counter. She finished up her face with some moisturizer and a little smidgen of vaseline. She put on deodorant and put her clothes on, grabbing her hair brush and running it through her mid-shoulder length hair. She grabbed two small hair ties and put two half up, half downs in her hair. Y/n doesn’t really wear makeup, it’s unnecessary for her face, but she does a little bit of “grooming”. Grabbing an eyebrow brush, she straightens her eyebrows a bit before combing through her lashes to separate them before using an eyelash curler. First a regular one, then a heated one to make them last longer. Walking back into her bedroom, y/n grabs her backpack off the hook next to her door and sets it onto her desk chair, filling it with the school stuff she brought home from school the past Friday for the weekend. She slides on some socks, grabs her Apple Watch, securely fastening it around her wrist. She grabs the book she’s currently reading and puts it in her bag before stopping her music, grabbing her phone, and heading downstairs with her bag in hand. Chris is now on the couch on his laptop. Y/n sets her bag down on one of the island chairs. She grabs her water bottle, filling it and putting it in her bag, zipping it up and carrying it down the hallway. She sits down on the floor and grabs her converse classics;

“Matt!” She yells towards the house. “Matty, are you coming?” She hears him yell something indistinguishable. She finishes tying her shoes and goes back over to the stairs. “Matt, I need you!” This time she hears him;

“I know! I’m coming!” She walks back over to Chris and flops down next to him, laying her head on his shoulder. He presses his cheek on her head and keeps working on his laptop. Y/n hears footsteps coming towards them so she stands up in time to see Matt coming down the stairs.

“Let’s go. Morning, Chris.” He says putting a hand on y/n’s shoulder on their way towards the door.

“Bye Chris, love you!” She calls as she grabs her bag and heads out the door, followed by Matt.

“Love you too!” He calls back.

“Did you sleep okay?” Matt asks y/n as he drives her to school.

“Yeah, alright. You?”

“Fine I guess.” About ten minutes later, they’re pulling up to her school. Y/n opens the door and steps out.

“Thanks Matty, I love you.” She says as she shuts the car door.

“No problem, love you too!” He calls as she turns and walks away.

Thanks for reading, let me know if you want more!

#sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt #matt sturniolo #chris #chris sturniolo #fanfic #sturniolo sister #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets x reader #pov #sibling

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2uuno · 1 month

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DEIFORMS CHAPTER ONE

The night that Elvis Haddison mysteriously disappeared on Lake Cusp, Sean McCarthy crashed his car into a mailbox, although he didn’t stop until he reached town.

This was for two reasons- first, he knew who owned the mailbox he’d just bowled over, and knew that his consequences would not be particularly merciful. Secondly, and more predominantly, because he was drunk, and a little sleep deprived, and really shouldn’t have been driving at all. He neither thought to pull over or think to check on the mailbox until he was long out of sight.

But once he was stopped, he stopped for real, stumbling out of the car and sitting on the sidewalk, staring up at the neon light for the local diner. After a few deep, shaky breaths, he fished his phone out of his pocket, squinting at the screen for a few good minutes, before finding what he needed.

The phone rang for only a few moments, before, with a click, it stopped.

Neither spoke for a moment, before Sean remembered who he was talking to, before he remembered that he would have to be the first to talk, and sighed. “Hey bro. How much to convince you to pick me up?”

“Twenty. You at the party still?” The voice, a dry, hoarse, smoker’s voice came through, the faint sound of keys being grabbed in the background.

“Nah, I left, I’m at Frost’s.”

“How the hell’d you get from Jean-Paul’s to Frost’s?”

“Drove.”

“You drove?!” There was a long, fruitful pause, before a huff. “Did you wreck your car?”

“No,” Sean said, before pausing, thinking, and shaking his head hard. “I ran over the Robyn family.”

“What?”

“Not the family. Their mailbox. I don’t know why I said the family,” He thought. “I’m kind of drunk.”

“Man, you’re a lightweight. I’ll be there in ten. You gonna need to pick up your car tomorrow?”

“We have school, don’t we?”

“You're 19 years old.”

“So…?”

A sort of huffed laugh, and the sound of an engine starting. “No, Sean, you don’t have school tomorrow.”

“Okay, then, no.”

“Yes, you do, or it’ll get towed.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Bitch.”

The line went dead.

Sean stood up, stretching his arms over his head. The air was finally starting to cool off, and the hem of his t-shirt wasn’t quite enough to cover his stomach. He shuddered and lowered his arms.

Sean was, to put it simply, an odd looking young man. He was tall, easily six foot, and lanky, with pale pale skin and a buzzed head of bleach fried hair. His eyes were mismatched, one pupil perpetually dilated and surrounded by pale blue, the other surrounded by dark brown. His skin was covered in freckles, his face full of piercings. His clothes were all the wrong size, his shoes held together with duct tape. He looked like a Frankenstein’s monster of a man, all the wrong bits in the wrong places. The result was very nearly a positive one, but not quite.

A minivan pulled up.

Unlike Sean’s rattly old pickup truck, this one was a good deal newer, and in a much better condition. Some would even call it a nice car.

The passenger side window shuddered down, and Sean stumbled over, leaning his head in.

“Hey cutie. Need a ride?”

“I’m not supposed to get in strangers' cars,” Sean fired back, but reached through the window to unlock the door, climbing into the familiar car that he’d been climbing into for the past two years without a hesitation. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“You didn’t wake me up,” Diego Costello lied. “You feel alright?”

Sean shrugged, letting his head roll to the side while he gazed at his best friend.

He was short, and stout, with a mohawk of curls that were ever so slightly longer in the back than the top. His face was permanently scrunched in a scowl, almost a look of disgust. He had the saddest little goatee in an attempt to make his baby face any less of a baby face, and it didn’t quite work. The braces didn’t help.

“You smell like shit,” He said, finally, glancing at the rearview mirror. “Did someone throw up on you?”

“No,” Sean grumbled. “But Jesus Freak tried.”

“Kyrie?” Diego sounded nearly surprised. “Kyrie went to a party?”

“Yeah, and got drunk off his tits,” Sean picked at his cargo pants. “Think Lori drove him home.”

“Hm.”

Sean stared out the windshield. “Are you mad?”

“Mad at Kyrie? Why would I be, he’s 18, he’s a big boy-”

“Mad at me.”

The car was silent.

Sean groaned, letting his head hit the window with a hollow thunk.

This was a song and dance they’d done nearly every weekend for two years, up until about a month ago, when Sean had finally gotten his own truck. They both thought that would be it- the end of Sean’s pathetic dependence, the end of Diego having to haul his friend home.

“Why didn’t you call my sister?” Diego finally asked.

“What?” Sean scowled. “Why would I-?”

“She’s your girlfriend.”

“And you’re my best friend-”

“You don’t get it, do you,” Diego snapped, suddenly, stopping at a stop sign and twisting to look at Sean, look him in the eye. “She’s your girlfriend. You’re supposed to be her problem.”

Sean blinked at him, stupidly, before the words registered, and he clenched his jaw. “Yeah, well. Well… well-!”

Diego exhaled, hard, turning back to the road. “I didn’t mean… I don’t know, you’ve been avoiding me for this whole time-”

“-Have not-”

“You ditched me at lunch, Sean,” He cut him off. “You sit with her, and Dean, and that Robyn girl-”

“-Lillian, she’s actually really nice-”

“Sean.”

“Di,” Sean whined. “I didn’t mean to ditch you, I just… you and Miki and Lori… you’re cool, but you guys are… you’re just…”

“Not cool?”

“No, you’re-”

“-No, no, I get it,” Diego said, firmly, pulling up in front of Sean’s house- not going up the driveway, just stopping at the mailbox. “Don’t worry about it.”

“...Would you rather I had called Madi?”

Diego stared out the windshield for a moment, before sighing, looking around, eyes finally landing on Sean. “No. Maybe, I don’t know.”

Sean hissed out a breath through crooked teeth. “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Monday.”

“Whenever.”

And he got out.

Neither said goodbye. Neither said I love you. Neither said anything they’d always said. Diego drove away and Sean walked up his driveway, and neither of them slept well that night.

Across town, the fog rolled across the Lake, and swallowed Elvis whole.

…

Sean didn’t dream very often.

When he did, they were vague, unclear, sort of blurry. Just the kind of thing where you get a sort of feeling when you wake up that something happened.

This started off like that- vague and blurry, but then, all of a sudden, like an image loading in all of a sudden, it all clicked. And he was standing in the road across from Frost’s Diner, staring down at a charred and blackened corpse. It wasn’t familiar- the lack of any distinguishing features kind of did that- but he recognized the hoodie.

It was him.

He looked up, and the town was on fire- but not regular fire: red flames that licked the sky. He could have sworn at some point he’d heard that red fire wasn’t supposed to be very hot, but here, it seemed almost to be suffocating, even hundreds of feet from him, nowhere near the place he stood.

He woke up the next morning to the familiar sound of his mother in the kitchen, arguing with someone. And, considering his father was out of town and his sister was hardly an arguer, there was really only one person it could be.

He managed to fight his way out of his covers without falling on his face, fighting his way down the hallway to the kitchen-slash-diningroom where his mother stood with her back to him, busy furiously scrubbing out a bowl while she bitched away to the only other person in the room.

“Hey Mama,” Sean said, his voice rough. “Hey Madi.”

Madison Costello, much like her twin brother, was far from tall or lanky. In fact, she was probably a good head shorter than Diego, and twice his weight. Her hair was trimmed short, her wiry glasses held to her face by a broad nose. She wore a sweater vest over a dress shirt, clean gray slacks and a cross necklace that Sean knew better than anyone was just for appearances.

“Sean, baby,” His mother turned around, a flash in her steely gray eyes. “It’s past noon. What were you doing up so late that you slept in so much?”

“And why isn’t your truck in the driveway?” Madi added, an almost playful smirk on her face.

“What?!”

“Uh, I went to a party. No drinking or anything, but it went a lot later than it was supposed to. I got a ride from Diego.”

Madi’s smile flickered, a questioning look replacing it. Sean’s mother didn’t notice, just clicking her tongue and turning back to the dishes. Sean raised an eyebrow at her, and she just shook her head.

‘We’ll talk later.’ She mouthed.

Feeling a little out of the loop, he nodded along. He often felt out of the loop around Madi, almost all the time. It wasn’t her fault, he thought, she simply was… quicker than him.

That was the thing about Madi. She thought of things before anyone else did, and then didn’t elaborate. She just assumed everyone else was having the same revelations she was having, and didn’t stop to consider that maybe they weren’t. Sean had known her about as long as he’d known Diego- which was nearly his whole life- but he wasn’t sure he’d ever had the same thought as she did at the same time she had.

He was just… behind.

When he’d first started hanging out with her and her friends, back when they got together a few months prior, he’d been sure that he’d be left out and confused and alone, but, inexplicably, he found her usual crowd was hardly any more put together than him.

Dean, for example, was a lanky kid who looked faintly like if some supermodel had gotten their face slammed into concrete a couple dozen times. He was attractive, in a very tragic, missing a front tooth, broken nose, sort of way. To boot, he had been a benchwarmer on the high school basketball team, where he spent a good amount of his time daydreaming about space ships.

His main claim to fame, however, was his girlfriend.

Lillian Robyn, like all Robyns, was absolutely drop dead gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous where you’re not sure if plastic surgery was involved. She’d been a pageant star in DC as a child, until her parents divorced and her dad remarried to the only lawyer in Rome, and they settled down in the only house in the neighborhood with a third story.

Neither of them were very cool. They hung out with Madi because she made them seem smarter, she hung out with them because they kept away any assholes. And they all hung out with Sean because he made them all look very smart and very hot in comparison, as far as he knew.

He did kind of miss his old friends sometimes- Diego and Miki and Lori and Kyrie- but this was better for him, he reminded himself. This was less likely to get him labeled a bad kid.

The second Madi managed to shoo him out of the kitchen, he knew he was in trouble, and yet he remained firmly excluded from anything resembling a loop as she hauled him down the hallway, to his bedroom, where she shut the door and turned on him.

“So, Diego gave you a ride home?”

“Yeah?” Sean sat on the bed. “He always does, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is,” Madi said, slowly, condescendingly. “I don’t want my boyfriend running around with a guy who’s known for stealing boyfriends.”

“'Steal boyfriends,'” He huffed. “He kissed Lars Milyama once. And that was before him and Elvis started going out-”

“That’s not the point,” Madi pouted. “You said when we started going out that you’d stop hanging out with them.”

“I though you didn’t have beef with him-”

“Besides, why wouldn’t you call me to drive you? You know I would have-”

“Because- because-” She stared at him, raising one eyebrow, and his voice gave out. “I don’t know.”

The butterflies that came with being in love sure felt an awful lot like a panic attack sometimes, he thought.

Luckily, Madi seemed to get the memo, and just sat beside him on the bed. "Sorry for grilling you, it's just…. I'm worried, you know? You've been going to a lot of parties, and driving home drunk-"

"I didn't drive drunk last night."

"I almost wish you had." She muttered, under her breath.

Secretly, he agreed, but he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t supposed to have heard that, anyways.

“Whatever,” She said, waving a hand. “You need to get dressed, we’re all going to hang out at the park, and you need to at least be wearing something clean.”

By the time he was dressed, he was already wishing he’d pretended his headache was worse to get out of this, but it was far too late at this point. He was going to go to the park and he was going to have a good time whether he liked it or not.

Madi was sitting in her car by the time he got out there, scrolling through Insta on her phone. She glanced up absently when he got in, and for a second he thought she was going to say something about him taking too long and he braced himself, but instead she just snorted. “Your shirt’s on backwards.”

Embarrassed, he managed to twist it around until it sat correctly, buckling up as she pulled out of the driveway.

The park wasn’t really a park, just a field of grass between the highway and the local church, but that was pretty much the only place for people to hang out, and the church didn’t mind, so that was that. The only alternative, after all, was Walmart.

Pulling into the church parking lot, Madi’s phone rang. Before she could dismiss it, Sean glanced over and saw the caller ID.

“What’s Diego calling you for?”

“Hell if I know.”

“You should probably answer.”

She gave him a look and he shrunk back a bit. She declined the call and climbed out of the car, brushing her short curls from her face.

For a second he watched her walk away, trying to hype himself up enough to follow her.

He knew he was in love with her, but the near constant nausea of being around her was a bit much, he thought.

He got out of the car.

It’s not that Sean didn’t like his friends- or, god forbid- his girlfriend. He liked them just fine.

It’s just that they hadn’t known him nearly as long as his old friends had. They didn’t understand him.

Diego knew when he was getting quiet, that meant he was getting overwhelmed. Lori knew when he started fidgeting that that meant he wanted to say something. Miki knew when he huffed out air through his nose it meant he was ready to move on and do something else. Kyrie knew to put the volume in the car on even numbers because odd numbers made Sean uncomfortable.

These guys didn’t know that and, at the end of the day, he wasn’t really sure how to explain it either, so he just kind of went along with whatever they wanted.

He didn’t dislike them, is the point. He didn’t. He just wished sometimes that they knew him a little better.

Lillian looked up when he walked over, and lit up, perfect, pearly teeth shining at him from dark brown lined lips. “Hey big guy! How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been alright. Work’s been ass, but what’s new there?”

“Amen to that, buddy,” Dean said, where he was laying on his back, arm covering his face. “I didn’t realize how much I’d miss school until we graduated.”

Sean sighed, nodding.

The thing you need to understand is that Madi’s gang wasn’t popular. Definitely no more popular than Diego's gang. What they gained with Lillian, they lost with Madi herself, and Dean came in with his perfectly average reputation and demolished what minute bias of social standing they had.

And Sean… well, Sean wasn’t particularly popular, nor was he unpopular. People saw him, and recognized him from the hallways and the cafeteria of school, and said hi to him, carefully avoiding names lest they misremember.

He brought nothing to the group, beyond dating Madi, and having known Dean in elementary school when their teacher kept making jokes about their names rhyming (they didn’t if you pronounced them right) and being third or fourth cousins with Lillian.

He didn’t really belong.

But he sat down in the grass, and grabbed a soda from the cooler and cracked it open, taking a swig that was perfectly normal sized, and watching Madi pull out her phone to squint at the screen.

“Diego again?” He asked.

Dean lifted his head, squinting around.

Dean wasn’t very good at being a jock. He wasn’t very handsome after repeatedly getting his face smashed in by a ball and the floor, and he wasn’t mean enough. He also knew too much- just random facts no one knew or wanted to know, and he would happily chime in to any conversation to contribute. He wasn’t much help to the team in basketball games, but he was too good to kick, so he sat in a comfortable limbo of being too well liked by his teammates to be bullied but not well enough liked by his peers not to be. He had been adopted as a child- not from China like so many people seemed to think, but from Pennsylvania. He was half Korean and half Indonesian, but he always told people he was from Pittsburg when asked.

“Is he still calling you?” He asked, squinting in the bright light. “Maybe you should pick up-”

“No, I told you, he’s probably just calling to ask if he can have my leftovers.”

“You said he’s been calling since 6 in the morning, and he was out of the house when you woke up, that’s a little weird.”

“Wait, when did you say this?” Sean asked, blinking.

“The Snapchat groupchat?” Lillian said, before her jaw dropped. “Oh my god, we never added you-”

“-He doesn’t have Snapchat,” Madi said, irritably. “Because he doesn’t know how it works.”

“I don’t,” Sean shrugged weakly. “I don’t understand social media.”

“It’s fine,” Dean said. “I only got it so I can keep track of my teammates.”

“Creep.” Lillian nudged him with her shoe.

The two of them had been dating for a little over a year at this point, but they’d been going out on and off since seventh grade. It’s not like they’d ever broken up- not properly- they just… stopped dating every now and then. And then they got back together. And then they stopped. It was weird.

No one in Sean’s old group was dating. Kyrie and Lori had gone out on one date, back in freshman year, and kissed once, but that was it, and they all vowed not to bring it up. Now, it felt like everyone was a couple.

He kind of missed sitting around in Lori’s basement, bitching about teachers and eating cold pizza and sipping lukewarm soda because the Capsums didn’t believe in putting soda in the fridge.

But that was the past now.

Things were different.

During their last hangout, before he’d gone to the dark side, he’d warned them he wasn’t going to be eating lunch with them anymore, because Madi wanted to hang out with him more, and the way they all looked at him, disbelieving and incredulous, the way Kyrie laughed a little bit… it hurt.

It’d been a while- long enough that Sean thought that he was getting used to it. But maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he never would.

“Do you guys think,” Lillian started, taking a long sip of her drink. “That there’s such a thing as God?”

“What?” Dean asked, rolling over.

“I had a weird dream last night, and I think I believe in God, now. What do you guys think, though?”

Sean huffed, laying back on the grass.

That was one thing about this group- the conversations were weird.

Dean had only just started to get rolling with the more complicated details of his theology lecture when Sean’s phone rang.

“If it’s Diego, ignore it.” Madi said, calmly, from her perch atop the cooler.

It wasn’t. It was his little sister Genny, so he picked up.

“Hey Gen,” He said, taking another carefully measured sip. “What's up?”

“Elvis is gone,” She said, hollowly. “He went out on the lake, and now he's gone.”

Sean paused, glancing at the other three, who were still chatting away, as if something was supposed to have changed.

“What do you mean, gone?” He asked.

“He isn't here anymore. I don't know if he fell out of the boat or something, but he's not… we've been looking all morning, we can't find anything.”

“Did you call the cops?” He suggested, a sinking feeling in his chest. Lillian nudged Dean, finally taking notice of what was happening.

“Yeah, they're here, but they're not doing anything.” She said, a bitter scoff on her voice. “Can you come?”

“... I'm hanging out with my friends-”

“Fuck that,” She said, shakily. “My best friend is missing, you can come help me.”

Sean glanced at his friends, who were all watching curiously. “... We're on our way.”

#!#writing tag #deiforms story tag #deiforms #sean tag #diego tag #madi tag #dean tag #lillian tag #genny tag

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starlight-lesbians · 1 month

Note

If you’re comfortable writing it, would love to know about Dinah’s first experience getting high when she finds Greaseball out back smoking in the coffee/taco bell au

Dinah’s First Time Smoking! (TB/Coffee Shop AU)

a/n: so i’ve actually been thinking about this too bc dinah kind of exudes goody two shoes energy, so i doubt she’s gotten high before

warnings: drug use (weed), underage smoking, they’re crushin on each otheerrr

So Greaseball is 17 and Dinah is 16 when they first encounter each other

Dinah’s like a straight A student, cheerleader, never stepped out of line goody two shoes kid and she is S T R E S S E D okay

Greaseball has probably kind of given up on everything but sports because that’s what she’s good at, so she’s fine misbehaving a bit (and getting other people to do it with her lmao)

When Dinah comes upon her smoking at the picnic table, she’s like, hella nervous at first because oh my god isn’t that Illegal??? but she agrees to not tell for the first few times she visits the spot

The fourth time she slips in to the clearing, it’s before Greaseball gets there. When she does, she finds Dinah laying on the picnic table and staring at the sky

Dinah’s day had sucked, really badly. School was really starting to get to her, and the pressure at home wasn’t helping. She barely had the time to take a breath here and there.

The two of them talked and vented about their respective issues for a bit, and then Greaseball pulled out her joint she’d come out to smoke

After she had lit it, Dinah quietly asked if she could try it, fiddling with her hands in her lap. She thought maybe it could help her calm down a little

Greaseball obliged, going to sit next to her so she could help her not choke. She held the joint up to Dinah’s lips and showed her how to breathe in the smoke comfortably

Dinah sputtered a little bit but still got it down, surprising Greaseball a little bit. She quickly began feeling a little fuzzy headed and giggly, laying her head on GB’s shoulder.

“How ya feelin? It helping?” Greaseball let Dinah lean on her, no one else was around to see after all (and she was cute)

Dinah nodded, “My brain’s like….empty, feels good” It was a weird spacey feeling, but she couldn’t remember what she was so stressed about, so that was a plus.

“Lightweight.” Greaseball chuckled at how spaced out she was, glad Dinah wasn’t panicking like she had the first time she smoked.

Dinah smiled dazedly at her, “You’re pretty…” she reached up and poked Greaseball’s cheek, laughing as she did so.

Greaseball felt her face heat up a little too much for it to just be a side effect of the weed, and why wouldn’t she be blushing? a really pretty girl just called Her pretty while stoned for the first time, which meant she probably meant it

They hung out and talked in the clearing for a few hours until Dinah came down enough to drive herself home safely, though GB made sure Dinah had her number just in case she needed help getting home (she also just wanted to talk to her obvs)

Theyre cute as always and i wrote this while i was half asleep have fun

#starlight express london 2024 #greaseball the diesel #dinah the dining car #greasedinah #dinah starlight express #greaseball and dinah #stex #dinah x greaseball #rory rambles! 💕#starlight express greaseball #starlight express #stex college au #drive-thru express

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leiawritesstories · 1 year

Note

Okay I saw “First time getting drunk” on one of the prompt lists and now I’m imagining aelin or rowan maybe having their 21st, having waited all that time without having alcohol and maybe the other one’s teasing them for being such a goody-two-shoes, and then they get drunk together and it’s either hilarious or there’s a love confession or literally anything at all, this is just where my brain headed but you can go anywhere you want to with this prompt, your ideas are always amazing

(And congrats again❤️)

HI ABBY THANK YOU SO SO MUCH ❤️❤️❤️this made me CACKLE and i hope it makes you laugh too ;)

Word count: ~1.4k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, drunken antics, *someone* is a lightweight

enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Staghorns Bar was packed by the time Aelin and Rowan walked through the old wooden doors, instantly bombarded with the barrage of blaring music, tattooed skin, and beer stench that was so familiar to Staghorns's regulars.

"Welcome to your new favorite place!" Aelin called into Rowan's ear, raising her voice over the thumping music.

He rolled his eyes and pulled her closer against him. "I already want to leave."

She laughed, pinched her best friend's cheek. "Where's the fun in that, birthday boy? You don't even have to pay for your drinks tonight."

"Fine, I'll stay," he relented, grinning at her. "If only for the free drinks."

"You've never known the pain of paying for your booze," she reminded him, snickering. Rowan's refusal to touch alcohol until he was 21 had been a longstanding joke among their friend group.

"And whose bank account has that benefitted, hmm?" He raised his split brow.

"Okay, you can stop now." She poked him in the ribs. "I got the full college experience, booze and all, and I'm still in one piece, despite your hovering, Mom." She delivered that last word with heavy sarcasm. She might be eight months older than her best friend, but he hovered like an overprotective mother hen.

He snorted. "You keep calling me that, Ae, but we all--urk!" His snarky comment was cut off by a trademark Fenrys Moonbeam Hug Attack, which he allowed for exactly two seconds before shoving the blonde off of him.

Ever enthusiastic, Fen turned his sights onto Aelin, hoisting her off her feet in a bear hug. "You brought the birthday boy!" he exclaimed.

She laughed. "It took some bribery, but yeah, he's here."

"And he's gonna get druuuuuunk!" Fen cheered in a sing-song tone of of voice that had Rowan rethinking his decisions.

"Uh-uh, nope, I know that face." Aelin linked her arm through Rowan's and tugged him towards the booth where their friends were waiting. "No running away now, birthday boy."

"I'm not getting drunk," Rowan griped.

She snorted under her breath. "Since when have you ever listened to Fen's wildness? You'll have a beer, maybe taste some liquor, take a shot and cough on it like all the new drinkers do, and go home finally knowing what alcohol tastes like."

"And I should be excited for that?" he asked, deadpan.

She smacked his broad shoulder, which did more damage to her hand than his rock-solid muscles. Damn athletes. "You'll at least be able to tell your big bad hockey boys that you've graduated from the kiddie table." They reached the booth, where far too many people were crammed into a space meant for eight people, maximum. "He's here!"

"Happy birthday!" cheers sounded from their friends, and Rowan found himself deluged by more hugs and handshakes and back slapping.

"Never thought I'd see your pansy ass in a bar," Lorcan smirked, clapping him on the back.

"Fuck off." Rowan clapped Lorcan's back harder. The two of them had been teammates since they were in middle school, and Lorcan had been trying--unsuccessfully--to get Rowan to come to hockey team parties for years.

The taller man smirked wickedly and turned around, holding out his hand. "El, baby, pass me a cup?" A plastic cup full of beer appeared in Lorcan's hand. courtesy of his girlfriend, Elide. "Here you go, Birthday Boy." He picked up how own drink and tapped it to Rowan's. "Cheers, bitch!"

Rowan caught scent of the beer and immediately wrinkled his nose. "Smells fucking awful."

Appearing at his side, Aelin laughed. "We're college students, Ro, we only buy piss-cheap beer." She raised her own glass to him and pressed her lips to his ear. "Drink up, and I just might buy you something better."

"God damn, you're a terrible influence," he muttered, teasingly. "Cheers to me, then!" Saluting the booth, he tipped the cup back and took a long drink.

And gagged. "Fucking hell!"

Aelin chugged her whole cup in one go and laughed. "Not a fan?"

"No!" He switched cups with her. "Where's my real drink?"

"Aww, look at our little boy, all grown up and wanting liquor the second he tastes his first alcohol," Lorcan crooned, dropping his arms around Aedion and Rowan's shoulders.

Rowan shook him off. "Jackass."

Aedion slid a shot glass full of clear liquid across the tabletop. "All yours, birthday boy!" His grin was just as maniacal as Aelin's when she was up to no good.

Aelin shot her cousin a sharp look. "Aedy, is that--"

"Let him drink it and we'll find out," Aedion interrupted before she could finish, making a dramatic shut up! gesture.

She rolled her eyes. "You're a terrible influence." Swiping the other shot from Aedion, she took a quick sniff--yep, tequila. "Okay Ro, ready?" He nodded and picked up his shot. "Happy birthday, bestie!" She clinked her shot with his and, in unison, they tapped their glasses on the table and threw back the shots.

Rowan coughed and wheezed as the tequila burned down his throat, his face flushing red. "What the fuck?"

The booth burst into raucous laughter as he dropped his shot glass, reached for the glass of water sitting in front of Elide, and gulped it down desperately.

Only to find that what looked like water was in fact vodka.

"Look at our little alcoholic go!" Elide cheered, taking her drink away from Rowan as he coughed and spluttered some more.

"Wuh-water," he managed to wheeze. Aelin passed him her water bottle, and he took a tentative sip to confirm it was actually water before guzzling three-fourths of the bottle in one go. It helped, but didn't do anything to clear the glassy sheen his eyes had already taken on after half a cheap beer, one shot of tequila, and a generous helping of Elide's vodka.

"Better?" Aelin took back her water bottle. "Ro? Is that better?"

He turned to face her, blinking at the way her outline was...fuzzy? He shook his head. That couldn't be right. "Huh?"

A wide, wicked grin slipped across her face. "Rowan Whitethorn, are you drunk already?"

"No, I'm not!" he protested. It came out more like "no-uhmmm-not."

She snickered. "Should've known you'd be a lightweight after all your years refusing to drink." Standing, she draped his arm around her shoulders and waved to the table. "I'll make sure the birthday boy doesn't pass out before he gets home."

Rowan swayed on his feet but let her lead him out of the bar and across the parking lot until they'd reached his beat-up old pickup. He went to step up into the passenger seat, missed the running board, and flopped forward, catching his upper body on the seat.

Aelin sighed and rubbed his back comfortingly. "C'mon, you big drunk oaf, you have to get into the truck. I can't lift you."

"I'n lif' you," he slurred, grinning a big silly grin.

"I--wha--Ro!" She gasped as he turned around and lifted her easily, setting her down in the passenger seat. "Um, you've got it backwards, Rowan. You're way too drunk to drive. Hell, you might be too drunk to think properly' I can't let you drive."

"Am not!" He stuck out his lower lip. It was adorable. "'M'thinkin' jus' fine, an' I think I love you."

Aelin froze.

Rowan blinked at her, his hazy eyes wide with concern. "Ae?"

"You...you love me?"

A soft pink blush crept up his cheeks. "Yeah."

Her lips curved into a tiny, hesitant smile. "And you had to get drunk to admit it?" He opened and closed his mouth a few times, at a loss for words. She laughed softly and caught his chin in her hands, her bringing his face close to hers. "I'm just teasing, Ro." Gently, she pressed her lips to his, tasting the lingering alcohol.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her harder, breaking away after a long, sweet moment. His bright grin settled into a dark, cold corner of Aelin's heart and warmed it right through. "Stay wi'me?" he asked, his words still slurred together.

Beaming, she hopped down from the truck, boosted him into the passenger seat, went around to climb into the driver's seat, and started up the engine. "Of course."

Despite falling asleep within the first two minutes, he held her hand the whole drive back to campus.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

#my writing #answered prompt #leia's 500 followers thing #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin au #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #yes aelin IS older in this fic #canon who? never heard of her

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actionevafootwear · 6 months

Text

Sole Mates for Your Feet Soles: Finding the Right Footwear for Every Occasion

Similar to finding the perfect match in life to fall in love with, the right pair of footwear can transform your life for the very better in terms of comfort and confidence along with great overall health for your body. Whether you put together your usual or unusual attire for a casual outing or a formal event, the correct pair of footwear can make your style trending and keep your feet comfortably supported throughout the occasion without any hiccups. This blog will turn the spotlight on better understanding the major footwear issues, offering some useful tips for daily lives on how to pick the best footwear for a man, woman or child for different occasions.

Casual Outings:

For a casual outing such as a healthy walk in the park or a simple coffee catch-up with friends or colleagues, the number one priority is that it should be comfortable so that all your attention is diverted to enjoying the best moments of life. Try to avoid high-heeled or thick non-breathable boots but choose light sneakers or very soft sandals with breathable and soft materials for better foot health. Always prefer the styles that provide superior support to every inch of the feet and ease the weight of the entire body while walking or standing for long hours, maintaining the balance for both feet in terms of support and comfortably. Select strong and long-lasting sneakers or durable sandals with firm adjustable straps for your kid, so that it won’t slip off while he/she is playing and discovering new things in life to share with you.

Formal Events:

When we are getting ready for formal attire at weddings or professional business meetings the two concepts of style and comfort are fundamental and stand above all. Men should prefer to wear classic leather shoes or attractive loafers in neutral colours (like black and brown) and women should pick to wear elegant low-heels or beautiful flats which match their outfits and reflect their true personality more wonderfully. Before selecting the right pair always check whether the fit and the whole support system and examine whether the footwear is adequate enough so that you will not have any problems but a cushion of comfort when you stand or dance on the stage of life. Children can choose to wear fashionable yet comfy footwear that matches the look of their formal dress-up and never compromises on support or comfort.

Athletic Activities:

If you are that person who wants to go for a regular workout, take an everyday jog, or frequently play sports, the type of footwear you choose to wear during training and performance will greatly influence the way your body performs and nurture its vulnerabilities to injuries. Get those footwear that have been developed for your specific physical activity in mind e.g. for long-distance running the recommended shoes come with cushion soles and breathable uppers, while for basketball you need shoes with good ankle support and proper grip for best traction. For instance, you should also look out for features such as shock absorbers, arch supports, and snug fitting to protect your feet and appreciate their well-being during vigorous exercise of the body and the mind.

Outdoor Fun Activities:

If you are an adventurous person who loves an outdoor activity such as hiking, camping or exploring the beauty of nature trails, durability and traction are very essential elements that should be embedded in your footwear. Hence, they should be looked into with careful examinations and evaluations while purchasing for your kind of adventure. Spend wisely on good quality hiking boots or tough shoes with durable soles and water-resistant materials that can keep you away from foot injury in tough natural environments and bad weather. Always remember to have a good fit that will safeguard your ankle from possible injuries on uneven ground while also protecting your toes. Children should select either heavy-duty outdoor sandals or small hiking boots with reinforced support for toes and ankles to properly support their feet and also to maximize the enjoyment of an adventure.

Beach and Pool Days:

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Basic Qualities of the Perfect Footwear Soul Mate:

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Conclusion:

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#action #lightweight school shoes #best winter shoes for women #best winter shoes for men #best winter shoes for man #Best Casual Footwear #daily use slippers #best slippers for men #Best slippers for Women #Best kids slippers #summer slippers

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vqrtualheartss · 1 year

Note

Can I request 42 miles having been with reader for a long while now, and like she already knows about miles being the prowler. So he kinda just comes in through her window and finds out she can sing, because she's singing when he comes but she doesn't notice him right away? And you can fill in the rest how you'd like.

If you can do this, thank you! No pressure though

♪ • My Beyoncé

ᴅ☆ᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴀʏ|

i still cannot believe that like, we're at 100. i love y'all Currently trying to create more gender-neutral writing or even mlm cause I'm tryna b inclusive so yea

Warnings — None, I think Genre — Fluff

"HUAHHHH" flopping down onto the bed I dragged a pillow beneath my face, muffling the minute long scream. Lordd, Isn't summer school supposed to be just shits and giggles? Why the hell did I get guilt-tripped into this―this is whack. Sluggishly, I sat up, removing my shoes and heading to the bathroom, raising and dragging my feet into the floor one by one getting there.

I shook my body looking into the mirror, closing and re-opening my eyes every two seconds to rid the tiredness. Ceasing, I took a deep breath...and then another one, smiling sheepishly before letting out laughter I didn't know I had in me. Am I really losing it cause of the heat? To keep myself somewhat awake I took on the task of washing my hair. yes. an everything shower.

Searching for something lightweight to wear, I found a ruffled short-sleeved top and random shorts from a sleeping set ―the other half I lost. Feeling more refreshed, it had me unsettled how the atmosphere felt more dull than calmer.

" A little music never hurt anybody right?" I sat on the bed, towels wrapped around my torso and hair, searching for the perfect queue of songs to play. I settled with the “For Whatever playlist” on standby for situations like these. Connecting to the speakers set beside the vanity table, I placed my phone face down to get myself dressed.

Before I knew it, clapping to the beats softly and doing whichever dance came to mind turned into navigating throughout my room with my waist, gradually singing louder than the music.

I sang from SWV

“Boy I'll do you all night long. Do you any way you want, I will do you all night long. I wanna please you, Don't wanna tease youu”

To Nicki

“I'd do anything that you say, anything. 'Cause you the boss, you the boss. You, you, you the boss, ayy”

I felt lighter in contrast to earlier, my eyes shut as my whole being absorbed the music. I barely sorted my hair out but ironic enough, I was about 35 songs deep into the playlist, jumping from the classics to Modern R&B, Rap, you name it —without skips too—

Then came on one of my favourites by Kehlani, ―You know wassup― and believe me when I say I sang that shit like I was going through itt. Almost embodying the lyrics, my face expressed every emotion brought on by the lyrics, my hands pointing from myself to the invisible person infront me.

“Why do I gotta beg to be chosen over your vices, over your liquor? Why I gotta ask for flowers? I deserve roses, I deserve bigger I know you're tryna change, but is it all worth the wait? It hurts to stay just as much as it hurts to walk away”

"Why you in here acting like I don't be treating you right ?" Ending off with a breathy chuckle, I turned around to see Miles getting comfortable on my windowsill. It was obvious how he came in, but why that way.

"You do know that I have a working door right?" He shrugged, a cheeky smirk taunting his lips. Piecing together two and two I pressed my lips into a hard line, bringing out my bottom lip with my index finger before pointing it at him. "How long have you been there?" Wrapping an arm around my torso, I placed the other hand on my cheek, anticipating his answer.

"Long enough to know my baby could give Beyoncé a run for her money. Esa voz podría hacerte ganar el apodo de ángel, mi amado" That voice could get you the name angel, my love. The space between us grew shorter as he stood infront my frame, placing his hands down on my hips. "oh puh-lease, you're just saying that" Rolling my eyes, I crossed my arms, trying to surpress the bending in the corners of my mouth.

"Okay, let me word it better for you. You're MYY Beyoncé"

"Oh really now"

"Yes and I mean it" Punctuating his sentence with a kiss, he continued "Got it?" I hummed a "Hm" hooking my arms behind his head. "Good"

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heraldeez · 2 years

Text

Mistletoe

Viktor x Reader | 2.4K | SFW

Warnings/Tags: KISSIN’, and some pre-relationship shenanigans

You want to steal a kiss from everyone's favorite assistant professor, and by the gods are you going to get what you want.

A/N: Happy holidays, folks! :] Though the season is busy, I wanted to put out some Viktor smoochin, to get us all through the cold months. Enjoy!

---

Today, mischief is afoot.

Mischief in form of you, hauling a canvas duffle of metal poles and custom gearwork into the front doors of the Academy, winter wind nipping at your heels all the way through the grand arches. You quickly tap the clinging rime of powdery snow from your shoes in the drafty entry hall before heading to the stairs.

Despite your wind bitten cheeks, you have ambitions for the day.

And not ambitions for the custom miniaturized planetarium prototype in your bag, no. You have seasonal ambitions, ambitions for the mistletoe carefully tucked, to not knock off any fragile leaves, into the front pocket of your supply bag.

Today, you’re stealing a kiss.

Long enough have you admired Viktor from afar. Today, you’re making your intentions known, even if you have to use a bit of trickery to do so.

Not too much.

Nobody can really complain about mistletoe, right? It’s festive. Even Viktor, who can’t be pried from his work for love or money.

The heavy doors rasp over the floor as you push your way into the Hextech lab.

It’s a good hour to be here. Viktor’s desk sits in a sunspot, likely the warmest part of the lab right now, and he’s curled over his notes, soaking it all in. Gentle late-morning sun slants lazily through the windows, sending warm threads of light through Viktor’s hair to really bring out all those rich golden highlights. As though his profile is glowing, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips, the point of his chin all carry a halo of precious light from the cloudless day, even shut away in here, hard at work. You can practically see sparkles of it resting on the tips of his eyelashes.

Gods, you’re in deep. You could stare at him all day, but Viktor’s ears perk up to the noise of your entry, and he turns to face your way.

Viktor – thankfully alone, from the looks of things – raises a brow as you step in, one finger twirling aimlessly through his hair, the way he does when he’s swamped in work.

And like the methodical turning of clockwork gears, your plans grind into motion.

“I need a favor.”

Viktor’s other brow creeps up to match. “Not even a hello?”

You grin, easily, confidently. “You prefer when I cut to the chase.”

“Perhaps.” He snorts as he sets his pencil down, giving you a rare slice of his undivided attention. “What did you need?”

You jangle the sack of metal rods.

“I need your lab for testing. Mine isn’t big enough for this project.”

Viktor squints at the bag. “Be my guest, though in return…”

You pause – this wasn’t in your script. And, shamefully, your heart thumps a little harder thinking just what he might want of you.

“You’ll have to explain to me what you’re working on,” he says, simply.

Is that all? You clear your throat, nonchalant, shoving aside thoughts of illicit lab activities for a far more appropriate response, “Uh, yeah, sure! Of course.”

You heft the base of the mechanism out of the bag, setting it heavily in the center of the lab, beginning your explanation.

It’s a small scale planetarium, something Viktor probably could have made years earlier in his schooling. But it was a commission, easy cash and renown, so you’d readily signed up. A moving night sky, panels suspended on spokes, covered in a lightweight dome. A foreign noble had specifically requested it as a party feature, for guests to entertain themselves with while they have their fill of bubbly spirits.

“It’s looking a little… incomplete,” Viktor pokes, grinning at where you hold a single spoke instead of twelve or so.

You scowl. “That’s because it is. I’m just – this is the most energy efficient way of testing, okay? Get back to your own work.”

You aren’t actually here to argue about the proper method of creating a prototype.

You have ambitions, damn it.

And you really need him to turn away so you can go about achieving them.

Viktor raises his hands placatingly, though he’s still obviously laughing at you a little from the bemused smile on his face, but obediently twists his seat to face his own work again.

You watch, hawklike, until his shoulders square up, hunched over his work, telltale signs that he’s sucked back into whatever he was working on, before you whip out the sprig of mistletoe.

Deft fingers secure it to the end of the segmented pole, and you hurry to get it attached at the base, lest Viktor find any more teasing commentary within himself and turn around to deliver it.

Unlikely, with how his focus tended to catch while working, but better safe than sorry.

The air seems to still in your lungs as your finger hovers over the ignition switch.

By all your calculations, and perhaps unhealthy obsession, the poles should be the perfect length to span from the center of the room to arc directly over the workstations clustered around the room, Viktor’s desk included.

But if your mental measurements were off, or worse, the motor doesn’t function the way you think –

You just have to get it over with. No progress without a price.

The air wooshes out of you in relief as the motor revs on pleasantly, a quiet chugging hum as the spoke catches in the internal gearwork and shifts, beginning its slow rotation atop the room.

A rotation that passes perfectly, to the inch, about 10 feet above Viktor’s tousled hair, unbeknownst to him.

Victory is sweet. On this day… your ambitions pay off.

You step back to admire your handiwork, pleased that while in motion, it’s difficult to tell what the bundle of silvery green at the end is, all the way up by the ceiling. Even if Viktor were to look up, it wouldn’t be readily obvious what you were up to.

The thought fills you with giddy buoyancy, plucking out your lunch to enjoy while you wait for your plans to come to fruition. You hop up onto Viktor’s desk, all the luck thus far making you bolder, pushing your luck.

He glances at you, lips quirked up, but doesn’t offer any reprimand.

“How long do you intend to let it run?” he asks, scratching away at a complex looking equation on one of the many sheets of parchment littering the desk in front of him. His inkwell is nearing on empty, and his coffee mug already there.

“Oh, probably till I finish my lunch. I have a seminar to get to after this, so not terribly long.”

Viktor nods, and fades back into his work.

You swing your feet absently, watching the slowly spinning herb make its rounds, and take a big bite of your sandwich. A slice of thin cheese tries to chase your mouth as you pull away.

Ah, bliss. Everything was really going just as you’d planned. Good inventions. Good sandwich. Good company.

You cast your eyes over to peek at Viktor, hoping that you’re being subtle. He’s hard at work, like always.

The steady scratching of his pen gives you ample time to admire him. You relax into the warm sunlight draping across your shoulders like a shawl and drink your fill – of the soft cable-knit sweater, loose on his shoulders to ward off the chill of the lab, large buttons undone to leave his dress shirt exposed. The small ink stain on his shirt collar. The way his eyelashes really are sparkling in the light, this close. The deep bags under said eyes.

It wouldn’t kill him, to take a break.

“Do you intend to go home for the holiday?” you ask, lapping a bit of sauce off the side of your thumb where it had seeped out of the delicious crusty bread.

Viktor gives a little hum, to acknowledge that he heard you even as he doesn't raise his gaze, scribbling lines of formulas down. His handwriting gets smaller as he nears the bottom of the parchment. When he runs out of space, he finally replies, "No, not this year. We're close to a breakthrough, I just know it."

He neatly flips the page over.

To your surprise and great pleasure, Viktor pauses instead of resuming his work, pen midair, to glance at you curiously.

"Are you, eh, heading home at the end of the week?"

It gives you pause, the way that borders on asking if you’re available.

“Mmm, I’m still deciding. I could visit family, I suppose, but I am rather partial to the idea of taking an airship out to someplace warmer, a little weekend trip to take in the sights. I suppose I’ll just have to see how… open my schedule remains.”

If you’re being honest with yourself, you're probably going to veg out in your apartment and eat a bunch of junk food and holiday leftovers while trying to beat a record for ‘most time spent without leaving bed’.

But that leaves plenty of time, to hang around here. If Viktor is so inclined.

You slide eyes full of barely-restrained excitement over at him, even though you know they’re probably revealing your hand right now. “Why do you ask?”

His answer is too swift to be convincing.

“No reason.”

You fight not to beam with delight – not wanting to disturb the careful balance of teasing restraint that you and Viktor seem to have picked up – by popping the last of your sandwich into your mouth and drawing yourself to your feet. Balling the parchment paper wrapping in your hands, your feet carry you nonchalantly to pitch it in the bin before stopping at the base of your contraption.

Just a few more moments. Patience.

Twiggy green sails cheerfully through the air, just before his desk, and you subtly flip the switch as though you’d simply drawn a conclusion to your work. The spoke slides to a halt.

Directly above Viktor’s head, the bundle of vivid green and foggy white berries sits like a crown for your incumbent victory.

Your steps are light with satisfaction as you make your way over to his chair once more.

“Thank you, Viktor, for letting me use the space. Though, before I go, there’s just one more thing…”

Viktor turns, setting his arm on the back of his chair to look at you expectantly, but you merely point a flippant finger upward in lieu of words, sly grin on your face.

The way his eyes widen at the shock is endlessly satisfying.

Viktor seems a mix of guarded and flustered, the cutest flush rising to his cheeks. But his eyes hold a gleam that you can't quite parse.

Cautiously, he fixes you with a stern look, brows knit. "And you intend to partake in this, eh, tradition?"

Mysterious gleam or not, you barrel on. "Rules are rules."

"Ah, well in that case."

Like a switch had been flipped, Viktor's expression sets, determined.

He doesn’t even hesitate.

Capable hands seize your jaw, Viktor tugging you down to his level.

His fingers cup your jaw delicately and confidently, bowing you down to meet his lips and – and they're so soft –

And you can barely keep up with the change in atmosphere, his lips moving passionately against yours, a squeak leaving your throat only for him to hum it into his own, your hands seeking purchase in the sudden maelstrom and clutching at the front of his dress shirt for dear life.

Viktor is kissing you like an expert, and you're wondering just who is stealing a kiss from whom here, when he encourages your mouth open and – tongue! tongue! in an innocent mistletoe kiss! – his soft tongue slides delicately, exploratory against your own.

He tastes you, humming his appreciation as you reel to find balance and return his affections, twining himself tighter with you and for Janna's sake, when did your eyes close?

Who is this guy? What did he do with the shut-in, ‘couldn't make polite conversation for the first two months you knew him’ Viktor?

And who taught him to kiss like that?

Scratch that. You didn't want to know.

You just knew you never wanted him to stop.

But all good things must come to an end. Finally, finally, oxygen makes itself known as a necessity, and Viktor draws back, lips chasing purchase to the very last before finally parting with the softest noise of separation.

He looks at your mouth through long, low-drawn lashes, glittering above molten gold, before his eyes flick up to meet yours, your heart pounding tenfold as you consider that he might just go in for another round.

But his hands slip from your face.

"Mm, I suppose that fulfills our duty to tradition, then. Happy holidays."

Viktor turns to his work casually, clearing his throat, back to business as usual – only the slight flush of pink staining the tips of his ears and the creases at the front of his dress shirt saying otherwise.

"Don't you, eh, have that seminar to get to?"

You aren't sure if it's a cruel tease or if he's having mercy on your scrambled egg of a brain.

You grapple around for words. "Huh? I uh – yeah, yes, I do, that's – Well, now, yes."

So much for intellect.

You pack your things in a daze, shutting off the motor, folding spokes, fitting everything back into well worn canvas that smells of your own lab, your own home.

And your brain is stuck on loop.

Soft lips. Strong hands. Nimble tongue.

And cheeky.

He played you like cards. You’re going to be thinking about this for months.

"Ah, (Y/n)?"

Startled as you're heading out the door, you turn to find Viktor looking at you, that mysterious gleam in his eyes sparkling anew.

"If you do happen to find time in your busy holiday, perhaps we could," Viktor's lips quirk up in a self-satisfied little smirk, "do lunch?"

And all at once, it hits you, just what his eyes are holding.

A mischief, all his own.

Viktor continues, the death knell of your pride and the birth of something excitingly new between the two of you.

"After all, I'd love to address how you have obviously been dying to kiss me for months now."

#don't worry about who taught him that ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)#viktor x reader #viktor #viktor arcane #my work

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lauriegraham01 · 1 year

Text

avengers compound headcannons

pairing: avengers x avenger!reader, gn!reader, poc!reader

summary: list of hc's of what its like to live in the avengers tower/later compound with these group of dumbasses

wc: 538

a/n: sorry i haven't updated in a while, my chronic pain has been kicking my ass recently and uni is starting up but netherless, enjoy!

Domesticity

The Avengers occupy the top three floors of the tower. With Tony and Peppers penthouse on top, a recreational level on the floor below and then the rest of the avengers rooms on the floor below.

Family styled dinners every night. Tony insisted on hiring a private chef for the whole team but Wanda was fiercely against it.

Wanda, Pietro, Sam and you were the ones that actually brought some spice and seasoning to everyones diet.

Bucky and Clint would pinch in by helping wash or cut vegetables.

Tony and Nat would set the table together.

Thor would prepare drinks and Vision and Steve would deal with dishes afterwards.

You would always call be the one to call Loki for dinner. Often finding him either in the library or in the garden, both places giving him peace of mind. (He never minded when you joined him tho)

Social Outings

Movie nights at least twice a month!!!

It initially started with everyone alternating on choosing a movie but democracy was quickly thrown out the window and now yall spent 20 minutes fighting over what to watch.

Going out clubbing in the city always guaranteed a good time.

Especially when Maria and Valkyrie showed up

Visions was ALWAYS designated driver but he truly didn't mind.

Steve, Bucky, Loki, and Thor would pregame on Asgardian ale, While Nat and Pietro would be bartenders for everyone else pregaming.

Bruce would typically stay sober every time we went out after last time he got hammered him, Clint, and Thor woke up in an alleyway with no pants, shoes or socks.

Nat can handle her liquor the best out of everyone. Wanda is an extreme lightweight.

Pietro was more of a stoner and you two would always light up at every chance together.

In fact he was the first person you ever did psychedelics with and the experience was truly euphoric.

Wanda and you are guilty of indulging in a drunk ciggy.

The girls always invited you for every sleepover and it would always start off pure but then end in a chaotic shitshow.

It would start with face-masks, painting each thers nails, before pretty soon after many many drinks, yall would host a karoake/dance party right in the living room.

(Loki may or may not have been in attendance as well)

Chaos

Sam and Bucky would sometimes surprise Peter by picking him up from school and then proceed to bully him the entire way back home.

During debriefs, Pietro would always send you random memes/tiktoks and you would have to try your hardest not to laugh out loud.

Speaking of which, Pietro would constantly post thrist traps on his social media accounts.

Peter would always try to get us involved in his tiktoks.

Whenever you would speak in your native language, the rest of the team would be mesmerized especially Loki, Pietro, Wanda, and Bucky.

Peter would ask you if you could teach him and you obviously taught him all of the swear words.

You and Loki would use your powers to pull pranks on each other and one time things got so out of hand, that Tony kicked both of yall out for a solid week.

Also Pietro totally had a thing for Aunt May at some point, he's down horrendously for MILFS

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eggymf-archived · 1 year

Text

of paper planes and wildflowers; 07

ft. ominis gaunt with f!reader (series)

chapter warnings: nsfw, masturbation, a rather cliché accident, not proofread, unedited

chapter summary: within denial lies the deepest of desires, and within desire lies the most adamant of denials. may merlin guide these two fools into a state of clarity.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: a relatively chill chapter before the possible storm. also, this is arguably the fastest i’d ever written a chapter. it seems that embarrassment is a good motivator for being productive and curing a really bad case of writer’s block. (still eating my fist rn coz apparently even @ask-deek saw my rather embarrassing blunder *sobs*)

main masterlist || series masterlist || AO3

The sound of footsteps echoed throughout the now empty dungeons – not a single student or teacher in sight due to the time being nearly after school hours, except for a certain trio of misfits. Sebastian and Ominis were walking side by side while you followed them, heading to the oh so infamous detention chamber. It has been a good long while since you’ve gotten detention. In fact, you have probably gotten so good at sneaking out over time that there was merely a small chance of failure of ever getting caught by those goody-two-shoes prefects patrolling around.

The only one who was aware of your records of blatant misbehavior was Garreth himself – oftentimes the both of you were put into the chamber as a tandem for various potions shenanigans that had gone completely awry. Also, that’s where your friendship with him was fully established. The first time you ever got detention was during your second year, and it was a rather huge spectacle despite it being caused by two silly little children. It all started when the both of you decided to use the usually uninhabited girls' bathroom deep within the dungeons as your secret hideout, turning one of the cubicles into a makeshift potions table. Imagine two second years creating an explosion so massive it nearly destroyed six cubicles and covered the walls with a thick purple goop of Merlin knows what. It cost the both of you 50 house points each and two week’s worth of detention, but the friendship and memory was worth it at the end of the day.

This time, however, you never would’ve expected that the main reason for your next trip back into the chamber was due to a fight breaking out between fifth year and seventh year students with you as its catalyst. It had been boggling your mind for the good remainder of the day. You were nearly subjected to something against your own will, the famous Slytherin duo of your year stepped up against these leery lot of degenerates, and Ominis Gaunt has made you question your very existence and set of morals once again. Everything has happened only yesterday, but these two gentlemen walking right in front of you seemed so nonchalant to the point that the incident with Robert Bulstrode hadn’t happened. As much as you were thankful for it, you couldn’t help but to trail your eyes at the young Gaunt’s back.

You weren’t exactly sure if it was a look of longing, confusion, or plainly just because you were compelled to after what had happened in the hospital wing. Shamefully, he was mostly the unwanted occupant of your mind ever since you had parted ways with him in the hospital wing. You didn’t know what kind of a damned spell he might’ve casted upon you, but the thought of him and his lightweight touches sends you in a spiral of heated desire – which was something you were definitely ashamed of.

You recalled how fervently you had touched yourself that night when the incident happened: your back against the thin partitions of the shower cubicle, puffs of heated breath escaping your lips as your fingers rubbed your sensitive nub down below while fondling your breasts. If honesty was one of your stronger suits, you’d admit to yourself that his very existence as of late was the source of your insanity: his scent, ethereal looks, the snark behind his wit, the way he was gentle yet domineering at the same time — everything. Thoughts of his bare alabaster skin, groans of pleasure, his sinful ministrations, the way his cock reached spots that made you see stars, his seed spurting inside your awaiting core — it was all so fucking addicting and downright delicious.

"Oh Merlin," you groaned within your pretty little head as you felt your knickers get more and more damp, sacrilegious fantasies overtaking your normally self-conscious brain. Thankfully, you were snapped out of your thoughts when the creaking sound of the door to the chamber echoed rather loudly throughout the stone corridors. The three of you walked into the empty chamber, each of you occupying a seat while patiently waiting for Professor Sharp to arrive. You hoped that the punishment didn't involve something atrociously mundane or disgusting. The worst you've done so far was cleaning bedpans in the hospital wing.

“Any idea what Sharp's gonna make us do?” Ominis asked Sebastian.

“The last time I had detention, I had to polish the trophies in the trophy room. I didn't exactly finish it so…” the brunette trailed off. “Perhaps one of us will continue polishing the remaining ones?”

“That would be correct, Mr. Sallow,” a certain professor grunted as he limped towards the front of the chamber. You straightened your back, giving your undivided attention towards the potions master as he gave his instructions.

“Mr. Sallow, I'm assigning you to the trophy room. I believe you're still aware of the items that have yet to be polished, is that right?” Professor Sharp queried, while Sebastian’s face fell.

“I— yes, professor. I'll start on it immediately,” Sebastian acquiesced, wincing at the thought of going into the trophy room once again. The last time the poor brown-eyed male went there was when he was serving his detention for sneaking into the Restricted Section of the library with Skylar Evans. Long story short: although it was made easy due to wands not being prohibited, there were simply way too many items in that infernal room.

The ex-Auror then turned to both you and Ominis.

“As for you two, I'm assigning you both to clean up the Alchemy Classroom. Do pay attention to the stations and cauldrons. All of them must be spotless for safety reasons.”

A groan rumbled from your lips while Ominis heaved a sigh of dread. This wasn't going to be easy. You absolutely dreaded cleaning up the cauldrons used for alchemy — if anyone thought that scrubbing cauldrons from the Potions Classroom by hand was considered dreadful, the cauldrons from the Alchemy Classroom was way worse. There was always at least a spot within the cauldrons that had a charred piece of Merlin knows what. That being said, it was crucial to remove that piece when cleaning up. Explosions or any harmful reactions in an alchemy classroom was far from the definition of a fun time in class.

Much to your luck, however, the three of you seemed to be in Professor Sharp’s good graces despite being punished — he never confiscated your wands, which means that magic wasn’t out of the table in completing the tasks.

“If there aren’t any more questions, I shall take my leave. I will be in the Potions Classroom if any of you manages to complete your tasks early.”

And with that, Professor Sharp left the detention chamber. A look of surprise was etched onto your face. You hadn’t expected such a display of leniency when it comes to the infamously strict potions master. Sebastian sighed, turning to both you and Ominis.

“I guess I’ll be off now. I’ll help you two out if I’m done early,” Sebastian offered.

“But, won’t you get into trouble for that, Sallow?” you curiously asked.

“Oh, no worries. I highly doubt that Sharp’s going to make frequent visits to either of us. He’s usually absent when it comes to inspections. Unless you fetch him from the Potions Classroom of course,” the brunette explained. You heaved a sigh of relief.

“Spoken like a true resident of the detention chamber, I say,” Ominis piqued, earning a snort from Sebastian.

“If that’s the case, we’ll go to you too if we manage to finish early,” you smiled.

“We? You’re on your own,” Ominis jokingly mocked, earning him a slightly sharp blow from your elbow, much to Sebastian’s amusement.

“Alright, time’s ticking. Try not to kill each other while I’m gone, will you?” Sebastian joked before parting from the both of you, leaving you and Ominis alone in the desolated corridors of the dungeons. You sighed before heading towards the Alchemy Classroom with the opal-eyed male tailing you.

Upon approaching the Alchemy Classroom, you were greeted by stacks of cauldrons placed right outside of the entrance. Unlike the usual ones used for potion-making, these cauldrons varied in sizes — some were huge, while some resembled the typical cauldrons that could be found in Professor Sharp’s classroom. You swung the door open, and the sound of enchanted pickaxes prying onto the earth at the two corners of the classroom was heard throughout the small space. There were several organizers, shelves and cabinets that were in desperate need of some reorganizing: its contents were haphazardly strewn all over, and several jars were not properly put back in their proper places.

Fortunately, the tables were already cleaned spotless by their previous users, much to you and Ominis’ relief. The cauldrons were the only problem that the both of you ought to think about. You levitated the tall stacks of cauldrons from the outside through the entry door, inspecting them one by one for any dirty ones with the help of good old Lumos, and passing the dirty cauldrons to Ominis who cast a stronger cleaning charm onto the iron objects. There were not many words exchanged between the two of you aside from the misty-eyed male occasionally asking if he had removed some of the stubborn dirt away.

But oh boy, your dysfunctional-as-of-late brain was having a field day with you standing rather close to the young Gaunt. This alleged "unfortunate" set-up of the both of you having detention together made you realize something that you feel you shouldn’t have.

The entirety of this whole situation feels rather… Domestic.

You glanced at the alabaster-skinned male from the corner of your eye as you passed several cauldrons to him, silently admiring the warm glow radiating from his skin thanks to the nearby fireplace of the Alchemy Classroom. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he scrubbed off the several clumps of debris and dirt off the bottom of the cauldrons. You couldn’t help but take note of how he was handling it rather well and efficiently despite being from a rich household. It was almost as if he actually does house chores often.

But weren’t rich pureblood families privy to their own dutiful house elves?

A sudden intrusive thought conjured up in your brain, depicting a detailed scene of you heading back to your own quaint little cottage within a secluded area of the countryside with a small flower garden at the side guarded by an enchanted scarecrow. Upon opening the door, you see Ominis, who was dutifully maintaining the orderly state of the interior, enchanting various items to help him with house chores. As soon as you walked in, the pale-skinned male immediately turned towards the direction of your footsteps while you made your way towards him, with arms spread and ready to embrace him after a long, arduous day.

“You do know that I can feel you staring, right?” the misty-eyed male mockingly queried while in the midst of prying a stubborn piece of dirt off the iron surface, snapping you back into reality while heat immediately rushed to your cheeks out of realization.

“No, I’m not!” you huffed angrily. You grabbed another cauldron harshly, causing a loud clang to resound within the small classroom as you casted Lumos once again to inspect the cauldrons in peace. At that moment, you wanted to bang your head against one of the iron objects out of sheer embarrassment — that ought to knock some sense in your delusion-filled head, no?

Meanwhile, a ghost of a smile graced Ominis’ lips as he scrubbed another cauldron, stifling an amused snort from escaping his nostrils. As much as the young Gaunt had his reservations towards you after that unexpected revelation in the Owlery, he couldn't deny that you were rather fun to tease to the point that it truly does make his day to a certain degree. Perhaps he should do it more often.

Several hours passed with the both of you dutifully scrubbing cauldrons until there were none left. The other task the both of you had left in the list of agendas was giving the place a proper cleanup along with organizing some of the jars of materials that were left laying around messily atop the cabinets. While Ominis took care of cleaning up the floors, you decided to take up the organizing. However, as you were sorting all the jars accordingly and putting the contents into their proper storage drawers, you soon discovered that there was one jar that was missing based on the list that was pasted onto one of the doors of the cabinet. You casted the summoning charm in an attempt to make your search easier, only to hear a certain clatter from all the way at the top of the cabinet. You sighed in irritation at the inconvenience, climbing up the cabinet to reach for the jar that had probably gotten stuck without hesitation.

“Honestly, who even puts these damned jars all the way up there?” you grumbled under your breath as your fingertips grazed against a glass surface. You had managed to retrieve it successfully, while Ominis was finally done sweeping the floor. The opal-eyed male followed the direction of nearby shuffling, intending to inform you of his progress.

“Hey, I'm finished with—”

But before he could complete what he was supposed to say, a terrified yelp erupted from your lips as you lost your footing, falling off the cabinet. Instinctively, his arms reached out towards where he thought you were, keenly following the fast approaching floral fragrance that you usually wore. The young Gaunt had successfully caught you, albeit rather unceremoniously: the back of your head hitting him square in the face while his arms securely wrapped itself around you instinctively. The both of you stayed still, far too shocked with what had just happened. To further add fuel to the fire, a certain brunette fifth year Slytherin student sauntered his way unannounced to the open Alchemy Classroom. Upon seeing the rather awkward spot the both of you were in, he smirked.

“Am I interrupting something?” Sebastian coyly asked. Like a child getting caught stealing cookies from a jar, Ominis quickly released you from his embrace, lightly spitting in quick succession to make sure he hadn't consumed any of your hair. Meanwhile, you cleared your throat and began resuming your task, pretending nothing had happened. Ominis fixed his appearance nervously, patting his head and uniform for anything remotely out of place — a habit he often did whenever he was nervous. Feeling the aura of his best friend's shit-eating grin at his plight, the pale-skinned male gave a sigh towards the young Sallow, who stood beside him with his arms crossed relaxedly across his chest.

“You’re never going to live this down, are you?” Ominis deadpanned while Sebastian grinned.

“Never.”

The dorm room deep within the Slytherin Common Room was mostly deserted — the majority of students were still in the Great Hall having their dinner. A sigh escaped Ominis’ lips as he tapped another piece of parchment with his wand, disintegrating the object out of sight. A mild frustration coursed through his veins. He felt rather perplexed with his current state of mind as of the moment. He was utterly trapped within the sea of his self-derogatory thoughts and confusion as he thought about his current predicament. Sighing sadly while pointing at a certain piece of parchment that smelled like peonies and freesias, he began rereading its contents longingly.

It was the letter that he had received from Russ in the Owlery. The letter from you.

While the young Gaunt was absolutely thrilled deep down when he finally found out who Lucie truly was, reality all came crashing down the moment he left the tower. His conflicting thoughts plagued him deeply, reminding him of where he stood not just as the ever charming and gentlemanly Ves, but as Ominis Gaunt himself. A wave of sorrow swept over him as he thought of you, not Lucie. If there ever came a day that his identity were to be revealed, how would you even react? Would you shun him away, or would you accept him wholeheartedly?

The uncertainty was utterly nerve-wracking.

However, if his considerations were solely based on his desires and morals, Ominis had a clearer answer despite it still being rather foggy. He has always been curious of what Lucie was like in the flesh, so why would he bail out on such an opportunity? All this time, it was you all along: his rather dedicated tutor in potions who has been a huge help in boosting his grades, the one who treated his wounds when no healers were around, and the key that had unlocked the figurative chest containing the yearnings he had long suppressed the moment he turned his back towards his own family. It was rather frustrating for the misty-eyed male as the foundations of the walls surrounding his heart are now slowly crumbling apart, but he couldn't deny that something had sparked and changed within him in the hospital wing that day. Perhaps the incident itself has truly opened his heart into the possibility of knowing you better despite years upon years of misunderstandings.

Albeit the advantages, however, you were also the very person who effortlessly messed with the tenacity of his self control.

The mere scent of you was enough for him to completely turn into putty, ultimately giving into the forbidden desires that he constantly tried to keep in check. He groaned, feeling his shaft harden at what happened earlier in the Alchemy Classroom. Even your hair smelled ravishing: smelling faintly of raspberries mixed with your usual perfume. Your scent always ends up prompting him to relive moments of your sexual intimacy together.

The way you moaned so wantonly, the heady scent of your bare skin and weeping core, the sweet tanginess of your juices, how soft your skin felt against his lips — every last bit of detail about you was deeply ingrained within his mind.

Unable to resist his carnal urges any longer, he undid his pants, pulling out his throbbing shaft from its confines. Ominis sighed in relief, spitting onto his hand before he stroked his pulsating cock, lubricating it with his saliva. He let his mind wander, imagining the wetness of your pussy as his cock slid in and out of his grip. His mouth hung ajar in soundless moans, lifting his button-down shirt up and exposing his toned, mole-decorated torso with his vacant hand. For good measure, he bit the hem of his shirt to keep it in place, reaching for your desk and patting around for the letter you had recently sent him. Upon obtaining the item, he took a long whiff of your scent, his mind utterly going blank as he pumped his shaft harder, feeling it twitch in utter delight. A whimper escaped Ominis’ lips followed by a guttural groan as hot spurts of his virile essence littered his exposed body. Placing the piece of parchment back onto his desk, he grabbed his wand and conjured a small towel, wiping away the traces of his sinful deeds and fixing his appearance as if nothing had occurred. As soon as the towel was vanished, he summoned a nearby perfume bottle, scenting his parchment in advance while also attempting to mask the smell before any of his roommates would notice the slight stench once they returned.

Merlin, you’ll probably be the death of him one of these days.

The sound of the door barging open caused the young Gaunt to jolt in surprise. Immediately noticing the familiar walking pattern, he greeted his best friend nonchalantly.

“Hello, Sebastian.”

“Ah, Ominis! I was hoping I’d see you here. I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” the wavy-haired brunette exclaimed. Ominis raised an eyebrow in curiosity as Sebastian walked up to him, placing a sealed letter on his lap.

“Our family owl delivered this to me to the Great Hall during dinner. I’m assuming that this is from Anne,” Sebastian explained. Ominis muttered his thanks, putting the letter into the drawer of his desk. The brunette tilted his head slightly in confusion.

“You aren’t going to read it?”

“I’m a little tired at the moment, Sebastian. It’s been a long day,” Ominis half fibbed, yawning. He planned to read Anne’s reply in secret, preferably within the safe walls of the Undercroft. Ominis would rather not indulge Sebastian with any more information about his problematic love life. Merlin knows what advice the brunette would end up giving to the poor blind man.

“Maybe a dose of her ought to do the trick?” Sebastian quipped in mock innocence.

“Don’t start with me, Sallow,” the blonde-haired male grunted as he grabbed his towel, toiletries, and clean clothes. Sebastian chortled, much to Ominis’ chagrin.

“Oh come on, Ominis! No need to be a spoilsport!”

The alabaster-skinned male gave no verbal response, opting to display his disdain through action by opening the door and slamming it shut once he had exited the room.

Meanwhile, in the roof deck of the Ravenclaw Common Room, the biting cold evening wind caused your skin to flush into a flattering shade of pink. It was an excellent night out for exploring: the clear array of twinkling stars scattered across the gossamer night sky, and the waning moon shedding its bright light onto its realm. After all that had transpired, you were in desperate need to recalibrate yourself — doing what you love best would surely aid with alleviating the troubles of your mind, right?

You sure hoped so.

Your broom lay on one of the stone benches, ready to be mounted. Before anything, you were currently checking the contents of your satchel: several empty jars, a good amount of Wiggenweld potions for good measure, and a first aid kit.

“Alright. Good to go,” you muttered to yourself, grabbing your broom and mounting on the seat. You gave the ground a good kick, soaring towards the sky as you headed off to one of your usual nightly adventures after so long with much excitement bubbling in your heart.

< chapter 6: blurred lines 🔞

chapter 8: carpe diem >

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