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dustofthedailylife · 1 year

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Cereal Debates

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Pairing: Alhaitham x (gn!) Reader

Summary: You get the urge to tease your boyfriend every once in a while. And today was another day like that. And what better way to do that than to bring up the age-old question: Is cereal soup?

Tags: Crack, a bit of fluff toward the end

A/N: I wrote this like a possessed woman when I thought about the idea. Especially since Alhaitham HATES soup... and don't we all want to rile him up at times? I sure as hell do, especially since he made me lose three 50/50s on his banner now -.-

You sat on the sofa in the living room, flipping through the daily newspaper and eating a bowl of yogurt with fruits for breakfast.

You suddenly hear the floorboards in the direction of the bedroom creak and not too long after you could hear a yawn and some feet shuffling towards the living room.

“Good Morning.” Alhaitham groaned sleepily.

He rubbed his eyes and squinted as soon as he was faced with the morning sun falling in through the windows. He had always been somewhat of a morning grump and to be honest, it sort of made him look cute.

The disheveled hair and clothes, the imprint of his pillow still on his cheek, the sleepy expression, and the frown as he slurped his coffee in silence every morning. It took all your willpower not to jump and squeeze him tightly. No one would think someone like Alhaitham could manage to look so adorable, but you had proof he did.

“Good Morning! Slept well?”

“Mhm.” He hummed briefly before vanishing into the kitchen without another word. Like mentioned before - morning grump.

You could hear him press the button on the coffee machine before a familiar buzzing sound could be heard from the same device. He seemed to also get himself something to eat since you could hear him clink some bowls together.

Not long after, he emerged from the kitchen with a steaming cup of black coffee and a bowl in hand and sat down at the dining table.

When you decided to join him, your eyes couldn’t help but fall onto the bowl. It was a bowl of cornflakes that he was expressionlessly shoveling into his mouth.

You amusedly bit your lip because you knew he usually hated everything soup-like, and cereal was no exception to that. And you sometimes couldn’t help but want to tease him a little. And this morning the perfect opportunity presented itself to you.

“Never thought I’d see the day you'd eat soup out of your own volition.” You smirked, knowing full well that you said “soup” and not “cereal”.

“We had no more bread left.” He explained with another grumble, putting another spoon full of cornflakes in his mouth before suddenly pausing in his movement and looking back at you completely irritated. “What did you say?” He inquired horrified, with his mouth still half-full.

“I said, I never thought I see you eat soup voluntarily.”

He knitted his brows further before gulping and pointing at his bowl. “This is cereal.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of what it is. I have eyes. Cereal can be considered a soup-like dish.” You stated matter of factly as you bit back a smirk.

You pretended to go back to eating your yogurt and reading your newspaper but you could see his completely shocked and low-key annoyed expression from the corner of your eye.

“Cereal is not soup. Cereal is cereal.” He grumbled.

“Is that so?” You raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Yes. Soup is a liquid food, especially with meat, fish, or vegetable stock as a base and often contains pieces of solid food.” He recited the definition he knew, only Archons know where, from. Suppressing laughter became harder and harder by the minute, especially seeing how serious he was taking this debate all of a sudden.

“Especially with meat, fish, or vegetable…”, you pondered putting an emphasis on the first word. “So that means it is mostly cooked that way but not always. So milk can serve as a base just as fine. And technically if you use soy milk or pea milk it would count as vegetable stock, no?”

You could see the muscles in his jaw tense as he gazed at you, thinking hard of what to reply. You could practically see the gears turn in his head before he started to smirk triumphantly. You knew him well enough to know that he must’ve come up with, what he thought was, an irrefutable argument.

“There is something you just said. Cooked. No heating in the process of making a bowl of cereal whatsoever. It’s served cold - therefore it isn’t soup.” He leaned back in the chair with a self-satisfied grin, expecting you not to be able to counter his argument further.

But he shouldn’t count the chickens before they’re hatched.

You stayed silent for a minute and already had a counterargument in your head from the get-go. You just wanted to wait until he took a sip from his coffee before you dropped it.

“Explain Gazpacho then.”

You could see his eyes widen and train on you over the rim of his cup before he put it back on the table with a loud thud. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking annoyed once more.

“What about French Vichyssoise? Also not soup according to you, just because they’re served cold?”

“Okay, I get it.” He grumbled once again, before pondering for a brief moment. “But all of these soups have something in common.”

“Oh? Please enlighten me, Grand Sage.” You continued your teasing.

“It’s Acting Grand Sage.” He emphasized, lightly rolling his eyes with a huff. “But anyway. Soup isn’t sweet. Neither of the ones you named is sweet. They’re savory. Cereal is always sweet.”

He smirked at you once again, fully believing he now had you cornered.

Wrong.

“Ginataang Bilo-Bilo, Koldskål, Zenzai…” You started listing sweet soup dishes from all over the world, watching how his face showed an ever-so-slight hint of surprise as well as horror.

“Now you’re just making things up.” He huffed.

“Want me to show you the soup recipe book we have over there on the shelf? Not that you ever looked at it.” You replied with a teasing lilt.

He had his hand clutched so tightly around his spoon by now that his knuckles were beginning to turn white. You knew he hated losing arguments and battles of wits and this wasn’t going in the direction he had imagined at all. Much to your amusement, however. You could practically see little clouds of steam rise from his head because his brain was racing at a million miles per hour. You just knew he was wrecking his brain to come up with a counterargument once again.

“Okay.” he finally said getting up and grabbing something from the kitchen. He came back with a triumphant smile as he placed a raw, unpeeled potato on the table in front of you.

“What’s this?” He asked, motioning in your direction.

“A… potato?” You replied in confusion, unsure where he was trying to go with this.

“Correct.” He nodded, putting one finger on his chin after placing a bowl of dry cereal right next to it and looking at you expectantly.

“That’s cereal.”

“Also correct.”

“Alhaitham, I’m not sure I follow.” You raised an eyebrow at him, still highly amused about how invested he was in this crack debate.

“A potato is a condiment you can make soup from. But a potato by itself is just that - a potato. You have to prepare it in a special way in order for it to become soup. The same goes for everything else you named. Cereal is always cereal, whether it swims in milk, water, broth, or nothing at all.”

“Okay, fair. Can’t refute that argument.” You admitted with a nod, hearing a small sigh of relief from the other side of the table.

You were no longer able to hold back your laughter now that you looked at his borderline exhausted and relieved expression.

“What? Don’t tell me you still have a counterargument?” He inquired as his eyes widened.

You shook your head. “No, I don’t. You should see your face right now though, it’s hilarious. I was just trying to tease you a bit, I didn’t think you’d get this invested.” You wiped a tear out of the corner of your eyes as you continued giggling.

“You–” He grumbled playfully as he clenched his jaw before he started smiling. “Come here!”

He got up from his chair and lifted you out of yours, walking over to the sofa, and throwing you down it together with himself. He started tickling your sides while holding you tightly to his chest so you couldn’t escape his playful attack.

Out of breath from laughing so much you leaned your forehead against his chest before snaking your arms around him.

“I love you, you dork.”

“I love you, too.” He replied, lifting your chin up and pressing a featherlight kiss on your lips. “Even if you start arguments about soup with me first thing in the morning. You’re lucky you’re so cute.”

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#genshin impact #astronetwrk #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x y/n #genshin fluff #genshin crack #genshin alhaitham #genshin x y/n #genshin impact fanfic #genshin drabbles #genshin scenarios #genshin brainrot #genshin headcanons #🍁 dust writes #🍁彡 gi

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captain-hawks · 3 months

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hajime umemiya x reader

c: fluff, pining, brother’s best friend!hajime

for all that’s changed in your hometown since you moved away to college, some things, it seems, will always stay the same—like your unfortunate affinity for running into hajime umemiya half asleep in your rumpled pajamas in your parents’ kitchen.

it seems impossible, that your older brother’s best friend has somehow grown even more handsome in the three years since you left.

the pictures to be found of him on social media are scarce, his own infrequently-updated feed is nothing more than a showcase of updates on his vegetable garden. but the rare, recent ones you’ve caught from acquaintances—and stared at for far longer than you’ll ever admit—clearly haven’t done him justice.

his mid-20s have done little to change his penchant for pushing his wavy white hair away from his face though, and one rogue lock rests against the prominent scar on his eyebrow. it’s embarrassing, the way your fingers still twitch at your side with the urge to touch it after all this time.

(and it’s even more embarrassing—how long your stupid, lovesick heart has carried a torch for him.)

“fancy seeing you here,” he grins, looking up from where he’s leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone—likely waiting for your lazy brother to drag himself out of bed.

“hey umemiya,” you chirp, quickly averting your gaze from his blue eyes, heart thundering in your chest as your arm brushes his when you go to open the cabinet beside him.

there’s warmth at your side as he spins, his body nearly caging you in as he casually reaches up to grab the box of cereal your fingers were stretching for. the same kind the two of you always used to sit at the table and eat on mornings like this, when he’d plan something foolish like an early hike with your brother and end up at whims of his terrible sleep schedule.

“hajime,” he says, placing the box down in front of you. running a hand through his hair, he gives you a rueful smile.

your toes curl against the cool floor tiles.

you’ve been on a first-name basis with him for long enough, but it’s always felt too intimate—like the way your lips and tongue move around the syllables will unwittingly serve as a blatant beacon announcing the truth of your pitifully unrequited crush on the man standing next to you.

“hajime,” you repeat softly, heart involuntarily bouncing against your ribcage at the way his eyes crinkle at the corners in response.

the sound of your phone vibrating against the countertop drags your attention away from hajime, but your lips turn downward in annoyance as you see the name that flashes along your screen.

“your brother said you guys broke up,” hajime states casually, eyes darting away from your phone and back to your face after he reads your ex’s name.

“because cheating on me once just wasn’t enough,” you sigh, flicking a button to silence your phone and decline the call. the joys of a long-distance relationship with your lame high school-turned-college boyfriend.

“i wish he would have let me kick his ass after the first time,” hajime crosses his arms, brows furrowing.

warmth unfurls in your gut, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion, “how’d you know about that?”

he scratches the back of his head a bit sheepishly and then shrugs. “i may have asked your brother what was up when you stopped posting pictures with him for a little while last year.”

there are too many variables and factors bouncing around in your sleep-addled brain to find the sum of all these parts, logic slipping through your fingers like the honey-sweet feeling dripping down your spine and coating your nerves.

don’t be ridiculous.

“you could’ve just asked me,” you nudge his foot, feeling a little bold, like you can blame your uncharacteristic forwardness on exhaustion.

he mirrors the motion, then briefly catches the back of your ankle against his. “you changed your number.”

you did, after losing your old phone, though you hadn’t quite felt bold enough to message hajime on social media out of the blue to share your new number. your brother was always the proxy between the two of you, after all.

unlocking your phone, you hand it to him, suppressing the subtle shudder that runs down your spine when his fingers brush across your own. his lips quirk upward as he types, holding your phone out to you a moment later, only to snatch it back, reaching a hand out to pull you beside him.

with one arm wrapped around your shoulders, he finds his way to the instagram app, both of your faces popping up on the screen as he flicks to a story post.

“i just woke up!” you protest, like your legs aren’t threatening to give out under you.

he leans closer to you, the gentle scent of his shampoo leaving you dizzy on the inhale, a lock of his hair tickling your face.

“you look cute like this,” he grins, choking out a laugh when you pinch his side.

he snaps the photo and quickly clicks the post button. then he lets you go just as fast, like you’re not prickling with heat from head to toe, though you still find your shoulder flush with his when you lean back against the counter beside him.

opening the post, you have to stifle the sound that dances eagerly against your closed lips. the picture makes your heart lurch—his eyes are crinkled shut in laughter, his face turned slightly into yours, your smile bright.

he leans into you a little more, looking down at the picture with you, tapping the side of his foot against yours.

“he’s probably checking your posts,” he shrugs, eyes sparkling with mirth and something else you can’t quite identify.

“umeeee,” your brother’s tired voice interrupts you as he slinks into the kitchen, fully dressed—though his t-shirt’s clearly on backward, and his hair looks like he lost a fight with his pillow.

hajime pushes up off of the counter, fingertips skirting against your forearm in the whisper of a touch as he turns back to you before leaving and grins, softly murmuring, “text me sometime.”

#umemiya hajime #hajime umemiya #umemiya hajime x reader #hajime umemiya x reader #wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #dee writes #this was supposed to be like three paragraphs

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deanbrainrotwritings · 7 months

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— THE LOVE LETTER COLLECTION : SAME BOOK BUT NEVER THE SAME PAGE

SUMMARY : part III of the love letter collection. still dreamwalking. chasing after someone who can destroy worlds. and dean is jealous of his variants. what could go wrong?

PAIRING : mario!dean winchester x peach!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : luigi!sam winchester, lush edryx (ofc), toad!castiel, jack kline

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), angst, fluff, real physics, theoretical physics

WORD COUNT : 5.6k

A/N : a day to remember song title. this fills the dramatic death square for my @jacklesversebingo card. this was inspired by the second season of What if…? My siblings and I used to play Super Mario Sunshine on our GameCube so that’s what this is based on, too. And my physics degree is paying off! 😂 XXXXxx

It all started with Cas suddenly appearing within the Bunker, frantically searching for Sam, Dean, Jack, and Y/n.

To be fair, it was three in the morning and everyone was asleep, so Cas had only found Jack passed out on the kitchen table after another round of Krunch Cookie Brunch in the middle of the night.

The original plan for Jack was to try Y/n’s remedy for not being able to sleep. Warm milk. Of course, she’d meant in a glass. Then, he got hungry being there—surrounded by food, grabbed the blue box of sweet cereal and served himself once. After finishing his cereal, he still had some milk leftover, so he convinced himself easily that to finish the milk he needed one more serving.

He got that from Dean.

Cas sighed at the sight of him, but he was in a hurry. Like the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland, that’s what he felt like at that moment. So he shook Jack—rather than being gentle—who abruptly sat up, “I didn’t eat it!” He shouted sleepily, his eyes wide and surprised. “Oh, Cas. I thought you were Sam,” he whispered, rubbing sleep from his eyes, much like Dean did.

“I need to find Sam, Dean, and Y/n,” Cas said distractedly.

“But… it’s late,” Jack stated, having flashbacks of Dean pointing a gun at him for waking him while he was deep asleep. “And Dean and Y/n-”

“I’m aware,” Cas interrupted Jack. “This is more important. They can have coffee.”

“Erm,” Jack hesitated, but Cas was already making his way out of the kitchen, his beige trench coat billowing behind him. It reminded Jack of Snape, but he shook his head from the distraction and quickly cleaned up before he got scolded by Sam for being ‘unhealthy’.

Meanwhile, Cas bursted through Sam’s bedroom, the door cracking loudly against the wall, that it alone woke Sam. The gun was quickly in Sam’s hands and the bullet that he’d sleepily fired grazed Cas’ shoulder. Cas pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored the messy nest that was Sam’s hair.

“Sam, I’ve got a case,” Cas declared bluntly.

“What the hell, man? It’s-” Sam looked towards his clock by the nightstand with squinted eyes, heavy with sleep. The time glared at him in green, made him groan and fall back into bed. “It’s three in the morning, couldn’t it wait?” Sam turned over onto his stomach, uninterested, and held his pillow to his face, knowing that Cas was not going to let him go back to sleep.

“This is important. Every second that goes by, catastrophic things can occur,” Cas attempted to explain.

“Yeah?” Sam asked sarcastically, at the end yawning. “That’s life. We’ll take care of it in the morning.” To emphasise that he was going back to sleep, he lifted his knee to the side and wiggled around until he was back in his original position.

“I know that,” Cas enunciated with irritation, “this is really complicated and I’d like for all of you to be awake to hear what I have to say so that I don’t have to repeat myself.” Sam groaned loudly into his pillow and then sat up swiftly to glare at Cas.

“Oh my god,” he complained, combing his fingers through his unkempt hair in an attempt to fix it. “You know what? Fine, but if Dean gives you the cold shoulder for a month—again, don’t expect any sympathy from me,” Sam warned grumpily, getting out of bed to get ready to meet Cas in the library.

Cas gave Sam a deadpan stare and walked out without a word to find Dean and Y/n.

When he made it to Dean’s room, Cas was far gentler with the door. He held it open rather than letting fly open and hit the wall, the way he let happen with Sam. He watched the two figures in Dean’s bed and tilted his head at the sight of Dean practically draped over his girlfriend’s back.

Cas let go of the door and stood there awkwardly trying to see better in the darkness. He could see that the sheets were a mess around them and Y/n was curled up slightly, nearly at the edge of the bed. Cas assumed Dean either pushed her all the way over there or that he was holding onto her so tightly so that she wouldn’t fall. Maybe both.

Dean was snoring softly, had one arm wrapped tightly around her front and his legs were tangled with hers. Cas didn’t think it looked very comfortable for Y/n, but she was in a deep sleep, completely undisturbed by both the sounds coming from Dean, the lack of coverage with a warm blanket in the cool room, and the lack of personal space Dean was giving her. What a hypocrite.

Cas knew though, it was different when the two of them invaded each other’s personal space, than if it were him or someone else being that close to them. Dean would go ballistic if anyone else stood that close to her, not that she’d ever allow that to happen, she gets irritated easily by other people.

Cas found that strange, too. The way she despised certain traits or habits in others—she made it very clear, verbally—but forgave them in Dean. Perhaps that is love. Compromise. Chaos. Irrationality…

The lights in the hallway turned on and Cas knew it was Sam who turned them on and was now up properly. The light allowed Cas to see much better into Dean’s room, with the light pouring in from the hallway.

Cas tried to think of something to wake them that would not make Dean and Y/n too angry. He looked around Dean’s room, clothes were strewn on the floor and Dean had his record player on, just static now that the needle was up. It didn’t take very long for Cas to deduct what had happened. Sex.

They were both naked, Cas could see now. He flushed and averted his gaze, then quickly made his way to the record player, dropped the needle, and put the volume as high as it would go. Led Zeppelin’s Baby Come on Home blared through the room causing Dean to jolt up sleepily, finally disturbing his peacefully asleep girlfriend.

She whined Dean’s name and Dean froze when he saw Cas standing by the record player. Cas stumbled and turned it off swiftly, smiling nervously at Dean who was now glaring at him. Part of Cas wanted to laugh at the state of Dean’s hair, one side was flat, the other side was a mess, and the top was just sticking up.

“Dude, what the hell?” Dean whispered aggressively, struggling to lift the tangled sheets to cover up Y/n’s naked body. She turned over onto her stomach and threw her arms around Dean’s waist, grumbling for him to sleep again and hold her. Instead, Dean dropped his hand over her head, buried his fingers into her sex hair, and gently massaged her scalp. She hummed appreciatively and squeezed her arms around him gently.

“Uh… I’m sorry,” Cas apologised slowly. “It’s an emergency and I need her help. It’s about a case, we’ve been working on it together,” Cas explained, then dropped his eyes hesitantly to the small body tangled in Dean’s sheets.

“What?” Dean asked, no longer playing with her hair. She groaned softly at the loss, so Dean started up again very slowly. “Since when? Why didn’t you guys tell me?” Cas sighed exasperatedly and Dean’s eyebrows rose in surprise at the sassiness exuding from his best friend.

“Okay, fine,” she finally spoke up, struggling adorably to get up, not caring that she was flashing Cas with her naked body when she turned to face him. “Go, I’ll be there with Dean.”

“Woah, hey,” Dean complained, grabbing her breasts in his hands. She laughed and Cas only became more flustered. “Dude,” Dean said, silently holding a conversation with Cas.

“Right,” Cas averted his gaze and stepped backwards out of their room. “Just, please don’t have sex like you guys always do when we have something important to do,” Cas pleaded. Dean glared at Cas halfheartedly, feigning offence, but knowing very well that it was usually Dean who initiated it and delayed their appearance.

Dean began to splutter a blush growing on his face. “We have never d-”

“Save it, Dean,” Y/n snorted softly with a laugh, “yes, we have.” Cas nodded—tried and failed to hold back a smile—and left them to get ready. “I’m so sleepy,” she whined, leaning into Dean’s side. He slipped out from the embrace he had her in and ignored her pout to settle between her thighs with a smug smirk.

He pushed her gently onto her back and leaned over her, giving her a big kiss on her forehead. She laughed, held his jaw gently in her hand to kiss him lazily, and pushed her fingers friskily into his already messy hair.

He moaned softly and pulled away, snickering.

“What?” She asked, brushing his hair with her hands and fingers to make it look better. Even if he looked adorable with it messy. She bit her lip and traced his cheekbone with her thumb.

“We should be late, y’know, just to keep up with our tradition,” he grinned boyishly. She looked away from his freckles cheek and the cute eye-bag that was more prominent on this side of his face. She raised a brow, opening her mouth to say her piece, except she could only laugh.

He scowled, leaning forward to press his face against her neck, and laid down on her to stop her laughter. Dean grabbed her thighs to lift them so she’d wrap them around his waist. He bit his lip and squeezed her tightly. She whined in protest, lazily and weakly attempting to push him off her.

Her heart began racing and heat grew between her legs. The way he moved his lips down her neck, placing wet kisses across her skin, didn’t help her fight between what she wanted from him, and what Cas wanted from her.

“You don’t look like you want me to stop,” he murmured with a smirk against her breasts.

“I don't want you to,” she agreed quietly, “that’s why… I’m hoping you'd be nice to me and get off before we waste sweet time doing awesome… stuff.”

He chuckled against her skin and lathed her nipple up in saliva, needily tugging at it before getting off her. He slid his hands down her sides and groaned at the sight of her, fighting with himself to get up and get changed.

“I was just trying to wake us up,” he pouted, reaching beneath her to cup her ass and squeeze. “I just need five minutes,” he offered, lifting her hips up suggestively. Her heart leapt excitedly, her stomach flipping when he started to shuffle forward on his knees, his cock nudging her folds.

“Nah, you can’t change your mind more than once,” she told him playfully, wagging a finger at him with a huge smile. She sat up to wrap her arms around his waist, trying to make him feel better, and pulled him with her as she got off the bed. He groaned and followed her reluctantly to get ready.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dean chuckled dryly, leaning over the table with his palm on the surface, gazing at his girlfriend. “You’ve been working on the case the other me’s were talking about before we left?” She leaned forward and placed her hand over his, perfectly showcasing the ring he had given to her just three months ago.

She inhaled, then exhaled. Dean braced himself. He expected a lie, an explanation.

“Yes,” she told him bluntly. He appreciated the truth, but he scoffed, and gripped her hand—the one with the ring on it. He brushed his thumb gently over her knuckles, his verdant eyes wide, filled with confusion and hurt.

“We’ve never had this problem before,” Dean frowned at her, it made her tilt her head in regret, “it’s why Sam, and Cas, and literally everyone keeps you out of plans if it involves lying to me…” Dean paused and released her hand gently, realisation dawned on him. “It was that other me, right? That’s why it’s different…”

Sam quickly began to escort Cas and Jack out of the library, the three of them moving out quietly to give them space. Neither of them said anything about their departure, instead Y/n took Dean’s hand again.

“Look,” she sighed, tugging him to stand between her legs. “No matter what reason I give for hiding this from you, you’re gonna poke holes into my logic, and I’m gonna realise you’re right…” She looked up at him, opened his palm, kissing the callouses there lovingly. “We’re in this together now, I should’ve thought about that before hiding this from you. I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean cupped her face with both of his hands, taking her words into consideration as he looked into her earnest, soft eyes. He’d never been lied to by her, which was exactly why he couldn't help the hurt in his chest. Still, he leaned forward and kissed her on her lips, slowly, barely feeling her response, before pulling away with his eyes closed.

“Don’t do it again,” he murmured, sliding his hand down her neck. He brushed his thumb against her collarbone, gazing down at the ashamed expression on her face. It didn’t make him feel better, he knew something was off the past month, but he thought it was the wedding plans that were distracting her.

She placed her hand over his and nodded wordlessly.

“I’m gonna go get them,” she told him quietly, squeezing his hand before getting out of his grasp and walking away to give Dean a few minutes to think and let the information sink in.

Dean watched her go and took the seat she got up from as he thought about what she’d done. It’s not like… she’d be unfaithful. He knew she would never do that. And she knew him so well she didn’t give an excuse, but he’d like to hear one now, just to understand why she didn’t let him know.

“Okay.. so, the Dean stuff was good to know,” Sam breathed in and then exhaled as he entered the room with Cas, Jack, and Y/n. “But… I mean… whatever Lush is doing is… kinda confusing. It’s Lush, right?” Sam asked, giving his brother a glance to make a quick assessment of his mood.

“Yes,” Cas answered.

“So, I can use jars of sand as a metaphor or the human body metaphor, which one?” Y/n asked Sam, then glanced at Dean with a tight smile. He gave her a soft one in response.

“Start with the sand, and if we don’t understand the first one, try the human body,” Sam answered for Dean. She excitedly clapped her hands together and stepped towards where both can see her.

“Well, let’s say one grain of sand is our current universe: all the stars, the galaxies, dimensions, y’know the makeups of one single universe,” she began, pinching her fingers together. “But if you have a jar of sand, that’s a multiverse. A second grain of sand would be the universe with Hunter Corp, and a third grain of sand would be the universe Micahel destroyed. Still with me?” She stopped waving her hands around, her eyes drifting away as she became engrossed with her explanation.

“Yeah, yeah… grains of sand as an alternate reality, universe, parallel or whatever…” Sam quickly replied, almost with the same enthusiasm as her. Dean wished he could join in, but part of him was still hung up on her omission.

“Yes, exactly,” she smiled at Sam. “Well, a whole shelf of jars would be the omniverse. Every multiverse-”

“Every multiverse? Like… what do you mean?” Sam interrupted, frowning. He was clearly overwhelmed with excitement as he ran his fingers through his long hair, hazel eyes adrift before focusing on her once more.

“Well, one jar of sand would be our multiverse. A second jar of sand would be… the Doctor Who Universe, ya know? And a third would be… a Hunger Games universe. Every jar of sand would be a movie, show, book. Oh, it’s so awesome,” she sighed, leaning over the table with both her hands flat on the wooden surface.

Cas and Jack stared between them, dumbfounded.

“Wow, yeah, that’s… a lot,” Sam sighed, pulling a chair out to sit down. He thought quietly to himself, chewing on his lip. “You said… every book, does that include maybe.. short stories?” He asked suddenly, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear. She lifted a brow.

“Yes..? You have something specific in mind?”

“You know… the stories people write about… me… and Dean?” He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in the chair. Y/n burst out laughing after hearing the question, almost ignoring the disgust on Sam and Dean’s faces.

“Gross, man,” Dean grimaced, crossing his arms over his chest, looking away.

“Okay, sorry,” Y/n brought herself to say between laughter. She wiped tears from her eyes and dried her fingers on her jeans. “No, yeah, that’s a good question,” she sighed with an amused expression, “anyway… no, those types of stories exist outside of the main multiverse, floating in the omniverse. They’re typically unstable—fleeting, and they collapse in on themselves,” she explained sincerely, an expression of relief while over Sam’s face.

“How come?” Sam inquired, leaning over the table with his fingers entwined together.

“Well, back to jars of sand. The jars are sealed; that makes it an isolated system—nothing gets in and nothing gets out. Nothing new can be created besides what’s already inside. The omniverse, however, is not an isolated system. When someone creates a book, movie, show, or whatever… if it’s… you know.. Popular and strong enough to not collapse in on itself in the omniverse-”

“If we could get to the main point…” Cas pleaded, interrupting their conversation. She looked over at Cas and pouted playfully—it almost made him laugh. She focused anyway, with a roll of her eyes.

“Right, well, Lush Edryx is breaking those ‘isolated system’ rules by hopping multiverse after multiverse. None of us knows what she's trying to find, but she keeps destroying everything in her quest—or almost destroying everything—which means we need to stop her,” Y/n got to the point, staring at Cas with a glint of mischief.

“How did she get so powerful?” Sam asked, gazing from her to Jack.

“Well, every multiverse has its own God, Darkness, Lucifer… and all that… Jack thinks that for Lush’s multiverse, the Darkness gave her the ability to travel from multiverse to multiverse. We just can’t find out what they’re looking for. We just know where she’s currently headed. Well, Cas and Jack know,” she started to ramble, carefully scratching the table with her nails mindlessly.

“How can we help if none of us has those kinds of powers?” Sam questioned, leaning back in his chair.

“Well, technically Quetzalcoatl is my descendant, which means Jack can make it so that I can hop multiverses too,” Y/n mumbled thoughtfully.

“Who now?” Dean finally spoke up.

“Please, no more questions,” Cas begged once more, his head tipping back in irritation.

Sam chuckled, leaning forward again. “How can we help?”

“Well, we can possess our multiverse variants and omniverse variants, and they already gave me permission so… what do you guys say?” Y/n asked, drumming the table with her fingers enthusiastically.

“Let’s do it,” Sam shrugged, looking over at Dean who nodded in agreement.

“I see why you were excited,” Dean grumbled, poking the green grass with a stick. Sam looked up at the bright blue sky with squinted eyes. Cas and Y/n looked ahead, eyes peeled for what they were searching for. For who they were searching for.

“Hmm?” She asked, looking down at Dean in his Mario outfit. She grinned once their gazes met and he rolled his eyes at her, a cute smile on his face. No words had to be spoken, she knew that he knew it amused her to finally be taller than him.

“So, he’s taller than you in your universe?” Cas asked, taking her attention from her quieter-than-usual boyfriend. Well, it wasn’t their Cas, it was this universe’s version of Cas, Toad. She smiled down at him brightly, it felt amazing to do so.

“Yup,” she said, putting emphasis on the ‘p’. “And you’re way cuter here. I could take a bite out of you,” she snickered, lifting her pink dress as she walked down the hill awkwardly with Dean, Sam, and Cas. Or should she say, Mario, Luigi, and Toad? That would be confusing because they look nothing like the originals, except for Toad, Cas, whatever.

“Please don’t,” Toad pleaded, frowning. Dean took her hand to help her down, it made her flush. He looked so cute.

“Of course not,” she murmured warmly, squeezing Dean’s hand. Before he could look at her, she spoke up. “So, how far until we get there?” She asked impatiently, looking around endless mushrooms of all colours, shapes, and sizes.

“Not too far,” Cas reassured her.

“How come we didn’t just come in our normal bodies?” Dean asked, jogging to catch up with her. “Wouldn’t it be easier? We’d have an advantage in our original bodies.” She slowed down, brushing her fingers with Dean’s for him to take if he wanted. He took her hand fully, holding it gently in his, a single touch making her breathless.

“Well, puppeteering or possession is less dangerous since it’s not a permanent link to the realities we go to. This way, there’s a smaller chance that we’ll cause destruction… y’know unlike Lush who’s actively invading what’s supposed to be an isolated system.” Dean mulled over her words silently, squeezing her hand.

“Well, we won’t have to fight Boswer or anything, right?” Sam asked, moving her attention away from Dean and to him.

“No fighting. We’re going in the opposite direction to find a Mega Mushroom,” Cas reassured him, still on high alert for any movement from sneaky mushrooms.

“Which is what Lush is after according to… Jack and Cas,” Y/n added, scoping the area with Dean.

They’d been searching for a while now. Long enough for her to have become bored with her surroundings, the thrill of feeling, seeing, smelling, tasting… all of everything amazing around her had died as the search for the Mega Mushroom began to take longer than she would’ve liked.

She even went back to thinking about wedding cake flavours. Dean’s so… adorable. He wants a confetti cake. She’d indulge him in any way possible, but she was torn between serious flavours such as honey, strawberry and rhubarb, and white chocolate raspberry.

And the colour scheme; Dean’s thinking of a soft pink, blush, watermelon, salmon… but all she can think of is matching everything to the green of his eyes, the gold of his freckles, the honey of his hair… completely ethereal colours that symbolise his beauty and her love for everything that he is.

The guest list wasn’t a problem at all, for obvious reasons, and neither was the music, but the location, the reception… If she could just stop being so worried about Lush, the omniverse, all the Deans, and everything else, she was sure she could help Dean out a little more. He was doing a fantastic job on his own—which wasn’t surprising. Of course he’d adapt perfectly to the situation-

“Oh, shit,” Dean whispered, tightening his grip on her hand to stop her from walking. She froze, her focus returning with the rustle in the tall green grass besides Dean.

“Princess, Mario has to capture it,” Toad explains, “erm, I mean, Dean,” he corrected himself quietly, prying the lovers’ intertwined hands apart as the rustle got further away.

Dean nodded, looking to his girlfriend who smiled at him encouragingly, before he quietly began sneaking through the grass, rapidly getting accustomed to his surroundings and his body.

“He’s shorter than me here, more than usual,” Sam joked from behind her. She giggled quietly, turning back to look at Sam dressed in a Luigi outfit. He was once more, taller than Dean, but not taller than her. He had a silly smile on his face, pleased with his joke—as any sibling would be.

“He could probably still beat us in a fight,” she teased, climbing mushrooms to get to the biggest one. Sam and Toad followed her to the highest point, trying to find the red of Dean’s cute little hat in the waves of long green blades.

“Good point,” Sam laughed once he stood beside her. “Over by that butt looking mushroom,” Sam pointed to where Dean was pouncing on something and jumping. She laughed at Sam’s accurate description of the mushroom, at Dean once she found him again running in circles.

To live far away from her world would be nice. This place seems nice. But the last thing she wanted was to kill innocent lives and destroy innocent worlds. Had she lost everything the way that other Dean did, she’d imagine she’d commit a billion atrocities to find her happiness—even if it was wrong. Is that what Lush was doing? Trying to find happiness?

This was not the way to go, but then, she’d be a hypocrite to argue against it out loud. She knows in her heart just what she’s willing to do for her family, for Dean, for those she loves… She has the power, the opportunity to take what she wants. It might be worse than what Lush is doing.

“Guys?” Sam asked to get hers and Toad’s attention. He got closer to the edge before jumping down and running towards Dean, calling his name multiple times.

It was only afterwards, when she looked away from Dean that she saw a much larger rustle within the grass. Large enough to be human-human rather than video-game-human. It was headed towards the same orange mushroom Dean was after, but Dean noticed the rustle, too.

Y/n quickly made her way quickly to help the two brothers, with Toad shouting some advice to her, which was pretty helpful in reminding her that she could use stuff from this world to help Dean and Sam. She slapped grass away from her face and lifted her pink dress so she wouldn't trip on it, running as fast as she could on heeled boots.

Dean abandoned the Mega Mushroom and Sam was close behind to catch what she figured could only be another Toad or Lush. A set of piercing blue eyes and a head of white hair rose from the green grass, removing a Toad as a suspect. It was Lush, who was focused on the Mega Mushroom while attempting to evade Dean, but when she noticed she’d been spotted, she tackled the Mushroom, gripping it by its leg before shoving it into her satchel aggressively.

Lush ran from Dean, towards the closest green pipe to escape from them, but before she could jump in, Y/n threw an ice ball at her from the pocket of her dress. The ice grew upwards, trapping her legs to the ground. She pulled something from her bag, a jar full of brown sludge and threw at Dean, the closest to her.

The glass broke at Dean’s feet. He stopped too late, causing the brown mud to splash over him. Y/n threw a second ice ball at her feet, watching it grow higher up Lush’s torso. Y/n was closer to Dean who started to grunt in pain, the brown mud sticking to him no matter how much he tried shaking it away.

While Toad finally caught up to them and tended to Dean by pouring water onto him, Y/n and Sam pried the bag away from Lush.

“Give it back!” She shouted, the ice cracking at her torso, but Y/n was quick to create a portal a few feet away, and threw the bag into it. It shut immediately after the bag fell through, which made all the fight slip from Lush.

It was as if she only now realised they were all there. She analysed them curiously, silently—confused more than anything. She didn’t recognize them, which was good. It’s why Jack and Cas didn’t come along, she’d recognise them.

“Why are you doing this?” Sam asked, stepping back as the ice cracked more and more, falling to the grass and dirt where it slowly melted. Instead of answering, she broke out of the ice and jumped into the pipe before Y/n or Sam could stop her.

“God dammit, that shit hurts!” Dean complained loudly. “I’m pretty sure it’s fiery, acidic shit! It’s brown!” He continued to whine, shoving away the bottle Toad kept using to squirt water on him, washing away the muck completely.

“Dammit,” Y/n muttered, but brushed it off to check on Dean who was still wincing dramatically, curled up on the ground while Toad searched his backpack. Was that thing bigger on the inside? She kneeled beside him and smiled down at him, taking his hand in hers. “You’re gonna be fine,” she reassured him, lifting his hand to her cheek.

“I forgive you. You know that?” Dean coughed, softening her smile. “I can’t stay mad at you, I love you so much. But I need to know why you hid it from me.” He groaned once more, clutching his stomach with his free hand, bringing her face down. She kissed his forehead rather than his lips, bumping the red hat off his head with a nudge of her nose.

She indulged him as she squirmed and wriggled on the ground. With a sigh and a thought sweep over his grimacing face, she responded: “Because… I know you, Dean. You’d throw yourself into the case and then blame yourself for every little bad thing that happens. You’d be unhappy and pressured, and… you’d sacrifice yourself for the whole damn world. I hate that. So I decided to hide it from you because… I’d rather you be stressed out by cake flavours and colour schemes… you know? Pressured by the guest list, the location, and the music… I just want you to be happy, but… I should have been honest, I know, Dean… I truly had your best interest at heart,” she apologised once more, partially amused by Dean who was now laying on his side, squirming despite the sludge being nowhere in sight, absorbed by the dirt.

He looked up at her lovingly, despite having a somewhat different face, it was cute. He was cute. Maybe cuter, with those giant green eyes full of admiration. A flush on his cheeks. She hadn’t looked at herself, but the way he looked at her, more animated, made her feel like a whole universe.

“Fuck Lush,” he whispered, “fuck the Monument, and the omniverse, and heaven, and the monsters, and everything else that tries to get in my way. In our way. I don’t care about the job. Or the mission, or whatever the hell else there is. I don’t care that I’m afraid all the time. I don’t even care that you’ll outlive me. All I know is that right now—as I exist in the same time and space as you, right now and forever, I want to be with you-”

“Don’t tell me all of this when you’re dying,” she interrupted his emotional speech, which made him pout. Toad, or Cas, gave her a heart from his backpack after a few minutes of digging through it, and she interrupted Dean halfway through his speech by shoving it into his mouth. Dean’s brows furrowed, he chewed slowly, and gulped down the heart.

“That’s one way to shut me up,” Dean chuckled after swallowing. Dean slowly sat up, looking at Toad, Sam, the love of his life, then scooped her up in his arms.

“You’re wet,” she giggled, hugging him back. He buried his face in her neck, laughing with her.

“I usually say that to you.” Dean kissed her neck, then pulled away as Sam groaned in disgust.

“You’re right,” she murmured, burying her fingers in his soft hair. “Everything that you said… I feel that way, too. I’ve got all this information in my head that I didn’t have before and I’m ancient in ways that I just don’t feel like I am anymore and.. I know what I want, I know what I need… and I’m not gonna let this, Lush, or anyone else stop me from trying to get it.” She pulled away and smiled at him, remembering they were in different bodies. “Well, I mean… I’d like your consent… but I already know how you feel, so really, I just need you to trust me.”

Instead of answering her, he leaned forward and kissed her glossy, pink lips. One chaste, long kiss that made her smile, fluttery, warm, and breathless.

“Feels weird kissin’ you here,” she mumbled against his mouth.

“You’re still a great kisser,” Dean pulled away with a smirk.

“We didn’t get to stop Lush, or even get to talk to her, but at least we’ve intercepted her satchel…” Sam interrupted their moment. They smiled at each other before turning to Sam. Dean stood up, then helped Y/n up off the wet ground.

“Jack will make sure she can’t come back here…” She reassured Sam, taking Dean’s hand, she took one last look around. Toad smiled at her, a silent goodbye. “Let’s go home.”

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tojiscumdumpster · 9 months

Text

CHAPTER SIX - TOJI/READER

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀✧ summary page

Toji’s POV

“Don’t forget the parent-teacher conference today at three, then I need to go buy things for school this week.”

The hardest thing about being a parent is having to remember shit. Had Megumi not reminded me, I would’ve forgotten.

Partially because I genuinely didn’t remember, and the other reason is because Y/N has taken over my mind. It’s been like this since I’ve met her, but it definitely heightened after our morning together this past Saturday.

Accidentally seeing her naked, then dry humping her the next morning has me desperate for her pussy. I wasn’t even fucking inside of her and she had me coming in my damn boxers. I just know if her pussy was wrapped around my cock, I would’ve nutted quicker than I did.

I needed relief. Once I came back home, I fisted myself in the shower. I got out of the shower, caught up on some sleep, then woke up and jerked off again.

And again.

And again…

I never been this fucking horny before. What other woman’s name have I moaned out while beating my cock? I visualize Y/N. I visualized her on top of me, under me, on her knees for me. Fuck, the day she lets me have my way with her, I’m going to take my time to please her, but fuck her like she’s my favorite toy.

And I want to say it’s only a sexual attraction with Y/N, but I would be lying.

We agreed to get to know each other. Not boyfriend and girlfriend. Not dating. Just talking. Not as friends either because what I feel for is not friendly. She just… intrigues me.

I don’t want to say I’ll end up falling for her because that’s fucking unlikely. I don’t even have any more love left in me to give. But I know I want Y/N to myself. I want to claim her as mine.

She is mine.

The extra hour we spent together on Saturday was nice. Y/N said she was going to lunch with a friend, so we sat and ate fucking Cinnamon Toast Crunch while talking.

Imagine me, a gruff forty-two-year-old eating a bowl of sugary cereal. Kong would say I’m whipped. Probably even clown me about it.

But see, the thing is about whatever shit me, and Y/N have going on—it feels natural. She doesn’t always talk. I don’t always talk. Maybe I’ll stare at her like a creep because she’s so damn pretty but being in each other's presence is enough.

She affects me in ways I can’t describe, and it’s only been a week. And within that week, we’ve only been around each other three times.

I fucking know her. I know I do.

“Dad,” Megumi calls me. “Did you hear what I said?”

I clear my throat. “Yeah. Yeah, kid. Meeting at three, and school supplies.” I go back to fixing his lunch. “Want to go tomorrow? I’m off.”

“Why are you still packing me lunch? I’m not a little kid anymore,” he asks, annoyingly.

I throw my head back and laugh. “You rather eat that shit they serve you at school? Chocolate milk with pizza?”

His cheeks redden. “Whatever.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I mock. “So, tomorrow?”

“Whatever.”

“ Whatever , whatever . Those the only words you know? Maybe I need to talk to your teacher about extra lessons.”

“Dad, just make my lunch. I’m going to finish getting ready.” The kid didn’t even let me get a response out before he stormed out the kitchen.

Megumi has been putting up with me these days. I’d like to describe my kid as “moody.” One minute, we’re able to hold a decent conversation. The next, he completely shuts me out and acts like I don’t exist. I don’t pressure him, though. Whatever he wants to give, I’ll take it.

Just parenting him feels like I’m parenting myself because I know I would act how he does. He’s still adjusting , that’s what Y/N would tell me if she was here right now. Her reassurance helps because when that damn voice in my head reminds me how shitty of a dad I am, I think about what she told me.

“Grand Finale takes the lead around the far turn!”

Gambling, one of the guilty pleasures I fucking suck at but still do because it’s easy money. Well, when I’m not losing it. Do I ever win? No. Though, lately, my bets haven’t been getting dirt last.

Top five is at least my goal.

The security gig pays well, but there’s nothing wrong with a little extra cash every now and then. If I’m not at races, I’m in the casino, which they have a lot of in the States. Probably my favorite thing about this country.

My chances of playing at those slot machines are definitely higher than these inconsistent races who take up a shit load of my earnings.

Before, when I was kicked out of the Zen’in Family, any penny I had I would blow on gambling. Now, I try to be mindful since I have another mouth to feed. Last thing I need is to be one of those dads that spent their life savings on some bullshit, getting nothing in return.

I don’t want to look like that now, at least.

“Pilot Apollo is coming up on the outside!”

Pilot Apollo. About fucking time. I’ve been betting on this racehorse for months. Every time he comes up on fifth place, some shithead jockey passes him, and he falls behind.

“How did I know you were going to be here?” Kong stands behind me, smoking probably his twentieth cigarette for the day.

“Maybe because you keep fucking stalking me,” I retort. “Aren’t you supposed to be back in Japan? What are you still doing here?”

He takes the seat near me, skipping a chair to keep a comfortable distance. “Bought a one-way ticket, and I didn’t even get to see my godson yet.”

“Grand Finale has passed Apollo Pilot. He’s closing in on third. Now second!”

My back straightens. “Apollo Pilot, what the fuck?”

Kong takes a puff of his cigarette, chuckling. “You know you’re not good at this crap. Easy money doesn’t suit you, Fushiguro.”

“What do you want?”

“The contract is still up for grabs. Better money. Frankly, something you’re actually good at.”

I clicked my tongue. “I remember telling you no. I don’t do shit like that anymore, Kong. You know that.”

Gambling and sleeping with random women for money was inconsistent. Gambling, because I lost money as soon as I won it, and being a boy toy because sometimes I didn’t feel like fucking married women who were unhappy with the cock they were getting at home.

Kong introduced me to a form of income that was consistent and paid very, very well.

Killing people.

Well, becoming a contract killer. Same difference.

I needed good money. Fast money. Money, I knew I could get because of my skills, no thanks but thanks to those Zen’in fucks. So, I started taking contracts here and there. One signing could last me six months if I didn’t blow it all on gambling.

But I stopped taking contracts after I met Megumi’s mother—my wife. She doesn’t even know I used to do it. Information like this stays between me and Kong.

Just thinking about Y/N’s words, saying how I’m a decent man circulated my memories. Wonder if she’d feel the same if she found out the joy I got out of those contracts.

“And besides, we’re in America now. The systems are different from back home,” I argued. “Can’t afford getting caught.”

“The contract is based in Japan.”

You don’t need that kind of money right now, Fushiguro. You and Megumi are good.

Shut up.

I raise a brow. “Why the fuck are you so adamant about me taking the contract? Trying to set me up?”

He throws up his hands, mocking me, “Damn, you got me.” This motherfucker. “No, dumbass. Because my cut is based on the performance and if the job actually gets done. I hate complimenting you, but you were a good client, Fushiguro. I like money just as much as you.”

“Apollo Pilot has fallen behind. Newbourne passes, taking fifth place. Fourth. Third! Second! Newbourne is now in second place!”

“You got to be fucking shitting me,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Grand Finale is coming up on Newbourne, who takes the lead. Neck to neck, these two!”

I stand up and curse, not caring about the looks I’m attracting. “Five hundred dollars, Apollo Pilot. Move your fucking tail. Place fifth!”

“Oh, but Newbourne is coming in strong. He’s back in the lead on the inside.”

“Fushiguro, you’re embarrassing me,” Kong snorts.

“Shut up.”

“Oh my goodness, Grand Finale with the ultimate comeback. He has striked. Ladies and gentlemen, Grand Finale has won the Wooden Star derby!”

Sixth fucking place for Apollo Pilot and five hundred dollars straight down the drain. This is what I get for trying to enjoy my afternoon. And nothing makes it better than having Kong in the background taunting me.

“Fuck you, man.” I crumbled up the betting ticket I had and threw it on the ground. It’s time for me to head home so I can get ready to go to this meeting. “And I’m not taking the contract.” I tell Kong as I walk away.

“Think about it,” he says, waving goodbye. “Oh, and I’m coming over for dinner soon.”

Reader’s POV

Okay, maybe I did take some extra time this morning to get pretty because of my three o’clock parent-teacher conference in the next ten minutes.

A fresh wash and go. One of my favorite overall dresses with a white under tee. Light yet flirty makeup. My favorite creamy vanilla and warm berries fragrance. Gosh, I feel like a high school girl getting ready to see her crush. That damn Toji Fushiguro just makes me feel so light inside.

And after Saturday, I know my vibrator is getting tired of me.

Sex didn’t happen, but the dry humping… it felt so good. How Toji was thrusting into my hips with so much passion and aggression, I shouldn’t be surprised I orgasmed off of that alone.

I mean, let’s not forget to mention how he played with my nipples… sucked on my neck… the animalistic look in his eyes. It’s been too long since I’ve felt desired that way, like a high I didn’t want to come down from.

And I know how desperately he wanted to fuck me. I did, too. Well, I do, too. But I want to talk to him more. It’s not about making him wait to see if he’s the one because words can’t describe how badly I want him.

It’s just the ball of feelings I have for him that rests in the pit of my stomach—I want them to grow organically. I want to feel him emotionally without feeling him inside of me, physically.

When the time is right.

Honestly, this past Saturday would’ve been the perfect time, but I did not have enough energy to take him. Not with his size.

Breathe, Y/N.

I also can’t help but feel that I’m feeling for Toji too fast. With the little conversation we had, and the short time I’ve known him for, I might be a bit ahead of myself. We don’t know each other, is what he said to me last Friday.

… It’s the truth I didn’t want to hear.

Yes, it’s true. But I won’t hold back how I feel, and what I feel around Toji Fushiguro is just a like.

It’s a quick job, then I’ll come back to you. . . He said he’s not coming.

These words have been replaying in my mind lately. Is my conscience trying to tell me something? Who’s not coming? Is it…

A knock on my classroom door reminds me of my reality. I look to see the man that has been constantly on my mind lately, lips curving into a small smile.

Realistically speaking, my reactions are first to be giddy and excited to see him, but I keep that inside. Right now, it’s teacher mode.

I walked to the door and let him in. First thing I picked up was his scent. Earthy and woody with a touch of amber. He’s wearing his all black, three-piece suit that I saw him wearing at work. His midnight-colored locks are slicked back, different from his usual style that I know him for.

It might be an over exaggeration, but Toji Fushiguro is probably the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Masculine. Mature. Rough. His body, that waist that’s accentuated by his suit. . . Fuck me.

Calm down, Y/N .

I know, I know.

“Y/N?”

I give him a teasing smile. “Miss L /N,” I corrected. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Fushiguro. Please. Come take a se-” My words were cut off by Toji grabbing me by my waist from behind to pull me into him.

His lips are at my neck, and I can feel him smiling while softly kissing my skin. I have the urge to melt but I fight it.

“Toji, not here. I’m at work.”

He deeply inhales and pleasurably exhales. “You smell so good. You always do. And you look pretty, sweetheart.”

“Thank you.” I want to stay like this. I really do, but the last thing I need is to have someone catch us like this. “But move. We have a parent-teacher conference.”

He chuckles, eventually releasing me. “Fine. Just surprised you’re Miss L /N. I think you failed to tell me that this past Saturday.”

“Maybe I like surprises?”

“Ha, a surprise it is. Megumi has told me about you.”

I sit behind my desk and Toji takes a seat in front of me. “Good things, I hope.”

“Seems like you’re his favorite teacher. I asked Megumi how his teachers are, he gave an eh response, but said you were pretty nice.”

Being a teacher isn’t easy, and the pay isn’t great. However, I do it because I genuinely enjoy teaching. Hearing reassurance from my students, no matter how big or small, feels good.

“Megumi is a good student,” I start. “He’s only been here a week, but volunteers reading quicker than newer and even seasoned students. Sometimes he seems shy because of his English, but I try to help him with the little Japanese I know.”

“How’d you learn?”

“When I taught elementary kids, it was for like three years in Japan. I was their English teacher,” I explained. “Also, uhm, my ex-fiancé… he’s Japanese, too.”

He hums, and if I didn’t know any better, I saw his jaw tick. “I see. Well, yeah. He likes reading. The kid has a lot of books. I think it helps with his English, too. We jump between Japanese and English at home.”

“I think that's good practice.”

“Does Megumi have friends?”

I tap my pen against the desk, thinking. “Throughout the school, I’m not sure, but I did sit him next to another student I think he would pair well with. His name is Yuji. Really sweet and bubbly kid. He’s also Japanese, so I think he warms up to him a bit because of that connection.”

“That kid is stubborn like his old man,” he teases. “I tell him to make friends and he says he doesn’t need any. I don’t want him to end up like me.”

My face softens. “Be kind to yourself, Toji.”

So much for teacher mode.

Our eyes are on each other, and he knows exactly how I'm feeling. Little by little, Toji opens up about his relationship with his son. We talked about it a bit on Saturday.

I can tell he’s not the kind of man that shows his emotions, but I can feel his energy. How he talked about Megumi holding small conversations with him lately seemed to make him happy. Toji told me there was one point in their lives after his wife died that Megumi didn’t talk to him for a whole year.

I could only imagine the strain their relationship has.

I’m not condoning him being a neglectful father for seven years, but I’m not going to diminish his grief either. It’s just when you’re a parent, there’s times you have to put on a facade and put your feelings on the back burner to make sure your kids are alright.

Toji’s trying to make amends now, and I’m glad he didn’t wait until Megumi was old enough to completely resent him. His patient is amicable.

He gives me a wryly smile. “I’ll keep that in mind. . . Miss L /N.”

“Someone has to keep the foreplay going.”

He arches a brow, standing over my desk to brush his lips against mine. “That’s what this is to you? Foreplay?”

Toji’s minty breath and soft pink lips are making it hard for me to not jump on him and be clingy. Again, classroom setting. Can’t afford to get caught.

Alternating my gaze between his lips and rich eyes, I look at him through my lashes, smiling and say, “Back to our discussion at hand, Mr. Fushiguro?”

He laughs quietly. “Of course.”

I try to keep the conference quick and simple (since Toji has work at four), going over the class curriculum, the expectation of Megumi, and all the supplies he needs throughout the school year. With a bit of flirting here and there, seeing how involved he wants to be in his son's school life really warms me.

Unfortunately, not all student’s parents are like that. Hence why a lot of my conferences last fifteen minutes or less.

“This is the parent portal you can download on your phone as an app, mobile web, or access on a computer to keep up with Megumi’s grades. Not only in my class, but his other classes.”

“What’s his grade now?” he asks.

“Since he’s new to my class, there’s not much to grade, so you’ll see it as blank,” I answered him. “Next week we have a test on a book we’re finishing up in class. That’ll be his first major grade.”

He nods. “Alright. Anything else I need to know?” Toji asks with genuine concern. Not like a man that has somewhere to be, even though he does.

“It’s four fifteen.”

“Not worrying about work. They know I’m going to be late.”

I softly smile. “Okay, but no. Nothing else. Any updates will be posted on the parent portal. My email and number are within that folder as well.” We began walking to the door so I could see him out.

“Can I use your number outside school reasons?”

“Use my number however you please, Mr. Fushiguro.” My voice is suggestive. I find Toji rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek while smiling, incredibly sexy. It’s like he’s doing this on purpose.

“Going to let me kiss you now?”

I managed to look over his shoulders to see if there’s anyone walking through the hallway but it’s empty. “A quick one and make it appropr-” A good way to shut me up.

His lips are on mine before I’m able to finish, kissing me like he’s been without me for a lifetime. Kissing Toji is addicting but makes me feel like I’m on a cloud. How he nibbles on my bottom lip or sucks my tongue into his mouth.

His hand that rests on the small of my back that feels possessive, pulling me further so I don’t break away. How he groans when tasting my mouth because us kissing has just as much of an effect on him as it does me.

The words that he says. The look in his eyes when he watches me. How his touch burns sensuality and temptation onto my flesh. My friends always told me I’m a lovesick fool, and Toji Fushiguro will be the one to show it if this keeps up.

“You look pretty like this,” —he breathes after breaking our kiss— “and you expecting me to keep it appropriate?”

“I wanted to look nice for you,” I admit, shyly.

“For me?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“If only you knew,”—his hand slides to my ass to squeeze, pulling me further into his now hardened erection—“how fucking beautiful and enticing you are.”

I have times where I’m the most confident woman in the world. Then, I also have times where I can show a bit of insecurity. But I don’t show that side to everyone. Probably no one. However, Toji is just that exception.

Tucking my coils behind my ears, I say, “You’re just saying that.”

He grabs me by my chin with his free hand to force me to look at him. “I’m not.” Is all he says, sounding more certain and genuine than ever.

“Okay,” I responded, holding eye contact. “Thank you.”

He looks at his watch, time being four thirty. “Can I take you out?”

“Hm, I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to go out with my student’s father. No?”

Toji repeatedly pecks my lips. “I work day shift on Friday. I’ll see you at eight?”

My crush on this man almost frightens me.

“Yeah. Friday at eight,” I confirm.

“Alright. I have to go. Okay for me to text you later?”

“Remember, Mr. Fushiguro” –I tiptoe to give him one more kiss– “use my number as you please.”

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

discussion question #2 — reader knew that toji is megumi's father before toji found out that she's megumi's reading teacher. now that toji knows, do you think him seeing reader will cause a rift in his already strained relationship with megumi once he finds out? Or maybe cause them to grow closer? What are your thoughts?

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shares-a-vest · 1 year

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a sad steddie ficlet for mother's day

tw: discussion of the death of a parent

Eddie Munson doesn’t have an easy time of it on Mother’s Day.

Steve figures as much as he gingerly walks up the front steps of the Munson’s home and raps on the front door. He’d woken up far too early for a day off work and perhaps selfishly, he felt lonely waking up to an empty house on Mother’s Day, a day he hadn’t spent with his own mother in three years.

As he knocks on the front door, the fly-screen frame making a tinny sound under his knuckles, he tries to convince himself to be thankful that his mother is here.

Well, not in Hawkins. But she's somewhere. He just isn’t sure where seeing as yet another business trip turned into a getaway weekend with friends that turned into an exotic vacation before going right back around to being an extended business trip.

He stops mid-knock, panic creeping into his chest as he considers the early hour - 8am being far too early for notorious not-before-noon Eddie.

But before he can take a step backwards and slowly make his way to the safety of his precious Beemer parked conspicuously right outside, the door opens revealing a worried and rushed Wayne, dressed for work.

The man closes his eyes, seemingly relieved at Steve’s presence. He makes quick work of scooping up his work boots (always sitting just inside the door) and crowds Steve on the small front stoop.

“Steve,” he whispers, leaving the door ajar, “Glad you’re here, my boy. Got called into work.”

“Is… is Eddie up yet?” Steve stutters.

“He’s inside watching TV,” Wayne replies, voice low, “Gotta warn you, kid, today is very hard for him.”

He cranes his neck to peek inside. Eddie is sitting on the couch, cradling something in his lap with a throw blanket over his knees. His eyes are glazed over, staring at the TV as he twists strands of his hair around his finger.

“Eddie,” Wayne calls, voice laced with the faint hope of a response, “I’ll be back tonight, okay?”

Eddie gives a half-hearted grunt, “Whatever.”

Wayne forces himself down the front steps and off to his truck, hesitating one last time as he opens his truck door and waves goodbye.

Steve steps inside, giving a small and admittedly just plain stupid wave from his hip. Eddie's eyes snap straight at him, glaring like he could shoot laser beams from his eyeballs if he tried hard enough.

“Oh, great,” he says, feigning a harsh edge as he rolls his eyes, “You’re here.”

Steve knows this tactic well, Eddie had done it a lot when he was recovering in hospital. But the pang in his chest, the feeling of rejection, of being turned away, hurts nonetheless.

He nods, more to himself to force himself into the kitchen to fix Eddie some breakfast. He decides on a bowl of Honeycombs, no milk. He will settle for the odd crunching mouthful of dried cereal bits if it means Eddie eating something.

“Why aren’t you at home serving up Mommy’s breakfast in bed?” Eddie seethes as Steve places the cereal box back in the cupboard.

He ignores him for as long as it takes him to move from the kitchen to the couch.

“Eds, my parents aren’t home,” he replies, letting the cereal bowl hit the coffee table with a pointed thud.

Eddie shirks away, clutching a big square book to his chest.

It’s a photo album.

After a long moment of only the sounds of a rather noisy toy commercial on the television filling the room, Eddie sighs heavily.

“I know.”

“Do you need me to leave you alone?” Steve asks, tone even and serious, despite not wanting to do such a thing, especially as his question conjures up a well of tears in Eddie’s already glassy eyes.

“Steve, I…” Eddie starts, voice low as he scrubs a hand over his face, “I won’t be very good company today.”

“It’s okay,” he says, lowering onto the couch.

He looks Eddie over - he is restless. Knee bopping on the spot, hair more matted than Steve initially thought. He isn't wearing his signature rings or his wristwatch. And he looks like he hasn't had an ounce of sleep.

Eddie mumbles something he doesn’t quite catch and shakes his head, the frizz and tangle caused by worried fingers adding an extra bounce. He fluffs the blanket to cover them both.

“Can we just sit here?” he asks, leaning in.

He wipes his nose on his (an old blue sweater of Steve’s that had long ceased being his own) sleeve.

Steve wraps a protective arm around him as he shifts closer, “Of course, baby.”

Eddie snuffles, barely getting out his words for tears, “I was going to look at pictures of my Mom.”

He covers his face with his hands, letting the album go. Reflexes kicking in, Steve catches it just before it slides off the blanket. He sets it by his side, leaning in close to ask, “How about I take some pictures out for you to look at, hmm?”

“‘Kay,” he agrees meekly.

Steve soon discovers why Eddie has been sitting here just holding the photo album labelled 'Precious Memories'. It is filled with pictures of his father, Al - mostly looking like a fun-loving young man, far from Eddie’s descriptions and Wayne’s understandably harsh words. There are many pictures of Al and Wayne, often featuring an older man Steve assumes is their father.

He can’t help the odd giggle that escapes him looking at pictures of baby Eddie, including one of him crying with a face covered in chocolate.

Eddie barely registers, instead looking ahead to the Sunday morning cartoons on the television. Usually, he’d be laughing at Looney Tunes outwitting each other with sticks of dynamite, but today he just curls in on himself further and further, pulling the blanket up tight to his neck.

There is only a sprinkling of photographs of Eddie’s mother, starting about halfway through the book. Her dark brown hair is striking, similar to Eddie’s, only straightened out with its styling.

Steve gets to work flapping back stubborn sheets of acetate stuck to thick pages in order to free each picture. He picks them out one by one until he has a pile of about a dozen, all curling from years-old backing glue and tape strips.

“Here you go, Eds.”

He hands over a picture of Eddie, aged about six and dressed as a witch alongside his beaming mother donning a long grey beard and an electric blue wizard's hat.

A smile teases at Eddie’s lips, skin pulling at the scar on his jawline.

He reaches for a single Honeycomb.

“Thank you, Steve,” he says, pressing the photograph to his chest.

#tw: death of a parent #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #lilys ficlets #wayne munson #eddie munson's mother

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duhragonball · 7 months

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It's my birthday today, and the local grocery store was thoughtful enough to stock the Dragon Ball Z Reese's Puffs, so I'm gonna try it out. Join me, won't you?

I still can't believe this is real. I mean, Reese's Puffa is kind of surreal enough as it is. It sounds like some satirical brand meant to poke fun at sugary kids' cereals. The box says "Made with REAL REESE'S Peanut Butter", the same way a fruit-flavored beverage will claim to contain genuine fruit.

The bowl on the box art is a Reese's cup, so it basically depicts candy being served in more candy. I'm old enough to remember when they would photograph cereal as "part of a complete breakfast", and there'd be grapefruits and toast and maybe a hard boiled egg. Basically they were admitting that the cereal was so unhealthy that you needed to eat three or four other breakfasts to make up for it. I just liked the photos because they were so picturesque. Ah, to have unlimited free time to prepare a leisurely 4-course breakfast while reading the paper. I just assumed everyone else was having toast with their cereal except my family, but yeah, it never really made any sense.

I haven't even gotten to Goku yet, but first I want to talk about his spoon. I don't think we see him holding a spoon very often. He's usually a chopsticks kind of guy, or he'll just use his bare hands or even dunk his head into the bowl. It kind of looks like a ladle when he holds it like that, which implies he cooked this bowl of candy soup all by himself, and he's showing it off like a proud chef. This spoon kicks ass, is what I'm trying to say.

But the real reason I bought this is because of that orange hillbilly who needs no introduction. I wasn't even looking for Reese's Puffs. It was the furthest thing from my mind. No, I was stocking up on the old-man cereal I require to survive, when I just saw him staring at me, with his friendly-yet-confident smile. Goku's not pressuring you to buy the cereal. He's sure you'll enjoy it, but it's okay if you want to take a pass. He'll just enjoy all this peanut butter chocolate goodness all by himself. Goku is truly the ideal spokesman. How can you say no to this lovable hunk?

I'm kind of out of touch when it comes to cereal marketing, but I'm pretty sure this sort of cross-promotion is a rarity. Like, they once put WWE wrestlers on Wheaties or something, but usually if the cereal companies want a cartoon on the box they'll just make their own character. Or if the cartoon people want to put their guy in the cereal aisle, they'll just commission a whole new cereal just for that brand. C-3PO had his own cereal for a while. It was pretty good!

What I'm saying is that it's kind of unusual to see a popular character like this on a cereal box. The only exception I can come up with is Fred Flintstone on Fruity and Cocoa Pebbles, but I always assumed that those were specifically "Flintstones Cereal".

Other than that, yeah, I can't think of any other examples of cartoon characters appearing on unaffiliated cereal boxes like this. Well, I drew my DBZ OC on a box of All-Bran today, but I don't think that counts.

"MY FIBER IS MAXIMUM, KAKAROT!"

I wondered what was up with the picture of Piccolo on the back of the box, and it turns out that he's one of seven different characters you can find on the back of the box. Collect them all! Aw man, that Cell one looks fucking sick! I don't know how they distributed these. Maybe they roll them out in waves and Piccolo's came first. Or maybe it's random and I might have found a Cell if I'd checked more boxes at the store. Well, Piccolo's pretty good. I guess.

All right, I just poured myself a bowl and Goku's cereal is gonna have to set course for Planet Oat. The dairy industry may not applaud my shopping choices, but I like oat milk because it doesn't spoil as quickly as cow milk, and it's got a nice oat-y flavor that compliments the cardboard taste of All-Bran.

I did not put Dawn liquid soap in my cereal. This time.

So what's the verdict here? Well, the first few bites were pretty tasty, and then I realized I was getting kind of sick of this as I made my way to the bottom of the bowl. The peanut butter flavor overwhelms everything. It has a very strong odor, so if you like Reese's peanut butter cups you can just sit this out in your room and savor the aroma. I barely registered any chocolate flavor at all. I mean, I believe they put it there, but the peanut butter is the whole story to this.

It's basically Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs from Calvin and Hobbes, only this is a special Peanut Butter variant they made. I never really appreciated the jokes about sugary cereals before. I grew up on Frosted Flakes and the like, but there were a certain class of cereals that my mom would just refuse to buy. My grandparents would have them, but I never really understood the difference between Frosted Flakes and Honey Smacks. As I got older, I ate less cereal in general, but that was mostly because I fell out of the habit of eating breakfast altogether.

But now I'm 47, and the only cereal I eat these days is bran topped with diced peaches and a couple of packets of artificial sweetener, so Reese's Puffs is way, way too sugary for my palate. It's not bad, but a little goes a long way for me.

When I was a kid, old people were always griping about all the stuff they couldn't eat anymore. I remember Isaac Asimov writing mournfully about how he couldn't have an Oreo cookie, which bummed me out because that was my favorite cookie back then, and it seemed that the fate of all humanity was to be denied the simple pleasure of enjoying them.

Now, I realize that a lot of the stuff that you liked as a kid just doesn't age up with you. Your tastes change, and you gain appreciations for new things that you wouldn't have appreciated before. That's not a bad thing. It's life. Things change, and you change along with them.

Well, you and I do, anyway. Not Goku, whose Saiyan biology keeps him looking exactly the same for sixty years so he can eat all the sweetened corn puffs he wants. But I don't envy him, is what I'm trying to say. I'm watching a wrestling show on PPV tonight, my mom took me to Cracker Barrel for lunch today, and I drew on a cereal box. I can't complain.

#dragon ball #goku #reese's puffs #eat 'em up eat 'em up #i'm not looking forward to finishing the rest of the box #might need a couple bowls of all bran to make up for this

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saltygilmores · 10 months

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THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS: SEASON 3, EPISODE 2: HAUNTED LEG-TUMBLR IS HUNGIE AND KEEPS EATING MY POSTS

The Netflix synopses (synopseses? Synposi? Where are you, Jess Mariano? You're my only hope) made this episode seem like it was going to be heavily En-Crusty'd (Christopher focused) but then the lovely @frazzledsoul told me that in this episode Rory takes Christopher to school (metaphorically) and this is also the episode where Jess takes RORY down a peg in a GLORIOUS confrontation at Doose's Market. If there's one thing I love seeing in Gilmore GIrls it's a good peg lowering. In fact, it gives me such immense satisfaction to see Rory in particular get taken down a peg that the three times Dean does it to her are the only times I actually side with Dean. Let the Notch-Taking-Down Party commence. But first....Happy 18th birthday, Jess! You're legal, mister! I am solidly and forever in the Late August/ Early September Birthday Camp (I have my reasons) and we're already there on the show! It's been almost a year since he arrived in Stars Hollow as a 17 year old! I'm gonna make it easy and say it was September 1st.

Now you can visit the strip club, and buy porn and cigarettes legally! You're a man now! (well, at least you could buy cigarettes at 18 years old 20 years ago. It's 21 now). Episode begins with Emily still being predictably salty about last week's FND, where Lorelai snuck out of the house while her parents were fighting over her breakup with Crusty.

Don't listen to her. You do can do whatever you want, even while you're on the clock. My little shmushkins. My apple dumpling. My peach tart. My banana muffin. My jelly donut. You're gonna make a bazillion dollars with your books some day and show em all. *pinches his cheeks* Lorelai is coming down with an illness which I shall diagnose as mononucleosis (aka the kissing disease) that she contracted from making out with Dean Forrester.

Lorelai has no qualms about leaving the house to eat out every single day in a crowded diner and spread her germs all over town, instead of keeping her ass in bed, I guess. She's also incapable of purchasing and opening a can of soup and dumping it in a pot on the stove (or hell, even sticking it in the microwave) so she wakes up each day and chooses to be a Disease Vector. If she wasn't (presumably) still married to Luke in 2020 to cook her meals for her at home I don't know how she survived the pandemic. Luke: You know what helps a cold? A healthy immune system. You know how to get a healthy system? By not eating crap and blowing out your brain cells with coffee. Eat a vegetable now and then or some high fiber cereal. At least eat the carrots in the soup? Three minutes in and he's already Insulting Lorelai (while, uh, also insulting himself at the same time?) Whee, I'm loving this episode already! More Peg-Lowering, please! Several people on this show are going to be HUMBLED and I am HERE for it. But why is Luke always downselling food that he puts on his own menu? I know Lorelai and Rory don't ever pay him anyway, but doesn't he want to attempt to make some money? "My food will make you fat and sick and kill your brain cells. Don't eat it. Go eat somewhere else." Or is it that he's a-okay with poisoning the rest of Stars Hollow with copious amounts of junk food but wants to spare Lorelai and Rory the same fate? One would also suppose he doesn't actually have said vegetables or fiber rich cereal on his menu in the first place (it's a fucking diner) and that would mean Lorelai would have to pour herself her own cereal at home. Perish the thought. Is Luke secretly some kind of California Hipster in denial? Would he be more at home opening some kind of vegan cafe where he serves wheat grass shots and kombucha and avacado toast, you know, all the stuff Milo Ventimiglia eats. (But Milo’s a big junk food junky too, he's a bit of a paradox, that man). What does he feed Jess, by the way? In his first appearance he was planning to stuff his already neglected and malnourished nephew full of Corn Flakes and Pop Tarts.

Grandpa here is going to live to be 115 probably, but only if you shut up, you're already sending him to an early grave.

EVERYONE STOP EATING AND TALKING. THE QUEEN HAS ARRIVED! Anyone else think its funny that Lorelai and Rory and Luke are ilke the mayors of Stars Hollow who know everything down to when the mailman's dog farts but nobody knows who Shane is, where she came from, who her family is, when she moved in, where she lives, how she ended up with Jess...ANYTHING? Nobody even seems to know her name? Silence from Miss Patty and Babette? Lane and Dean never informed Rory that Jess was never in school, that he supposedly pulled the fire alarm, stole 500 baseballs, etc etc. again, shouldn't Lane be absolutely losing her mind to spill this piping hot tea that Jess has been hooking up with some mysterious blond skankbag all summer? And Dean too, shouldn't he always be dying to tell Rory anything that would cast Jess in an unfavorable light and make her think less of him? What is with this town where they'll hold an emergency meeting because he drew on a sidewalk with some chalk but when he actually does something worth talking about, nobody wants to narc on him? They fear him, that's what it is. What is Shane's last name by the way? I made up a poll and asked you to decide on her last name and I'm currently awaiting the results, which I will use going forward.

Jess and Shane continue to give Rory Gilmore a sexual awakening so immense it could knock our fucking solar system out of alignment. That boom you just heard was Jupiter and Saturn crashing into one another from the sheer force of Rory Gilmore's quivering loins.

Tomatos Sign. I wonder how much money Jessica Kiper was paid to stick her tongue in Milo's mouth and say "Hey" and "Jess". Did she have to audition? I would do the job for free. I would keep screwing up just so the director could yell "Cut" and I could do as many takes as possible. Warner Brothers could own me for the rest of my life just for that opportunity.

Meow! All she did was say his name, lol. Someone's cranky. You know what would cure that bad mood? A good handjob from Shane (last name soon to be announced). This whole "no strings attached sexual gratification" deal that was seemingly dropped in his lap? Meh, whatever. He'll do it, but he'll be reading the entire time. Meanwhile, this is Dean waiting 5 years for Rory to put out:

(By the way, Mr. Mariano, don't ever tell a woman to "relax") Jess sighs and leaves in the middle of his shift (Lorelai should be proud), leaving his customers wondering where their pancakes are, to go have sex with Shane somewhere public and indecent, leaving Rory in their horny wake. Perhaps Jess has the intuition that the cold, clammy, looming hand of Celibacy (aka his own hand and a jumbo size bottle of lotion) will soon be upon him so he better seize these opportunities.

Love it when she says shit like this as if her boyfriend Dean Forrester is some fucking chatterbox (he'll grunt a few words as he's also a typical teenage boy like Jess and she'll go "That's So INTERESTING Dean! Do go on. I love you, little buttered croissant"), and also like she should actually expect Jess to talk around her when he knows she's going to pick on him even worse if he does have something to say.

Too late. That's hilarious- I forgot that Dean was about to show up just now and prove my point.

She's still wearing that stupid quarter on a string on her wrist. I will give this show credit for being very consistent with some of the small details like this. Every day for 2+ years straight, Alexis Bledel shows up at Wardrobe and they slap that thing on her wrist. That cup is HUGE.

Yeah. What? I could teach a comatose goldfish to say "I already ate breakfast." The hell is your point?

Oh god. It's that episode where Kirk and Lorelai go on a "Date". I do not remember how it goes but I'm gonna take a stab in the dark here and predict that it was sufficiently awkward. Honestly...Lorelai has done MUCH worse before and will continue to do much worse than Kirk. Mommy issues aside, Kirk has more redeeming qualities than Max or Crusty. Like, at least Kirk is ambitious. Lorelai is still only a few months removed from banging Crusty who wouldn't know the meaning of hard work if it bit him in the ass. I hope something bites Crusty in the ass. Like a rabid possum. Kirk...."Let's go out...In two weeks. I heard you have a cold. It takes two weeks for a virus to leave the immune system." He's also smart and would survive the pandemic. "You might be the prettiest girl I've ever seen. Outside of a filthy magazine."

It's the first day of senior year for Rory and our other Stars Hollow teens.

It's all downhill for Rory after high school.

Nobody tell her. L: I cannot go out with Kirk! R: Why not? L: He's Kirk! Poor Neurodivergent Kirk.

Fixed it.

i was about to say "What the what! Lorelai is actually pouring her own cereal?" but it's Rory wno's making her own breakfast and Lorelai is just pouring marshmallows into the bowl (who does that? That's not a thing. Here in The United States of America, there are already cereals that come with marshmallows). I mean, at least she's eating at home and "helping". Good for you for helping to feed to your chiild, Lorelai. Even if she's eschewing the (marginally) more healthy Raisin Bran in favor of Rice Krispies. I'm going to add a new feature to the ends of these posts: I call it: Things Googled While Watching GIlmore GIrls. Birthday Party Icons, How Old To Buy CIgarettes in Connecticut, Definition of Proclivities, How Many Words Can A Parrot Learn

#denise rewatches gilmore girls #haunted leg #gilmore girls season 3 #lorelai gilmore #rory gilmore #luke danes #jess mariano #Shane #Kirk Gleason #Happy Birthday Jess #My Sweet Little Virgo Boy #My LIttle Bowl Of Rice Krispies with Marshmallows #Birthday Smooches #I was watching the marhsmallows thing and thinking #AmyShermanPalladino might not actually be an Earthling #Human Beings do not eat Parmesan sprinkle cheese raw from the can either #nor did teenagers in 2001 make copious references to 1950’s television shows #it takes 50 years for television signals to reach Amy’s home planet so that’s why she’s behind

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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

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Mirror Image

He was sure when their daughter was older he’d love her wilfulness, the stubborn streak she’d got from both of them. They were traits that would help her when she needed them, things that had served both him and Emily well.

But right now, he really just wanted her to eat her breakfast.

-x-

This is a belated birthday present for the lovely @whitecrossgirl. You are the ultimate hype woman and I will forever be grateful for your friendship and the way you yell at me when I write something angsty <3

-x-

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: Pregnancy

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“Daddy, you’re doing it wrong.”

Aaron sighs and looks up from the plastic Frozen plate he’d put his daughter’s toast onto, and he looks at his three-year-old, his eyebrow raised as he looks at her across the kitchen counter.

“Alice, it’s toast. I don’t think it’s possible to get it wrong,” he says patiently, cutting it into strips for her before he places it in front of her.

“Mommy does it different,” she says, looking up at him with the same wide dark eyes she’d inherited from his wife, “She lets me have her toast.”

Aaron frowns, his lack of sleep from the last several days catching up with him as he tries to understand what his daughter is telling him, “So, you eat Mommy’s toast for breakfast?”

Alice nods enthusiastically, and Aaron groans, recalling just a week ago as he watched his little girl eating toast off of Emily’s plate. Something he hadn’t thought about every other morning Emily had been away because breakfast had been bowls of cereal, Alice and Jack had talked him into the sugary stuff more than once, before he got them out of the house for school.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t manage his children, but Emily’s absence was sharply felt by all of them. She was in London helping Clyde with a case, a favour Aaron knew from the nightly phone calls he had with her she regretted agreeing to, and wasn’t coming home for another two days. He missed her, wasn’t used to being in their home without her, and he knew both Alice and Jack felt the same way.

Alice, however, had struggled the most.

As soon as they found out Emily was pregnant with her they had conversations about what that would mean for both of them continuing working for the BAU. Ultimately, Emily decided that she would find something different. She only became more sure that was something she wanted to do when they found out they were having a daughter, as if it became all the more clear to her that she didn’t want to repeat the cycle she’d grown up in. Ultimately, either through good timing or Clyde interfering, Aaron knew which one he considered more likely, a position at the Interpol office in DC came up and she took the job.

It had been a change for all of them, and he missed spending so much time with his wife, but it had been a good one. Made clear whenever he’d come home from a long case to find his family all curled up on the couch and waiting for him. An understanding smile on Emily’s face as they silently agreed they’d talk about whatever horror he’d seen later before the kids jumped on him, thrilled to have him back. Emily being away was different. The job Clyde had found, or created, for her was mostly office based. She had a large team who did the majority of the fieldwork and on the odd occasion she went away it was only for a night or so. This, by the time she got home, would be a week. The longest she had ever been away from Alice since she was born, and the little girl had struggled with it.

Everything he did was ‘wrong’ or ‘not how mommy does it.’ He knew it wasn’t personal, that Alice loved him, but she had been all about Emily since the moment she was born. A tiny dot of a thing that would only sleep curled up on her mother’s chest and cried if she was taken too far away from her.

He couldn’t blame his daughter. His wife was his favourite person too, but it meant he’d spent the vast majority of the last week trying to convince a mini version of his wife to do things she didn’t want to do. He was sure when their daughter was older he’d love her wilfulness, the stubborn streak she’d got from both of them. They were traits that would help her when she needed them, things that had served both him and Emily well.

But right now, he really just wanted her to eat her breakfast.

He sighs and leans down next to her, his elbows on the kitchen counter as he makes himself her height, “Sweetheart, Mommy isn’t here,” he says, his heart aching a little at the sadness in her eyes, “So I can’t make you her toast.”

She sighs as if she has the weight of the world on her shoulders and looks down at the, rapidly cooling, toast he put in front of her before looking back up at him, “You can make Daddy’s toast?”

“Sure,” he says, standing back up and picking up the bread before slipping another slice into the toaster, “Daddy’s toast coming right up.”

He smiles as his daughter beams at him, and he shakes his head. He was counting down the seconds until his wife came home.

___

Emily groans as she sits in her seat, immediately having to readjust to get the tiniest bit comfortable, her hand on her ever-expanding stomach as she settles down. The next 8 hours were going to be long. She could barely sleep on a commercial flight at the best of times, let alone when she was 6 months pregnant, but she was looking forward to getting home and seeing Aaron and the kids. She knew she’d miss them, but she was surprised by how much, by how it felt like she’d left a part of herself at home.

She supposed, in some way, she had.

It was still strange to think that this was her life now. That she had roots so deeply anchored into the ground back home that she felt unsteady when she was away from her family. It was something she had grown up without. Something she’d had to get used to when she and Aaron first got together. The sense of belonging that she had searched for in all the wrong places her entire life. She wanted to provide it for Jack, Alice and the little boy she was currently carrying, and she never wanted them to doubt for one moment that they were loved.

At first, she’d almost turned Clyde down for this trip, unsure if she wanted to go or, if she was honest, if he was just asking her to go over to mess with her. Ever since she’d turned down his initial job offer for London he’d make jokes about how he’d get her over there one day, how she’d get bored of family life, of the extraordinary ordinary day-to-day she coveted, and come crawling back to him.

Aaron, despite the fact he did not appreciate those jokes from her old boss and friend, gently encouraged her to go. His hand on her bump as he reminded her it would be a while before she would get the chance to go again.

She’d enjoyed herself. She’d laughed at Clyde as she told him, with a completely straight face, that she was going to name her son after him and watched his horrified reaction before she told him she’d never dream of actually doing it. She’d done some good with the team there, bringing them up to par with her own team at home. She’d had a taste of the life she could have had, and it made her all the more grateful for what she was about to go back to.

“Good thing I booked first class, huh?” She whispers, rubbing her bump, smiling as she feels her son shift under her skin, “I don’t think there would be enough room for both of us in a regular seat, sweet boy.”

“I was just about to offer you a cocktail for take off,” the air steward says, smiling at Emily as she looks up at her, “But I can see that won’t be necessary.”

Emily chuckles politely and runs her hand over her belly again, “No,” she says, looking at the tray of mimosas with some envy, “Not this time anyway.”

“Can I get you anything else, ma’am?”

Emily smiles at the other woman, her unending cheeriness seemingly catching, “Actually, I would kill for a soda, a Diet Coke or something,” she says, sighing at just the thought of it, “My husband is a bit crazy when it comes to my nutrition, so I’d best make the most of it before I land back at home.”

She knew Aaron meant well. That his attempts to sneak fruit and vegetables into her food with the same tricks they used on their toddler were only because he cared, and that it was something he could control, but it was driving her insane. He’d done the same thing when she was pregnant with Alice and it had led to an argument where he’d apologised with Del Taco, approaching her in their bedroom like she was a lion in its enclosure that he was offering food to.

Thankfully he’d been a little more chilled out this time around.

“I’ll get that for you right away,” the air stewardess says before turning around and heading back towards the kitchenette.

Emily smiles as she settles back into her seat a little more, grateful for the extra room, and she chuckles as the baby kicks particularly hard.

“You’re not going to let me get any sleep are you?”

___

By the time she picks up her luggage, she’s exhausted.

A kind man lifts her bag from the carousel for her and she thanks him, yawning as she wheels it away and towards the arrival lounge. She’s idly thinking about getting a cup of tea before she gets her Uber when she hears a familiar voice shouting, stopping her from walking any further.

“Mommy!”

She turns to see Alice running towards her, Jack and Aaron just a few paces behind, her little arms outstretched. Her wild hair is tied back in two braids, and she’s wearing an FBI t-shirt Derek had bought her as well as a bright pink tutu and leggings from Penelope. Emily immediately feels the burn in the back of her throat as she looks at her family, her eyes filling with tears she will absolutely blame on the baby and not on the fact they’d all made her soft.

“Hi, sweet girl,” she exclaims, letting go of the handle of her suitcase and bending down just enough to pick up Alice as she reaches her, the little girl's arms tight around her neck. She picks her up, wincing slightly at the pull in her back as she straightens up. Alice hugs her tightly, perched on top of Emily’s bump, and she hugs her back just as fiercely. She kisses the side of her daughter's head, tension she didn’t realise was in her chest dissipating at the familiar scent of her shampoo, “I missed you so much.”

“Missed you, Mommy,” Alice says, her face pressing into her mother’s neck, “You were gone for so long.”

Emily holds her a little tighter, guilt she hadn’t known was possible before she became a parent and work caused her to miss one of Jack’s soccer games burning at the inside of her chest. It felt like no matter what she was doing the wrong thing. As if she was somehow letting her children down. In moments like this, she wondered how her mother pushed through it. If she’d spent years perfecting how not to be affected by not showing up to dance or piano recitals or even school presentations.

Sometimes, she wondered if her mother ever felt it at all.

“Mommy’s home now though,” Aaron says as he reaches them, his arm around Emily as he leans in for a kiss, winking as he pulls away to let her know they were all fine, her emotions are clear as day to him, just as his exhaustion was clear to her. He places his hand on her bump, smiling at the feeling of the baby moving. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi,” she says back to him, kissing him once more, “I was supposed to get a cab.”

He hums, raising his eyebrow at her, “Yeah, because I was going to let my pregnant wife get a cab home from the airport. Garcia would never have forgiven me.”

She laughs before turning her attention to Jack, “Hi honey, are you ok?”

He nods enthusiastically as he wraps his arms around her other side, sandwiching her in between all the members of her family, “Missed you, Mom.”

She adjusts Alice to remove an arm from around her so she can pull her oldest in closer for a hug, smiling as Alice grasps even tighter at her as if she was trying to climb under her skin, “You too.”

They stand there for a moment before Aaron is the first to detach, he nods towards Alice, “Want me to take her?”

Emily shakes her head, “I can carry her to the car.”

Whether he agrees with her or not, he nods and reaches for the handle of her suitcase, “Come on,” he says, leading the way towards the parking garage, “Let’s get Mom home.”

___

Aaron walks out of the ensuite after he finishes his nightly routine and into the master bedroom. He stops just shy of the bed when he sees Alice curled up in the middle of it, the toddler fast asleep and her arm thrown over Emily, her small hand resting over her baby brother.

“I seem to remember putting her in her own bed only a couple of hours ago,” he says quietly, his smile widening as Emily looks up at him, her own smile shy.

“She snuck in when you were in the bathroom,” Emily replies, running her hands through the toddler’s hair, “I didn’t want to send her back to her room.”

Aaron shakes his head fondly as he climbs into bed next to them, “If I’m being honest, she slept in here every night you were gone,” he admits, looking at Alice as she sleeps, “On your side of the bed. She missed you.”

Emily blows out a slow breath as she continues to play with the little girl's hair, “I missed her too,” she replies, smiling at her husband, “All of you.”

He watches her carefully, how there’s tension in her jaw. A slight tremble to her chin. And a look in her eyes that she only let him see, a vulnerability that she couldn’t keep hidden from him if she tried.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?”

She sighs, “Yeah, I’m ok. It’s just…” she drifts off, not entirely sure how to put it into words, “I guess I got a taste of what my life could have been if I’d taken Clyde’s offer,” she says, “And it would have been great. I would have been happy there but it wouldn’t have been this. I can’t imagine my life without you and Jack,” she looks back down at Alice, “or her,” she laughs humourlessly, her spare hand resting on her belly, “Or him. It’s like I saw the other side of the coin or something. And I feel a little…”

“Off balance?” He offers as she struggles to finish her sentence, and she nods as she looks back up at him.

“Yeah,” she replies, “Quite literally actually, I think my centre of gravity shifted yesterday,” she narrows her eyes, “Clyde kept saying I was waddling.”

“I could punch him, if you want,” he offers, placing his hand on her stomach.

She laughs, “You’d fly all the way there to hit him for me?”

He nods without hesitating, “I’d do anything for you.”

She shakes her head at him, her teeth digging into her lower lip and she places a hand on his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss, “I love you. I’m so glad this is my life. I wouldn’t want it any other way. Even if our son is making me waddle.”

“I love you too,” he says, stamping another kiss against her lips, “And you’re beautiful,” he leans down to press a kiss to her belly, doing the same to Alice’s forehead before he sits back up, “I’m glad this is our life too.”

She smiles at him and leans into his side as he wraps his arm around her, careful not to disturb Alice as she moves, “So…she gave you hell, huh?”

Aaron groans and kisses the side of her head, “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

She chuckles, “And the outfit at the airport?”

“You’re lucky I talked her down to the tutu,” he says, running his hand up and down her arm, “She wanted to wear her dinosaur costume.”

Emily smiles as she looks down at their daughter, fast asleep between them, “We have got to talk to Pen about the number of costumes she buys her. Alice was ok though? Apart from sleeping in here and running you ragged?”

He hums in response, “Well, she definitely has your attitude,” he says, smiling when she gasps in outrage, “I just hope that she uses it to be a CEO or something, not the leader of a gang in prison.”

She sits up to look at him, her eyebrows furrowed together, “Hey,” she exclaims, lightly slapping the shoulder she’d been leaning against, “She would run an excellent gang.”

-x-

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thegongoozlerreacts · 10 months

Text

Dead Plate (Part 1)

hello!! its been a while since ive posted but here i am!!! so this game is Dead Plate created by STUDIO INVESTIGRAVE

i had played one of their games before, Elevator Hitch, and i really really enjoyed it! so im very excited for this new game that theyve released

though, this game is probably really different from Elevator Hitch, because that game was a visual novel type of game while this one has restaurant tycoon gameplay

still, im very excited

i hope i can get all the endings today (but probably not) as always, spoilers under the cut!

i know its literally just the title screen BUT it looks very classy

also the music? its a bop like yo BellKalengar is the composer and sound designer and like yo!! amazing job its literally just the title screen and im amazed already LMFAO

alright then lets begin

lolol i like the way they named the buttons for doing the tutorial, skipping the tutorial or just leaving the game on auto progress time to show up at 5 am then

the art is really cute these characters are really cute too esp the protag

i know its just the tutorial but i am very nervous LOL doing service jobs make me nervous (even tho this is only a fictional one)

bro protag why did u skim the interview thing 😭 is that why u've had 28 jobs in 7 years 💀

ooh interesting the cooks have an order in which they cook meals i need to remember that

wow so theres a lot to do huh theres seating the customers, taking their orders, bringing those orders to the kitchen, serving the food, going to the cash register to take their payments, cleaning up the tables AND throwing out the trash its a lot more than i was expecting,,,, lol good luck to me i guess

so like fun fact im actually not that good at playing games LOL esp this kind of game where theres like people and they have like a happy meter kind of thing going on i wonder if any of the endings will be tied to how well we do during the work day ?? probably

also can i just say that the music is really good i like the kinda jazzy (is that the right word??) vibes going on

it makes me less nervous about serving customers since its very chill LOL

WHY IS THIS CUSTOMER HITTING ME WITH A HARD QUESTION

I HAVE NO IDEA IF WE HAVE TO-GO BOXES OR WHATEVR WHAT HUH ?????

there is a right answer and i have no idea what it is im gonna lose my mind please. ok well lets pick an answer

im gonna go 'no' since the restaurant has a strict menu that changes daily right? so maybe they wouldnt do to-go boxes or ordering ahead and stuff (RIGHT???)

oh phew ok i picked the right one

LOL the banter between the protag and the tutorial guy (i dont know his name)

??? what the hell this customer just left right as i got the food bro 😭😭 have some patience damn this aint a fast food place

now i have to throw away this perfectly good meal (sorry cooks)

oh no now the real game is starting uhh aight alright then lets go

ok so that was like only three customers, i did pretty well but the day's not over yet shdajhsdsakhj i feel like a disaster n it was only three customers LMAO

oh it was only 3 customers for day 1 nice (i got jumpscared by the sound effect for the day ending LFMAO)

ooh green onion rolls,,, it looks good damn now i want to eat LOL

BITCH YOU LIVE LIKE THIS?????? damn,,,,

the music for this area is pretty chill tho

THE BATHROOM IS FLOODING??? AGAIN ?!??! BRO ??? THATS DISGUSTING

the window has a horrible view its just another building

oho? she? who???

bro dont leave the dishes for later thats sooo gross

??? HOW DID YOU BURN CEREAL???? WHAT DID YOU EVEN DO ??

i am appalled at the protag's lifestyle i cant even

so he has not finished writing lyrics and love letters for this girl he mentioned earlier the game is not revealing her name and im wondering why hmm its very sus

sorry im laughing so hard??? its mostly empty except for some cans and the fucking green onion rolls im cackling?? they look so out of place in this fridge LMFAO

bro how are you so bad at cooking that you burnt food in the microwave??? what are you doing???

wait. is his bed the couch???? bro i feel so bad for this guy

he biked through the rain,,,,, and he thought doing it fast would dry him,,, in the rain,,,,, im starting to understand why he somehow managed to burn cereal

he doesnt own an umbrella

aww this is cute thanks boss

he LIVES here??? wow damn his apartment is upstairs thats very cool

LOL protag keep ur mouth shut

day 2 here we go

SHIT HELP I TOOK TOO LONG ONE OF THE CUSTOMERS LEFT NOOO im restarting jkdsljlds its a good thing i saved

ahh i did way better this time but the day ended right as i was about to take out the trash LOL

oooh those look tasty too

oops ok so like i started day 3 right

well i was like 'i'll take out the trash before serving any customers' so that i can just easily clean up the tables right

uhh but then suddenly this happened ??? so like protag dropped the bag and cut their finger and the boss is having an odd reaction to the sight of blood methinks

HTHE BOSS JUST SLAPPED HIM ??? WTF

bro he just slapped him then was like 'oh dw someone else will clean it up' hello???? you just slapped ???? me ???

ok then moving on to the rest of the day i guess??

kinda weird looking but it still looks appetizing (the magic of art LOL)

oh shit theres a magazine ?? oops im gonna go back and read through previous ones oh nevermind its just the same one lmao

ohhh so this is where i buy items ok aight

and this catalogue is how our protag knew about the job for a waiter it also has an interview with our boss (Chef Vincent Charbonneau, i finally know his name) about the low number of employees i was wondering why we were the only waiter in the restaurant and i guess thats why

ok i bought the rollerskates cuz i need to be faster for the customers

oh and u can interact w the telephone to call 'her' but she doesnt pick up oof

sorry what is happening right now

what is that weird squelching sound?!?!?

BRO?? WTF WAS THAT ??? so like his body felt itchy, pressed Z to scratch and then suddenly lines were all over his body and then knives came out and i am so very confused

i think that was just a dream but what a weird nightmare

i guess onto day 4 then ?? at least i have my sick new rollerskates now

ooh that looks tasty

man i think im too slow cuz the timer always runs out while one more customer is still around lmfao, oh well

oh shit another nightmare

ohh so i can only equip one item at a time hmmm well since i bought the watch anyways i guess i'll use it

PFFT A CUSTOMER LEFT SORRY LADY,, she was waiting to be seated but i was preoccupied with serving food oopsies

restarting the day then

the nightmare hmm is the protag's name Rody since thats what it says on the label

DAMNIT I TOOK TOO LONG AGAIN

ok im just gonna use the rollerskates this time

AGGHH I KEEP TAKING TOO LONG ON THIS ONE CUSTOMER

restarting again,,,,

should i just let it go? probably but im not going to

IM GONNA LOSE MY MIND IVE RESTARTED SO MANY TIMES

ok well youve not seen it but i have restarted day 5 soo many times and i am hungry so,,, here's where i'll leave it for today

even though i am struggling and getting frustrated, im really enjoying the game so far! i wish i wasnt so terrible at playing it so i could see more of the story LOL

like what is up with the boss? who is this girl that the protag likes so much? what is up with his weird nightmares??? and will i ever be able to finish day 5 ?????

tune in next time LOL byebyeee

#dead plate

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scoops-aboy86 · 6 months

Note

What are your thoughts on Steve’s chronic migraines getting worse so Eddie and Robin convince him to go to the doctor. The medication he is given helps but perhaps it starts to cause weight gain #chubby Steve Harrington

To be honest, I don’t know if I know enough about migraines to go too deeply into that part of it. My brother gets them, and I briefly thought I was getting them in college but that turned out to be just my sinuses trying very hard to murder me on a seasonal basis. The campus health center had me keep a food journal for a while in case it was a dietary trigger, though, which I kind of want to foist on Steve. Like, what if…

(This got away from me, what else is new, please either enjoy or suffer for the next 3k words. The meds definitely kicked off Steve’s weight gain, partly because meds do that and partly because he doesn’t end up puking his guts out as often anymore, but the combo of the food journal and the stress reduction of he finds in eating definitely awakens something that keeps it going.)

Hawkins Memorial Hospital and all its patient records were obliterated over the course of defeating Vecna. So now that the Upside Down is gone and the older teens have moved out of Hawkins, Robin and Steve got into college somewhere (Steve by the skin of his teeth, if only because I’m not sure if community colleges have health services for their students), and Eddie lives with them too while he works at an auto shop and tries to scrape a new band together.

Between the migraines and the campus nurse “what if”ing him about shit, because he no longer has the medical history on his whopping total of four concussions in three years, Steve has very little patience for being instructed to write down everything he eats for a week or two on the off chance his headaches are triggered by something he’s eating. He’s sure that’s not it. Robin and Eddie bully him into actually doing it, basically resulting in a communal journal where they all take notes on Steve’s meals.

So Eddie is uniquely tuned in to Steve’s eating habits, even for a trauma-bonded roommate with a big gay crush. He doesn’t think much of it, but does have a lot of fun being all “You deserve a treat for finishing that homework on time, I’ll pencil you in for a donut and we’ll hit the corner market!” and whatever. Just a little bit of friendly teasing on the days Steve decides to be lazy and eats mostly junk.

By the time Steve finally gets medication and a routine that actually helps keep the migraines at bay more often than not, the food journal is long done but Eddie still notices that stuff and is vaguely aware that Steve has started snacking more often, taking a little extra at dinner, doubling up on his usual bowl of cereal for breakfast. He also notices the way all of his jeans start to hug his ass more, the faintest suggestion of a future muffin top starting to bunch over waistbands when his shirts are tucked in, how he starts moving a little slower when taking the stairs up to their apartment two at a time (or, eventually, one at a time like what Eddie considers a normal person).

He casually brings it up at one point, something offhand like, “Extra hungry today, Harrington? Or are you carb loading before a hot date, or whatever it is you jocks get up to before strenuous activity?” But Steve just laughs and helps himself to more pasta or whatever’s for dinner, his third serving, and says he’s pretty sure it’s the new meds are doing something to his appetite. So no, not just today.

And Eddie doesn’t push, because Steve seems fine with it. The extra weight looks good on him, in Eddie’s opinion—anything would look good on Steve, but especially the contentment that comes with indulging the whims of his appetite. He’s quickly developing a snacking-while-studying habit, and Eddie learns that when Steve gets frustrated and tries to blow off doing the work, he can be both placated and bribed to continue with donuts. His grades are steadily improving, and that’s not the only thing on the upswing; he eventually consults both Robin and Eddie on how to size up his closet on a budget, too.

The only thing Steve complains about is the dating dry spell he’s on, grumbling about shallow girls who don’t want to take the time to get to know him. Robin comments that he’s like a broken record, she heard all of this before when his parents cut him off and he didn’t have the money to plan lavish dates anymore… and Eddie feels like he’s been knocked over the head by the comparison. He can’t imagine not wanting to date Steve just because his money doesn’t grow on trees or he’s put on weight, what is wrong with those women?!

Because, call a spade a spade: if Steve were into guys, Eddie would ask him out in a heartbeat. Even if it could potentially torpedo their friendship. He puts so much energy every day into not flirting with Steve, and to be honest these days he’s mostly redirecting it towards bringing him treats. Steve has this unfortunate habit of licking his fingers (even when it doesn’t seem like he should need to!); Eddie is developing a staring problem. A worse staring problem. Whatever.

Sometimes the three of them smoke up on Friday and Saturday nights when they have nothing better to do. (Read: don’t have dates. Eddie is used to being a dateless loser, but he feels bad for Steve and Robin. Indignant on their behalf. Secretly pleased whenever Robin has plans and relieved when Steve doesn’t, and guilty about both.) They pick out a tub each of ice cream in advance and order too much pizza and watch movies they barely pay attention to while bickering and giggling like idiots, and if it’s a double lame day weekend none of them bat an eye when Steve starts getting two tubs for himself so he doesn’t run out part way through. Goads one or both of them to bet on whether he can finish it in one sitting before it completely melts, leaving Eddie to have to hide a boner whenever the challenge devolves into messily slurping of whatever’s left at the bottom.

It’s at the end of one of those nights where it’s just Steve and Eddie; they turn in for the night (or the pre-dawn hours at least), Steve taking a little longer to shuffle into his room because he offered to put the leftovers in the fridge. Eddie gets back up because his mouth is dry as hell, and opens the fridge for light while he hunts for a clean cup… only to realize the leftovers aren’t there. He checks the freezer, and his own mostly empty ice cream carton is missing too. Turns out, they’re in the trash, scraped clean. Steve must have finished everything. When he goes back to his room he can hear Steve moving restlessly through the thin shared wall, soft grunts and moans and muffled burps and—

Usually, Eddie tries to be a good roommate and put his headphones on when he realizes that Steve is having some alone time. But he’s sleepy and still stoned and doesn’t feel like getting up again, so he stays prone and closes his eyes, telling himself that he’s not listening, really he’s not, he’s just trying to sleep. The hand he’s palming himself through his pajama pants begs to differ, though. And if he thinks he hears choked moans of “more, give me more” and “please, I need it” and “yeah, give it to me, Eddie,” no he absolutely does not. He obviously just nodded off into a wet dream, because while Steve often joins him at Robin at the local gay establishments for nights on the town, he only ever hooks up with girls.

The next weekend it happens again. Eddie has no idea if Steve is eating up all the extras in the kitchen or taking some of it back to his room, but it’s obvious where it’s all going. And either way the end result always seems to be the same: Steve eats and jerks off afterwards, and Eddie listens in and does the same. He feels like a creep for doing it, but the shame doesn’t hit until after he’s done biting his pillow to keep quiet and pumping into his fist until his toes feel permanently curled.

But, he rationalizes, it’s not that weird that they each have their own guilty pleasures. Everybody’s got to have something at the end of the day, right? And at least pinning after Steve this way keeps him from doing anything stupid, like spending his weekend cruising for one night stands and STDs. It happens enough already on the rare occasions that Steve does have a date, he doesn’t need to up his risk factor for catching anything.

This goes on until Robin and Steve graduate. Like, actual years. Eddie would feel like a monk by now if he wasn’t secretly indulging himself while imagining Steve on a regular basis, which is… it’s fine. At least it goes a long way towards keeping lingering nightmares about demon bats and evil veiny wizards at bay.

They have two different ‘Congrats Grads’ parties in their cramped apartments, one with all their friends from school and around the city, and one for everyone who knows about the Upside Down. Eddie buys two huge sheet cakes for both, but is puzzled when there’s way too much left—and Steve doesn’t seem to have touched them.

After the last round of guests has gone, including Robin who had announced out of nowhere that she was going to crash with Nancy in the latter’s hotel room and wake up early to do touristy things in the city while Nancy is visiting from Boston, Steve calmly gets both platters of remaining cake out. Without explaining himself, he also produces a gallon tub of ice cream and lays everything out on the coffee table in front of their second hand couch. His thighs and arms have grown thicker over the years, cheeks fuller, jawline softer. His belly rounds out before him, spilling over in front and a litte to either side even while empty, and he has this way of kind of holding it as he shifts further back on the couch to get comfortable, like he doesn’t want to jostle it or maybe, maybe just needs it a little out of the way to better move around.

Eddie pretends not to watch but the second he glances up realizes he’s been caught out, because Steve meets his gaze, staring right back.

“I wanted to show you something,” Steve says, and holds out the old food journal, abandoned many semesters and a whole diploma ago once it had been determined that Steve’s triggers were mostly bright lights and stress-related.

Except… it wasn’t abandoned, apparently. Notes fill it up from cover to cover, post-its sticking out more and more towards the back pages where Steve’s increasingly squashed handwriting had run out of space for that day. Everything Steve had eaten, carefully recorded quantities. Some entries, Eddie notices, have a small ‘e’ written and circled next to them, and he’s about to ask when Steve sees where he’s looking and says, “That’s all the food you gave me.”

And Eddie hadn’t even realized how much he’d been doing that, because Steve had always just taken everything he’d offered without comment. It had become normal, like a reflex. And, okay, maybe he’d noticed that on days Steve ate more he tended to be a little more audible through the wall at night as he worked his way to completion, and maybe it had become Eddie’s favorite soundtrack to fall asleep too.

He doesn’t realize that his jaw has dropped until Steve sits forward with a grunt—a series of them really, because Eddie is on the bean bag chair on the other side of the coffee table and that was a bit of a reach even before Steve had started adding pound after pound to his own frame—and nudges it closed with a finger under his chin. Your move, Steve’s eyes seem to say as he sits back, resettles his ass and then his belly all over again.

“I’m bisexual,” Steve announces bluntly. “Figured I should just come out and say it, since I’m either really bad at hinting or you haven’t picked up on the fact I’ve been trying to for… a while now. Robin says it’s pretty painful to watch me fail so hard and you still act so oblivious. I think she’s sad for both of us. And,” he adds, laying a hand over the crest of his belly, “while I’m doing the open and honest communication thing—I like this. I like to eat, and I like how I look. And either you like it too or you’ve got this… codependent blind spot, Robin called it? Which I guess means you just give me things that you know I want without really thinking about it. But she also said that you might just think of me as off limits because we’re friends and we live together and I’ve never actually, like, told you that I like both, which… I don’t really have a good excuse for, other than being kind of a moron. So.” He gives his belly a double pat, which Eddie’s dazed brain can only liken to a judge banging a gavel, but whatever it’s supposed to mean is kind of drowned out by the way it wobbles and fills said brain with silent fizz. “This is me telling you. And asking, uh, if you’ve noticed, or have… any interest in me at all. If giving me food means anything, because—at the risk of making things incredibly weird between us—it makes me feel really good when you do.”

For a moment Eddie just gapes at him. He doesn’t even know when his mouth fell back open. His brain is still the equivalent of a shaken can of Coke that Steve’s just popped the top of, metaphorically foaming out his goddamn ears. And then when he tries to say something, it’s too many different sentences at once and just comes out as as a garbled, “Stehuhyuhwha…?”

Steve just huffs and says, “Stop trying to cheat at Scrabble, Eds.” Which is what Robin always says when Steve’s dyslexia or Eddie’s abuse of creativity in regards to spelling rears up during important moments. Like when she’s tricked them into playing Scrabble.

Eddie tries again. “Steve, what are you talking about? What do you mean you’ve been trying, to… to what? Both? Picked up on—What?!”

Immediately, Steve’s face flushes. “Shit, you really didn’t know? Any of it?”

“I knew about the eating,” Eddie says, and he feels like his voice has gone unusually high but can’t focus enough on that to decide if it’s actually true. “I mean, I knew you seemed okay with it, but you said your meds make you hungrier or something—How like is much, I mean, is like, I mean—” He slaps a hand over his own mouth to stop that runaway train of a sentence before it goes over a cliff any more than it already has, then tries to rephrase. “What do you mean by you like it?”

“Eddie. Have you noticed how often I put my fingers in my mouth when you’re around? Haven’t you heard me through the wall?”

Eddie’s face feels hotter than the sun. “Y-yeah…” He wonders if it’s really possible to die of spontaneous combustion, but confronted directly like this he can’t find it in himself to lie. “You… you touch yourself after you…”

“Eat a lot,” Steve finishes. “It feels good, getting so full like that. I sleep better after, especially if I, uh, come.” He flushes a little at the admission, too, so at least Eddie isn’t completely alone. “I say things sometimes, hoping you’ll hear.”

“I thought I was dreaming most of that,” Eddie admits, which makes Steve perk up a little.

“You dream about me?”

“I…” Letting out an embarrassed whine, Eddie brings a hand to his hair, dragging a clump of it down over his mouth in a ludicrous attempt to hide. “Shit, yeah. I do. I…” And, okay, if he’s going to admit this he’s not going to do it by halves, because if Steve can just say things that would get him labeled a freak in most circles, then so can Eddie, the official Freak of Hawkins, Indiana. “I listen and I picture what you might be doing in there, and I get off to it, man. I thought I was being a huge creep for doing that, but I couldn’t help it because it’s you, alright? At the risk of making things incredibly weird between us, Steve, I’ve been fucking gone on you for a mortifyingly long time and it’s only ever gotten worse, and I’m pretty sure that you saying any of what you’re saying now means I’ve finally lost my mind and I want you to be my padded cell. I don’t even know what that means, Steve, but I want it.”

Steve tilts his head slightly. “It’s gotten worse? In a bad way?”

“Oh my god,” Eddie groans, and drops his flaming face into his sweaty palms. “It’s gotten bigger. It’s gotten… more. What do you want from m—”

“Eddie,” Steve interrupts, cutting through his Freudian slips like a knife through butter. “Come here.”

When Eddie lifts his head, he sees that Steve is patting the section of couch next to him. Feeling dazed and like this might as well happen, Eddie climbs his feet and ambles around the laden coffee table on rickety Bambi legs. Jesus H Christ, is this what having a stroke feels like?

He sits. Steve lays a hand on his thigh and Eddie feels like it’s leaving a mark straight through the ripped denim.

“I want to show you something,” Steve says. “Try something, I guess. You can say no, but… I’m hoping you won’t. Because I’ve been thinking about this ever since you started writing things in that stupid journal for me. I want you to feed me cake and ice cream, and when the cake runs out I want you to pour the melted ice cream down my throat. Okay?”

“Should,” Eddie starts, and then has to clear his throat a few times because holy shit, his voice is rough and all the blood in his body just rushed south. “Should we do this on a communal couch, or… your room…?”

Steve’s eyes go hooded and dark, bedroom eyes if Eddie’s ever seen them. The goddamn Harrington Charm. “You wanna see where all the magic happens, baby? Finally get the visual to go with the audio?”

And well, that kind of answers the question of whether Steve was wolfing down leftovers in the kitchen or in bed, doesn’t it?

The next day, Robin gravely thanks them for not doing “hungry penis stuff” on shared furniture, a phrase which they vehemently beg her never to use again with varying degrees of dismayed wailing and hysterical laughter. And then she whacks them both upside their heads with a heartfelt, “Took you long enough, you dingi!”

#wg steddie #scoops words #ask #chubby steve harrington #anon

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nickistuffs · 1 year

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Let's eat!

hi! I'm Nicki. I have been on Tumblr my whole life and all I have been doing is reading fanfiction, precisely Harry Styles fanfics. So yeah and I wrote one blurb back while I was bored when my wifi broke so, here it goes.

Please enjoy just doing this for fun.

Pairing: dadrry X Filipina reader (Plus size reader or interpret them as you want them to look like.)

Summary: Breakfast is great, time to take a break from pancakes and cereal.

Warnings: None, fluff (cause I am in need of it)

...

The smell of garlic fried rice in the air is what Harry woke up to. Guessing that (y/n) was already up and cooking their breakfast. Yes a bit odd eating rice for every meal but he lived with his girlfriend for three years then; his wife and mother of his child. He had gotten used to seeing her eating a full meal and slowly eating the same, especially when her recipe for bangsilog was a great greasy start of the day whenever he had a hangover.

Still groggy from sleep harry, went and did his business in the bathroom. walked past their toddler’s bedroom seeing it empty, bed covers all over the place. Then hearing an excited shout from their child downstairs making harry smile to himself.

Finally downstairs he head straight to the kitchen immediately hugging his beloved wife from behind as she was washing pots in the sink. “Good morning, my love. Missed you in bed” (y/n) faced harry and “I’m so sorry, H. I know. a little someone was hungry for a big breakfast here.” Facing their three year old toddler munching on a tomato slice sitting on the high chair. Then immediately laughing how messy they were, bits of rice and eggs in their hair and tomato all over their cheeks.

“Is it yummy, baby?” Harry asking their joyful little one. “Mummy, made such delicious foods for us keeping us full of her yummy foods, hmm?” Harry kissing their cheeks no matter how messy their face is. (He couldn’t help it) giggles and laughter filling the room. “Okay, daddy. breakfast is ready. Let them finish theirs, please. Kain na tayo (let’s eat)” “Mmm thank you my love this absolutely smells great!” Harry sitting down at the breakfast nook grabbing a serving of sinangag (garlic fried rice), runny fried eggs, fresh sliced tomatoes, salted duck eggs, crispy bangus (marinated milk fish), and atchara (pickled papaya) made his mouth water. “You amaze me so much!” “Another great start to the day, baby” harry finished saying digging into his food. (y/n) always blushing at every compliment he gives even when they’ve been together for so long.

Then a loud shriek from their toddler and a continuous streak of babbles. Harry agreeing with their incoherent words. “Your right baby, Mummy is so amazing! Huh?” Their toddler making grabby hands to (yn)’s plate. feeding them scrambled eggs and rice. Then their baby loudly says “mMMHMm yamee” the little family laughing and enjoying their morning together.

...

Thank you so much ehehe I have more in store and maybe I'll write more in the future. See you <3

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #husband!harry #dad!harry #harry styles imagines #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot

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go-river-flows · 2 years

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Welcome back to the Avatar Programme

Summary: I was part of the Avatar programme. Simple as that. Then that changed after the schoolhouse incident.

WARNING!! Death of children, Heartbreak, Angst

Part 1 of ?

I was part of the Avatar programme. Simple as that. Arriving on Pandora was something I couldn't imagine. Everything I knew about this planet learnt ahead of time. Training and learning about the natives, and their language of the planet alongside Tom Sully and Norm. Though I was the youngest in the programme at 19 years old, five-foot-eight (173cm), and fresh out of medical school, with that I tried my hardest to keep up with everyone. Becoming quick friends with Tom during training, and I was sent in cryo first with his full support. He was like a big brother I never had. And more.

I logged nearly five-hundred hours, much like Norm to his dismay. So when I reached Pandora before Norm and Tom I worked twice as hard. I think Dr. Augustine saw something in me, even hand-picking me to join her school in 2150. Though I was supposed to be a medic, I was researching new plants and herbology to cure diseases and new strains of viruses for the humans back on earth. I helped teach English to Dr. Augustine’s school, using my avatar on the side. Small children and teenagers that came learnt a lot, and quickly too. A little boy, Anuk, learnt the fastest. He was a cute little boy that followed behind me like a little lemur, sometimes even climbing on me, sometimes braiding little beads into my hair. His sister, Kirëya, a bit older, loved my drawings of plants, even helping identify a few new ones. I loved drawing the children, and giving my drawings to them, now even teaching art as my mother did many years ago. To be honest, I kind of fell in love. Not just with the people, but also the culture, the rainforest, the fauna, everything.

But when I wasn't in my avatar, I was in the lab. Dissecting plants, researching it's biological structure, testing against strains of a disease running rampant on earth, FE1-07. When I wasn't doing that I was sleeping, most of the time on my desk, too busy to even eat. Dr. Augustine would look at me worried, she noticed my slightly sunken cheeks and darkened eyes. She dragged me to the medical bay one morning, after I had only eaten a cereal bar and drank three cups of coffee in the span of 42 hours. She was right to of course, I was malnutritioned. She started coming down on me hard about eating, physically dragging me to the canteen, making me sit with the science team and eating the horrible food.

“Call me Grace,” she finally told me. I always called her ‘Doctor Augustine’ out of respect. To me she was always going to be my superior. Hell, I think I saw her more as a mentor and after she dragged me to the medical bay, a mother figure. She reminded me too much of my mother who had passed away from lung cancer.

I miss Na’vi food. It was much more nutritious and healthy compared to what was served on the metal trays. I didn't know it at the time, but every time Grace dragged me to the canteen, I had caught the attention of a certain man, the head of security. All I knew about him was that Grace hated him, she grumbles about him often, though I've never physically met him before.

Every morning was the same. Wake up at 4am, have a cup of coffee, go to relieve myself, then head to the cradle. It had been nearly two years since I had joined Grace’s school and this one was no different, Max helping me link. Waking up at the Avatar compound, I started my day by checking on the growing fruits, plucking a few ripe ones for the children, before heading over to the school.

“(Y/N), stop there,” Grace loudly stated out as I approached the school, getting closer I noticed the many bullet holes riddled. My happy expression fell. Dropping the fruit I ran to the door, Grace stopped me as my eyes fell on the bodies of Anuk and Sylwanin, the oldest daughter of the Omatikaya clan leader and Tsahìk. My knees weakened as I saw the young boy lifeless on the ground. All I could feel was anger and pain. Anuk. Dead. I howled in agony. The young boy who made me smile and laugh, now lifeless on the ground.

Grace held me tightly, now crying too. How was she going to explain this? How was she going to explain this to the Omatikaya clan leader? We cried in each other's arms, until there were no more tears.

“Where are the other children?” I ask quietly.

“They’re safe. We have to bring them back to Hometree, so they can rest with their ancestors,” Grace rubbed my shoulders, she stood up before leaning down to pick up Sylwanin. I did the same with Anuk. His body was cold and limp which hurt even more. When I played with the kids, they loved being picked up as I twirled them around, sometimes carrying three of them at the same time and spinning around, something I often did with my young cousins back on earth. Their laughter always sounded so sweet and cheerful. Anuk’s the most boisterous and contagious. I teared up at the memory as Grace led me to Hometree, a place I had never been to until this moment.

As we neared Hometree, Grace stopped for a moment. I could tell she was scared, it was my first time seeing her expression. But we pressed forward. As we approached closer to Hometree some of the Na’Vi villagers noticed us. Holding two of their own. When they realised who we were carrying, their expressions changed to horror. Two children of their tribe in the arms of demons. That was the word they used. It stung like a wasp's sting, but it didn't hurt as much as Anuk’s death. There came a commotion, the natives outraged at the sight. One of the Na’Vi threw a rock at my face, yelling curse words. I could only wince in pain as the rock collided with my cheekbone, I held Anuk’s body closer protecting his limp figure as a reflex.

“Mawey! Mawey. Txum. It was not our fault,” Grace cried into the crowd (Calm! Calm down. Please).

“kempe ngenga hasey, sawtute?!” a native screamed back (What have you done, sky demon?!). We could only look at them, not knowing what to say I squeezed my eyes shut as another rock came flying in my direction. I turned, hunching my back to protect Anuk’s small body as even sticks came flying.

“TÌFNU!” (Silence!) the Eytukan yelled as he hurried to the crowd, the people parting as they let their leader through. Seeing his daughter he let out a loud yell, a gut-wrenching sound as he looked upon his oldest daughter in Grace’s arms.

“Ngaytxoa. Ngaytxoa,” was all Grace could say. (I'm sorry) The Eytukan took his daughter from Grace’s arms, embraced his deceased daughter wailing.

“Ngaytxao, ngaytxao,” I repeated. It was all I could say too. I looked up to make eye contact with Eytukan, the only thing in my eyes was remorse and guilt, maybe a bit of anger too. A Na’Vi man took Anuk from my arms, even hissed at me too. We deserved it, I believed. We were human, we were demons. I accepted it with tears in my eyes. Only repeating the word ‘ngaytxao’ over and over again.

That day the Omatikaya clan banished us from the tribe. It would be the first time I stand foot in Hometree and the last. That day, my hatred for humanity lit like a flame.

When we returned to Hell’s Gate, I went straight to the Avatar Compound, shutting my eyes and disconnecting from my avatar. I got out of the cradle, feeling that same grief and remorse. It crushed me. My heart ached and I felt like throwing up. My cheeks were already wet from crying, somehow I felt the pain through the connection, it was strong.

“(Y/N) what's wrong?” Max asked, extremely concerned as I could only look up at him still lying in the cradle, “Why are you crying?”

With those four words I couldn't hold it in any more, only weeping as Max sat me up his arms wrapping around my shoulders. I was there for a while, the only thing I could do was cry. Even when Grace came to check up on me, she dismissed Max as she just held me. Tears pooling on her shirt, as she tried calming me, rocking my body back and forth. We sat in that position for nearly twenty minutes as I finally calmed down.

“Never again,” I mumbled into Grace’s shirt.

“What?”

“I'm never going in again,” I stated, shaking my head, “I can't.” Pushing Grace away, I removed myself from the cradle, vowing that I’d never return to my Avatar.

For the next few days, I focused on staying in the lab, trying to avoid the cradle room as much as possible. Heck I even avoided Grace, the only person who I really cared about, and I think who also cared about me. Only going back and forth from my bedroom that I rarely used, and was practically untouched until now. If I wasn't in my lab working on cures, I was working in my shared bedroom. I would only go into the canteen ten minutes after the science team’s breakfast, lunch and dinner time, hoping to avoid those in the Avatar Programme. Sometimes there were a few other people, sometimes it was just me, only a few food items under the heat lamps limiting what I ate. The shelf of drinks was also empty. It was a Friday evening, so most people were in the communal room playing cards and having drinks. Sitting down in the somewhat empty canteen, I prodded my food whilst writing an analysis report. Not noticing that the head of security walked into the room. His footsteps halted behind me. The man dropped a bottle of water in front of me startling my clueless self, he chuckled a little.

“Sorry to startle you miss,” he said as I turned to look at him, “I noticed you didn't have a drink.”

“Oh, thank you,” was all I could say to this intimidating man.

“May I?” he gestured to the empty seat next to me, I nodded. Pulling out the chair he sat facing me.

“Commander Miles Quaritch, Chief of Security,” he introduced himself with a smirk, as he extended his hand out.

“(Y/F/N)(Y/L/N), Medical researcher,” I shook his hand. My face completely neutral but slowly turning red. Either from nervousness or the fact I was being stared at by quite a handsome, but old man.

“Aren't you also part of the Avatar Programme?” he inquired. I paused for a moment, unsure if I should tell him or not.

“Uh…not any more,” I say, to which he raises his eyebrow.

“Oh. May I ask why?”

“Something happened,” I didn't want to explain, that memory was too painful, “I'm sorry sir, I have to go,” I stood up from my seat suddenly, the only thing in hand was my tablet. Commander Quaritch grabbed my wrist as I turned to leave, alarming me a bit. My head snapped to my wrist as he looked at me, his blue eyes piercing through my own eyeballs. He grabbed the bottle, placing it in my hand before letting go. Meekly thanking him I hurried off. Speeding down the many hallways back to my shared bedroom, I slammed the door open then shut. Scaring my roommate Ruth. She didn't say a word as I crawled into my bed, tucking myself under my cover and bringing it over my head. The tablet and water bottle are still in my hand.

“Ummmm. Are you good?” I could hear Ruth ask, muffled by the cover. I didn't respond as she asked again, finally she yanked the cover off revealing my red flustered face. I hissed out of reflex as Ruth took a step back, her arms up and slightly nervous. “Alright, alright. Dude, you’re such a cat. Fine, I won't say anything.”

Part 2

#avatar x human reader #avatar x you #avatar x y/n #avatar x reader #avatar #jake sully #jake sully x reader #norm spellman #norm spellman x reader #avatar fanfiction #avatar fanfic

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