#like there's just. SO much pressure to fit yourself into the Normal box if it's even halfway possible

[aeide-thea]

disjointed thoughts abt like. various anti-'normalization' takes i've seen and how actually i think like. expanding the range of things people are aware of & comfortable with is in fact often a helpful step towards becoming less dependent on the concept of normality to determine acceptability, because once you understand that normal isn't in fact a narrowly fixed range but is subjective and can be widened, it becomes a much softer yardstick & less of a bludgeon

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Caught 

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~1.7k

Summary: You find out Wanda’s bad habit and put a stop to it. 

A/N: The other reason why Wanda would end up couched. 

Warnings: Angst.

Wanda sighed in annoyance as she looked to the group of men she’d been with for far too long. She wondered how despite being in the business for years, there were some things that she could neither change nor avoid in order to be respected. She was fine with drinking, as long as it wasn’t an excessive amount. A drink or two while discussing business wasn’t that big of a deal to her. As long as she didn’t come home drunk and disorderly you didn’t mind too much either.

Unfortunately, another habit she needed to fit in and talk shop was smoking. She refused to smoke cigars because they smelled and tasted foul, but she hadn’t been able to refuse the occasional cigarette from someone. She hated every second of it and knew you would be pissed, so she tried to keep it from you and limit it to one whenever she felt the pressure to smoke.

She should have known that any attempt to keep things from you would only backfire horribly.

Wanda was already tense from the poor negotiating skills of her employees when she arrives home to see that you’re already there. She panics slightly as she realizes that she didn’t beat you home in time to shower and brush her teeth half a dozen times like she usually does after she smokes. Wanda doesn’t get a lot of time to consider how to sneak upstairs without having to get too close to you when she sees the door to the mudroom open. She watches as Boone runs out first and starts to open her door to get out so she can greet him like she normally would.

“Hi, buddy.”

Wanda scratches the shepherd behind his ears and she tries not to notice how he’s sniffing her a little more than usual. It’s at this time that she remembers that she has the rest of the box that had been gifted to her in her pocket. She couldn’t throw it away in front of them, and she now had almost a full box on her for you to find. She just manages to make her expression neutral as you stick your head out the door with a smile.

“Hey there, I’m making dinner, but you’re home earlier than I thought.”

Wanda just smiles as she waves you off and heads over to you with a sigh. She figures she might as well get this over with. You’re bound to be angry at her, but she knows that being upfront about it usually gets her off easier than trying to hide this would.

“You’re the best. I wanted to--.”

“Oh wait, sorry one second!”

The oven timer goes off signaling that something’s ready, and you run back inside to grab it. Wanda sighs in relief as she follows after Boone who’s already running for the kitchen. You’re pulling the green beans out of the oven that you’ve made to go with one of Wanda’s favorite dishes. She nearly cries when she realizes what you’ve cooked for her, and when she spots what she knows is cheesy bread she’s going to eat way too much of she nearly loses it.

You’re going to be so mad.

“Sorry about that. How was your day?”

You place the baking sheet on the counter before putting the contents in a bowl and covering it so they stay warm. You shoot Wanda a curious look as she just shrugs despite looking tense about something. You figure it’s work related because it usually is, and you frown as you think of how you can cheer her up.

“It was stressful, nothing new unfortunately. How about you, detka?”

You smile as you turn back around from putting the bread in the oven. You groan loudly and dramatically as you check on the chicken that cooking on the stove. It’s not quite done, but luckily you won’t have to wait long. You smile at Boone who’s sitting outside of the kitchen wagging his tail like a good boy. He’s not allowed in the kitchen while you’re cooking. Not since you’d tripped over him and cut yourself.

“It was okay. There was this one client though, he smelled so bad I struggled to get through the appointment.”

Wanda doesn’t even have time to wonder in what way before you’re telling her with a disgusted look. She really wasn’t getting away with this, was she?

“The room reeked of cigarettes for the rest of the day. It was awful.”

You frown when Wanda seems to tense even more and you watch her eyes dart toward the stairs as she offers you a smile that you see through immediately.

“That’s the worst. Is there anything I can help with?”

You watch as your wife only takes a step closer to you to glance over the counter. You shake your head because you’re nearly done, but your smile disappears when your wife nearly flees for the stairs. She can’t seem to get away from you fast enough.

“No, thanks. I’m almost done!”

Wanda nods at this as she takes a step back and tries to retreat as gracefully as possible. She needs to burn her clothes and wash her hair, so there’s no trace of her misdeeds left for you to find.

“Okay, well I’m going to shower really quickly, but I’ll be back soon.”

Now you were really confused because Wanda never showered before dinner. She liked to shower right before going to bed, or right after waking up. The only other time she showered was if something had happened from work that she needed to wash away. This thought makes you suspicious and you decide to test your theory by shooting your wife a questioning look.

“Do I have to wait until after to get my kiss hello?”

Your suspicions grow exponentially when Wanda hesitates as she considers this. She sighs inaudibly before turning back toward you with a smile that doesn’t quite hide her nerves.

“Of course not.”

Wanda walks toward you and around the kitchen counter to meet you for a quick kiss. She watches as you smile in return and she leans in and decides to count to three before breaking away.

Your wife is remarkably tense as she approaches you for a kiss in a way that’s similar to how you’d imagine someone approaches a sentencing. You don’t understand what’s wrong until she’s within reach, and it’s confirmed as soon as she kisses you.

Despite the smell of dinner cooking and the residual smell of smoke you have from work, you notice that the latter grows as Wanda leans in. You realize that she must have been around some people for work who had been smoking. This was annoying, but you weren’t too upset about that. This changed as soon as she kissed you. She tasted like smoke and you’re pulling away before you can stop yourself. You don’t miss Wanda flinch and you know that your suspicions are correct as soon as she takes a step back.

“Have-have you been smoking?”

You don’t really need an answer. You basically have it, and when Wanda refuses to look at you it’s confirmation. You aren’t sure where to start there’s so much you want to say, but the first question you ask is arguably the most important.

“How long has this been going on?”

Wanda hurries to explain herself and reassure you that it’s only been a few months. She hasn’t been hiding this from you for years, not that she could, and she doesn’t even do it that often. This is maybe the fifth time? She doesn’t say this though as she tries to justify her idiotic decision.

“No, no. I just—I had to for work is all, but it’s not that often. I--.”

Wanda doesn’t get to finish her sentence before you’re shooting her a glare and shaking your head at the troubling words. You don’t care why she started smoking, but you sure as hell want her to stop.

“I don’t care how often it is, Wands! It’s horrible for you and you need to stop.”

Wanda’s reaching into her pocket for something as she shoots you a sheepish look that you miss. You’re too focused on the pack of cigarettes she takes out, and you’re grabbing them from her almost immediately.

“They’re filtered…I think that’s better?”

When you grab the box from her and raise your arm she flinches slightly. She thinks you’re going to throw them at her, but as she watches you chuck them into the living room, towards the fire place, she’s only slightly less terrified as she turns back to you.

“That doesn’t fucking matter! They’ll kill you, and unless you want to sleep on the couch indefinitely, you’ll stop now. Are we clear?”

Wanda just nods silently as she meets your glare with an anxious look. She’s really fucked up this time, and she’s tempted to apologize and sleep on the couch tonight just to make you less mad. You don’t let her get away with not speaking, and you cross your arms as you stare her down.

“I’m serious Wanda. I can’t be married to you if you keep doing something this reckless.” 

You knew your reasoning was slightly hypocritical, but to you there was a huge difference between what Wanda did for work and this. Sure, she led a dangerous life, a reckless life on some days, but that was a choice that you’d come to terms with. You just asked her to be careful and not put herself in any more danger than strictly necessary. She agreed to this and you’d put your faith in her that she’d do as you asked. This was not what you asked, and the fact that she voluntarily did something that was arguably more dangerous than getting shot, at least long term, was something that you wouldn’t tolerate.

Wanda just nods again in understanding before she sighs in defeat. She hates that she’s upset you, but she’ll do anything she has to in order to make it up to you.

“Okay, I’ll stop. I promise.”

You smile at this and on instinct, you start to lean in to hug her, but you stop short. You sigh before waving her back towards the stairs, and she catches on quickly.

“Go shower and get rid of the smell. Then come back down here and eat dinner with me.”

Wanda smiles widely before she runs up the stairs to do as you ask. She’s more than happy to clean up and get on your good side. Not to mention she wants to eat dinner.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You roll your eyes as you watch your wife leave before you turn back to the oven. You turn it off but leave the bread in before putting the rest of the food that’s not on the stove back in to keep it warm. You sigh in defeat before you shake your head at your ridiculous wife.

“Smart ass.”

Masterlist

[harrytheehottie]

surprise 🌟 please let me know what you think and enjoy! 

You watched as Harry entertained the party around you. He had an ease about him, moving from person to person, remembering everyone’s name, what they do for a living and a detail that they would always be shocked he would remember. It’s a formula of sorts, a party trick, his ability to never forget a name or a face no matter how much time has passed and the hundreds of thousands (and sometimes millions) of other faces he encountered.

It worked on you.

A few years ago, you were invited to a mutual friend's Christmas party, and you were enamored with how normal he was and how easily he fit in with your friend group. Harry was the first one up when the host suggested that you all play charades. You paired off into two’s and were lucky enough to be on his team, not having to deal with his competitive wrath.

“M’Harry,” he introduced himself to you as he walked over from his spot at the table next to you on the couch.

“I know,” you laughed at the formality of him introducing himself, “so, do you want to be the one doing the acting out of the guessing?”

“What would you like to do?” Harry whispered as he leaned his body into yours, trying not to let anyone hear your strategy.

“I’d say the man with the Christopher Nolan credit should do the acting” you teased, nudging your elbow into him.

Harry cracked a smile, “Looks like someone’s done their homework on me.”

And before you had the chance to think of a witty response, or feel any embarrassment for your forwardness on not pretending to know who he was, the first round of charades had begun.

Harry went up and picked his first card out the box. His eyes laser focused on you as you watched him begin to act out the word on the card. He made a three with his fingers, “3 words?” You responded waiting for a confirmation. He nodded. Harry quickly gestured to a box, “TV?” Yes. You were right. Now completely hyper aware of everyone in the room's attention, he made a letter T, “The?” He eagerly nodded again.

The first word is ‘The’ you thought to yourself as you carefully watched Harry begin to walk around the room, ‘Walking?’ He nodded and gave you a thumbs up as you cracked your brain for a tv show that had those two words in it and before Harry could make his next move you already had the answer, jumping up off of your seat “The Walking Dead?” you said and he came running towards you with an equally excited “Yes!” engulfing you in a giant bear hug.

And that’s how the rest of your night went, you and Harry were the perfect team, your group of friends amazed at how quickly you got into a rhythm. It was definitely your competitive nature and nothing else - at least that’s what you told yourself as you left the party a few hours later still thinking about him.

And when you were halfway down the block trying to find the nearest tube station and you heard a familiar voice call your name, the nerves you’ve been ignoring finally bubbling to the surface.

“What happened? Is everything okay?” You turn around and ask Harry, who is way closer than you thought he was when you first heard his name. He was of breath, the brisk London air catching up to him as he breathed in and out before speaking,

“No, nothing happened, it's just…”

Was Harry Styles nervous? You thought to yourself watching him as he ran his hands through his hair countless times trying to carefully articulate what he wanted to say to you.

“I was just wondering if you would like - and no pressure but I would like to have your number?” He finally asked his green eyes meeting yours, the nervousness still heavy in his presence but now the ball was in your court.

“Oh?” You replied. You can’t remember the last time a man politely asked for your number this way - it always felt a bit intimidating.

“I know I could have asked someone back there but I didn’t want it to turn into a thing, which, I guess chasing you down the block isn’t really the smoothest way to do this either.”

“I don’t think you have any trouble being smooth,” the words left your mouth before you could even think about it.

Harry’s brows raised, “Is that so?”

“That's not what I-”

“M’just teasing, but I really would like your number, if you’d like to give it to me.” Harry pulled his phone out of his back pocket, held it up to his face to unlock it before handing it over to you. You just nodded before typing your name and number into his phone and handing it back.

“You’re not going to call to check if I put in the right number?” You asked, watching Harry put his phone back in his pants pocket.

“I trust you,” he said before throwing you a wink, “get home safely,” he added as you walked in different directions wondering to yourself, if he would ever actually reach out.

&&

It was the morning of your birthday when you woke up to a text from an unknown number, you turned over in bed and grabbed your phone out the charger, eyes still half asleep as you read the three consecutive messages that rolled through in the middle of the night.

I was just told it’s your birthday? Is that true?

If you have time to squeeze me into your day I just got back in town and would love to see you.

Also, I’m sorry for taking a month to reach out. Life got busy. Again would love to see you even if it’s not today x

You reread the messages a handful of times, a smile immediately plastered on your face at the thought of Harry asking your friends about you. And just as you were beginning to type a response you heard a buzz at your front door, you weren’t expecting anything but got out of bed as you quickly replied to Harry.

It is my birthday! Who told you? I’d love to see you today but I’ve got a few plans scattered with friends. Do you have time tomorrow?

You open the front door to a flower arrangement delivered with a single cupcake and a card that read:

Happy Birthday,

I hope it’s a sweet one.

Harry xx

And you tried your hardest to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

&&

You quickly found time to grab coffee a week after your birthday. You were surprised at how much you had in common, Harry was on a break from touring and had time off before he had to start working on his next project.

“Y’know this is the longest I’ve been home since the band,” Harry confessed before taking another sip of his iced americano with a splash of almond milk - you made it known just how disgusted you were at his order the second he told it to the barista.

“Really?” You were taken aback at his confession, you knew his job included a ton of travel but the reality of an eight week break after a world tour being the longest he’s been home amazed and frightened you.

“S’the way I prefer things really, a bit of a workaholic.”

“Do you ever think about what life would be like if you weren’t operating this way?” The words left your mouth before you could stop yourself, Harry’s brows perked up, “You don’t have to answer that.” You immediately blurted out.

“You know, I’ve never really had anyone ask it like that,” you could tell he was taken by this question. He just went on a tangent about the reasons why Los Angeles was a place he had to be very strategic in - “s’just I’m grateful for this and I don’t know why or how I got so lucky but there are definitely times where I wish I could shut it off. It’s the feeling of people constantly watching that I hate the most, like there is no sense of privacy, the working bit, I think everyone gets that way at times. Me working provides jobs for dozens of people and taking extended breaks means some of those people won’t have jobs or will get other jobs and cannot come back to work for me.”

You listened intently, you knew privacy was a concern just in the way he operated, it's something you noticed at the party you met him at. His head was on a swivel but he never let it affect the way he acted that night but you wondered if his gravitation towards you was because you couldn’t be bothered to pick up your phone and let the whole world know you were at a party with Harry Styles.

“It’s definitely harder than it seems but you also have to give yourself time to recoup and experience the mundane of life. I think that’s equally as important.”

The two of you continue to talk about everything under the sun, the nerves of misspeaking completely eliminated and you feel silly for even having those thoughts. When you excuse yourself to get back to work, Harry wraps you in a bear hug, not once glancing at the patrons of the coffee shop, his hug lingering a second longer than you anticipated.

“I’ll see you later?” He asks running his hands through his hair before plopping his newsboy cap onto his head and his green parka jacket over his layers.

You nod a yes and go your separate ways.

&&

Harry invited you to dinner with some friends. You tried not to think too much about the invitation, after a handful of hangouts and phone calls and walks through the heath, the natural progression of friendship was to introduce each other to your friend group. You thought it would be easier to go from Harry’s so after a short train ride and a 10 minute walk from the station you were at his front gate, pulling your phone out to plug in his gate code.

“Hello?” You called out as the front door was left open for you after no response, he must be in the bathroom you thought to yourself as you began to walk up the stairs towards what you assumed to be Harry’s room. You open the first door to your right, a four poster bed that was haphazardly made was in the middle of the room. You felt like you shouldn’t have walked in but there was something drawing you there, you admired the bookcase that was against the wall - filled with books, awards, pictures of what you assumed were his family and friends. You were immersed in all the books that were displayed - Love Is A Mixtape, The Wind Up Bird Chronicle - Norwegian Wood.

“You could borrow on if you’d like,” his voice broke you out of your daze. You turned around to see Harry walking out of the ensuite - shit, you should have just stayed downstairs.

“Sorry, when you weren’t downstairs, I thought I would figure out where you were.”

“So you decided to follow me into my bedroom?” He teased.

“You were in here weren't you?” You replied.

“Touche.”

&&

Harry decided to drive to the restaurant instead of calling a car.

“I can drop you off if you’d like, I’m going to have to go through the back and s’just don’t want to hassle you with that.” Harry said, eyes focused on the road. You could tell by the crack in his voice this wasn’t an ideal conversation to have.

“No, it’s fine, we can just arrive together,” you reassured him.

“You sure?” He asked again. This was something you had discussed before, the elements of his life that were abnormal to his peers, having to strategically plan his entrance into a restaurant was one of them.

“M’not really camera ready,” you joked trying to ease your way out of an awkward conversation.

“You’re always camera ready,” Harry quickly looked over to you with his shy smile that always filled you with butterflies. You rolled your eyes before breaking into a smile yourself.

When you made it to the restaurant, you were suddenly overcome with a feeling you couldn’t place. And when the hostess walked you over to your table as Harry’s hand grazed your lower back, that shift you felt earlier in the day came back. As you approached the table to find Harry’s best friend/manager Jeffrey and his wife Glenne, the feeling stayed.

This was a double date.

“Harry’s told us a lot about you, it’s nice to put a face to the name,” Glenne said as she embraced you into a hug before you sat down at the table.

“Good things I hope,” You laugh awkwardly at the admission that Harry talked to his friends about you. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility but the reality of this dinner being with one of his closest friends kind of felt like a test, a test that answered some of your questions regarding his feelings towards you.

“I’ve never heard him speak so highly of someone,” Jeff chimed in before throwing a playful nudge Harry’s way. You watched as a red hue washed over Harry and it answered all your questions.

The feelings were more than mutual.

&&

You end up back at Harry’s.

He invites you in for a nightcap, usually you’d say no and just take yourself home but something was different. The ease of conversation, the way you got along with his friends, the lingering looks across the dinner table, the way Harry’s shoes kept knocking into yours under the table and on the drive back to his, his right hand moved over the center console to meet yours. He didn’t move focus from the road when you let your fingers intertwined with his. You were heading into a territory that most friends never came back from but something was different with Harry, you were ready to find out.

When you got into the house, it was quiet between the two of you. The sounds of his keys falling into the catch-all dish in the entryway, his rings next, you watch the way he moves through his house, something you’ve witnessed dozens of times but this was different. He walks halfway through his living room before sliding his shoes off. You’re still standing at the entryway, knowing that the first step you take forward is going to change your relationship, entirely.

“What’d you like to drink? Tea? Coffee? M’sure I’ve got some wine somewhere?” Harry asks from the kitchen.

“Tea is good!” You say, still at the entryway but now taking your shoes off and placing your bag at the entry table. This is good, he wants you here, you remind yourself trying to get out of your own head.

“Tea it is!”

You walk into the living room and sit on one of the chairs on the kitchen island watching the way Harry picks a mug for you, pours water into the kettle and places a tea bag into your mug. He pours himself a glass of water - “I’ve never been much of a tea drinker,” he confessed to you when you invited him over to yours a few weeks ago. You appreciated his honesty even though his lack of drinking had answered that question for you long before.

Harry sits on the chair next to you, you gazed into his eyes, the comfortable silence filling the room and just as you were about to speak, Harry’s hand moved up towards your face, gripping your chin softly as he ran his thumb across your bottom lip.

“Harry.”

“Yes?”

“What are we doing?” You whisper softly.

Harry moves his mouth into yours, his hands grip the back of your chair moving you closer to him. Your hands find their way into his hair as your bodies work in unison to get as close to each other as possible. His hands find their way from the back of your thighs working their way up your chest.

“Do you want this?” Harry whispers in your ear, your body erupting in chills.

“Do you?”

And like on cue, the both of you begin undressing in front of one another. You watch Harry as he pulls his shirt off his, his toned abs flexing, the close up of his tattoos that you haven’t seen before giving you a new sense of vulnerability.

“Are you just going to stand there with your mouth open?” Harry laughed and you felt the blush all over your body, “S’joking - let me help you with that,” Harry’s hands pulled at the hem of your pants, his fingertips grazing your waist and you held your breath. You get out of your pants and lift your own shirt over your head. You take a step back to watch Harry take himself out of his boxers, if you were in awe of the sight before your eyes when his shirt was off - this was a whole different level. You blinked twice taking  him in and Harry’s amusement was clear on his face, smirking at your reaction.

You begin to bend down in front of him, your need to hold him and feel him everywhere growing by the seconds.

“No- you don’t have to” Harry begins pulling at you to get back up.

“I want to,” you wanted to make him feel good and you were eager to taste him. Harry smiles wide, his hand pumping his length a few more times, your mouth was open and ready. He holds the back of your head gently as you begin to wrap your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue around a few times, a faint “Fuck” leaves his lips and you want more.

You lean forward, taking his entire length in as far as you could, wrapping your hands around the base and moving your mouth and hands in rhythm. You look up at Harry his chest going up and down as his breathing begins to get heavier, his lips parts and eyes closing head falling back, you watch as his muscles flex and satisfied moans fill the room as his hips move forward.

“You’re so fucking good” he says through his moans. “M’getting close and,” you knew what he was getting at, so you took him in one more time before slowly letting him go. Without wasting a moment he is helping you up from your spot, “You’re insane” Harry says through a deep laugh, his cheeks flushed, hair wild from pulling at it.

“Am I?” You tease as you kiss his ear, moving down to his shoulder - pressing your lips between his swallows. Harry kneading your breasts in his hands as your knees hit the back of the chair. You move his hands off of you, getting a questioning look before you turn around and move to the couch behind you. Harry watches you, his hands now placed at his hips trying to figure out your next move.

“C’mere,” you whisper from your spot on the couch. Your legs spread open and your hands grazing against your center as Harry is in front of you. He begins to move forward and you kick your leg up your feet meeting the center of his chest, stopping him from moving any closer, “Are you going to just stand there and stare or are you going to ask nicely?” You tease as you circle your fingers against where you want him most.

“Let me make you feel good,” he pleads as he bends down to open the drawer to his side table, pulling out a condom, tearing open the package with his teeth and rolling it onto himself.

“Smooth.” You laugh because of course he has condoms ready, which in this moment you were grateful for.

“Got a girl to impress, haven't I?” Harry says before moving towards you. He took his time, moving his fingers to meet yours and circling your clit a few times before he moved his fingers to gather your wetness. You watched in awe, there was no room for overthinking, you were aware that the budding friendship that the two of you were forming was going to be forever changed but that was something you’d deal with later.

Harry thrust his hips inside you, your eyes locked as the pleasure took over. You felt him everywhere as you let out a deep breath adjusting to his size.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Harry whispered as he moved his mouth to meet yours just as he slowly began to move his hips. You wrapped your legs around him as his mouth moved from your mouth to neck, biting and sucking along the way. The pleasure was taking over the both of you as moans and groans started to fill the room, you could feel your orgasm coming on as you reached one hand between your legs working yourself up, your muscles clenching around his length and just as the wave washed over you - the faint noises coming from Harry whispers of “s’fuckin’ perfect, wanted this for so long, s’perfect” as his thrusts began to grow faster and fast, his hands gripping your waist as he drove into you before filling you up. He stayed there for a minute, the thumping of his heart soothing you back to reality.

Harry looked into your eyes, the vulnerability washing over him and you kissed him on the lips once more answering the question that neither of you wanted to be the first to admit.

This was different.

[1galaxia369]

AQUARIUS RISING ♒️

Okay guys, I see a lot good energy radiating from you. You've finally let go and you finally realized that the treasure is within. Alot of you are out here chasing crazy (but attainable) dreams. I love that for you, there's been so much pressure on you to be normal and do the right thing but there's no such thing. When you you force yourself into that box you become unhappy and restless. The stagnacy creeps in after and then the financial issues. You have to constantly stimulate yourself, you are a creator, you create. You are not meant to get up and do the samething everyday over and over. It's the reason you feel so depressed and confused, you don't have a creative outlet or anything fun to look forward to. Honoring your inner child is important to you, all work and no play will make you a sad and depressed mess of a human being. I understand Saturn being your ruler but so is Uranus, there needs to be a balance between practicality + hard work and Creativity + eccentricity ( like come on you never been able to fit into society...standing out is your thing). You use to be so creative and fun, what happened? You let societal expectations stop you again. You were never meant to be Kris that wears a gray suit everyday and works in corporate, you're the rich eccentric artist that spends their day doing crazy spontaneous things who dresses like they belong in a movie. I'm just trying to tell you that your success and happiness comes from the same thing you try to lock away--your individuality!

You are really out here mad at yourself for not being able to do what everyone else is doing even though it makes you unhappy. That makes no sense, why do you have to change your self to fit in? why can’t everyone try to be themselves? Society is set up to keep everyone living the same story. You are here to create your own! Nothing you do will ever be normal, the way you are will never be normal and it's time to embrace that kid. Once you finally make this decision to honor yourself then you can finally see some movement in your life. The universe will be blessing you never endingly, people will be coming to you to bring you support and harmony. These new connections will be people who love you for you and will encourage you to embrace your individuality. You might have went through most of your life without any support or someone to clap you when you achieve something but this support is coming through for you. You deserve this praise and support you're a star and remember that. There's going to be success in whatever you are working on at this moment, this project or goal has been something you have been working on for a while now, results will start to finally show up and there will be a positive outcome. Of course it's successful, you worked hard on this and you agonized over it but most importantly, you stuck with it and disciplined yourself. Congratulations!

Take the next step. It's time to go full in, get your pen and paper and start planning your next steps. I promise you, success is waiting for you to take the leap. Some of you are honing your skills for perfection and professional use. Some of you are in school, or planning to go back to school for a new skillset, some of you are practicing new techniques, self teaching new skills, enjoying your talents, whatever it is pursue it. It will be beneficial to you at this time, use it to further your self or invest into what you really want to do. Remember that you're here to do great things. You are bigger than what society has to offer hell, you're bigger than what this world has to offer. Some of you are a about become mentors & guides, oracles, astrologers, spiritualists, healers, practitioners, open up spiritual businesses or open a place of healing. You guys are here to guide and heal, people want to break away from this unhealthy society and you are here to help them. You are here to show them another way of life is possible. All of this can be triggered by you making the first step, out of society and chasing your true desires and dreams.

I recommend working with crystals, you have a lot of major things happening you need some support (rose quartz,pyrite, citrine,garnet, carnelian, obsidian,rainbow flourite, clear quartz,selenite). Smudge if you can and clear out any energy that makes you feel low. (palo santo, cinnamon stick,frankincense, incense). Go out in nature you need to interact with the natural energies that mother nature has to offer

1:11 1:23

[vanshookie]

Pairing: Nanami Kento/reader

Word Count: 5865 words

Summary: Moving into a new town is anxiety inducing, but it helps when kindness of strangers occurs.

Content/Warnings: Slice of Life, Drabbles, Fluff, sprinkles of Angst, Gender Neutral

Series Masterlist

No matter how organised one can be, moving house is always super stressful. You could fine tune every detail and likely something will still go wrong. And due to the high pressure of moving, even just a coffee order going wrong could shoot up blood pressure.

However, despite your organisational prowess, you still had everything going wrong. The rain was heavy, everyone cancelled and you can’t even have a instant coffee due to the fact that you packed absolutely everything last night.

The goal was to handle as much as possible before people came to help. Making sure to pack everything up and sealed them tight in the early hours of today. It was to avoid making anyone work too hard but now has come to haunt you. With no one here to help, the only person who benefits from your all nighter is apparently you.

You were not feeling like it helped as you feel the disks in your back grate against each other as you try to maintain the correct lifting form in your zombie state.

Mid-way to your car you question if you even brought your keys. that was another fun part of today was the atrocious memory, you had already done this walk 5 times and forgot yours keys and this time it was a box of dry food you didn’t want to soak in the torrential rainfall.

Oxygen re-enters your lungs when you see you left your car door slightly open, ignoring the normal anxiety that internet horror stories taught you; to fear something sneaking in while you were away. You place the last box of kitchen items and slam the door happily.

Then you check your pockets for the keys. They are not there. Lucky it was open you guess… Where are they then? You quickly look to the ignition and pray you haven’t just left your keys in the car.

They are in the car.

Clearly that was the cars fault, so it is met with a swift kick and then a scream angrily echos the neighbourhood cause damn that was a good kick to smash your foot.

The place you are leaving is a high rise apartment but the parking is not under the building. It is across the street so everyone got to see you furiously yelling in the storm. Of course when you live in an area like this; no one cares.

You check all the car doors handles with anxious passion. None of them are open. You check the backseats for the horror story stalker to help you, they sadly weren’t there when needed. You check the trunk and it opens!

You shove yourself in and open the centre seat window. All you got was to see the keys in another perspective cause no way were you squishing yourself through. As you were doing this, the previous uncaring people around you when you were having the breakdown can now speak up.

The poetic phrase they jeer is “nice ass”, and normally you would have a few choice words to say and wish you could say them but life decided smacking your head while trying to get out and do that was a better alternative.

Hopping out you feel the tears to start to gather again, why is it going so wrong? Throwing up the middle finger as you walk away, you walk into the lobby of the building to the elevator.

Thankfully, unlike the car, you did not lock your apartment as nothing much to steal right now. The movers had already picked up all the large furniture and a few boxes that you did not think you could fit In your tiny car.

Thinking ahead, you only left the things that were essential and did not want to re-purchase if anything got lost. You see only three more small boxes and a few ikea and daiso bags packed with random things.

The counter was clear apart from your phone on there charger. Grabbing it you call the person you need most.

“Shokoooooo, I need youuu” you immediately cry as you hear the phone dial tone stopping.

“Sorry I can’t get to the phone right now, most like in surgery if you can’t reach me”

This is it, you finally have reached the limit. You lie flat on the ground and let the tears fall. Everything this morning was planned to a finite detail yet all you are brought is suffering.

Admitting defeat an uber is ordered. Trying to still somewhat be helpful, you type a long winded message explaining how much stuff you have and that the car will need to fit it. The driver gets there rather quickly. He introduces himself as Iijichi.

Honestly he was highlight of your day, he did not want you to carry anymore things so he told you to stay as he did the trips, leaving you with just your handbag to worry about. He came back with only sweat on his brow and a strawberry and cream lollipop.

You both do a double check together, nothing really to note apart from a few things you thought may be nice for the next tenants. Then Iijichi finds something that makes you want to return to the floor, your spare car fob.

You feel your head go red and want to faint but Iijichi helps you see the bright side. He can head to the address alongside you and help you bring the boxes in. It initially causes you to feel a bit suspicious, maybe he wants to steal your very exquisite random assortment of house supplies. However he walks the carpark and begins to move your things in from your car.

He explains during this that he actually knows a few of the people at your new place. This lifts your spirits even more!

“Oh that’s brilliant! What kind of people are my new neighbours?” You help him move some of the stuff but once again he only leaves you the easy bags to lift into the front seat.

“Hmm there’s a bunch of brilliantly minded kids and some very respectable men” He says with his eyes shifting. He sees you lift your brow again and quickly covers himself.

“The owner is kind of an obnoxious guy but he means well, however trust me that if anyone messes with you, the others will likely have your back”

“Oh that’s nice! Hopefully I fit in” You feel reassured but slight anxiety rises, it sounds like this is a very established neighbourhood, hopefully your presence does not bother them.

With that, Iijichi makes sure you are ready and wearing your belt and gets in his car, ready to follow.

———

You arrive at the apartments with several missed calls, Iijichi quickly catches up to and asks what’s the plan.

“Um I have to catch up with some calls, can I give you my keys and you start moving this?”

“Sounds good!” He smiles and begins his task.

He doesn’t even seem to need to check the keys and knows where to move your stuff.

You quickly move under the cover, near apartment 1B. The neighbourhood despite being talked up by Iijichi, is actually very quiet currently. Nobody actually seems to be home, or the eyes that you feel on you are hiding as well.

(3) missed calls, (70) messages

Oh god that’s a lot of messages, mostly from Shoko but have to prioritise the movers.

“Hey sorry for missing your call! I was driving” You quickly apologise.

“All good, i’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news but due to the weather circumstances, we can’t bring your belongings tonight but hopefully it clears up in the morning.”

“Ah okay that’s alright, there won’t be any additional costs right?”

“Not at all… apart from potential added time of travel as the cost is calculated from the hourly rate, the truck will keep your stuff untouched at the facility under cover free of charge, we should have rescheduled this morning when the weather was showing signs of storms”

“Well to be honest, im very glad you didn’t cause I had to have the place cleared tonight, I hope your workers have stay safe in the storm” You can hear your own customer service voice and cringe inwardly.

“Thank you for your kindness, will see you once the weather clears” The man ends the call and you pause,

see you once the weather clears

Does this mean that if this doesn’t clear up, you won’t get your stuff for longer. You feel a headache come on and pinch the bridge of your nose.

You hear footsteps behind you and go to greet them. Yet your phone has other plans and blasts Shoko’s personal ringtone; Barbie girl.

You fumble the phone in embarrassment, hoping that it is just Iijichi behind you to get more boxes, the being watched feeling just must be lingering anxiety.

“Shoko! You scared me, I hate the ringtone at this point” You grumble and clutch the phone to your head and hunch, acting as if anyone cares to listen to your conversation.

“(Y/N)!! You do not have room to complain! You called me earlier and it was just a voicemail saying you needed me! I’m normally very happy to have you flirting but you sounded not okay!” Shoko complains at you, you can almost hear the cigarette burning away as she neglects it on the other hand.

“Oh! I didn’t think it sent, I’m sorry” and you genuinely meant it, you knew better than to stress Shoko at work.

“Hm, I expect more apologies when I see you, you must grovel” She chides.

“I promise I will, full bow on my knees at your feet, I really didn’t mean to worry you”

You hear the steps behind you pick up again, Instead of the lovely Iijichi, it was a blonde man. He wore a tan suit and navy shirt. You feel your face go red, praying he only just showed up.

He doesn’t seem phased though and begins to also help you lift stuff, Iijichi catching up and smiling at the man and turns to you with a thumb point at the man. You shyly give a thumbs up and point to the phone.

Iijichi nods with a mock salute while the blonde mans disposition does not change as he passes boxes to Iijichi. His face is flat and seems to be used that resting face as the creases of stress on his face direct it to be true.

“(Y/N) are you listening? I asked what was wrong? I was in surgery and getting a voice call like that scared the life out of me” Shoko’s voice is flat but knowing her better, she really is somewhat affected at this.

“Again I’m so sorry Ieiri-chan, It’s moving day and everything went wrong but Ive got it handled now!”

“What went wrong? Do you still need my help?” You can hear her grab her keys and pace.

“No, it’s okay, weirdly enough my uber driver is helping me”

“(Y/N)!! You know better than to trust strangers, let alone men!”

“I knooooow, but he knows my neighbours! I called cause I lost my car keys and he helped me!! Then he found my keys, honestly he saved my day”

You hear her click her tongue and sit down, successfully calm her down.

“What happened to my help? He said he’d be there” You guess she lights a new cigarette by the sounds of a lighter flicking.

“Yeah seemingly no show, it’s okay, I was also supposed to have more help and the weather was not my friend today”

“I’ll kill Gojo next time I see him I swear” You hear her mutter.

“Don’t! Its okay, I have to go to help them but Ill call you in the morning okay?”

“Okay, wait what do you mean them?!-“ you hang up before she finishes, oh she’s gonna be pissed. You quickly type a message.

‘Iijichi seems to have got one of my neighbours to help! Don’t worry, I’ll text you when i'm done’

You quickly trot to the car and look to see what you can hold, again you are meet by just your handbag and grocery bag of linen.

Huffing you lock the car and go up stairs to your new home. Iijichi is waiting next to the Blonde man in the kitchen section.

“He-“ You begin to greet but are interrupted.

“Nanami-san, this is (Y/N), your new neighbour everyone has been talking about!” He gives a little show off gesture to you.

You feel your face crease confusion yet ‘Nanami’s’ does not. He takes off his lenses and gives you a light bow.

“Nice to meet you (Y/N)-san, I’m glad to be the first to meet you”

You lift your hand up to give a handshake, which he accepts with a firm one back. If you had to rate it, you would say it was the optimum business handshake, all bosses would be incredibly impressed by his handshake finesse.

“Pleased to meet you! Thank you so much for your help, I can’t thank you enough” You nod your head in thanks as well.

“All is well, I apologise for almost interrupting your call, it sounded… important”

Oh no… he heard your grovelling to Shoko, so unfortunate out of context, or even with it.

“Haha ha… It’s okay! It was my friend, she was very worried after I had an unlucky day”

“That is most unfortunate, I hope our help was a positive”

“I really can’t thank you both enough, it was a highlight if my day!” You clasp your hands. “Oh! If you want I can make you a hot drink as a small thanks!” You begin to look for the coffee maker.

“That would be lovely, but I have to continue lifts” Iijichi itches his cheek.

“My goodness, I’m sorry! I held you back so much”

“No! don’t worry, I'm glad to be this helpful, trust me Nanami-san is one of the men I talked about” Iijichi winked and began to head off. You see Nanami raise an eyebrow at that but you turn to walk Iijichi to the door before questioned.

You wait for Iijichi to leave and quickly check the app to give him a good tip but it looks like he canceled! Way to dodge getting appreciation, you will get him back.

“Well, do you want one?” You swiftly turn to Nanami and he nods.

You begin to look at the boxes and suddenly feel worry rise again. You didn’t label the boxes!

Sensing your emotions, Nanami approaches. “What is wrong, if you are tired you don’t need to make me anything” he reassures.

“It’s not that, I seemingly forgot to label these boxes, I did for the moving truck” rambling on and almost sob, why is everything constantly going haywire.

“Oh… don’t stress, I can help you sort if you don’t mind?” He asks. You only nod and collect yourself again. You start with the bags. He leaves. You continue to place it in the linen cupboard accordingly.

Wait… He leaves???

You walk to the front door and see him walking back, but with a notebook and brio with him.

“Um, what’s that for?” You stand next to him as leans a arm on the counter and begins writing. He lists rooms with space given to write underneath.

“Im making a list so we can efficiently make sure you have everything” he answers.

“Oh!… why?” his answer only brought more questions.

“So you don’t need to worry about losing anything or forgetting anything, keeping track will help you not do overtime” he continues.

“Oh-kay, I trust you” you turn and smile at him, he looks down but his face only slightly changes. His mouth slightly upturns but that’s about it.

———

You finish around 7pm, it was only 5 boxes and 3 large bags of linens/towels and your ‘emergency potential guest’ futon. You were hoping you would just get your bed to sleep in tonight, but life had other plans, so you are thankful that at least some of your overplanning worked.

“Is this all?” Nanami checks, during the couple of hours, he has removed his jacket as it was damp from the storm. In this time he showed you the aspects of the apartment. So you took his jacket and placed it on a chair near the heater in attempt to dry it quickly.

You set up a makeshift table with a box and began to look at the list you made together. So far you had your bathroom set up with essentials, your kitchen utensils and coffee maker set up (important priority) and a make shift bed for the night.

You ticked off the these things and added a few that you are waiting for. Nanami sat himself across from you and politely place his hands on his thighs.

“Are you missing anything? Apart from the truck stuff”

“I don’t think so, hopefully the rest is here tomorrow” You press the pen to your lip in the thought. You look at Nanami and see his eyes flicker to your pen.

“Ah totally forgot this is your pen! Sorry!” You wipe it on your shirt and place it down with the notepad.

“Don’t worry about it, do you want to write a shopping list? You said you have time off so getting that ready before returning to work is wise” Nanami grabs the pen and begins writing one anyway.

“Um Sure! I’m going to make the promised drinks now! What would you like?” You get up and head to the kitchen, its mostly bare apart from hot drinks ingredients and some quick meals packets.

Unfortunately, you have lost most of the refrigerated foods you had but thankfully Nanami brought you milk earlier so you can share a coffee after a long day.

“Black Coffee please, no sugar” He nods and starts writing the foods he noticed in rubbish bags. You pause, why did he bring milk then if not for himself. Already Nanami seems so selfless,even subtly helping you in very thoughtful ways.

You tap the spoon on the side of the mug and place it in the sink. Sitting back down in your spot, you hand him his coffee. He accepts and pleasantly hums as he takes a sip.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take my bed? I don’t mind swapping spot for the night, you must be sore after all this” he asks as he writes more down simultaneously.

“No its okay, you have helped more than enough”

“It’s nothing, I got to get off work early today so I don’t mind”

Wait… he helped even after a workday, you choke on your coffee at the realisation and he swiftly pats your back. Taking your coffee and placing it lightly on the box-table.

“Careful” he chides as he rubs your back.

“My bad, I just thought you said you worked a full day” You dead panned at him but his face remained the same, concerned for you choking but not for him overworking.

“I did, but I’m happy to help” He seems to challenge your glare and definitely wins.

You huff and sip more coffee spitefully.

“I’ll move on for your sake” You glare and he seems to show a somewhat smug face. “What’s on the list” you turn the notepad and see a very organised list. It is sorted into aisles and has question marks next to things he wasn’t sure of.

“Wow this is an immaculate list, is this your job or something?” The stars in your eyes seem to make him laugh, even if it only was a slight blow of air to people unfamiliar. Despite only knowing him this evening, it is quickly catching on.

“No, unfortunately list maker is a competitive career, I’m a mentor of sorts but I used to be a Salaryman”

“Oh wow! That’s so cool!” Your words seem to be the most shocking thing he’s ever heard.

“…Cool?”

“Yes! You must be all your students favourite!”

“Thank you for your kind words, honestly you may meet some of them, a few live in the apartments” He shares and you feel excitement bubble in your stomach.

He gets up and takes your empty cup. He washes all the dishes from this and puts them away. His manners constantly just leave you frozen in awe.

“Did I get everything?” He turns and leans on the island bench to face you.

“Yes… for what?”

He laughs lightly and gestures to the list.

“Oh yes! you did, and the formatting is amazing, I don’t think anyone could beat this list and they will all be enamoured at the shops when they glance at it, thank you!” he must have found gratefulness a tad unconventional actually made him laugh out loud.

You feel goosebumps raise at his laugh, it’s very nice. It’s a genuine warm laugh.

“Good im glad, the local store must know your status” He jests as well. You can already tell that Nanami is going to a neighbour you are constantly thankful for, already plotting ways to pay him back.

Despite everything being done, he stays and explains the neighbourhood to you. Where the landlord lives, areas to go or where to avoid, and the neighbours names with the apartment number. As he speaks, he writes it neatly on a new page of the notepad.

“Would you like to take a photo for this memory” Nanami raises his eyes to meet yours with his question. Again, quickly reading your expression he continues. “I noticed the polaroids and frames, thought you may want to capture the memory” He stands and grabs the camera he placed on the shelf in the lounge.

“Oh my gosh yes!” You jump up and place yourself next to him. He looks confused but you lightly grab the polaroid and point it into a selfie position.

“Smile!” You laugh and press yourself into his shoulders, lifting the camera high to get the both of you in the photo. You take a photo with a giggle and quickly place it upside down on the bench so it develops well.

You feel him lightly take the camera and position it in a better position and repeat your words. Before it flashes you turn to him with a shocked flushed face that he has now immortalised.

He follows after you and places it next to yours.

You both wait in anticipation.

“Would you like me to bring you a nail, so you can hang up the cork board of the collage you already have?” Nanami asks and gestures to his room. He explained earlier that coincidentally, he is your neighbour in the apartment to the left of you, apartment 2C.

“Please!”

He leaves to grab his toolbox and gets back rather quickly. He sees you holding the pictures with a big smile.

“Did they develop well?” He asks as he rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. You see his toned arms and almost loose your ability to speak.

“They did! They might be my new favourites” you show him and he nods. “May I keep the one I took please?” He turns to his toolbox and begins to get ready to put up the cork board while glancing you.

“Of course! But warning I look really goofy” You say as you grab the cork board from the floor.

“Well I think you look lovely, can you please mark where you wish to hang it” He passes you the biro from before.

You seem to barely catch the first statement in your mission to be helpful. But are sure he knows when it does sink in as the blush reaches your neck.

You make the spot on the left side wall close to the front door. It means that when you get your shoe rack, you can sit on the small step and look at it with happiness. It also can be seen from the kitchen and main room as well so the memories will never be far.

“Good spot, lets get this up” he quickly finishes the job and places it for you with perfect precision.

You quickly grab the thumbtacks from your newly established everything drawer and hang up the picture just taken. It sits near the centre, right next to the photo of you and Shoko.

“Perfect! Thank you Nanami-kun” You give him a quick hug that he can barely reciprocate. You look up after and see him have a very faint blush.

“Oh my gosh sorry! I should have asked!”

“No it’s okay, you’re fine, you're welcome” He quickly covers, not wanting you to mistake his reaction.

“Anyway, it’s getting quite late, do you have work tomorrow?”

“Unfortunately I do, but don’t hesitate to get me if you need help” He gives you a soft bow then grabs his toolbox with the notebook and heads to his apartment.

You turn and see that he left his jacket accidentally, guess you now have a concrete excuse to see him.

———

You wake up to Barbie girl blasting on your phone. You roll off the futon and groggily grab your phone.

“Morning whatsup”

“Good morning sunshine, you must be super tired after forgetting to message me if you were alive” You here Shoko’s teeth grate as she says each word.

That woke you up rather quickly.

“Oh no im so sorry! Im alive I swear”

“You sound it now but I'm not so sure, I might need to get there right now”

“You don’t have to! Id love to be graced with your presence but I promise I'm good” Despite this, you still can hear her getting into her car.

“Then Christmas is early cause I’ll be there! Send me the address”

“Okay, see you soon” you yield and do so as she ends the call.

———

After having a shower you hear the specific knocks you know to be Shoko’s.

You open the door to see Shoko with bags full of groceries.

“Oh Ieiri-sama you really didn’t have to” You grab some of the bags to help.

“I appreciate the correct honorific, I am a divine being, but this was not me” she corrects and begins to pack the groceries away correctly, how she just knows is like magic.

“Oh- then who did”

“Not sure, we seem to have a mystery” She turns her head to look at you, face flat but you can see the jest in her eyes.

“Ha ha I’m sure it will be a hard one”

You check the bags and find a familiar notepad.

‘Good Morning,

I hope you find this home-warming present swiftly,

I realised last night that I wrote you a whole shopping list but then took the notepad that it was in, a silly mistake on my behalf.

I got what I thought would be safe without need a fridge to lessen your amount of worries and then hopefully this sunny day continues so I can bring the other half with me on the way back from work

Also, I realised that you will need my number to reach me obviously, don’t hesitate to use it

+81 03 XXXX XXXX

Nanami Kento (Apartment 2C, avoid 2A if you can)’

After reading you can feel the smile grow on your face. Yet you aren’t the only one.

“Ooo you already have a secret admirer” Shoko whistles and takes the notepad.

“Ugh less secret” she sneers and dodges your attempts to get it back.

“So Nanami-san lives here, that’s not the worst but explains why I had to dodge that tall prick” She turns and gives back the notepad.

“You know him?” You bring the notepad to your chest and hug it.

“Yup, we went to school together” she goes back to unpacking things. “At least you got a bunch of free food and now it’s less suss! You can trust that he didn’t do anything weird with this stuff”.

“Oh well that’s good, especially since you were already putting it away” You huff and help her once again.

“Well if it was bad, then you would just visit me at my workplace, I’ll look after you~” She smiles.

“Oh yes that’s a lovely way to see you, potentially poisoned from mystery groceries”

———

Shoko took the whole day off to help you. Thankfully the moving company were able to deliver today. It honestly worked out perfectly since you had help available today and it was a lovely clear day.

“Oh did actually bring you a gift though!” She randomly exclaimed, at the brief lunch time break after the movers got everything inside.

“Thank you Shoko-san, you really did not have to”

“I know! But I wanted to and don’t call me that” she kept a light tone despite each wording not fitting it. She got up and grabbed her handbag.

It honestly wasn’t really a typical handbag, much more a small doctor’s satchel. She took out a rectangular bag and you could quickly guess what it is.

“Really Shoko? Booze?”

“Yes, it is necessary to make the worn muscles be less aggravated” she says with a serious disposition.

“I’m not really sure that is backed up by research but have to trust the licensed professional, but I swear if I get hungover” you copy her acting,

“Exactly you always get it, even if I did technically cheat my eligibility for the medical examination”

“What?”

“Nothing”

Once again the neighbours were not present, but it makes sense now as you know many of them seem to be in school. Which implies that their parents must being working! This neighbour mystery is riveting and definitely not an attempt to take control the lack of information.

“Y’know I’ve been thinking, Ijichi-san said he knew everyone here and you are familiar with Nanami, do you also know everyone?” You turn jump next to Shoko on your couch.

“Oh yeah, kinda have to, I work shifts at their school as nurse” she says casually. She turns to see your mouth agape and laughs.

“Huh?! Why didn’t you tell me!?!” You cry and dramatically fall on to her.

“Oomph- Get off, youuu didn’t tell me this was the new apartment” She crosses her arms and tries to twist away from you.

“You have to admit that I couldn’t have seen this coming” you try to avoid a grumpy Shoko.

“I know. Im messing with ya, at least I feel safer with you being here, some of the people here are annoying but they are good people” she sits up and grabs your hand to sit you up.

“Are they only annoying cause you have to be their nurse” you laugh and she joins.

“pretty much”

———

After the strenuous day, Shoko heads home after eating dinner with you; it was a lovely delivery meal. She spent most of the day lecturing you about countless things while scribbling it in your newly acquired notebook and pen;

1. start answering your phone,

2. how to have your house, and

3. most of all avoid white haired men.

You weren’t sure why she had such a grudge against old men, the only demographic you know with white hair, but you made sure to listen and not question; mastering the ways of knowing Shoko Ieiri.

You were taking your rubbish out to the bins and then bumped into a familiar face,

“Nanami-san!” You quickly gave him a big hug. “Thank you so much but I am so mad at you” you let go of the hug.

“Huh?”

“You should not have got all those groceries! That’s too much!” You cross your arms, maturity be damned.

“Oh that, don’t stress” he raises his unoccupied hand to wave off your worries. That however, only draws attention to the bags in his other hands.

“What are those”

“They are groceries”

He continues to walk up that stairs and you follow to see him stop at your door and wait.

“Shouldn’t you put your groceries away first before seeing my impressive abode?.

He just stood there silently, gesturing to the door. You unlocked and opened it for him.

“to answer your question, no that would be putting them in the wrong apartment” Nanami belatedly replies and starts putting groceries away in the fridge.

“Nanami-san, I will get my revenge” you begin helping him begrudgingly.

“I’m sure you will” he hums and continues unpacking. After it is done, he folds the reusable bags and places them in the bag on the hook near the entrance.

“So how did-“

“Nanami, you forg-“

A silent pause fills the room, except for the sounds of someone’s car pulling it, loudly playing music.

“you go fir-“

“oh sorry, i-“

This interruption loop needs to be broken. You quickly stop and turn fully to Nanami. He seems to also have the same idea, this begins the staring competition.

That also goes terribly as you both crack up laughing. You walk to the island and pick up the notebook and the jacket.

“I just wanted to give you your stuff back, i felt bad accidentally pinching them both”

Nanami lightly takes the jacket but pushes the notebook and biro back into your arms.

“I want you to keep that, goodness knows I have enough of them, but thank you for my jacket, i completely forgot”

“I guess i’m just too fun and distracting” you wink and laugh, but Nanami just nods and smiles, his bluntness only seems to fluster.

“Jokes aside, I’m really grateful Nanami-san, this is beyond kind”

“Anything to help, yesterday seemed to be really stressful for you” He smiles at you and it’s hard to stay mad at him.

“It also makes me feel less worried about you meeting the blue eyed fool” He clicks his tongue and turns to your confused face.

“It feels like everyone is making sure im avoiding someone”

“That is cause we are… whoever we is” He nods.

“Well Shoko-chan and Ijichi-san”

“Ah yes, am glad to know we are all in agreeance”

“You guys are so weird” You shake your head, “Would you like some coffee”

“Oh no, I don’t want to keep you, it’s been a long day i’m sure, but maybe when I see you next” he promptly leaves with polite goodbyes and closes your door.

When he does that, you swear you hear another voice on the other side of the door, but it sounds like it quickly gone, after a sound of fabric being hit.

“Well, that was brief”

You do a once over of the house to see if there is anything to do but it seems like everything is pretty much done.

Picking up the notebook and biro, you flick through to see if there’s any other tasks. Yet a page stops you;

‘I look forward to being your neighbour (Y/N)-san’ was written on the last page, obviously in Nanami’s writing,

Yet there was another note, underneath Nanami’s message.

‘Welcome to the family (Y/N)-chan!!,

Don’t be a stranger ( ˃̣̣̥﹏˂̣̣̥ )!! - Satoru Gojo

(They probs called me the Albino Dimwit or something, ignore them, they are mean ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ)’

———

previous // next

a/n: hahaha the long awaited beginning lmao sorry, hope it was worth the wait T-T

Taglist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚♥︎˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

@dassmyname

[allsadnshit]

i hope this is okay for me to say please ignore if it’s not but you make me feel so much better about myself and my gender identity and not really having a desire to label shit let alone share something so personal w strangers on the internet. there’s such pressure in society to put everyone into boxes and then loudly proclaim your label to others or else you’re “not really queer” you’re like a light of common sense in that you don’t feel a need to label yourself and if you did then guess what ITS NO ONES BUISNESS. and that makes me feel so much more secure in how i approach my gender and sexuality because i so often question myself and if i’m actually legitimate because i keep these things so private when to me it just seems natural? i’m not ashamed of myself or my identity but i also don’t feel like just anyone deserves to know the details of how i identify. and that seems like such a normal thing to me but online it’s like if you don’t detail your entire trauma history for the internet then you’re not really queer.

hmm yeah it can feel like a lot of pressure to socialize the same way as other people and I think the label of "community" can feel insincere when what's popularly accepted doesn't feel fulfilling or true for you personally

I think constantly having experience that exist outside the narratives of how to "be me" through the expectations for the communities I would fit into (asian, mixed, queer, mentally ill , chronically ill, etc) has helped me see a lot that if you aren't "allowed" to exist in an honest harmonious way to yourself, then identity politics isn't serving you, and if they don't serve you then you don't need to grab onto them for support since they don't give that to you

I used to think for a while I'd never be understood by anyone who hadn't experience life more similarly to me but I've come to find it's not about having shared experiences that makes me feel seen and loved, it's just by being around other people who want me to authentically be me and they don't need to have anything in common with me for that

I think a lot of the queer community polices itself and others which doesn't represent everyone in it, but it can be painful when you hope to find belonging through connection to it

Personally, it's not really something I feel bonded over right now, it hasn't held me in my complexity in a way where I'd say I feel deeply a part of it anymore even though I am so thankful for lots of the queer friends in my life as individuals

[3terna15unshin3]

Then Because She Goes

We’re supposed to leave by half-past eight

★ Chapter 14 of 15, 6455 words

★ Matty Healy x Original Female Character

★ warnings: bit of angst and grief

<< 13

13 February, 2020

“I’m going to do a bit of a clothing shop. For the new job, Lolo—I wanted some fancier clothes. Do you need anything before I come home? Might be a couple of hours or so. Okay. Yeah, but later. M’kay. See you later. Love you. Bye.”

Este hung up her phone, which once had José on the other end, to continue sorting through the racks of business casual pieces at H&M. The style bored her slightly, so the choices she kept tucked under her arm were littered with fun textures and colours, while still upholding the factors that made attire professional. She felt a bit of pressure to dress to impress for her upcoming first day at work.

After spending far too long in a fitting room, debating on whether she should purchase a pair of trousers in green or in blue (she eventually chose green), Este wandered the rest of the store leisurely. Her destination was the section filled with merchandise plastered in ripped off TV and film logos, and oddly chosen inspirational quotes. It would be a nice and lighthearted break from panicking about whether or not her personal style even existed.

She giggled to herself, holding up a t-shirt that had Mickey Mouse holding a pineapple printed onto the front. “Who would buy this?” muttered Este, before turning to a new rack. When her eyes caught the clothes on display, her breath hitched for a second.

Their design, clearly attempting to convince Chanel fans to consider buying a shirt with their rectangular branding, looked awfully like a logo that Este knew all too well.

Her mind flashed back to the second night she stayed round Matty’s place, snooping through his shirt collection to steal another one to lazily throw on and finding handfuls with boxes printed on the front. She made fun of him for owning so much of his own merch. ‘You know me, I’m my own biggest fan,’ Este remembered him boasting, before shutting him down and insisting that she held the title instead.

She thought of dancing to Give Yourself A Try with Cate in their flat, and hearing the box tattoo line—that moment being so early on that she didn’t understand the reference. She thought of the rectangle that lit up their stage as the band performed in front of it, and being in the crowd. Of how frequently she saw fans with the shape inked into their skin, helping her realise that the lyric in the song wasn’t an exaggeration.

The shape, yet simple, elicited a feeling Este didn’t know how to describe, and she found it difficult to peel her eyes away from the nine-pound-fifty shirt draped over a hanger before her.

Another shopper, who was actually shopping in Este’s vicinity unironically, snapped her out of the memory induced trance she’d been stuck in, allowing her to finally head up to the till and pay. She was excited to style her new green trousers and the other new additions to her wardrobe. But, it was only the beginning of her shopping spree.

By late morning, she had stopped at every store on her list. A couple of bags sat firmly on Este’s shoulder and clutched in one of her hands; but she hadn’t gone too crazy, since she had taken the tube and couldn’t be bothered to carry everything back on her own. She made a mental note to herself to take her car more often.

Grimey tiled stairs led her feet to the underground where she swiped her Oyster card and slipped on her headphones to wait for her train. The box sighting in the H&M made Matty linger in her mind, which wasn’t necessarily unusual, as Este found herself thinking about him often lately.

Though she was trying to create a new ‘normal’ for herself—to fill the gap in her life that Florencia’s passing left—she hadn’t felt as beautiful as she once did when Matty’s eyes were on her. Not even just physically, since he was never afraid to express how much he admired Este’s mind; its ins and outs, the things she feared and things she loved. She craved the way he understood her.

So, it freaked her out when she stepped off the platform and onto the train, riding it peacefully into the direction of her granddad’s house and nearly reaching her destination—just to catch Matty’s eye across the carriage. Speak of the devil.

He had already been looking at her. As if he was waiting, begging, for Este to notice his stare.

It was a relief to see her in the flesh after such a long time full of uncertainty. Her hair was longer. I guess that’s what hair does after a while, Matty figured. The black headphones that sat over her ears were unfamiliar. Este used to refuse to leave her flat without her beloved AirPods that frequently sat in her ears, so he assumed they were new.

But her eyes were still the same. Matty chased their contact until they met his own. A pang of bittersweet sadness hit his chest when she looked back at him; and he watched the neutral expression on her face turn slightly upwards into a smile. He had to blink a couple of times to survive the haze she’d locked him in, and attempted to smile back. The muscles in his face seemed to be just as surprised to see her as he was, so frankly, Matty had no idea what they were doing, or if they even formed a smile. He was too busy trying not to feel broken when she ceased their mutual gaze and exited through the opening train doors. It was her stop. And that was it.

It took everything in him to stay seated. What he really wanted to do was to run after her, shout her name proudly at the top of his lungs until she turned around. He wanted to see her smile with her teeth. Be ecstatic to see him, and pull him in for an embrace. But that wasn’t reality.

Este seemed peaceful. Healthy. Healing, hopefully. The shopping she carried made Matty assume she was having a day to herself, so he didn’t want to burden her. Instead, he sat and convinced himself that it was the smart choice to make.

-

There were a plethora of things he could be working on, now sitting at home where he’d be for the next couple of nights before their Nottingham show on the 15th—but with the NME Awards being held the previous night, he was still antsy with adrenaline from the successful ceremony. And also fairly drained from the theatrics of it all.

So, wanting to take advantage of his free day, Matty headed back out instead of staying in the house as planned. He drove over to a park (always one quite far, for the sake of his privacy), bringing along a notebook and pen in case any inspiration peeked through, as well as a book to pass the time as he sat on a bench and took in the cold air. It was a bit too chilly for that many people to be out, so it was lovely and quiet.

After setting up a queue of music on Spotify, his eyes got distracted by the other social media apps that tempted them. Clicking on Instagram, Matty impulsively searched Este’s name into the explore page—something he hadn’t done in a while—and similarly to the way he tried to find her after meeting her for the very first time. He needed to get it out of his system, and curiosity always seemed to win over logic, with him.

But there wasn’t much to look at. Her account had been the same for the past couple of months; no new posts or silly random things uploaded temporarily to her story.

Este didn’t spend much time scrolling on her phone anymore, and surely didn’t have many glamorous things to display for her followers at the moment. She took note of her declining screen time and assumed it was connected to how the feeling of losing someone so special inspired her to live life in the moment; but in reality, it just sort of bummed her out to see the eventful lives of the accounts she followed. It made Este feel like she was the only person struggling, though she knew that wasn’t true.

But when she arrived home, setting the bags full of clothes onto her unmade bed, her first instinct was to open her device.

She wanted to text Matty.

Minutes went by as Este word-vomited into her Notes app, finally letting herself open up. Seeing him on the tube only made her miss him more; and feel even more guilty for leaving him in the dark. A explanation felt integral for her sanity. She silently thanked the universe for deciding to make them take the same train at a moment that she truly felt ready to face him. A moment where she was thinking clearly (though there was still enough fog in her brain to send him eleven messages in a row without caring that much).

Matty curled the sleeves of his coat over his hands in attempts to keep them warm. The air was cooler than he expected it to be. His fingertips remained frigid as they turned the pages of his book and he bounced his leg up and down out of habit. Flipping to a new chapter, the song playing switched over timely.

With his queue now over, a shuffled playlist began playing, and the new track wasn’t one he was up for hearing. So, he reached for the phone in his pocket to skip it, and instead caught the notifications from Este streaming through. Each buzz felt like a brick dropped on a car windshield, the sheer weight of them sending him waves of unexpected shock.

E ★

Thu, 13 Feb at 12:49 PM

Hi. That was me on the tube. At least I think you spotted me, unless you look at everyone on the tube that way too lol

I’m sorry that I disappeared and ruined this. But so much has changed and I think i’m getting better.

After the funeral I never went back to Manchester. I left Greenhouse, and Georgia took my spot in the flat (about time). It was really scary and for a while I wasn’t really living with any purpose, but I think moving was for the best. My granddad needed me. I didn’t work at all for a bit but as u can probably imagine it drove me insane. Like actually it was so bad that I’m now an absolute machine at Scrabble. I’ll have to challenge u to a match one day. Could probably kick ur arse tbh

Those times were probably some of my lowest, right after my nan passed, cooped up in Islington with my granddad. But once time did a little healing I eventually had this intense want - or more like need - to do something bigger. To be something bigger. For Lola.

So I reconnected with a few of my old colleagues to try and get back into the journalism industry. Did a lot of networking with the right people and hearing about the work they did. It reminded me of what I used to be so passionate about and helped distract me from how bad my brain was. Sort of think that what fuelled me to work so hard was just pure mania lol yikes

But last week I had an interview for a position with The Guardian. And this morning I accepted. It’s something small for now but there’s so much opportunity for me to work my way up and getting there has been so fulfilling. It’s a new and exciting chapter of my life.

I’m not telling you this to say ‘look at me now!’ or for your pity, but to thank you for encouraging me to think about pursuing journalism. I know you didn’t say much but it was the first time I even considered it was possible to go back.

I had been living the same days over and over again for years, at Greenhouse, and even though I was so happy there, you were the thing that threw me for a loop. I’d never met someone so addicted to beautiful things, so propelled by consuming life and making art with it. You made me think of myself as something bigger than what I already was. Thank you for that. And again, I am so so sorry that I let it fall apart.

Think this might be the most text messages anyone has ever sent to one person all at once. Lol soz. Just needed to get that out after seeing your face. I miss you.

I’m not expecting anything back, but I’ll be here. A text away.

I promise this time x

It took a while for him to muster up the courage to actually read them. But the lengthy paragraphs Matty was faced with were eventually whispered through his lips to himself. He had to stop his music completely to be able to hear himself think.

The words almost made him irrationally angry. Knowing that Este had clearly chosen to stop contacting him not due to his wrongdoings—but because of life taking a turn for the worst—made him understand in the first place, even without an explanation. Matty had accepted that. But what stirred his anger was that it didn’t matter. Even if there was no good reason, or if Florencia was still alive. His heart would always understand—and he couldn’t imagine a world where he’d choose to deny himself a place in Este’s life. It was frustrating, how strong his feelings were, and looking back, Matty couldn’t believe he’d spent so much time without her there.

There was no use in trying to type something back. His thumbs drew little circles in the air as they hovered above the keyboard on his screen, waiting for his brain to tell them what letters to click. But nothing was coming through. So, without thinking, he called.

“Hello?” It only rang once before she picked up.

“Hi,” Matty started nervously, “It’s me.”

She smiled at the sound of his voice, thinking it may sound a bit unfamiliar after the time that had gone by. It didn’t. “Yeah, it is you.”

“I read your texts.”

“Thank you,” Should I be thanking him for reading them? This sounds like I sent him fan mail, Este thought, “I’m glad you did,”

Matty thought about how she mentioned her and José living in Islington, which was near where he sat shivering in his too-thin coat. “Are you busy now? I tried to type out a response but it doesn’t feel like enough,”

“No, I’m not busy at all, actually.” She revealed, hoping he’d suggest they meet up, but also completely unsure if he was in town or not.

“You said you’re in Islington, right? Because I’m in Gillespie Park now. I could come to you, or you could come by if you know where that is. There’s a spot beside me on the bench I’m sitting on. It’s all yours, if you’re up for it.”

Este grinned in relief after learning that he was within reach. Physically and mentally. “I’ll take it. I can be there in 30?”

“I’ll drop a pin so you can find me.”

“See you,”

“See you.”

She had thrown out the thirty minute timeline to keep her cool and sound casual despite having no idea where Gillespie Park was.

So, since she learned through a quick Google search that it was only a 10 minute car journey from her house, Este paced round the kitchen to be able to arrive when she promised Matty she would. And attempt to figure out what to say to him once she did.

Sitting in his recliner, her granddad noticed the nervous circles she walked in and turned to eye her. “You’re stressing me out, Anak. What are you pacing for?” he asked.

“Just wasting time before I have to leave. I’m meeting someone I haven’t spoken to in while, so I’m a bit antsy. Can you tell? Do I seem antsy?” Este spoke with speed.

“Who are you meeting? Because yes, you do seem very antsy.”

She winced at his honesty and tried to compose herself, shaking her hands out and taking a deep breath. “Better?” She forced her legs to stop, and sarcastically posed with her arms crossed formally. José chuckled at her antics and nodded in agreement. “I’m seeing Matty,” Este finished.

“You don’t speak to Matty anymore?” A confused look displayed across his face. “He was a nice boy, you know. I was thinking of trying to scare him off when I met him but I liked him too much to go through with it,” he admitted.

“I don’t really have the time to explain, Lolo,” Este diverted, tapping on her phone to see the time. She should be leaving by now. “But I know. I liked him too.”

-

Matty watched her approach from afar, with her eyes switching between studying her phone at the location that he’d sent her, and scanning the dreary park to find him. She was still a ways away, so he figured Este didn’t recognise him from a long distance and decided to stand up and wave her down.

Setting his book down, he got up and raised his right arm to catch her attention. Her eyes lit up when she saw him, and she gave a small wave back. A nervous smile sat on his face as she walked over with a similar one on hers.

Still standing, Matty shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn’t know what to do with them.

“Can I hug you?” Este quietly asked. She didn’t bother to start with a ‘hello’.

He simply obliged by stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her. They fit around Este’s torso just the same, and Matty could almost feel his cells throbbing for her when her hand migrated up to cradle the back of his head, fingers buried in his hair. Both of their eyes fluttered shut.

There must be a word to describe just how badly they had missed each other. If there wasn’t, then they’d have to somehow bottle up that moment, standing and holding each other in the middle of the park, and put that into the dictionary instead. ‘I miss you’ just wasn’t enough, thought Este.

“I’m so sorry about your nan,” whispered Matty, feeling the need to reiterate his condolences even months later. He rubbed his hand up and down her back.

She squeezed him tighter before they let go and sat down side by side. “Thank you,” Her hands wedged between her crossed legs to stay warm. “She really did love you, you know. Like, truly. You didn’t even have to earn it, she just immediately did.”

They shared a smile, and Matty chuckled in response. “I am sad I didn’t get the chance to spend more time with her,” he said with a sadness in his voice. “She had always been so wonderful to me.”

Este attempted to control her blowing hair by constantly tucking it away as things faded to silence. They both snuck glances at each other.

“God, I haven’t even asked you how you are.” She scolded herself.

He internally cringed at their small talk. It was bizarre that they didn’t know each other that well anymore. That he had to catch her up on his life.

“The usual. Touring and finishing up the album. It’s been kind of stressful, to be honest. Lots of hoops we’ve had to jump through to get it finished. Already have had to push back the release date once, so that just about tells you how it’s going,” Matty looked over at her to see her watching him as he talked.

She nodded, gently smiling. “I can’t wait to hear it,” Este said, “and I love hearing about your music. But I asked how you are. I want to know how Matty is.”

He met the brown in her eyes with his own. It was like she wanted to see through him. At one point Este felt like she could, but she’d been out of practice for a bit. And Matty wanted to let her.

“I’ve been okay. As good as I can be. I just think I’ve been exhausted for the past, like, 10 months straight. The holidays helped, though. Seeing my family always feels good. Seeing you now feels good too,” explained Matty, truthfully. “I’ve missed you. A lot.”

Her hand inched over, finally gaining the confidence to hold his. They felt rough and weathered, but in the best way. Matty closed his over her soft ones and ran his thumb over the back. She sighed in relief.

“I honestly don’t know how to describe how terrible I feel for shutting you out the way I did. You deserved so much better than that,” Este felt herself try and swallow the lump in her throat. Saying everything to Matty’s face made it feel so real, because it was; she’d hurt him. “When everything was so fresh in the fall, I went quiet on everyone. And I’m thankful that you let me have my space. But once things got a bit better, I couldn’t bring myself to reach out. I was so scared you’d hate me. And that it was too late,”

Matty could feel the guilt laced in her words and saw the corner of her eyes grow damp. “That’s what scares me, E. I could never hate you.”

“Really?”

He nodded and let go of her hand to use his and settle her still unruly hair. A loose piece was guided behind her ear.

“I think that’s why I didn’t keep trying to get answers out of you, too. I knew in the back of my mind that there would be a time that you’d feel ready—and that no matter how far away that time was, I’d be there.” His heartbeat increased when what he said brought a smile out of Este. A real one. Her dimple started back at him. “And being scared is overrated, anyway. I was a dickhead and too scared to let you call me your boyfriend last summer. Even though that’s what I wanted.”

“Yeah, you were.” She chuckled, and swiped any sadness from her eye quickly. “Fuck being scared.”

They agreed with laughter. “That’s what I should apologise for, by the way. It was pointless—me trying to keep us from moving forward, just because I’d let things go to shit in the past. It was unfair to both of us. I was just being a pussy.” Matty admitted.

She waved him off, the silly disagreement not meaning much to her now.

“It’s crazy that at this point, that was almost seven months ago now. I think I blocked all of August to December out of my memory, so it doesn’t seem like that much time has passed at all,” recalled Este, turning to Matty and pulling her legs up onto the bench to sit crisscross.

He agreed silently, shaking his head in disbelief at how far they had come. “Sometime throughout those months you’ve managed to score a job with The Guardian though, so that’s a win.”

“I did,” she said, suddenly shy by his flattery.

“That’s more than just a win, to be fair. It’s huge,” continued Matty, “I can’t believe you’re actually a Londoner now. Like, for real. With a fancy writing job. Well I can easily believe the latter, but Este leaving Manchester? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Hey, I haven’t even started that job yet. And it is not at all fancy—at least not yet. So don’t get too excited,” Este defended, to stay humble.

“Still, congratulations. I know you’ll be amazing. When you said that I helped make you see yourself as something bigger than what you already are, it felt like a punch in the gut. In a good way. If that was the only thing you ever took away from what we had then I’d be happy,” he tried to explain, using his fist against his stomach to demonstrate just how much he meant it, and how grateful he was for Este’s words. He instantly regretted speaking in the past tense as he said ‘from what we had’, but had faith that she’d get what he meant.

“I mean, it’s true. It really was you. I think my nan secretly wanted me to go back and use my degree, too. She always thought the highest of me—higher than anyone else—like when I showed the tiniest interest in starting violin lessons as a kid and she was suddenly telling her friends I’d be a violinist one day. Or when I had only been out of uni for a couple of days and she asked me why she hadn’t seen me reporting on the news yet. She’d seen me as being too big for the bookstore. But she also knew how much I loved it, so she never complained,”

Este found herself getting emotional again, thinking about Florencia, and he noticed. Out of instinct, Matty reached out to her ankle that sat on the seat next to him. The warmth of his hand instantly comforted her, and the small circles he drew took her back to the handful of moments they lay tangled together.

“Great minds,” joked Matty.

“Yeah. Too bad it only took her dying, me quitting my job, cutting everyone off, moving across the country—and going slightly manic—to finally realise.” She sustained the lighthearted tone he initiated.

“You know,” Matty turned to bring his feet onto the wooden seat, hugging his knees to his chin comfortably. “I read this book a couple months ago—“ He hesitated after seeing Este’s eyes roll in annoyance, making fun of his obsession with referencing. “Hey!”

Este giggled. “Go on, say the David Foster-Wallace quote you were planning on saying, or whatever,” Amusement was plastered on her face.

“Fuck you!” He threw his head back as he laughed.

She had missed hearing that sound.

“I was just about to say that I just read this book. Pure Colour. It was pretty crazy to follow, and almost a bit Freudian at times which was gross, but the author said this thing about how the most important thing being the process of finding the right distance from everything in life. That sometimes a person is meant to move forward in the world with the thing they love at a distance. Like, you can’t see anything from too close—or too far. So maybe that’s all it really took. Just the right distance.”

This was another moment Este felt like wanted to tip over his head in hopes that some of his brain would spill out. To be able to understand what went on in there.

“That’s a beautiful way to put it,” she gushed, “Thank you, for thinking the way you think. I’ll never grow tired of hearing you talk.”

He beamed at her, studying her face like it was his own reflection. He liked the way her septum piercing (that was now mostly healed) sat slightly crooked, the bead on her right hovering higher than the left.

“You say that now,” warned Matty, implying that she’d think otherwise eventually.

A gust of wind made his journal flop onto the pavement that made up the pathway they sat on, forcing him to bend over to pick it up. Este nestled deeper into her denim jacket.

He could see her begin to shiver, so Matty asked, “Do you have anywhere to be today? Would you want to maybe come over to mine? To be a bit warmer. We can order food, or something,”

Este thought to herself for a second, pretending to have to weigh out a decision, but—without question—she agreed, smiling and nodding her head. “I’d like that.”

-

She followed behind Matty in her car through the 25 minute drive back to his house. Although Este’s was much closer, they’d decided against disturbing her granddad’s peace.

He put on an Etta James record once they had settled in. The two of them got comfortable, sitting side by side on his sofa, as Este took in the place that had now grown unfamiliar to her. She noticed a couple of different pieces of furniture, and random new additions of decor and literature that sat messily around. How did he manage to prolong so much character in his belongings when he was barely home? wondered Este.

Matty was right about it being warmer, both literally and in terms of the energy between them. His house’s lighting that glowed orange like marmalade was a nice contrast to the grey UK sky they’d previously been sitting under. And now that they had moved past any nerves or fear, it was like no time had gone by in silence.

He rambled on about how crazy the final leg of his American tour was. Let her listen to what she wanted to hear from Notes. Este loved it. “It’s so British,” she complimented. He thanked her.

Este learned that he had a great Christmas, and a new obsession with the VR he had gotten as a gift from the guys. They were doing well, too, and had a couple of London shows coming up at the end of the month. Matty invited her out to whichever night she could make it to, and Este promised to come out to at least one of them.

Then she talked his ear off, through her highs and lows of the latter end of 2019. How they were mostly lows. She told him about her new job, what she’d be doing there, and her Scrabble high score. She blushed when Matty expressed how proud of her he was (about the job, not the vocabulary game). She bragged about now having read four Joan Didion novels since they last spoke, and that her favourite was Play It As It Lays.

“Of course your favourite is one of like, five, fiction books she’s ever written. You really have not changed all that much,” complained Matty.

They grew hungry and ordered a Chinese takeaway to eat messily with chopsticks, chewing over the styrofoam containers—still sat on the sofa—and pairing it with the only bottle of red Matty had left in his frequently uninhabited house. The meal was only a brief intermission, as both of their voices continued exercising to the point of them growing tired. There was never enough to say to each other.

When the sun had set quite some time ago, Matty’s concrete home made them feel small, but small together. Este couldn’t avoid the weight of her eyes increasing after the pure catharsis of their conversation and early morning errands she had run. So, she fell asleep. On Matty’s shoulder. He noticed how long the pauses between his words and hers started to grow and wasn’t surprised when her head held lower and lower until she passed out against him. And he let her. Matty knew that Este would have done the same for him.

While she slept, he took the opportunity to get their mess tidied up. He threw away the empty food containers and took the glasses that once had wine in them over to the kitchen. He dampened a flannel and used it to get any gunk off of the coffee table, moving every book and vase sitting on it out of the way to make sure he didn’t miss anything. After a couple of minutes, Matty realised how uncomfortable she looked, so he grabbed a cushion to stick under Este’s cheek and draped a light throw over her body. Her chest rose up and down rhythmically.

But, Matty was unsure of what she had planned the next day. Whether it would be smart for Este to stay overnight at his, or if she would wake up in a panic having missed something important. Not wanting to risk it, he cut her slumber to a short forty-five minutes.

He studied how gently her eyelids were shut. The thick black eyelashes that grew from them rested with barely any weight against her cheek. There was contentment written all over her face—from what Matty could read, at least. He smiled at how beautiful she was. How beautiful she had always been.

His body squatted in front of the sofa, now eye level with her quiet snores, and his hand apprehensively shook her shoulder.

“E,” Matty whispered, “Wake up, Este.”

The sound of his voice eventually helped her slip back into consciousness, though her short sleep was inconsistent anyway. Este had woken up periodically, and there were a couple of times she was inclined to peek at her surroundings. She had briefly caught Matty sweetly humming to himself as he cleaned up their dinner. It was difficult to hold in her laugh and resist a smile, but her tiredness took over quickly and she wasn’t ever looking or listening for long.

She yawned before peeling her eyes open. “Sorry for falling asleep on you.”

“Don’t be. I’m sorry for waking you—I was just worried that you wouldn’t want to crash here. That you had somewhere to be tomorrow, or something.” Matty explained, chuckling at the sight of Este sleepily rubbing her eyes.

“Why would I not want to crash at your very cosy and welcoming concrete cube of a home?” she joked.

His jaw dropped at her dig at him. “You love it. Don’t lie now,”

“I do. You’re right.” confessed Este. Matty still sat low to the ground, so his chin found itself sat against the edge of the sofa cushion that she laid on. Despite talking comfortably for the previous hours, it was the closest they had come to each other all day. “Thank you for letting me explain myself today. I was expecting you to be holding a grudge, or something, but I’m glad you listened. And that you have it in your heart to forgive me,”

“You’re my Este. Of course I’d listen,” he responded matter-of-factly.

My Este, she repeated in her head, trying to push down the butterflies that she could feel overflowing from her chest.

Matty reached out with his finger to poke her in the cheek, happy to see a smile on her face. She jokingly smiled as wide as she could in response, showing all of her teeth, earning one just as big back from him. With his hand still reached out and next to her face, Este nuzzled her cheek into it, fairly intimately, forcing it to open and cradle her face.

It made them both freeze and their once goofy grins both faltered to a look of intrigue. The space between them was already small, but they wanted it even smaller.

She watched his eyes divert down towards her lips and wondered what he was waiting for. I want this, Este decided. We both want this.

Her arm extended to pull him in by the back of his neck, needing his mouth against hers like a desert needed water.

Their lips moved together in unison, both of them smiling in the process. It felt surreal for the months of misconnection to suddenly mean nothing—all that mattered was that now, they were there. A quiet hum of satisfaction could be heard.

Eventually, they broke apart to take a breath. Este took the pause as an opportunity to comb her fingers through the hair that sat messily atop his forehead, bringing her hand back around to sit on his jaw comfortably.

And in that moment, it was only them two. My Este, Matty thought again. It was his turn to repeat it to himself, in his head, realising how true it really was. He hoped he was her Matty.

——— 21 February, 2020

“This one’s new as well,” Matty said as he began introducing the next song, hearing the packed O2 scream back at him. “It’s been a favourite of mine lately. Dance and jump around with who you love, if they’re here with you tonight.”

The jangly guitar erupted even more praise from the crowd as its recognisable riff blew through the arena. From the side of the stage, Este watched what she could see of the audience and saw people jumping up and down in pure joy. The 1975’s energy was unmatched, as it always had been.

She bopped back and forth to the catchy and poppy anthem and her eyes lit up with the reflections from the screens that charged the atmosphere with bright lights. Her look of pure awe emitted as she watched Matty strum away at his guitar. A giggle left her lips when she heard him sing the line, “I’m sorry that I’m kind of queer, it’s not as weird as it appears. It’s ‘cause my body doesn’t stop me,” as the second verse passed.

The song felt both heartfelt and lighthearted at the same time. Especially when the final chorus rang on, its repetition hitting hard and meaningfully.

“I’ve been in love with her for ages, and ages, and ages, yeah,” He sang, eyes flickering across the sea of faces that shouted the words back to him. “I’ve been in love with you for ages, for ages, and ages,” The more he thought about the lyrics, the more he felt the need to do what did next, as the end of the performance neared.

Matty fully turned his body to where Este stood, surrounded by gear and wires and techies. His right hand came to a halt, and instead of continuing to play the chords, he straightened out his arm and pointed right at her. Este could feel his eye contact burning into her despite the flashing screens.

“I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

15 >>

[holy3cake]

Get to know you better!

Thank you for the tag @lancedoncrimsonwings!

Do you make your bed? Yep, but somehow my sheets never seem to fit properly. I hate the snappy corners.

Favourite number? 3 or 13, I really like "unlucky" numbers, but I do tend to get good news in 3's so I'm drawn to that number.

What's your job? I work in conservation, but I'm planning to start my PhD soon (employment psychology).

If you could go back to school, would you? Absolutely, and I did! I had some years out when I was younger, and I was scared that I couldn't return after that, but University honestly made who I am today :). If I had infinite money, I would go back and do at least two more degrees (I have a bachelor's in Psychology, but I would 100% go back and do English Lit and History).

Can you parellel park? Uhhh the first time I drove a car (my first and ONLY driving lesson) I drove into another car because I have AWFUL spatial awareness. So no, I cannot parallel park haha.

Do you think aliens are real? I'm kinda undecided on this one. I think I've watched too many horror movies so it's warped my overall view on aliens as a concept, but I would like to think they are real. But it's the psychologist in me that says no. I'm a bit of sceptic (especially with ghosts as well).

Can you drive a manual car? Following my previous car answer, the first car I drove was a Corsa without power-assisted driving and I was yanking the steering wheel like my instructor had suggested, but I crashed. So uhhh...no.

Guilty pleasure?...... I mean, apart from Harry Gilby? Probably not many, but I do like a shortbread (I try not to eat them because they have wayyyy too much sugar).

Tattoos? Unfortunately not, but I will endeavour to get @lancedoncrimsonwings to do a Daniel Sharman tattoo for me one day lmao.

Favourite colour? I used to love yellow when I was younger, but now I really like gold or bronze, almost candle tones.

Favourite type of music? I will listen to just about anything, but currently my playlist consists of Dua Lipa and Sabrina Carpenter. I always put on a good medieval lo-fi soundtrack when I'm writing though.

Do you like puzzles? I am extremely partial to a good sudoku puzzle, but I do like jigsaws as well (I just don't have a lot of time to do them).

Any phobias? I have Hydrophobia, but it's not as severe as it was when I was little. My husband is teaching me how to swim, so it's really nice to be able to get over that fear. I used to be scared of dogs as well, but now I love them :)

Favourite childhood sport? I genuinely don't know if this is a secondary school fever dream, but did anyone ever play benchball? When you stand on a bench and throw a softball at people? If you catch the ball, you get to join those on the bench, but if the ball hits you you're disqualified? It was absolutely hilarious.

Do you talk to yourself? Yeeeep, I think we all do don't we? Although I tend to just kind of speak aloud, normally when I'm writing or reading.

Tea or coffee? I really love coffee flavoured things, but despise coffee itself. Like coffee and walnut cake is my absolute dream. But I have to choose tea, I'm probably the most stereotypical Brit you'll meet, I would carry a box of tea with me if I could lmao. Earl grey is my go to though, especially to enjoy with @waterfallsilverberrywrites TLK fanfics :)

What movies do you adore? I am an absolute horror buff, I'm working my way through every single one. Buuuut my favourite movie is Love, Rosie, so take from that what you will haha.

No pressure tags: (Please do not feel pressured to answer all of the questions, this is purely what you're comfortable with :))

@jayalover @lord-aldhelm @waterfallsilverberrywrites @persephones-journey @redacted-thething @cary-elwes @book-and-music-lover

[gncrevan]

cw: depp/heard trial, abuse

.

if johnny depp defenders can go on all day about how he's just like them forreal because they were also completely falsely accused of being a bad person once uwu, then so can i, here goes:

no matter what you think of amber heard, the shit you're doing to and saying about her on the internet right now is fucking triggering to survivors and you need to stop. you are so convinced that you're justified because you think you know she's lying, but you don't. you don't know. you can't know. you're basing your conviction on how she divulges information, that her memory isn't always entirely complete and correct, how she performs her grief; and i'm here to tell you that all of these are things survivors do.

trauma is locked behind layers of dissociation. that means memory is altered, distorted, distant. some things are perfectly in focus while some cannot be recalled. time and place is often unclear. and i wanna emphasize, even normal non-traumatic memory is notoriously unreliable. add to that the way fear responses affect the encoding of memories and you end up with something "fragmented, associated with intense arousal, readily primed and triggered, and poorly contextualized into memory".

another effect of this is the division of narrative memory and emotional memory. that means on the one hand you may have poorly intelligible (for yourself and others) emotional fragments floating around in your brain, that can be triggered easily and lead to flashbacks or meltdowns. on the other hand, you may be able to recall something traumatic with clarity, but without emotion, or with a poor connection to the emotion.

when the brain processes hugely painful and scary experiences, it often gets tripped up and doesn't fully integrate them. you can think of it like the different things that make a memory - outside narrative, thoughts, physical sensations, emotions - getting stored in separate boxes instead of coming together to make a whole.

therefore it's not uncommon for survivors to recount traumatic events like they're talking about the weather, or for their emotional reaction to their own story to seem mismatched or disconnected, or for them to mix up the exact order of events, or for them not to recall everything (such as, "i was in the kitchen and then i was in the bathroom and i don't know how i got there or how much time passed"). their expressions and gestures may not fit the emotion you would expect given the topic (not to mention, all humans emote differently and body language analysis is junk science).

it's also exceedingly hard to talk about painful, intimate things while people and in this case even cameras are watching you. you are very aware of their expectations of how you perform your trauma. expecting any person to behave natural and authentic under this sort of pressure is asinine. having to restate your trauma over and over again is hard enough, being judged for it and knowing there are people watching, ready to tear you apart, is at best triggering and at worst retraumatizing.

the expectations you are projecting onto amber in order to be a "convincing" victim cannot be met by a real person. victims forget, victims show disparate emotions. victims also very often, both during and after the abuse, exhibit irrational and erratic behaviour, they might become aggressive and fight back against their abuser, taunt them, provoke them, even attack them; or lash out at others. none of that makes their claims of abuse false.

this is the personal part, i cut a lot of what i originally wrote because it felt too intimate, but i wanna try: my trauma doesn’t look like amber's, but my experiences of gaslighting and victim blaming are starkly reflected back at me in the way she is treated by media and observers. every time i tried to go up against what was happening to me, or reach out to a person of authority to help, it was turned on its head. my pleading, my crying, my detachment, my aggression, my confusion - all were taken as justification to either say that i was causing it, i was to blame, or that it wasn't happening, i was imagining and misinterpreting things, i was making things up, i was a liar. to this day i sit in therapy and have to hear my therapist tell me that my emotional expressions don't feel authentic, and i know it's because i can't connect to them, i can't touch them, i'm floating somewhere above my head, i'm always watching myself. i know that if i were sitting in a courtroom to try and prove what people did to me, i wouldn't remember it right, i wouldn't show the right emotions, i would try to overcompensate and come off as fake.

regardless of what you think of amber, abuse survivors are reading your posts and seeing your videos, and the message we receive is very clear: that you wouldn't believe us if we spoke out, because we can never be the kind of victim you deem acceptable and believable.

as a survivor, you really can't win. whatever you do will be used against you.

.

more about trauma (pdfs):

trauma and recovery

the body keeps the score

cptsd - from surviving to thriving

.

terfs dni, i'm trans & not aligned with you

[collecting-stories]

Inventory - Daryl Dixon

Request: you can write anything tbh! just something small and sweet, if you don’t mind :) (daryl anon)

A/N: This is honestly just random established relationship fluff or something.

The Walking Dead Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You weren’t entirely sure that you liked Alexandria. It felt like someone had captured the old world in a time capsule and you were viewing all the things that you had forgotten about. Shower pressure and hot water and actual running water weren’t things that you took for granted and you’d practically cried in the bathroom when the toilet flushed but all the other parts felt uncomfortable. Like clothing that didn’t fit you anymore. You weren’t Daryl, waiting with his hand on a gun for the moment everything went to shit, but you certainly weren’t about to done a cardigan and act like a soccer mom getting ready for a bake sale either. You would let Carol handle the assimilating and gossip. Or at least the former, the latter, you couldn’t escape.  

“I wouldn’t’ve pegged him as your type.” Olivia mentioned, hellbent on making inventory a gossip session.  

“What?” You looked away from the open garage door to where Olivia was stacking cans of corn and writing down their number in her composition book.  

“Daryl. I noticed you watch him a lot...is that like, you guys got a thing going on or you just looking?” She asked.  

You paused in your rearranging of cans to look back out the garage door again. Daryl was across the street talking to Aaron and Michonne and you tried to formulate an answer that made sense for Olivia and for you. She hadn’t technically asked if you were ‘together’ (that ominous word that felt so weighty when you said it to yourself) but she was definitely asking for a definition. Were you more than friends, absolutely. That wasn’t even something you needed to think about. You certainly weren’t sharing beds with your friends the way you did with Daryl. But he’d never given any definition to your togetherness and somehow, even defining it felt like such an archaic thing. Another piece of the old world pulled from the time capsule.  

“I mean...” you shrugged, “both I guess?” There was a thing, for lack of a more concrete term, but you also liked looking at him a whole lot. You’d been enjoying looking at him for a while now and sometimes on the road you’d thought, if something happened, who would you look for in a crowd. It wasn’t just that you liked the view, it was that feeling of something that anchored you into the moment, made your head a little less dizzy, made all this more bearable.  

“I guess he’s not bad looking.” Olivia laughed a little, her cheeks reddening at the thought and you wanted to agree. He most certainly was not bad looking. And you had told him so plenty of times, in the privacy of your own room. “He doesn’t seem very...” she paused, looking over at you as if she had caught herself speaking out of turn.  

Small talk and social etiquettes felt like something you’d left behind too, far too used to being direct with people. It almost felt odd for her to be so unforthcoming.  

“Friendly?” You asked. She didn’t need to say it for you to know what she was thinking. It seemed to be a consensus throughout Alexandria. The community had differing opinions about all of you but the one thing they all agreed on was Daryl’s lack of acceptable behavior. He wasn’t particularly friendly with any of them (aside from Aaron maybe) and he acted more like a caged animal than someone who was grateful for shelter and protection.  

“Uh, yeah.” Olivia nodded, pink cheeks staining darker, “I mean, I’m sure he talks to you, of course...it’s just, I’ve never found him to be particularly...warm.”  

Warm, you felt like the word echoed in your mind once she said it. You’d never really spent too much time thinking about the way you would describe Daryl, he was just, himself, and that was it. You didn’t linger on what he was, what you expected him to be. Even if you didn’t ever think of yourselves as ‘together’ you knew exactly what you were.  

You thought about offering up a defense for him, explaining that he was warm. He was being wrapped in a blanket on a cold night or feeling the sun on your shoulders in the early morning. It wasn’t something you considered often, that you felt like you needed to name, but you knew it right away. The words came on the tip of your tongue, like you’d been waiting to think them. But you didn’t get the chance.  

Daryl came up the driveway while you were staring at him and the softest of smiles graced your features as you watched him, giving a small wave. Maybe you wouldn’t have thought about it if you hadn’t been talking to Olivia but, as Daryl held your gaze the whole up the drive, you were reminded of when you might’ve categorised his behaviour as more shy than reserved. Now it felt like he held back because he chose to, deciding what parts of himself other people got to see. When you’d first known him it was more a defense mechanism than an ordinary occurrence, and he’d never been comfortable meeting your eye.  

“Did you come to help with inventory?” You teased, already hearing the grumbled response in your mind before he said it.  

“Just passing by,” he replied, glancing over to the far corner where Olivia was still sitting, notebook open in her lap. “Morning.”

You wondered if she was scrutinising the interaction. Trying to see for herself what you saw in Daryl, as if that was possible.  

“I’ll go check to make sure we’ve got all the dry foods from upstairs.” Olivia announced, standing from her spot and bumping her chair back against the sorting table. It rattled but nothing fell over and she went so quickly out of the room she looked like she was power-walking.  

“What’s a matter with her?” Daryl asked, taking your water bottle from the ground by your chair and unscrewing the cap so he could drink some.  

“She was asking about you, weren’t your ears burning?” You joked.  

He glanced down at you, unamused, before finally taking the bait, “why’s she asking?”  

“Said I stare at you all the time.”  

“So quit staring.” He capped the water bottle and set it back in its place before fiddling with different cans on the shelves, pulling them off and reading the labels.  

“Easier said then done,” you replied, grabbing your notebook off the shelf in front of you, “besides, I don’t wanna forget what you look like.”  

“Why? You going somewhere?”  

You scrunched your nose at his words and shook your head, “no, but you are right…saw you talking to Aaron.”

“Think ya watch me just ta spy on what I’m doing.”  

“I’m right though, you two are headed out?” You asked.  

“Don’t make it something it ain’t…I’ll be back in a few days time.”  

Daryl was good at coming back when he left, you knew it from experience. He’d come back when he’d left with Merle, he’d come back when he’d left to find Beth, when he went off on his own to hunt he always came back. As sure as you were that he would leave, you were just as sure he would find his way back again. It wasn’t something you had to think about or reassure yourself of but sometimes it was easier to give in to that worst case scenario that sat in the back of your mind.  

“I know,” you said it like you were promising him, “but that’s a few days without seeing you…who am I supposed to look for?”  

Daryl set down the can of beets he was looking at and walked the short distance back to you. His hand wrapped around the end of your ponytail and he gave a gentle tug, guiding your head all the way back so you were looking straight up at him. You thought it was probably a good thing Olivia wasn’t here, she’d seemed scandalised enough at his presence in the room, you could imagine all the things she’s knock over if she saw him now, one hand holding your ponytail and the other on your neck as he leaned down and kissed you.  

It was a softer kiss than the hold implied and you considered the juxtaposition of Daryl’s softness and roughness your favorite thing about him. It’d taken a while, to see the soft bits, but now you saw them all the time. How he kissed you so comfortably, like he’d always been doing it. His tongue brushing your bottom lip almost teasingly but he pulled away before you could do more, standing back up straight and dropping his hands. He gripped the back of your folding chair and you leaned against his hand, feeling them press into the skin between your shoulder blades, bare from your tank top. You kept your head tilted back, a little more comfortably though.  

“When do you leave?” You asked, half expecting him to tell you he was headed to the gate now. Your brain still felt a little dizzy from the kiss but that was a normal occurrence.  

“Tomorrow morning.” He replied, letting go of the chair to run his knuckles along your spine. “Shouldn’t be longer than a day or two.”  

There was a quieter bumping noise and a soft curse as Olivia peeked back into the doorway, a few boxes of pasta haphazardly held in her arms. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”  

“It’s alright,” you replied but truthfully you were just being nice. Because Daryl had already retracted his hand you felt goosebumps on your skin in his absence, as if your body was trying to chase the sensation of him.  

“Ya need help?” He asked, motioning to the boxes as she dropped them onto the sorting table.  

“Would you mind? I’ve got another laundry basket full of them to bring down here and I dropped like five on the staircase.” She explained, following after him to point them out.  

Daryl disappeared through the door, Olivia right behind him, and you went back to organising the latter half of the alphabetically arranged cans. Olivia tended to be more loose-lipped than her other Alexandria counterparts and you couldn’t help imagining her asking him questions, trying to dig out some part of a person under the cold exterior he’d given off while he was here. Searching for the warmth she thought was lacking. They weren’t gone long, Olivia’s chipper voice carrying down the stairs.  

Daryl came through first, laundry basket piled high and the slightest hint of a glare as his eyes met yours, as if you’d somehow put him up to the task of helping.  

“You can set them on the sorting table,” Olivia instructed, “I’ll go through them once I’m finished the canned goods.”  

Setting them down, Daryl just nodded in agreement. You stopped from saying you’d see him tonight, in case that information was somehow on a need to know basis. But he was obviously being less purposefully withdrawn than you’d thought because he took another sip from your water bottle before telling you the exact thing you’d been too reserved to say.  

“I’ll see ya tonight,” he promised, putting your water bottle back and giving your ponytail a playful tug before leaving back down the driveway.  

You watched after him until he turned the corner and was out of eyesight.  

“I can see why you like him so much…” Olivia finally said, getting your attention as you looked back at her.  

“What?” You asked, wondering if he’d said something to her that changed her mind.  

Her cheeks tinged pink again and she looked down at her notebook, “I wasn’t trying to spy or anything…just, you know, wanted to bring those boxes in.”  

You nodded, prompting her to continue.

“I saw him kissing you…” she let out an airy sigh, “I’d be staring at somebody all day if they kissed me like that.”  

[acourtofsnakes]

A Helping Hand - Bucky Barnes x Reader (f)

(Gif: @sebastianruinedme​ )

Summary: After a stressful week, you try to wind down with some personal time but nothing quite hits that spot. And a certain Super Soldier may just be more than willing to help you. 

Warnings: 18+ Smut - Masturbation/toys, Oral (f receiving), fingering, neck play, arm/hand kink, dirty talk, a faint Dom theme if you squint, swearing – honestly, Bucky should just be a kink in himself.

Word count: 5k+ words full of hot playtime. 

A/N: This is just filth, to be honest. I was feeling a certain way after watching episode 3 of TFATWS and seeing that scene with Bucky cleaning his hand and… ideas happened, and this was born. There’s not really a plot… simply enjoy. 

Smut under the cut!!

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal​

Part 2

There was something to be said about the advancement of toys in recent years. 

There were hundreds of them. All different types. For all different things. 

Rabbits, waterproof vibrators, pulsating and pounding ones, ones that felt like oral, handsfree vibrators, remote control vibrators – the list went on. 

You had a lot. Tucked in a drawer of your dresser in a pretty box that just made you go all tingly in the knees every time you saw it. 

You were proud of your collection. 

And boy, did you love them. 

They never let you down, ever. 

But unfortunately, tonight was just not one of those nights. 

It has been a tough week. 

Not only had you taken a beating in training yesterday, but you were also late for an appointment across the city, which resulted in being yelled at by Fury. 

You really regretted decided to help him when he needed it. 

There wasn’t a lot going on lately, so you offered to help Fury when he needed it. 

Usually, you were on his food side. 

Yesterday, not so much. 

Everything seemed out to get you, and after the shit show of the week, you just wanted to treat yourself. So, you’d holed yourself up in your room on your floor of the compound, had a long, luxurious soak in the bath, and then decided to work out your anxiety and tension with one of your many, many friends. 

And for the first time in a while, they just weren’t hitting that spot. 

Literally. 

You groaned, throwing the third toy - this one a rabbit that was one of your most trusty companions - on the side of your bed. 

For the last forty minutes, you’d been dancing between three different toys and your fingers. 

You’d tried being on your belly, your side, and your back. You’d even tried a pillow. 

But nothing was the right pressure on your clit, no toy or finger felt deep enough inside, and you couldn’t hit that spot inside without getting a wicked cramp in your wrist that forced you to stop. 

You sat up, every nerve in your body wound to a knife edge, leaving you frustrated and tempted to throttle someone. 

Or get someone to throttle you. 

Preferably whilst pinning you to a wall... or a desk. 

Or anywhere really. 

You just needed something, anything to get out this frustration and give you the release you’d been desperately chasing all night. 

It wasn’t even a case of hovering on the edge - you couldn’t even get there. The fire and heat just stayed a kindling ember in your belly, and never reaching that explosive fire. 

After getting up and downing a measure of whiskey whilst watching the rain, you decided to try a last-ditch attempt with a different toy. 

This one was a curved vibrator, with a thicker rounder head for supposedly perfect pressure on your g-spot. 

Simple, straight forward. 

Surely, if none of the others had done it, this one finally would. 

After settling back on your bed, you took a little more care this time, even going as far to light a few candles to add an ambiance to the room rather than have it pitch black with the sounds of the rain. 

You worked yourself up this time, building it slowly, teasing yourself with brushes of your fingertips over your throat and breasts, setting your skin ablaze. 

You pushed yourself to the edge a little, and then worked over with your vibrator. 

Until ten minutes later, when you literally launched the vibrator across the room and it hit the wall with a resounding thud, that echoed your hiss of frustration.  “Fucking hell.”  

A shit week, a shit day, and you couldn’t even fuck yourself well enough to be able to wind down and get some sleep. 

There was a sudden knock and then Bucky’s voice echoed through your bedroom door. “Darlin’?” There was a slight hint of his Brooklyn accent peeping through at the end, stirring something within you. 

You startled, sitting bolt upright and your head snapped to the door, “Bucky?” You had the good sense to lock the door, but still. He was right there. 

His shadow moved beneath the door, and you realised he was leaning against it, “Is everything alright? I heard banging.” 

Well, no not really. I’ve been trying to get myself off for the last hour and nothing appears to be working and I’m sitting here naked whilst you’re the other side of my door calling me Darling in that ridiculously hot accent that shouldn’t even be that hot. But hey, apart from that, everything’s great. 

You slid off the bed, padding across the room after dropping your toys back in their drawer, glaring at it as you passed. You slipped a robe on before making your way across the fluffy rug to the door, “Yeah, I’m okay...” You unlocked the door, tugging it open. 

Bucky was leaning against the doorframe, all broad shoulders, long lines and soft smile. 

His searing blue eyes were instantly locked onto you, a smirk playing on those gorgeous lips.

He cocked his head, standing there with his arms crossed, and you noticed that for once, he wasn’t wearing any gloves. Just a simple long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans that hung sinfully close to his hips and... no boots. Just socks. 

Like he’d taken his shoes off before waking into your apartment. 

Ever the gentleman. 

His arm was bare, the soft light of the hall bouncing off of the black vibranium and sparking the gold. You’d always loved his arm. The sheer power of it, the way you’d seen it shatter a man’s ribs instantly and tear through a brick wall like it was made of glass. The same hand that tickled behind the ears of a stray kitten in Prospect Park and test the ripeness of plums at the market. 

You wanted that hand around your throat. 

Eyes the colour of the Arctic sea roamed over your body, from your slightly mussed up hair to the flush along your neck that disappeared in the dip of your dressing gown. “Mm... are you sure about that?” He tilted his coyly, a smirk playing on his lips and you had a feeling this expression had been one of the trademarks since the 40’s. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, more than aware that he was seeing far more than you wanted him to, “I’m fine.” You turned from the door, leaving it open for him to come in, “How comes you’re up on my floor, anyway?” You peered over your shoulder at him as you padded across the room to the drinks cart. 

Yes, there was a bar on your floor, but why couldn’t you have a cart in your room? Tony hadn’t even needed to ask when designing it. 

Bucky walked in, his footfalls silent like a cat, that training never quite leaving him, “I couldn’t sleep. No nightmares, just restless.” He added the last part quickly, in response to the concern that tightened your expression. 

It was nothing unusual, Bucky coming up here to your room.  

You often found each other after nightmares or rough days, seeking comfort and distraction from the darkness that lingered. 

Some days and nights, you went out, needing an outside diversion from the thoughts. 

Other times, you stayed in, watching films, talking, training or just... sitting quietly, knowing that the other persons presence was enough protection and reassurance. Words weren’t needed… just company.  

You handed him a drink, plopping down on the end of your bed and you watched him sink into the couch opposite, “Anything you wanna talk about?” 

Since everything with the War, Bucky was working on fitting back into a routine, into ‘normal’ life - or what could be considered normal for people like yourselves. 

He was undergoing his mandatory therapy sessions, and they seemed to be helping him. 

He was back in contact with Sam, and the pair even worked a few jobs together now and then, even if they did bicker like an old married couple - it provided great entertainment when you tagged along. 

He leant back on the couch, settling his left arm across the back. He always looked at home on your floor, relaxed, like his mind could shut off a little. “Nah, I’m okay... Thank you though.” He shot you an easy smile again, one that he probably hadn’t used in.... decades. “What about you? Why are you up so late?”

Mimicking his shrug, you kept your expression neutral, making sure your eyes didn’t drift to that certain drawer, “Rough week. I was reading to try and drift off.” 

“Mmmhm...” Bucky’s hummed response told you instantly that he did not believe you one bit. “What were you reading? Cosmopolitan’s best guide to toys?” That shit eating grin graced his face and he motioned gracefully with his left hand... to the corner of the room. 

The vibrator you’d launched was sitting on the floor, nestled in the rug, the soft mint green silicone practically a beacon. 

Okay. 

Okay…. So. There were two ways you could respond to this. 

Either play it off, deny it and change the subject. 

Or…

Turning back to him, you shrugged again, “Oh, I’ve read that back to front. And made a few additions myself.” You cocked your head, a faint flutter in your belly as you awaited his response. 

The barest flicker of surprise danced across his beautiful, rugged features before dissolving into something confident and smouldering. “Well, it looks to me like their guide isn’t true to review tonight. Something tells me you’re having a little bit of trouble.” His voice had begun to lower into a deeper, the natural roughness of his voice coming out. 

It stoked that fire within you, warming your blood and curling low in your belly. 

“And if I was? What would you suggest to help?” It was almost impossible to remain sitting still as the atmosphere folded and changed. There was one obvious route to your back and forth… and you wanted it. 

Wanted… him.

And if you were honest, you had for a long time now. There was just something about him that you’d always been drawn to, a simmering tension that settled whenever you were together. 

Bucky rose from the sofa in a fluid movement, walking toward you slowly, casually, but with the grace and prowl of a wolf eyeing up its next meal – you. 

And fuck, you wanted him to devour you. 

He slid his hands into his pockets, feet silent on your wooden floor, “Well… I would say that as wonderful as your toys may be… they’re just that. Toys. They can’t… feel what you like.” His eyes burned through you with each of his steps. “They don’t hear the noises you make when they hit the right spot. They don’t get to see the way your body reacts, the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip because it feels overwhelmingly good.” 

He was close enough for you to smell his cologne, and that only added to the growing wetness between your thighs as his filthy, beautiful words. 

Bucky stopped in front of you, removing his left hand and touching his fingers to your chin to tilt it up to face him, “They can’t know the little things… the deeper angle, that extra finger or sweep of the tongue… they can’t make you so wet that it runs down your thighs and they can’t make you arch off the bed as you shatter into starlight…” He sighed softly, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “I’m afraid they just… can’t make you come the way a real person could.” He applied a little pressure to the underside of your chin, and you rose to your – unsteady -  feet instantly, putty in his hands.  

Holy fuck, Bucky Barnes had a mouth on him. 

Your teeth had indeed sunk into your lower lip, and your breathing had grown shallow. It was an effort to keep your thighs firmly locked together… Because you were just as wet as he had said. 

The dark flame in his eyes told you that he knew the reaction you were having to him. He brushed a cool thumb over your lip, then tugged it gently to free it from your teeth and at the same time, he leant his head down to your level, “They can’t make you come like I can, darlin’.” This close, his warm lips brushed the shell of your ear, his voice reduced to a husky rasp that only further drew out that Brooklyn accent. 

The soft moan that left your lips was almost pitiful, but you didn’t care, “Shit.” 

You breathed the word, earning a deep chuckle in your ear before Bucky pulled back, only enough to see your face, “You want me to help you? Give you a helping hand?” His words were low and seductive, but he was looking between your eyes, making no more moves until he knew you wanted this. 

If you changed your mind, he would leave right now, and say no more about it. 

That very thought pained you. 

Something had always hovered between you both… and maybe now was the time to let it out. You shared a few kisses on nights out and he had featured heavily in your fantasies night after night, wishing your fingers were his, the toys were him….

You met his eyes, your own clear and sure and you kept that gaze as you parted your lips. Then swept your tongue along his thumb and tilted your head down just enough to take it between your lips. The vibranium was smooth, cold and it felt oddly delightful on your tongue. “Make me come, Bucky. Prove to me you’re better than the toys.” Your voice was low with need, a soft pleading note for him there as you gazed up through your eyelashes. 

The Arctic blue of his eyes deepened to near midnight, his pupils blowing out as he watched you talk around his thumb, your tongue sweeping over the metal and he almost purred, “Oh, baby, you won’t need toys when I’m done.” And then he was on you. 

He gently pulled his hand from your face, instead placing it lightly around your neck, the heavy metal settling on your collarbones and that alone drenched you. 

He looked between your eyes, checking one final time and then his mouth was lowering onto yours, his lips warm, plush and ever so inviting. Instantly, he licked a teasing line along your lips, which you would have parted for him without the request. 

Bucky’s tongue slipped past your lips, sweeping against yours in hot strokes as he explored every corner of your mouth. 

He tasted divine, and even more so when his thumb lightly tipped your chin back and he traced the tip of his tongue along the roof of your mouth, licking over the ridges and showing you exactly what that tongue could do. 

A groan left your lips, and you slid your hands up his arms to those shoulders, those gorgeous broad shoulders that all you wanted to do was dig your nails into them and use for support as you rode him. 

A deep curl of delight and joy was unfurling within the heat in your belly, because you needed this, needed more of him and his hands and his tongue and his words… and you were finally getting it

Hell, he had only just started kissing you and you already could have fallen apart just from that. 

“Why have we not been doing this all the time?” Was the only thought that your already fuzzy mind could come up with as he pulled away slowly from your lips, only to begin pressing hot, open kisses against your jaw that were all teeth and tongue. He seared a path to your neck, kissing all over until he found that particular spot that made you whimper and arch into his body. 

Bucky laughed low against your neck, the sound vibrating, “Oh, baby, you were struggling, weren’t you? I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already a mess…” He used his hand on your throat to tilt your head to the side, before biting at your skin, sweeping his tongue over the hot and sucking a deep mark there. 

A slight whine rippled in your throat, fingers pulling as his shirt and your chest pushed against his, the firm heat of him making your nipples tighten, especially when he pushed into you. 

Bucky slipped a hand between your bodies, tugging at the cord of your dressing gown and it slipped from your shoulders, leaving you bare and open to him. 

He licked down your neck, his tongue smoothing over the shape of your collarbones and then down your sternum to your breasts. He butterfly kissed the soft flesh, then almost delicately sucked at your rleft nipple, lifting his vibranium hand to squeeze the other, “So beautiful…” He mumbled it half to himself, his dark mussed up curls soft against your skin. 

One of your hands trailed up the back of his neck, slightly tangling in the hair at the base of his head and you pushed your chest further into his mouth, “Tease.” The word was a soft gasp, your eyes closing in pleasure and your lips parting. 

He chuckled, pulling back to blow a cool breath on the wet skin, watching your nipple harden and then he moved to give the other the same treatment, “Oh, I’m a tease, am I? I can stop if you like.” He grinned around the delicate skin, just slightly grazing his teeth as he tugged your nipple and then he continued his trail of kisses down your body, slowly sinking to his knees. “I don’t think you’ll ask me to stop though, darlin’.” His right hand grasped your ankle, and then he ghosted warm fingertips up your leg, past your knee and then pausing at your inner thigh, at what he felt there, “No. No I don’t think you’ll ask me to stop at all.” 

The cocky bastard grinned once more against your stomach, before dipping his tongue inside your belly button.

“Bucky…” You couldn’t hide the whimper in your voice, nor the way your hips rocked forward in a plea. It was almost painful how much you needed him to touch you, needed to feel his lips and his tongue. 

“Shhh, baby, I know.” His hands slipped up your waist, as soothing as his gentle coo against your belly button and then he brushed his lips lower and lower… and then finally, he pressed a soft butterfly kiss to your pubic bone. 

A low groan tore from his throat, his hands digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he saw you, swollen and positively dripping for him, “Oh, darlin’, look at you…” 

The sheer desire and awe in his low voice caused heat to flush along your cheekbones. You weren’t shy by any means, but the almost primal admiration in his voice was something you’d never heard before, the pure want and desire to make you feel good and worship you. 

Bucky admired the sight before him for a single moment, before lifting his eyes to yours and then he dove in, immediately devouring you like he was starving. His deft tongue slipped through your slick folds with ease, and he moaned again at your taste, at your smell, everything. 

He pressed his tongue flat against you before sucking at your clit, with such an intensity that you almost choked. It was a simple movement, but it shot electricity through your body and made every single nerve stand on end. 

He let that coil of energy begin to build, and then he licked back down, his hands sliding down to palm at your ass cheeks before digging his fingers into your skin, pulling you in further so he could bury his nose against your clit and his tongue – fuck, his tongue pushed inside of you, hot and heavy. It just felt so, so good, his nose putting pressure on your bundle of nerves, his tongue pumping inside you. 

Your hands flew down to his hair, winding through it to keep him there, keep him doing that, to keep him fucking you with his tongue, “Buck-”. You weren’t sure what you were begging him for, only that you just needed to say his name, needed to do something. 

Your hips began to rock in time with his thrusts, and you became aware of it only when Bucky’s muffled moan reverberating through you. 

He liked it, no... he loved this, that you were grinding against his face as his tongue worked inside you, tasting parts of you no one else had ever gotten right before. 

“Fuck, Bucky, keep doing that – I’m-” You cut off with a high moan, your head tilting back as you rocked into him faster, chasing down that high that was so tantalisingly close. It hadn’t taken long, you were so worked up from your failed attempts that you were already there. 

Bucky’s began to lick and suck you with new fervour, his head moving in time with the jerks of his hips, feeling the way your walls were tightening around his tongue. His fingers dug harder into your ass, and you felt the silent command almost, Come. 

And you did. 

You cried his name out to the sky, every nerve in your body winding to near painful tautness before you shattered on his face, your first orgasm ripping through you. 

Bucky didn’t stop, working you through it and drawing it out further and further as he lapped up every single drop you gave him, moaning himself like it was the most tantalising thing he had ever tasted. 

He stopped only when your grip released on his hair, the sensitivity of your nerves almost painful, your legs shaking like crazy and he lifted his hand from between your thighs, his lips and chin glistening. He rose from his knees, nudging you back onto the bed and instantly crawling up your body, “You have no idea how good you taste.” 

You whimpered slightly, catching your breath as you watched him crawl up you, eyes burning like sapphire fire, his tongue licking slowly over his lips as he savoured you. Words were beyond you, desire still coursing through your veins and you were a little in awe at how quickly – and hard – he had brought you to your first orgasm. 

Bucky grinned devilishly, “That won’t be your last.” He lowered his mouth back to yours and as you tasted yourself on him, you grew instantly wet for him again. 

His body brushed into yours and you felt how painfully hard he was through his jeans, the sounds and taste of you getting to him of course. 

Your fingers had barely brushed against his restrained length when he shook his head, nipping at your lower lip, “Oh no, baby, this is all about you.” 

You ignored him, palming him through his jeans and he moaned lowly before his eyes flashed, his hand suddenly back on your throat and he moved his hips away so you couldn’t get to him. “I said no.” It was almost a snarl, “This is about you. Not me.” His hand tightened just slightly around your throat, making it that little bit harder to breathe and your eyes rolled back at how delicious it felt. 

It was a huge kink for you, the idea of someone – of Bucky - taking control, being in control of your body even it was just for a little while. You didn’t need to think or do anything. Only feel and be at the mercy of his touch. 

You relented, legs falling open for him and you tilted your head back, searching for his lips. 

Bucky granted you the kiss, a slow, languid kiss at first that was all simmering passion and tangling tongues, the taste on you still lingering on his lips. 

He palmed your breast again, tugging and squeezing the flesh until he scratched his nails lightly down your ribcage and belly. 

Yes, yes-

He wasted no time, no more playing and his fingers slipped lower, circling over your clit with a delicious pressure that had you instantly moaning into his mouth.

He toyed with your clit a little more, before gathering your wetness and then sinking two fingers inside you, pushing all the way into his knuckles, then drawing back out slowly. 

As he withdrew, you moaned long and slow into his mouth and he began a steady rhythm. Pushing and curling his fingers inside you a few steps, then circling and pulling at your clit, ever so subtly switching it up with each pass so you couldn’t predict what he would do.  

It felt amazing, but… there was something still missing. It still wasn’t quite enough to send you over that final edge… it wasn’t what you’d been fantasising about. 

No, it was his left hand. That dark, golden vibranium hand that was currently seated around your throat. 

The knowledge of what it could do, the sheer power in it that could easily crush your windpipe or shatter your jaw with a single flick of his wrist. 

That is what you needed. 

Those cool, powerful fingers inside you, working you over – that was the best toy. 

It was like he could read your mind somehow, or the way your body sung to his tune. He lifted his head, looking down at you with those searing blues and he cocked his head, a slow grin lighting his gorgeous face, “Oh… This-” he scissored his fingers inside you, stretching your walls and ever so slightly brushing up against that spot, “isn’t quite what you want, is it, darlin’?” 

Holy Christ, he was going to destroy you before you even got what you wanted.

You looked up at him, panting, hips rocking to the slower thrust of his fingers and you shook your head.

Bucky swore softly, panting himself and he squeezed your throat once before lifting his fingers, “You want these, don’t you?”

Instead of answering him, you ducked your head, taking his three fingers into your mouth and immediately gliding your tongue around them, up and down in slow, dirty strokes. 

The effect was instantaneous. Bucky’s hips jerked slightly against yours, his mouth parting as he watched you suck his vibranium fingers, hollowing your cheeks, eyes rolling back in your head like… like it was something else entirely. 

He groaned, swore again and then almost ripped his fingers from your mouth and from between your legs at the same time. 

Your entire body mourned the loss, feeling empty, clenching around nothing but mere seconds later, he plunged those three vibranium fingers inside of you, slick with your saliva and how unbelievably wet you were. 

It stung a little, but only added to the feeling as your hips rose off the bed, “Shit, shit-”

They felt… like the best toy you could ever imagine. Smooth, cold, and hard enough that you could feel every faint ridge of the joints as he slid them in and out. You reached out, grabbing his arm with one hand and the bed with the other, needing something to hold onto as instinct took over. Your hips rode upwards, back arching as you rocked his fingers in deeper, feeling them in your spine almost. It was better than you could have imagined. 

Bucky dropped his head to your chest, spreading his mouth over your breast and his other arm slid over your hips, pinning them to the bed so you were forced to take it. “You wanted this, baby… You take it.” He bit down on the soft flesh of your breast before smoothing his tongue over it again, working an alternative rhythm to his fingers and thumb again, so that your brain couldn’t keep up with which one to follow. It knew only the waves of fire singing through your veins.  

Time may have very well dissolved, because you could only feel pleasure, tinged almost with pain. 

The thick, hard stroking of fingers as they stretched and wrecked you. 

The circling, hard-soft-hard pressure of his thumb on your clit. 

The bite of his teeth on your breasts, neck and chest, followed by the wet press of his tongue. 

The way he couldn’t help his hips slightly rocking against your leg. 

This was almost like a fever dream, expect your brain couldn’t have come up with something this mind melting. Not even if you were really, really worked up. 

The noises in the room were absolutely sinful. The unrestrained cries and moans from your lips, Bucky’s groans and his filthy words, the wet pump of his fingers inside you – it was obscene, filthy and completely, painfully mind-blowing. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Bucky, please-” You had no idea what you were begging for, but every single nerve and muscle in your body was coiling tighter and tighter, your hips jerking against his arm as he pinned you down, forcing you to take this, to feel everything he was doing with no relenting. Tears were beginning to blur your eyes and the pleasure he unleashed upon you was almost painful. 

Bucky somehow moved his fingers harder, deeper, the ability of the tech in his arm allowing him to do so, “Let go, baby, come on, let it go for me..” He dropped his head, biting down on your neck and he pressed his fingers against that spot inside you, flicking your clit with his thumb and then it all just snapped. 

Waves and waves of hot fire flooded your body, dragging you up to the stars, further. It ripped the air from your lungs, made you half scream his name in a never-ending prayer. 

It just didn’t stop. 

Bucky kept moving inside you, drawing out every single second of your mind-shattering orgasm, letting go of your hips so you could grind them into his hand. “That’s it, baby… Look at you, so beautiful like that…” His praise spurred you on, making you feel almost like a goddess as you flooded his hand. 

He stopped only when you slumped back onto the bed, sucking in deep breaths as you tried to piece yourself back together. 

Better than toys indeed. 

~~

A little while later, you stirred from a light dose to see Bucky lounging on your couch again, cleaning the grooves and metal of his fingers with a soft cloth. 

The sight of him concentrating, taking such care and detail with the clean-up, the cleanup from the mess you had made, had you instantly wet again. “Bucky.” 

He looked up, hearing the low thrum to your voice and a smirk crossed his lips. 

You had a favour to repay for his helping hand, after all. 

[mandoalorian]

Chicken Nuggets [Marcus Moreno x F!Reader] *SMUT*

Summary: Marcus is back on the dating scene for the first time since his wife passed. Tonight is the night, and he’s a little insecure, but he hopes he can show you how much you mean to him.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, car sex!!!, male receiving oral/road head (do not try at home!!), food mention, alcohol mention, feelings, tooth rotting fluff, Marcus is so adorable I’m gonna cry.

Word count: 2000>

REBLOGS APPRECIATED! ✨

Masterlist

Marcus Moreno was a gentleman. He was caring, and affectionate -- and unlike any other guy  you had ever been with, he was an excellent listener. He’d always ask about your day and he loved to find out quirky little facts about you. It always made you smile when he brought up a menial piece of information that you told him in passing conversation weeks ago. He made you feel cared for, and important.

Marcus was completely and utterly smitten with you. He hadn’t been with anyone since his ex-wife, who had passed away two years ago. Getting over the heartbreak alongside his daughter wasn’t something he’d wish on his worst enemy. But he was getting there. And with you by his side, your company seemed to make things just that little bit easier. He wouldn’t trade you for the world.

So it was your fifth date, and Marcus felt as though he was finally ready to get intimate with you. Both you and him had discussed sex, and he knew it was something you wanted, but you would always reassure him that there was absolutely no pressure and you were fine waiting until he was ready. Marcus Moreno was too good of a man to just let go for that reason.

It was Saturday night and you had decided to meet him at the small Italian restaurant located on the coastline. It was the most perfect, romantic destination for a date. Marcus was always punctual, arriving at least fifteen minutes early no matter the reason. But to your surprise, not this time. He was so nervous, knowing that tonight would be the night. He’d cut himself shaving, he’d drowned himself in cologne and he tried to put in contacts but they’d somehow slipped out of his eye and landed in the sink, all mushed up and ruined. So he was back to doting his thick rimmed glasses that you adored. He was only five minutes late, and you didn’t mind too much, already cracking into the bottle of red wine. His smile when his gaze locked onto you was enough to fill your body with fuzzy butterflies. He presented you with a bouquet of roses and tried to hide the blush that crossed his cheeks.

“Hi,” he said nervously. He looked down when you pressed a gentle kiss over his lips. “Wow, everything smells so good,” he acknowledged as he sat down opposite you. “What do you think you’ll order?”

“Maybe the pasta,” you returned, checking the menu. “What about you?”

“Well, I promised Missy I’d bring her a slice of pizza home, so…” Marcus admitted and you giggled. Hating your laugh, you brought your hands to your face and covered your mouth. Marcus noticed immediately and took your hands, brushing his thumbs over your knuckles. “Don’t hide yourself from me,” he cooed, looking up at you through his dark eyelashes. “You’re beautiful.”

You bit your lip and felt your cheeks flush under his sweet words. You didn’t know what it was -- perhaps the adrenaline of knowing what was to come after dinner, but his touch alone was enough to drive a bolt of anticipation through your core. You swallowed, losing your appetite for pasta and beginning to crave something else. He didn’t let go of your hands once, his fingers carefully tracing comforting circles into your skin as he gazed into your eyes and admired your beauty. 

“Marcus…” you whispered, pushing your thighs together as you felt arousal begin to pool between your legs.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t turned on too, if the tent in his pants was anything to judge by. “Yes?” he answered almost immediately, hating the way the word left his lips. He prayed the desperation that dripped from his tongue wasn’t evident to you.

“I… we… could get dinner later, if you wanted.” you suggested.

Marcus knew exactly what you meant, but he hadn’t realised it would be happening so soon. Nervous but excited, he bit his lower lip and nodded his head, a twinkle of lust sparkling in his honey brown eyes. He paid the bill, just for the bottle of wine, and took your hand before leading you out the restaurant. 

During the drive back to his place, you were feeling pretty restless. As his dark eyes focused on the road ahead, you let your hand wander across his denim clad thigh and towards his crotch. Your fingers delicately danced along his bulge and you felt more than satisfied when you heard a dark string of curses leave his lips. You’d never heard Marcus be so vulgar in his life.

“Shit hermosa, you trying to make me crash?” he chuckled, his eyebrows furrowing together with concentration. He was throbbing, but he figured he’d be able to handle it, as long as you didn’t go inside his jeans. The blood rushed to the tip of his cock as you palmed him softly. You hummed at his question but opted not to give him an answer, or at least, not with words. Popping open the top button of his pants and then finding his zipper, you pulled it all the way down. “You can’t wait, huh?” he countered further, already trying to resist the urge to thrust upwards into your hand. 

Finding that he wasn’t wearing any underwear, you swallowed, and looked up at him with doe-like eyes. “Marcus…” you purred, wasting no time and pulling out his thick length. He was hot and heavy, and under the artificial amber lights that illuminated the front of the car, you gave his cock a few pumps. “I had no idea you were so big.” you praised with a nervous giggle. 

Marcus didn’t say a word. He hadn’t been touched like this in a long time. Yeah, he’d used his own hand on plenty of occasions but it had never felt like this. He forgot how good it could feel.

The adrenaline was coursing through his veins as your thumb wiped up the precum that had beaded at the tip of his cock. 

“Your hand is cold, sweetheart.” Marcus murmured as you shimmied your fingers down his length to cradle his balls. As you squeezed them and played with them, you could feel him getting harder and harder.

“Do you prefer warmth?” you cooed quizzically. Marcus shuddered but remained silent, his eyes still fixated on the road. His patience surprised you, but he was a Heroic, after all. 

Clicking open your seatbelt, you shuffled down to your knees and crawled over the control panel in the car. Leaning over and finding a comfortable position, you placed your tongue flat against the slit and began to suck at his head. Marcus gripped down on the steering wheel as his eyes snapped shut, a heavy pant leaving his lips. His eyes must’ve been closed a little too long because the car swerved and you squealed his name. Thankfully it was late and the road was more or less empty.

“Tha- that could’ve been bad, baby,” Marcus gasped, his cock twitching in your mouth.

“Mhm.” you agreed as you bopped your head up and down his shaft.

He moved one hand from the wheel to your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair as you continued to go down on him. You could feel his cock twitching in your mouth as you pushed him closer and closer to the edge.

“So- so fucking good. Oh f-fuck, I forgot how good this coul-could feel… princess,” He admitted and you smirked around his length. “Mm, I’m close.” 

After only a few more pumps of his cock, Marcus came in your mouth, his salty seed spurting across your tongue. His load was large and you couldn’t swallow it all, but as you pulled off him, and the milky coloured substance dripped down your chin, he couldn’t have looked more proud. He pulled over at some place and let you regain your balance as you crawled back up to the passenger seat and strapped yourself back in. 

“Th- thank you.” Marcus blushed, leaning over and wiping his cum from your lips, doing his best to clean you up.

“You don’t have to thank me Marcus,” you returned his smile and gave his thigh a little squeeze. Marcus tucked himself back in and zipped his pants up. You looked out the window at the bright yellow and red lights. “Marcus, where are we?”

Marcus grinned sheepishly. “I thought you might’ve worked up an appetite after that. We uh- we’re at McDonalds.”

Of course. Of course DILF dad Heroic Marcus Moreno would take you to McDonald’s drive thru after receiving road head. It just made sense. You burst into a fit of giggles and rest your head on his shoulder. He wrapped a strong arm around you and pressed a kiss into your forehead.

“You’re unbelievable,” you laughed, shaking your head incredulously. “You’re so- God… Marcus… I think I lo-”

You cut yourself off immediately, your heart sinking in your chest as you realised what you were about to say. Praying that Marcus hadn’t clicked on, you tore yourself from him and rolled down the car window, peering out to gaze at the illuminated menu on the wall. 

“What do you normally get?” you asked, unable to bring yourself to look at him.

Shit, it had only been five dates and you weren’t even sure if he was completely over his wife yet. But all of a sudden, everything made sense. You really were in love with him. Was it too soon? Of course, you’d known him forever, but there was no telling how he’d react to your confession. 

“Uh-- I like cheeseburgers…” Marcus replied. “And fries. And a cola. What about you?”

You closed your eyes and sunk back into the chair. It was okay. It was going to be okay. When you turned back to face him, Marcus’ eyes were already boring into you, admiring your beauty.

“I like chicken nuggets.”

Marcus grinned. “So does Missy.”

He continued down the drive thru and ordered a chicken McNugget sharebox. Parking in the isolated lot, he passed you your soft drink and pierced the straw into his own cola before setting out the box of chicken nuggets. 

You and Marcus sat in comfortable silence as you dipped your nuggets in the assortment of sauces. “I really like you,” Marcus confessed. “And Missy likes you too. Which is important to me. We’ve been friends forever and I just think we’re good… together. Shit. That wasn’t meant to rhyme. I--”

You laughed when you saw how adorably flustered Marcus got. “I like you too.” You admitted and Marcus nodded, taking a sip of his drink.

“Are you still up for coming back to my place tonight? Missy is with her abuela.” 

“Yes.” you replied and his grin only deepened.

“Okay, good.”

You finished the box of chicken nuggets and slouched back into the chair, rubbing your tummy. “That was so good,” you beamed. “I’m stuffed though. I need to lie down.”

Marcus felt his cheeks heat up as he turned his key and switched on the engine. “When we get home.” he promised, his cock already hardening again as he imagined you spread out on his bed with your legs open. All the things he could do to you…

Sure, you didn’t expect your fifth date to end up with road head and chicken nuggets, but it was perfect, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

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[tropes-and-tales]

My Best Friend’s Girl, Part One

Characters:  Santiago “Pope” Garcia and F!Reader

WC:  6432

Other Pieces:  This is part of a series, which can be found here.

CW:  Several instances of language; pining; angst

________________

Santiago’s leave isn’t restful at all, and it’s completely your fault.  You are always there.

For fuck’s sake, you actually are the girl next door – your family’s house only separated from Frankie’s by a low box hedge.  Santiago is put up in the guest room, right beside Frankie’s room, and he can look out of his window and see your window.  It’s such a short distance, and Pope swears he can feel you over there like a low pressure system, giving him a headache, making his fillings ache, making him toss and turn in bed until the early hours of morning.

And you go everywhere with them.  Frankie always spoke admiringly of you, how you could hang with the best of them, just one of the guys, and so you do:  you go out to the dive bars with them, you spend lazy afternoons watching baseball.  You drink beer with them, eat BBQ with them.  One afternoon, Frankie takes everyone to the local swimming hole, and Pope is furious to see you there too, in a two-piece swimsuit that is plain and clearly built for function but still reveals your curves, your skin to his scrutiny.  

When you jump into the water and then resurface, sleek as a seal, Pope has to grit his teeth at the image.  It’s burned into his brain now, and he already knows that he’ll revisit it time and time again.

He feels like a boy again nursing that first painful, awkward crush on a girl.  He feels exposed all the time, a raw nerve sensitive to any bit of pressure or friction.  He tries not to indulge in it, and he avoids you as much as he can.  Sits opposite of you.  Keeps you out of his line of sight.  Tries not to engage in conversation with you, if he can help it.  He gets snappish with the guys, but most of it is directed at Frankie.  How can the man not see how you worship him?  How can he miss the obvious love you have for him?  

Moreover, how can he not feel anything for you beyond a brotherly affection?

But Frankie remains oblivious, and you only have eyes for him, and Pope – for the first time since meeting Fish, since becoming his friend and brother-in-arms – feels the acid churn of jealousy in his gut, like indigestion.

Eventually their leave ends.  As you drive them back to the airport – now somber and silent – he thinks he’ll probably never see you again.  He thinks the past week will be like a piece of amber, a warm golden memory hardened and polished and tucked away like a cherished memento.  

The thought thaws him to you, finally, and in those last moments, Pope allows himself to accept a hug from you near the ticketing desk.

“Take care of yourself, Pope,” you tell him, and he hugs you back and promises that he will.

That should be that.  Over, done, onto the next adventure.  For a while, that’s exactly how it goes.

-----

Things go back to normal, with one key difference:  now, when Frankie gets a letter or a care package from you, Pope can put a face to the name.  He can picture you bent over your table, writing out the latest news from home.  He can picture you shopping for Frankie, buying him toothpaste and gel inserts for his boots and those s’mores granola bars that he devours.  

That faint sting of envy never really leaves Pope, and while he loves Fish like a brother, he also has a thin filament of dislike for a man so blind to what’s right in front of him.

That filament flares bright and burning when Frankie meets Sara and falls for her instead of you.

Okay, sure.  Pope can see what Frankie sees in Sara – namely, the woman is gorgeous and sexy as hell and has a voice like whiskey poured over smoldering embers.  Every bit of clothing she seems to own is skin-tight and perfectly fitted to her, and her hair and makeup are always impeccably done.  She’s also shockingly forward, no unrequited pining for her, and it’s no surprise when Frankie sneaks her home that first night, takes her right in his rack while Pope burns with indignation on your behalf.

Benny and Will have a bet going between them:  Benny thinks that Frankie is just in it for the sex, just to blow off steam.  Will thinks it’s the opposite – Frankie is in it for keeps.  He pictures wedding bells, white picket fences, fat little babies and a SUV to haul them around in.  There’s a hundred dollars riding on the Miller brothers’ bet, and Pope declines from throwing in with them.

Pope fears that Will is right, and he should be happy for his friend, but he only feels a queasiness when he considers how you will react when you inevitably hear the news.  That’s a revelation too.  Pope thought he only had some physical reaction to you, love at first sight manifesting out of some alchemy of meeting you at the airport and spending a week with you.  But caring about your feelings?  Feeling preemptively sick at how upset you’ll be?  

That has to be more than just a physical reaction.  That must mean it really is love.

-----

If it’s really love, Pope is about to find out.  He thought he’d never see you again.  He thought that friendly hug at the airport when you bid him farewell would be the last time he saw you.  But they have leave again, and it’s like before, but with one added wrinkle:  Sara is coming too.

The emotions roiling through Pope are as changeable as the weather.  There’s nervousness and dread, but he can’t lie to himself:  more than anything, he’s excited to see you.  It’s been well over a year, and he doesn’t think a day has gone by that he didn’t think of you.  He had his own fair share of hook-ups, one night stands, casual girlfriends that lasted a month or two before dying off.  But he always came back to the memory of you – that lopsided smile, that clean, faintly vanilla scent of you.  

-----

You are exactly the same as Pope remembers, and if you remember his reserve from the last time, you don’t mention it.

Instead, you pull him into a welcoming hug.  In fact, you hug him first because – Pope is probably the only person to notice this – when you see everyone waiting at baggage claim, your smile fades just a little.  

You see Frankie and Sara.

But it’s the first time Pope sees a glimpse of something strong in you.  You have some reserve of strength he hadn’t reckoned with, and you manage to compose yourself.  You give Frankie a hug that is tempered, and you introduce yourself to Sara.  Because there’s one extra person now, the group splits up – half with you, half order a car.  It’s Pope and Frankie and Sara with you, and suddenly Pope finds himself in the passenger’s seat while the lovebirds are in the back seat.

“How have you been?” he asks.  Already it feels different from before, and Pope feels a duty to you to ease that difference.  Frankie isn’t talking to you like he did before; he’s in the backseat murmuring with Sara, and the ride would be silent otherwise.  So Pope makes small talk.

“I’ve been okay,” you reply.  “How are you?”

He fills you in on some of the more tame, non-classified stuff.  The funny stuff.  The stuff that puts him in a good light, that makes him seem smarter than he is, funnier than he is.  You laugh in all the right spots, reply to him, but he knows you’re really focused on what is happening behind you.  Your knuckles are white on the steering wheel, and Pope knows that he’s watching a heart break in real-time.

-----

This leave is different than before.  You still come out, you’re still one of the guys, but the entire dynamic is changed by the addition of Sara.

Sara doesn’t like the dive bars in Frankie’s hometown.  She complains so much that you all spent an evening in the nearby city so that you can go to a fancy club that requires a dress code and a cover charge.  He doesn’t miss the fact that no one has fun that night but Sara, since everyone is uncomfortable and hot in the close atmosphere of the club.  It’s loud with the thundering house music, and while you are near Pope all night in a surprisingly sexy little black dress, your face is a rictus of pain as you watch Sara and Frankie dance and get tipsy and make out.

“Can I get you a drink?” Pope asks you at one point.  He has to bend down close to your ear since it’s so loud, and your hair – down for once – tickles against his face when he does.  

You shake your head but then change your mind.  “A water, I guess.”

He goes and gets it for you, and he gets himself another ten dollar beer.  When he returns to you and hands you your water, he makes a joke that you’re a cheap date.  For the first time all night, you actually smile – a real one, not the fake grimace you’ve been saving for Frankie and Sara lately.

“Are you calling me cheap, Pope?”  You take a sip and arch an eyebrow at him in challenge.

“Not at all, sweetheart.”  He’s not drunk at all, but something about the bassline makes him feel brave.  He throws an arm around your shoulders in a way that could be either friendly or a come-on, and he pulls you into a side-hug.  “You’re worth a million bucks.”

You snort at that, shake your head a little, and you open your mouth to reply, but then Sara and Frankie come over and ruin the entire moment.

-----

Sara also doesn’t like the swimming hole, and she spends that entire afternoon pouting from the shore while everyone else swims or lazes in the shallows.  She does look out of place:  she’d be better suited for the shore, stretched out in the sand in her miniscule bikini.  She pouts, then switches to cajoling Frankie to stay with her, then goes back to pouting.

Pope notices the purple mark on her chest, right on the swell of one of her breasts, right where her top doesn’t cover.  A hickey, and it’s source is obvious.  

Pope also notices you noticing it, and his heart twists at the look on your face as you turn away.

-----

A lazy afternoon with baseball on the TV?  Well, Sara hates that too, and she is tired of hanging out with the guys, so she borrows Mrs. Morales’ car and goes to a nearby outlet mall for a day of shopping.

That she doesn’t ask you to join speaks volumes, and Pope isn’t the only one to notice the way you and Sara carefully circle each other, never quite talking to each other, studying each other on the sly and judging the other.

“So what do you think, Bean?” Frankie asks you during the baseball game.  “You like her?”

“She’s nice.”  You don’t look at him when you answer, and you keep your gaze firmly fixed on the screen.

“And?”

“She’s pretty,” you add mechanically.

Frankie reaches over and pokes you in your side, and you shoot him an irritated look as you wriggle away from him.  “Nice and pretty,” he says.  “That’s it?”

You shrug.  “I don’t really know her, Frankie.”

“You could get to know her.  Why don’t the two of you do something tomorrow?  Get your nails done or something?  On me, my treat.”

You turn and gaze at him in pure exasperation.  “I’ve never had my nails done.  That’s not really my thing.”

Frankie scoffs at that.  “Yeah, yeah.  Bean’s just one of the guys.”  He reaches out and pokes you again.  “You should let Sara give you a makeover.  She loves that stuff and who knows?  Maybe find you a guy…”  He trails off, waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and maybe that sort of teasing was fine before, but it clearly isn’t anymore.

You shoot to your feet and are halfway to the door when Frankie calls out and stops you.  “What’s wrong?” he asks, and the look on his face is pure confusion.  “Bean, I was just kidding - “

“It’s not funny, Frankie.”

The confusion deepens on his face when he takes in your expression – clenched jaw, but eyes that are rapidly filling with tears.  “Jesus, Bean, what – “

“Just…it’s nothing, okay?”  You raise your hands in a weak shrug, drop them in defeat.  You give a bitter laugh.  “Sorry I’m not the type of girl who gets her nails done.”  You open your mouth as if you want to say more, but you close it with a snap and then yank open the door, slam it shut behind you as you leave.  Frankie looks around the living room at the guys, and his eyes settle on Pope.

“What the hell was all that about?”

Pope sighs and takes a swig of his beer.  His stomach is churning, churning at the scene, how close it came to bringing everything to light.  Should he push it that final bit?  Break open the storm cloud that has been building since they got here?

“The girl’s in love with you, Fish.  How can you not see that?”

The truth makes Frankie laugh, and that filament of dislike flares bright in Pope.  How is that funny?  You’ve practically handed the man your heart, raw and bleeding and broken, and he laughs?

“Bean is like a sister to me,” he protests when Pope only stares at him.  “I’ve never…” He trails off, and the confusion is back on his face.

Pope shakes his head.  “She’s in love with you,” he repeats.  “She probably has been forever.”

“No,” Frankie scoffs, but there’s a recognition dawning on his face.

“Didn’t you say she’s picky?  Never dates?”  Pope shakes his head again.  “Maybe she’s hoping that the guy she sends care packages to will ask her out sometime.  Maybe she has a thing for the boy next door who once beat up a date for her.”

Frankie doesn’t say anything to that.  He doesn’t say anything for a long, long while, and Pope feels a flush of altruistic satisfaction in himself:  maybe now that Frankie knows, he’ll set things right with you.

-----

If Pope knew what was going to happen at the Morales’ BBQ, he would have hog-tied you and driven you hours away to spare you the pain.

As it is, you lay low for a few days.  You don’t turn up again until the party in the Morales’ backyard, and your mother and stepfather come too, so Pope wonders if you were threatened to attend under the guise of family friendship.

You look adorable, and Pope drinks in the sight of you from his hiding spot behind the big oak tree where the guys are posted with the cooler of beer.  You’re in a sundress, and Pope despairs to think of you agonizing over your looks, because you’ve clearly put in effort.  Your hair is styled, you’re wearing makeup.  

Your nails, he notices, are painted.

It’s all for naught, in the end.  

You seem to be taking the approach that the blow-up during the baseball game never happened, and you greet Frankie and Sara, Pope and the guys like nothing happened.  You blush adorably when Benny gives a low whistle at you, and Will pesters you to give them a spin, which you finally do.  Your skirt bells out a little, your hair fans out, and Pope thinks you look like the sweetest angel he’s ever seen.

Frankie says nothing other than to greet you, and Sara says even less than that, and it’s obvious that there’s a cold front building between you and them but Pope is powerless to stop it.

After dinner is served, while people are picking at their second and third helpings, Frankie lowers the volume of the music playing and clinks a fork on his beer bottle until everyone is watching him.  Sara stands by his side, a strangely triumphant smile on her face, and Pope sees it all happen in slow-motion.

There’s Frankie making a speech about the future, about love.  There’s Sara standing there with her hands behind her back.  Then Frankie says it – it’s a surprise even to the guys, he never once mentioned it to them – that he and Sara are engaged, and Sara holds up her hand to show off an obscenely large diamond that must have cost Frankie a small fortune.  

And then it’s chaos as Frankie’s parents rush in to hug him, to hug Sara, the music is turned back up, and Pope is the only one to notice you.  You are still as a statue, your face is wan, and Pope swears he can hear over the noise the sound of your heart breaking.

He’s trained to be an elite fighter, a special ops solider, and half of fighting is just knowing how to react to sudden situations.  This is a sudden situation:  you look like you might throw up or pass out or just die on the spot, so Pope takes the few long strides to get to your side.  He winds his arm around your waist.  And he dips his head low to whisper in your ear that he’s getting you out of there, now.

He manages to get you into the front yard where it’s quieter.  You allow yourself to be led by him, his hand is circled around your wrist and he can feel how fast your pulse is, quick as a hummingbird’s wings, and he is worried about what you may do.  You aren’t talking at all, but you also aren’t crying.  You’re just…blank.

Eventually, you pull your hand from him gently.  You look at him and give him the saddest smile he’s ever seen.  You thank him, you give him a hug, and you tell him to take care of himself.  

And then you turn and walk to your house next door, and Pope doesn’t see you again for six months.

-----

He does, however, hear about you.  An entire angry earful from Frankie, about a month after the engagement announcement.

“Bean sent a letter,” he says, and he tosses the missive onto Pope’s bunk.  “You were right.”

Pope picks it up carefully, between his thumb and forefinger.  It feels wrong, reading it, but Frankie gestures at him to go ahead.  It’s another great range of emotions, this time anger (at Frankie), jealousy (at Frankie), and sadness (for you).

The letter is like something from a romantic movie.  It’s heartfelt and funny and it’s like you’ve opened a vein and written the entire damned thing in your blood, your heart pumping it out for each tender word.  You explain to Frankie how you love him, how you’ve always loved him.  You list out a hundred reasons why you love him, and Pope burns inside at the bitter envy of it all.  

Frankie, though?  Frankie is unmoved by it.  No, Frankie is angry at it.

“Can you believe this shit?” he asks when Pope refolds the letter and places it back in its envelope.  “Sending me something like that when I’m engaged to be married?”

“You honestly never knew?”  Pope has been curious about that for so long, how his friend never saw the obvious love you had for him.

Frankie shakes his head.  “No!  She’s like five years younger than me, so she was always like the annoying kid sister who tagged along.  She grew on me eventually, and she was pretty cool in high school, but I never had any idea that she felt that way at all.”

“She didn’t date in high school?  Didn’t she have a prom date?”

Frankie sits down on the edge of his rack and puts his hands on his knees.  “Her mom wouldn’t let her go stag, so she found some dipshit to take her.  They never dated.”  He pauses to chew on his lower lip.  “I never knew her to date anyone, not even in college.”

“She sends you care packages, Fish, more than you even get from your mom – “

“Okay!  I get it!”  He throws up his hands in surrender.  “I get it now!  But it doesn’t change anything.  I’m marrying Sara.  I don’t feel that way about Bean.  It’s that simple.”

Pope turns your letter over and over in his hands.  He can almost pretend he can feel you, the ghostly presence of you, anyway – you writing out Frankie’s name and address, you picking the stamp with the colorful butterfly on it, you licking the flap and then sealing it with tape, just to be sure.  He can understand that Frankie wouldn’t have feelings for you, he guesses, everyone has different tastes and wants, but he can’t understand why he’d feel anything for Sara….

“Sara’s the one for you, is she?” he blurts out.  “She’s the one?”

That’s what makes Frankie go all soft around the eyes, and Pope will never understand it as long as he lives.  He’d guess that Sara is some sort of latent sex fiend, a tigress in the sack, but even that – Pope was unfortunate enough to be in the bottom rack for one of hers and Frankie’s early interludes, and it was the most unimpressive display he ever was privy to.

Pope has a feeling about Sara, and he starts to understand better why he doesn’t like her.  It’s not just the obvious messy bit with you in the middle, you being hurt by Sara’s triumph.  Sara is one of those women who pursue military men like a heat-seeking missile.  She makes plenty of comments about Frankie being in special ops, and Pope browses her social media on the sly:  she’s all about valor and sacrifice and the American flag.

Pope knows the type, and he can guess that Frankie is in for a world of pain in the future if he continues down this path.

“Are you sure, Fish?” he asks.  

Frankie looks straight into Pope’s eyes when he answers.  “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

-----

They go back to Frankie’s hometown for the week of the wedding.  You don’t pick them up at the airport this time, and Pope doesn’t even see you the first day.

He learns why soon enough:  it’s a minor scandal, that letter you sent Frankie.  Frankie showed it to Sara, who threw a fit and called Frankie’s mother, who called your mother, who apparently sat you down and admonished you to behave yourself lest you find yourself uninvited to the wedding of your oldest friend.

The first time Pope actually sees you, it’s early in the morning on the second day.  He is sitting on the Morales’ front porch, sipping some terrible coffee, when he hears the front door slam next door.  It’s you, and you’re in running gear – short shorts that show off a generous amount of your shapely legs, a tank top.  You don’t see him sitting there, so he can look to his heart’s content as you stretch out, cue up your music, slip in your earbuds.  

Then you take off at a startlingly quick pace, as if you are being hunted.  Maybe that’s how you feel.  

-----

The third day, Pope catches a glimpse of you again.  You see him too.  He and the guys are coming back from the tux shop for the final fitting.  You are leaving for…somewhere.  You see him first and offer him a small smile and wave, but when your eyes slip to Frankie, they go curiously blank.

To Pope, you seem anesthetized, like someone is dosing you with a sedative to take that lively spark away from you.

Maybe that’s what a broken heart is like.

-----

It’s the fifth night where Pope sees you and can finally talk to you.

There’s only so many bars in Frankie’s hometown, and somehow the bachelor party ends up at the place where you’re doing your drinking these days.  Everyone else misses you sitting in the corner alone, but not Pope.  He feels like he could find you anywhere, in any dark corner or end of the earth, the low pressure front that sets every nerve ending in him alight.

You see them, and Pope watches as you wave down a waiter and settle your tab.  You’re going to leave, and Pope doesn’t blame you, but he wants to talk to you.  He slips away too, and it’s not like the guys will even miss him:  Frankie has buddies from the military, buddies from high school, and Pope is just another face in the crowd at the moment.

You hear the crunch of Pope’s shoes on the gravel of the parking lot, and you turn and give him a harried look.  “I’m leaving,” you toss over your shoulder, and Pope has to chase you down, grab your elbow to get you to stop.

The look on your face is panic.  “I didn’t know he’d be here,” you start to explain, so he shakes his head and shushes you gently.  

“Hey,” he says.  He can feel the way you tremble against his light hold on you, and he realizes how much stress it must be:  your unrequited love getting married to another woman, everyone mad at you for being honest about your feelings.

“Let’s go for a walk, just you and me?” he asks, and you bite your lip and then finally nod.

-----

Pope isn’t that familiar with your hometown, so he lets you lead.  You take him through a historic neighborhood full of gorgeous old houses, and then through an old cemetery until the two of you are on an expansive ridge, higher than the tree line and under a canopy of stars.  There’s a felled tree, and you gesture at it and ask if he’d like to sit.

He sits down beside you, and he can see even in the darkness how fraught you are.  Your nerves are shot to hell.  You pick at your nails, tug at the hem of your shirt, and Pope is overcome with a wave of love.  It’s not his usual obsessiveness – always thinking about you, wondering what you’re doing or thinking.  It’s a more selfless love, almost brotherly, though none of his feelings for you are familial at all.

“How are you holding up?” he asks, even though he knows the answer.

You shrug and duck your head.  “I guess you know about the letter too.”

“I do.”  He pauses, then adds, “that was a brave thing you did, sending that.”

The laugh you give is pure bitterness, pure aching.  “You’re the only one who called it anything other than pathetic.”

“It wasn’t pathetic at all.”

You turn to him in the darkness, and he can feel the weight of your gaze.  “I thought it would be romantic.  I didn’t think it’d make him so mad.  He’s been here nearly a week, and he’s about to get married, but he hasn’t said a single word to me.”

There’s nothing Pope can say about Frankie’s behavior, but he does tell you that the letter was romantic, even to a jaded asshole like him.

You sigh and look up at the sky.  “I was always so sure we’d end up together.  I thought if I was patient and had faith, one day Frankie would look at me and realize that he loved me too.”  You give that bitter laugh again.  “I’m so fucking stupid.”

Pope was fostering nothing but a tender pity for you all week, but calling yourself stupid makes a spike of anger jolt through him, and he turns on the log to face you.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, and his voice must sound stern because you cringe a little before you turn to face him too.  “You aren’t stupid at all, so don’t let me hear you say that again.”

He can hear the anger in your voice now, and that makes his blood heat up a degree.  He’s never heard you angry, really, aside from that half-a-fight with Frankie before the engagement.  You’ve been simpering and sweet, trying to be what Frankie wanted, but now you’re angry.

“I am stupid,” you tell Pope.  “I thought guys – a guy like Frankie, at least – would go for a girl like me.  Turns out he just wanted someone like Sara.”

Pope can feel his own temper rising.  He can be a hot-head, and he knows how to control it usually, but he hates what this entire situation has done to you, and how much he’s invested in you, how much he thinks about you.  You aren’t even his and he has spent so much energy trying to keep you from taking over his entire brain.  He’s tried to purge you with other women but it’s always the same:  your face in his mind’s eye, your voice, your scent.

“A girl like you?” he asks.  “What is that, exactly?  Because all I’ve ever seen is a girl who’s trying to force herself into a box for a guy who doesn’t even notice her.”

You recoil from his words, give an injured gasp, but Pope’s anger is blooming in him.  He’s mad at himself for being so fucking soft over a woman he’s never even kissed, let alone been with, and he’s mad at Frankie for picking Sara over you.  He’s mad at you, for weaseling your way into his heart and his head without even realizing it, while you bemoan a guy who never had a single romantic thought for you.

“Listen, Bean, and listen good.  You love Frankie?  You want to wait on him?  Fucking do it.  Wait around another five or ten years.  You and I both know what Sara is about, and we both know it won’t last.  Maybe in five or ten years, Frankie will get his head out of his ass and see what a catch you are.”  

At that, you start to stand, but Pope reaches out and stills you, his hand on your wrist like the night of the engagement announcement.  He tugs you back down to sit by him, and he holds you in place and pretends that your racing pulse doesn’t spark something in him.

“Or you can stop feeling sorry for yourself.  Frankie doesn’t love you?  That’s his fucking loss.  You had balls to send him that letter.  A girl like you?  Do you even know who you are?  If you aren’t Frankie’s girl waiting for him back home, who are you?”  

“Pope, let me – “

“No, you’re gonna hear this.”  He cuts you off.  “You’re young and free.  You need to figure out who you are.  You can sit around and wait for this marriage to fall apart, then welcome Frankie home.  Or you can go out and become the person you really are.  Because here’s the thing, sweetheart:  guys like Frankie are a dime a dozen, but there’s a guy out there who would take a letter like the one you wrote…”  He trails off a moment, almost lets it slip.  “There are guys who would love a letter like that.  They’d reach out and never let you go.”

It’s suddenly too warm, and Pope feels a sick feeling wash over him as he realizes how he just took a fragile person, nerves shot, and yelled at them.  He realizes that he’s still holding you, so he lets you go.  You sit there for a moment, still as a stone, and then you bolt.

“Fuck,” he hisses to himself.  He scrubs his hand over his face and wishes, not for the first time this week, that he hadn’t wasted his precious leave on such a fucking disaster.

-----

He passes the days between the bachelor party and the wedding with a sick sort of dread.  He’s ashamed of how harshly he spoke to you, and he’s ashamed of how much of it was wrapped in his own unrequited love for you.  

The morning of the wedding, there’s a knock at the door, and then murmured, whispered arguing.  But then one of the voices – Mrs. Morales – takes on a confused cast, and she calls for Pope.

“Santiago?” she says, peeking into the den where the guys are changing into their tuxedos.  “Someone is here to see you.”

The someone is you, and Pope notes how quickly you’ve gone from being the girl next door, the little kid sister to someone.  As if Mrs. Morales didn’t feed you as a kid, didn’t watch you grow up alongside her son.  The woman wants grandchildren, is overdue for them, in her mind, and if that means pushing you aside so that Sara and Frankie can marry….

You’re standing on their porch looking out of place and awkward, and you’re in decidedly non-wedding appropriate clothing.  You’re wearing a t-shirt and cargo shorts, hiking boots.  Your hair is brushed and tied back in a neat ponytail.  Pope steps out onto the porch to join you, and when he notes how your eyes dart around, he puts a hand on your shoulder and leads you down onto the sidewalk, away from any prying eyes.

“I think there’s a dress code for this thing,” he jokes, and that earns him at least half a smile from you.  He clears his throat and adds, more seriously, “hey, about the other night – “

You shake your head and stop him from continuing.  “Don’t.  I needed to hear that.”

“No, it was out of line – “

“It was tough love,” you correct him.  “And I needed it.”  You cock your head at him, study him close.  “Everyone else is either angry and not talking to me, or they’re tiptoeing around me like I’m made of glass.  Not you though.”

Pope holds out his hands in supplication.  “I just didn’t want you to – “

You shake your head again.  “Don’t.  You don’t need to justify it.”  You take a deep breath and look past him, look at the Morales house.  You are probably picturing Frankie inside, putting on his tux, getting ready to marry a woman that wasn’t you, but you don’t say so.  Then you turn back to Pope and fix him with your bright gaze.

“You gave me a choice the other night,” you remind him.  “Stay or go.”

“You’re going?” he guesses, and you nod.

“No one is happy with me.  My mom is furious because Frankie’s mom is mad at her.  My stepdad is mad.  Frankie won’t even look at me, let alone talk to me….”  You trail off, scuff your boot against the sidewalk.  “I think you were right, Pope.  I think maybe I don’t know who I really am.”

“Maybe no one does,” he replies.  He doesn’t like the resigned tone in your voice at all.  

“Maybe.  But maybe I have a chance to find out.”  You gesture at Frankie’s house, then your own.  “There’s really nothing holding me back from anything anymore.”

“Bean, you should at least go to the wedding.  This fight between you and Frankie….you’re friends.  You don’t want to leave it like this.”

You shake your head.  “Nah.  I think that bridge is burned.”  You take a deep breath and give him a smile, a real one that hits him square in the heart.  “I’m going to hike the Appalachian Trail.  I did part of it once, but now I’m gonna do the whole thing.  My cousin is going to pick me up and drop me at the southern terminus at Springer Mountain.  It’s about a three hour drive.  I can get half a day’s hike in if I go now.”

“And miss Frankie’s wedding?”

“I’m not really welcome, Pope, and you know it.”

“Aww,” he replies.  “I was looking forward to dancing with you though.  A little Macarena, a little Electric Slide.”

That makes you snort, and it seems like you might say more, but a battered pickup truck comes down the street and pulls into your driveway.  Must be your cousin, and your ride to your next adventure.  You turn and watch him park, and then you turn back to Pope.

“Did you know that the Electric Slide is about a vibrator?” you ask, and it’s such an unexpected thing to say that Pope laughs in surprise, which makes you chuckle alongside him.

“That can’t be true.”

“Look it up.”  You glance at the Morales’ house one last time, then back at him.  Your face turns serious.  “You’re a good guy, Pope.  I appreciate you more than you know.”

That’s enough to fuel a decade of fantasies about you, but then you reach out and straighten his stupid bowtie, smooth it out, pat it gently.  A friendly gesture, but more fuel, and Pope has a sudden, stupid vision of you doing the exact same gesture on your own wedding day to him.

“Be careful out there, Bean,” he says, and his voice is thick with emotion.  If you aren’t friends with Frankie anymore, he may never see you again…

You start to walk away from him, but at his words you stop and turn.  “You said I didn’t know who I am.  I’m starting to figure it out, and I’m not Bean.  Not anymore.  I always hated that nickname, and now I can admit it.”

Pope smiles at that.  “What should I call you then?”

You smile back.  “Haven’t gotten that far yet.”

You turn and walk away, and Pope stays on the sidewalk and watches as you load a huge backpack into the bed of the truck.  You give the Morales’ house one last, inscrutable look, and then you climb into the cab.  Your arm is slung out the open window, and you look almost happy, as if you’re staring down the rest of your life and have found the prospect to be delightful.

Pope can’t stop himself from flagging you down, just as the truck has backed out onto the street.  Your cousin brakes, throws the truck into park, and Pope skids on his stupid rental dress shoes to get to you.

“Stay in touch, sweetheart,” he says, and you give him that brilliant, lopsided smile and a single nod.

“I will,” you promise, and then the truck is pulling away again and you are gone.

~~~Tag List~~~ @bananas-pajamas  @rachelxwayne​   @stardust-fray   @massivecolorspygiant​   @imspillingcoffee​   @amneris21​  @paintballkid711​   @mad-girl-without-a-box​   @bestattempt​   @isvvc-pvscvl​   @marvelousmermaid​

[bex-la-get]

Take Care of You (Ethan x f!MC)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Natalie Cusack

Special Appearance: Tobias Carrick

Word count: 2175

Summary: When Ethan falls sick, Nat steps in to take care of him.

Rating: T

Author’s Note: Hi, hello. It’s been a crappy week and I’m emotionally/physically exhausted. So here’s some fluff to counter the bad week. This is unedited, so please forgive any mistakes. Hope you like it. 💙

Ethan never got sick. Ever. Despite working in a hospital, surrounded by sick people on a daily basis, Ethan always managed to stay as healthy as possible. He had prided himself on his strong immune system and seemingly inability to fall ill.

Until today, that is. He woke with so much pressure in his sinuses, he thought his head would burst. Getting out of bed was a feat in itself, as his whole body ached. He sniffled as he made his way to the bathroom and nearly jumped at his own reflection: his eyes were puffy, his nose was red, and his posture was significantly slouched. He tried to stand up straight but only groaned as his body protested the movement. Today was going to be long. 

Pushing through, he swallowed a couple of DayQuils with his morning coffee, stuffed some tissues into his pocket, and gave Jenner a pat on the head before sluggishly making his way to work. 

Arriving at the hospital, he noticed the looks of surprise and concern that people gave him as he passed. He didn’t know why; it was just a little cold. It wasn’t like he had grown a second head. He rolled his eyes and continued towards the seventh floor, ignoring everyone he walked past. 

Finally arriving in the Diagnostics Office, he found himself breathing heavier than normal. As he sat at his desk, he attempted to take a deep breath but instead triggered a coughing fit. He grabbed a nearby Kleenex and coughed hard, his body wracking with the movement. He took a deep breath and coughed one last time before his lungs took pity on him and stopped causing him distress. Ethan groaned and dropped his head into his hands. 

“Ethan? You okay, man?” a voice said.

Ethan looked up to find Tobias looking at him with concern. He hadn’t even heard his old friend come in. He nodded and sighed. “Yeah; just a little under the weather today, is all.”

“If you’re not feeling well, you should probably go home,” Tobias suggested. “There’s no point in pushing yourself to further exhaustion.”

Ethan shook his head. “I’m fine; I just need the DayQuil to kick in.”

Tobias pursed his lips then clicked his tongue. “If you say so; Nat’s not gonna be happy to see you like this though.”

“See who like what?” the aforementioned doctor asked as she walked into the room. Natalie looked to Tobias first then Ethan, her eyes widening. “Woah, are you okay?” She quickly made her way over to Ethan and rested the back of her hand to his forehead. 

He weakly brushed her hand away. “I’m fine, Nat. Just a little under the weather.”

“I’d say more than a little; you look terrible!” She exclaimed. He frowned and she gave him a small smile. “Sorry babe, but it’s true.”

“I also walked in on him having a serious coughing fit a moment ago,” Tobias said. Ethan glared at Tobias but the latter deliberately avoided eye contact with him, choosing to look at his phone instead.

Natalie gently placed her hand on Ethan’s cheek and turned his face towards her so she could look at him. He watched as her eyes scanned his face and knew she was trying to figure out how sick he really was. He both loved and hated how well she knew him sometimes. “You should go home, Ethan.”

“I’m fine,” he argued. “I already took some meds, they just need to kick in.”

She pulled out her stethoscope and pointed it at him threateningly. “Go home or I’ll admit you.”

Tobias coughed back a chuckle and Ethan raised an eyebrow. “You do remember I’m your boss, right?”

She nodded as she put the headset into her ears and placed the cold chestpiece against his chest, making him jump. “You’re my boss, my boyfriend, and now, my patient. Breathe in.”

“Nat, this is ridiculous--” he argued but stopped when she glared at him.

“Breathe. In.” she repeated. Shaking his head in reply, he did as she said and found taking a breath was difficult. He fought the cough he could feel bubbling up but to no avail; thankfully, however, this cough was not nearly as violent as the last one. Nat pulled the chestpiece away and nodded. “Yeah, you’re a mess. You’re going home.” He opened his mouth to protest but she held up her hand. “Don’t argue with me on this. You’re in no state to work, let alone be around other sick patients.” 

She pulled out a prescription pad, scribbled something down then turned to Tobias and handed it to him. “Tobias, can you send this down to the pharmacy so they can get it filled? I’ll pick it up when it’s ready.”

He nodded and took the form. “Sure thing.” He turned to Ethan and smiled sympathetically. “Get better soon, Ethan. Nat’s not as fun to be around when she’s in charge.”

Natalie rolled her eyes and smirked as Tobias made his way out of the office. She turned back to Ethan and softened her gaze as he frowned and sniffled. She caressed his cheek with her hand. “I love you.”

His frown shifted to a small smile. “I love you too.” He sneezed.

“You see why I’m sending you home, right?”

He sighed and nodded. “Yeah; I do. I hate being sick. I always feel so useless.”

“You are still human, my love; and humans get sick from time to time. It’s normal.” She crouched in front of him and took his hands in hers. “I’ll come over after my shift and make you some soup, okay?”

“You don’t have to do that--” he weakly protested.

She shook her head. “I want to; let me take care of you, baby. Please.”

Sighing, he nodded and stood, bringing Natalie up with him. He reached for her but hesitated as he didn’t want to make her ill. She smiled at him and stood on her tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Go home and get some rest. I’ll be there in a couple hours.”

He nodded. Sighing, he left the hospital and made his way home, his head in a fog for most of the journey. After safely arriving home, he changed into some more comfortable clothing, with the intention of getting some work done on his laptop; but the bed looked just so inviting. I guess I could lay down for a few minutes, he thought. Gently, he laid on the bed and closed his eyes. Five minutes is all I need. Within seconds, his body relaxed and he began to emit quiet snores, work completely forgotten.

-------------------------------------------

Several Hours Later

Ethan woke to the muffled sounds of the television and someone shuffling around in his kitchen. He groaned and got out of bed, padding his way to the source of the noise. As he exited the bedroom, he was greeted with the various sights of onion, tomato, and meat that were cooking on the stovetop. Unfortunately, due to his stuffed sinuses, he could barely smell anything but he presumed it was heavenly.

“Hi,” a voice said. He turned his attention to the source and smiled as Natalie approached him, throwing a hand towel over her shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” he replied, truthfully.

She gently brought his forehead to her lips as she judged his temperature. She hummed as she pulled away. “You’re warm.” She turned around and grabbed a small box out of her purse then handed it to him. He looked it over appraisingly, realizing this must be the prescription Nat wrote out earlier. “Take one of these now; it should lower your fever and help you feel better. Go get comfortable, the soup will be ready soon.”

“You didn’t have to do all this, Nat,” he began.

“Of course I did,” she said, cutting him off. She rested a gentle hand on his back and guided him towards the sofa. “Now, relax and get comfy. I’m almost done.”

Ethan did as she said, plopping down on the couch. He opened the prescription box and took the prescribed medication as Jenner trotted over and rested his head in his master’s lap. Ethan patted the pup’s head soothingly, giving him a tired smile. “Has she been giving you orders today, too?” he asked.

“Unlike you, Jenner is a spectacular patient,” Nat answered from the kitchen. “He’s been very good and even earned himself a few treats for being so good.”

“Did you, now?” Ethan mused, looking down at Jenner. The pup, none the wiser to the conversation happening about him, simply wagged his tail and gave his best doggy smile to his owner. Ethan chuckled. “Good dog.”

Taking the remote, he flipped to the Classic Film channel and sunk lower onto the couch. He felt his body begin to shiver and grabbed the nearby throw blanket, covering himself with it. “God, this is awful. I hate being sick.”

“I know, my love,” Nat soothed. “But the meds I gave you should help. They just need time to kick in. And,” she walked over and placed a bowl of hot soup in front of him on the coffee table, “this should help too. It’s an old family recipe of Dani’s. It works wonders.”

“Speaking from experience?” he asked, leaning over, letting the steam from the hot bowl wash over his face. 

Nat nodded. “Yep. Both Dani and I got the flu within a week of each other when we were still living together. She made this soup for us and we both felt better almost immediately. I’m convinced it’s got magic powers.”

Ethan chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it.” He pulled the coffee table a little closer to the couch and smiled at Nat. “Thank you for making this.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, returning his smile. “Now, eat. I’ll be right there.”

Lacking the energy to argue, he did as she said, bringing a spoonful of the hot soup to his lips. Within minutes, Ethan felt the hot liquid warm up his body, which had been starting to feel cold. Nat smiled as she joined him with her own bowl, nodding in approval as he steadily ate. 

Nat filled him in on what he missed at work while they ate, which hadn’t been much, thankfully. Their new patient wouldn’t be admitted for another week so the team had just done some prep and research today but nothing else beyond that. Ethan asked a few questions as Nat explained but otherwise, remained quiet through their conversation. Nat raised an eyebrow, suspicious. “You’re being unusually cooperative. What’s the matter?”

He chuckled and placed his near empty bowl on the coffee table. “Nothing. I’m just feeling a little drained, is all.”

“Mm, I’m not surprised. When you get sick, it hits you like a freight train.”

He frowned. “Thanks.”

Nat chuckled and settled deeper into the couch. She opened her arms and gestured towards herself with her fingers. “C’mere.”

Needing no further invitation, Ethan maneuvered himself into Nat’s embrace, covering them both with the throw blanket he had still been wearing. As he relaxed in her arms, he wondered aloud, “Aren’t you worried about getting sick?”

She hummed. “Nah. But even if I was, it wouldn’t stop me from being here.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “I would take care of you, anytime.”

He looked up at her and smiled. “Thank you, Nat. You’re too good for me.”

“No, I’m not,” she replied, smiling. “We’re just the right amount of good for each other.” She kissed his head. “Can I get you anything else?”

He shook his head, tightening his hold around her midsection. “No. Just you.”

“I’m right here,” Nat reassured. 

“Love you,” Ethan murmured, his eyes fluttering closed.

“I love you too. Now, rest.” She gently leaned over and took the remote from the coffee table.

“Don’t watch the next episode of Bake Off without me,” Ethan said, his voice drowsy.

Nat chuckled. “I wouldn’t dare. When you’re feeling better, we’ll pick up where we left off.” When he didn’t respond, she glanced down to find that Ethan had fallen asleep. Smiling to herself, she turned on an old favorite film of hers and watched, while running her fingers up and down Ethan’s back. 

It would be a few more days before Ethan was back in top shape; but Nat took care of him the entire time. From bringing him food to ensuring he rested instead of working, Nat took better care of Ethan than he had ever done himself when he had been sick in the past. He’d never been so well taken care of before, and it made him all the more grateful to have her in his life. He’d always hoped she’d take over the DT for him one day; and after the way she cared for him, he knew the team would be in the best possible hands. And so would he.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @genevievemd @jamespotterthefirst @paulfwesley @ethansdique @openheartfanfics @perriewinklenerdie @little-flowers-on-heaven @stateofgracious @coffeeheartaddict @liaromancewriter @potionsprefect @mm2305 @gryffindordaughterofathena @actuallybored @writer-ish @queencarb @takeharryandgo @lsvdw-blog @itsjustwinter @chaoticchopshopheart @ohchoices @maurine07 @oldminniemcg @parisa-kh @shanzay44 @uberamsey @izzyourresidentlawyer @adiehardfan @custaroonie @mia143 @a-crepusculo @takemyopenheart @toadfrog26 @quixoticdreamer16 @barbean @headoverheelsforramsey @natureblooms24 @jerzwriter @crazy-loca-blog @dorisz @thegreentwin @cryomyst @kalinahonore @choicesficwriterscreations @rosebudde @trappedinfanfiction @custaroonie​

[oftenderweapons]

Hi!! I need to not forget to leave this idea with a trusted author so I’ve chosen to slide into ur asks w this very nsfw thing: Joon using a dick pump and vixen using a pussy pump. Simultaneously. Then having sex. That is all! I just wanted to share this with someone that could find use of it 😭

Hello, it's officially Joonsday and we're big time celebrating (sorry for the ugly banner I'm on a road trip with the fam) lessgooooooo

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (Vixen)

Wordcount: 3.5k words

Genre: smut? Pwp? Established relationship? Yes.

Warning: 18+ y'all better be adults if you're going to read this.

Trigger warnings: clearly, swearing, dick pump, pussy pump, vibrating cockring (it's becoming quite the thing for these two???) cumplay (he cums on her chest), creampie, unprotected sex (use CONDOMS PLEASE), DDLG (daddy) kink, making out, touch deprivation (? Kinda?), experimenting, mentions of oral, mentions of exhibitionism/voyeurism.

Here's my masterlist and enjoy 💜✨

Beta read by the one and only super patient golden-hearted wife, @joheunsaram

******

It was past nine pm when Namjoon entered the apartment, his eyes immediately focusing on your frame curled up on the sofa, under your chunky knit blanket. He needed to get you a pet.

You loved Moni, but he couldn't have him at his place that often since he was more of his family's dog than his.

He should get you something fluffy. Something that matched your personality. Like a toy poodle. Or a corgi.

No, a corgi wasn't fluffy enough…

He was sure he would find something suitable in a shelter. Maybe a cat? Something to keep you company.

Tutting, he shook his head as his mind wandered, trying to distract him from the panic he had been going through only a couple minutes ago. He reminded himself his current anxiety was due to surprising you with an unexpected gift, so he realised that launching himself into planning another surprise — a permanent one — was maybe not the smartest move.

Kneeling beside you, he touched his lips to your temple. “Hello, Vixen,” he spoke gently, his private voice making your eyes open, your arm reaching out of the blanket to hold him to yourself.

“Hi, baby. Did you eat? Tell me they fed you.”

He smiled. “Yeah. I grabbed dinner with Yoongi in the studio.”

You nodded and nuzzled up closer, kissing his neck sensually. “Wake me up?”

He chuckled. “Needy, baby?”

You nodded and frowned. “I'm getting my period in two days. You know I get needy.”

His knowing smile shifted to a loving one. “I know.” He looked at your face for a couple seconds, just taking in every detail. The fullness of your lips and the slight blush on your cheeks, the way you looked puffy after sleep, so soft and delicate and all his.

Oh so his.

Not falling into your temptation was almost a crime. Especially as you stretched your neck, lips lingering just one millimeter away from his.

“Ask, love.” His voice was gravelly against your face.

You looked away and relaxed your shoulders, not realising you had arched up towards him. In return he chuckled and ran the tip of his nose against your cheek. “You don’t like asking, mh?” His lips were velvety against your cheekbone. “Poor little fox.” You turned just in time for his mouth to meet yours, letting him have your sweetest whimper as his hand cupped the back of your neck, holding you. “I have a question for you, babylove.”

You stopped and backed an inch, looking him in the eye. “What kind of question?”

He sat up straight. “It makes me a bit nervous because this is not how we do it normally and… I feel like I went someplace uncharted without you and I’m a bit disoriented.”

You sat up too, feeling the nerves in his tone as he started talking faster, stuttering over his words a little.

“I… We usually shop together but I wanted to try this and I thought… I mean, we don’t have to do this and we can do this alone, or together, or… Or not do this at all or you can use this while I’m away and you need—”

“Joon,” you interrupted him, a hand on his shoulder as you tried to calm him down. “Hold on a second, darling.”

He shut his mouth and took a deep breath through his nose.

“You were shopping, correct?” you asked, trying to find reason in madness. He nodded. “What did you get? Toys, I assume?”

“Yes,” he replied calmly.

“Okay. Show me and then we can talk this out if you’d like.” You knew Namjoon’s brain tended to go a thousand miles a second, so you tried to limit the damage.

He stood and came back with a large box and scissors, opening the package. “It’s kinda scary at the beginning but… I think the final result is not that bad.”

“If that’s a furry mask I’m gonna scream and not in a good way,” you joked, trying to ease away the tension.

“Come on, we discussed that already. Hard no. No shaming, though.”

“No shaming,” you repeated, watching him open the lid and take another box out. “Oh my god.”

He looked at you, trying to interpret your reaction. “Good? Bad? Maybe?”

“Why would you make it… bigger? How do you even think I can handle bigger?” You stared at the… the thing and tried to wrap your brain around that.

“It’s not about getting bigger, it’s about lasting more.”

“We have cockrings for that!” you exclaimed, almost outraged. If anything perplexed and worried. Was he trying to break you? Send you to the ER? Because you much preferred saving yourself the embarrassment. “You’re gonna break me.”

He nodded and put the box away. “Okay, sorry.” He wasn’t even disappointed. After all he did know you were a tight fit on him and no matter how much he would stretch you, there were high chances of you getting hurt, and he obviously didn’t want that.

“No, no hold on,” you said as you realised your first reaction had been fear. “We can do that. Just not… Let’s say we can use that but the final goal is not penetration.”

Namjoon nodded. “That’s what I was thinking too. Plus, we could use that ring for buffering.”

“Yes,” you agreed. “And that should make you feel like… Like I’m sucking all of you, right?”

Namjoon halted for a second. “I don’t know, but that wouldn’t be the point.” He still remembered that one time you had almost had a breakdown because you couldn’t take more than a couple inches of him in your mouth. Since then, he had set the lowest bar in your sex life: not making you cry because you couldn’t deepthroat him. Somehow he was still traumatised by the memory. “It’s just a matter of giving you multiples, Vixen. Just that, Or fucking you feral, however you prefer to put it.”

You nodded.

“Plus it’s more of a… joined fantasy, actually,” he confessed, blushing and looking down.

So there were more surprises in that box. “Define?”

He took one more box out of the larger one. “It looks scarier than it is. It’s also, sort of… convoluted.”

You stared at the second toy, arching an eyebrow at it. “I don’t like things that keep your hands off me.”

“I know,” he reassured you, immediately touching your knee as a way to comfort you. “I know it, babylove. But this doesn’t mean my hands won’t be touching your body.”

Absentmindedly you nodded. “You want to try those now?”

He tipped his head from side to side in a so-and-so motion. “Only if you want to. We can wait till you get more acquainted with the idea.”

You thought about it for a second. “Those… devices technically mean no foreplay.”

“Well, they do the foreplay while we…” He hadn’t thought that far.

“We’ll just make out,” you said, standing up and grabbing your half of the kit. “Let’s take them out and wash them.”

Namjoon grabbed the other half and followed you. In your bathroom, you took out the toys, quickly scanning the instructions while he threw himself at his new object of interest, grabbing the toy soap and lathering everything in foam. “No reading?”

“It’s pretty easy,” he replied, rubbing everything thoroughly before rinsing and drying the tube. “I’ll read while I wait for you.”

He let the toy dry on the ledge and undressed, by now barely shy about walking around naked as he entered the shower and scrubbed himself clean with quick, brief strokes. In a bunch of minutes, you were sitting on the bed, reading the instructions of his device before he rolled down beside you, a towel around his waist. You were lounging in your panties and one of his shirts, his face already skimming the side of your thigh. “Come down here, miss Fox. Studying won’t get you straight As in this one.”

You chuckled and grabbed some lube. “Will you allow me the honour?”

Namjoon licked his lip and undid his towel, arching an eyebrow as he realised he already had a semi.

“Is it for the toy or the ‘fucking the class’s best student’ fantasy?” you teased him, pouring some cold lubricant on him in revenge.

“It’s all about having the sexiest girlfriend in the universe,” he flattered you, his hand squeezing your ass as you straddled him and grabbed the toy.

“You know you’re crazy for this, right?”

He nodded. “That makes two of us since you’re playing along.”

“Suck your dick,” you replied, saccharine sweet as you placed his cock into the plastic tube of the penis pump.

“Not when you’re so much better at that,” he cooed back, hissing a little once you pressed the base against his pelvis excessively hard — call it revenge. You studied the mechanism for starting to increase the pressure inside the cylinder. “Okay, fuck, it’s hot. I love the lube. Slippery.”

You appreciated the feedback. “Tighter?”

“Nah, hold on. We can tighten it later.” He bit his lip. “It’s very good. But… A bit cold.”

You stretched to his face and pushed his hair back. “I’ll warm it up next time. Sorry baby.” You kissed his lips, pampering him a little. He had looked so stressed earlier. And so eager too. He had to be both worried and excited about this. “My big bear,” you murmured, watching him melt for you. After all he was nothing but a tough looking boy with a gooey heart. “You were so nervous about this, huh?”

He nodded and caught your hand, holding it in his. “I love you,” he said with his million dollar smile, his eyes dreamy, his dimple shining on his face.

“I love you too, Joonie bear,” you murmured at him, your affection causing him to slip into the most peaceful of states. Yes, he felt like his dick was being squeezed and sucked, but he mostly felt entirely enamoured with you.

“Please, can you wear the toy too?”

You smiled and nodded. “Would you like to help?”

He stretched to kiss you again. He wanted more kisses. It had been so long since the two of you just made out and he missed that sometimes, just the intimacy of laying side by side, making out without things necessarily heating up. Of course he also loved when you got on top of him mid-session and ground on his thigh until you crumbled against his shoulder.

He loved even more when your hand would graze his lower belly before tracing his erection through his trousers, cupping him and squeezing him until he needed your hand on his length.

But the idea of laying side by side and focusing solely on your face was something too inviting for that night.

He sat up, a bit uncomfortable at the thing between his legs. “This makes it kinda hard to move,” he realised before finding your pvc cup. “Get comfy, my love,” he murmured before kissing your knee, crawling lower. Your legs stayed closed as you placed your feet on his thighs before getting rid of your shirt, letting him stare at the hardened peaks of your breasts. “You're so fucking gorgeous,” he murmured, his hands tracing the outside of your thighs, his frame shifting and stretching until he could reach for your chest, his thumbs feeling your pebbled nipples.

That was before you put the sole of your foot around his neck, pushing him back a little.

He was mesmerised by the gesture, feeling his brain short circuit as arousal hit him.

Now that he was far enough, you lifted your legs and quickly got rid of your panties, Namjoon barely resisting the need to press his whole face against your folds.

“Feisty,” he murmured, placing the toy on you, checking for your reaction. “Does it fit right?”

You nodded. “I'm tiny, it takes a bit more than it should but that's okay as long as it doesn't come off.”

He started pumping some pressure, still looking at your face to spot any discomfort.

“I think that's tight enough for now.”

He nodded and laid down beside you. “You wanna watch porn?”

You thought about it for a second. “Nah.” You rolled to the side, only to feel the toy limit your comfort.

“Maybe a pillow will help?” he mused, passing it to you.

“It feels strange. Static. Dry… Aseptic.”

He nodded. “Not a great feeling.” He also placed a pillow between his knees before cupping the back of your head and scooting closer to you. “Hi,” he whispered, breaking into a large smile.

“Hi,” you whispered back, joining your lips.

You didn't know how long you kissed, only that his hands were everywhere, rubbing your back, on your ass, pulling you closer, then pushing you back a little as he tried to massage your breasts, next tightening the pressure on your pussy pump.

“This good?” he asked, his lips already kissing the sweet spot below your ear. It made you purr and try to throw your leg over his, realising a minute too late that you couldn’t grind on him.

You made a disappointed little sound, Namjoon’s hands cupping your face and smoothening the frown on your brow with his thumbs. “It’s okay, little fox. Focus on me, babylove.”

With the most vulnerable expression, you brushed your lips to his as the tip of your nose played with his, his face glowing with a sudden bright smile before he drew a line of tiny smooches from your forehead to your chin. “I know, baby.”

“I don’t like this,” you whined, hiding your face into his neck. “I can’t feel you.”

He held you closer. “Would you like to take it off?” His hands were skimming every inch of your naked skin, soothing you.

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” you mewled weakly, feeling ashamed of the statement.

“You’re not disappointing me, ____. We’re doing this to know if we like it, my angel.” He caressed your hair.

“I can do this, I just need to get used to the lack of touching.”

“I know it’s a delicate topic for you. You can take it off and grind on me if you want,” he reassured you.

You found his pump mechanism and asked, “Do you want it tighter?”

He hummed and nodded.

You didn’t last much longer after that, mostly because Namjoon knew he was tiptoeing around a soft limit of yours and he could feel you were already vulnerable. He knew a couple tears would come after your orgasm, your body too emotionally challenged for you not to release all the tension in crying.

“Let’s take this off,” he whispered into your ear, the pressure on him too tight, almost unbearable after fifteen minutes with the pump on, three of which on the highest setting. He would make a mess of you. He knew it already. “I'm gonna cum a lot,” he said with a half-embarrassed chuckle.

“Is that an issue?” you mused, blocking his hand as he tried to remove your pump. “I… I want you to cum on me.” It was easier to say after all this time. He was almost used to it. The following request however was unusual. “On my chest.”

He nodded. “Are you sure?”

“I want you to distract me. I want to keep the toy, just distract me from it.” You bat your lashes at him. “Please.”

In his mind, he had opposed your idea for maybe half a second. “Okay. But I want you to use your safeword if need be.”

After he ascertained you remembered it, he waited for your approval on him straddling your waist, your hands immediately touching him, starting from the base and pulling to the tip, a thick blob of precum helping you as both your palms started massaging him.

“You’re so damn good at this,” he praised you. “You’re such a good girl to me.”

You glowed at the compliment, starting to stroke him more powerfully. “Thank you, daddy.”

“You’re welcome, little one,” he replied sweetly before a grunt left his lips, his body waving a little before he propped himself up with one hand. “If you keep it up, I’ll be covering your tits in cum in seconds, Vixen.”

“Isn’t that our goal?” you asked with faux naivety, noticing the way he was starting to swell.

While you angled his cock downwards, to your stomach, he placed a hand under your jaw. He wouldn’t want your face to get accidentally dirty. That was the last conscious act he did before he felt his balls tighten a bit more than earlier, a strong spurt of his semen landing on your neck, the second one between your breasts, and then a third on your left breast, your nipple peaked and glazed in his cum as he slowly came down from an unstoppable high.

“Thank you, daddy,” you said again, truly thankful for the vision of him braced over you, completely ecstatic, head thrown back as he roared in pleasure, his throat beautifully exposed.

Too bad you couldn’t put your mouth on it.

It took him a full minute to come back to reality, and when he did, he inevitably noticed that he was still hard and you were still unbelievably horny right below him.

“Joon?” you called.

“Yes, Vixen?”

“Do you think you can slip your cock inside me and make me cum with a vibrator on my clit?” Your request was posed curtly, efficiently, almost as if you were asking him how a telescope works.

He rose from his half slumber at that. “Sure about the vibrator?”

You nodded. “The mild one, you know. The one from your ring.”

He thought about it for a millisecond before kissing your forehead. “You’re a blessing”. He thought it even more as a cascade of chuckles left your mouth. He took off your pump, a tiny bit distracted by the need to suck on your wet nipple, to draw a hickey where your neck had been stained by his orgasm. Next he slipped in, slowly, whimpering at the way your cunt was soaked and puffy and full. “You feel so fucking incredible?”

“Different from usual?” you wondered, a tiny gasp leaving your mouth as he settled.

“Just very sensitive. Like round three at six in the morning,” he explained, you humming in understanding.

“It feels a bit like that actually, now that I think of it.” You laid back while he pressed the tip of the vibrator to your chest, collecting some slickness before bringing the toy to your clit and switching it on.

Your reaction was immediate. “I am sensitive,” you exclaimed before squealing, your inner walls contracting and Namjoon shifting a little. It was the combo of fullness and clitoral stimulation that made you come apart in three minutes. And then again, five minutes later.

Namjoon was shocked. After the second orgasm, he just pulled out and wore the ring, fucking you in earnest. Your usually difficult third high rolled around like nothing, Namjoon reaching his climax together with you.

He thought he was done but apparently not yet, his back on the mattress while you ground on him, taking a pause from the vibrations before placing them on the highest setting and riding him, sliding back and forth. You knew he preferred it when you bounced, but his hands led you on a rolling motion until you collapsed forward, too exhausted to cry out, just shivering in his arms, trembling as your muscles succumbed in fatigue.

“Goodness,” you exhaled once all toys were out of the picture, your body laying on top of Namjoon’s while you slipped his cock back inside you, enjoying the easy connection coming from the gesture.

“What a night,” he agreed. You were both sticky and needed a shower, but first he needed to make sure you were okay emotionally. And cockwarming was specifically what you both needed. “How are you?”

“Tired,” you replied straight away. “Very fucking in love with you.”

“Language,” he reminded you before holding you closer. The shivering wasn’t stopping.

“Let’s take a bath, mh? You’re shivering. You need to relax.” He rubbed your back energetically before massaging your thighs. “You did amazing, babylove.” He cuddled you some more, staying quiet for a minute before asking, “Do you still not like the toys?”

You shrugged. “Can we talk about that later? I’m not ready yet,” you replied, still too biased about the experience to give judgement.

He nodded. “Sure thing, little fox. Come on, to the bathroom.”

“To the bathroom,” you agreed with a yawn.

Namjoon smiled. He loved aftercare baths. But he loved you more.

[vicious-vixxxen]

Kirishima x Male!Reader: First ‘I Love You’

I’m back on my Kirishima shit, so just bare with me- he really is one of my fav bois, and he’s just so sweet, can you even blame me? Though I’m almost finished with season 4 finally, and Tamaki is quickly closing in as the bestest sweet boi ;)  But yes, enjoy this little blurb, as I continue working on actual prompt fills- I just keep getting distracted, don’t @ Me  Enjoy <3  Kirishima x Male!Reader

Saturday nights in the dorms usually went one of two ways. Most of, if not all of class 1A were walking corpses, after accepting an extra day of training, not often offered by Aizawa in the first place: which is why they all usually accepted. Though that usually meant back at the dorms by two, and once everyone was showered, given a chance to finally catch their breath, and come together to make dinner, it was pushing six, and by then everyone was taking a note out of Bakugou’s book and crashing early. Some not even making it back to their rooms- sprawling out across the common area, and groggily rising too early the next morning, stiff necked and a little grumpy. /But/, if classes let out normally on Friday, and everyone was in bed at a reasonable enough time, Saturday’s were the absolute SHIT. A group breakfast to start, always. Bakugou aggressively whipping together a horde of spicy cinnamon french toast, and bacon, everyone stuffing their faces, discussing the previous week’s accomplishments. Areas in need of improvement, etcetera. Though without the added pressure of being in the midst of classes, and homework. They could reflect calmly, gather and offer tips, all smiles and jokes and general good naturedness. After breakfast, everyone split off to get ready for the day. Keeping the dorm stocked was a responsibility up to you all, which meant splitting the allotted weekly allowance the class was given, and separating into groups to get all the shopping for the coming week done. Groceries, cleaning supplies, toiletries, /unmentionables/. You all worked as a group, and allowing for a few stray hours of wandering, and personal shopping, visiting with family, you’d all be back around five. With the groceries put away, all errands run, the dorm dissolved into pure chaos. Different types of music blaring from individual rooms- dance dance revolution set up in the common room, the loudest of them all- all the dorm room doors open, save for Tokoyami’s, of course- and passing by any would give you a curious glimpse into the comfortable life the occupants had taken up there. “Wanna help me...ya know?” Kiri whispered into your ear, standing behind the sofa, bent down to nuzzle your temple, and speak. Blushing lightly, and giving you a sharp, lopsided grin as you broke your gaze from Denki’s...bold choice in dance movements against Mina. Noting Kirishima’s gaze moving up and down, before he jerked his head back in the direction of his room. Oh. Guess it was time for a touch up, huh?

Grin to match, you nodded, taking Kiri’s hand when he offered it, and allowing him to tug you up and over the sofa, nearly tripping over each other in your haste to get back to his room. Thirty minutes later, with a look of concentration on your face, you gently applied hair dye to the other boy’s roots. Hips swaying left and right, as Kirishima tapped his feet, and played air drums dramatically- making it difficult, but not impossible for you to get at all his roots. This was routine at this point. Ever since the two of you had started dating the year before, Kirishima was quick to let you in on his hair care secrets. It was only a matter of time before you caught him with a little bit of black peeking through, so rip the bandaid off all at once, Kirishima thought. It really was adorable how concerned he’d been over it. Muttering like Midoriya, before standing tall and announcing you’d have to love him for his box dye, or not at all! And here you were. Touching up his roots for maybe the hundredth time? If he needed any more clarification. The moron. But he was your moron. Getting more aggressive in his drumming, no doubt trying to mimic Bakugou in his mind, the hopeless goof. You smiled, despite yourself, as the song switched over, and you tilted Kirishima’s head back to get at the front you’d sectioned off. Mouthing the remix down at your boyfriend, and closing your eyes briefly as the beat pumped, and your body felt relaxed enough to collapse. But in a totally cool way, not like, a narcoleptic way. You hoped. ‘I will always love you,” you breathed in time, voice barely audible over the array of noises in, and outside of the dorm, but Kirishima watched, enraptured, mouth slightly agape as he read your lips. ’-I’ll love you forever’ you continued. Opening your eyes again, and staring down at Kiri’s. Breath hitching as you took in his pure, unadulterated admiration. And…. “Mmph!” Kirishima hummed suddenly, against your lips, as you’d leaned down to kiss him- both of you giggling against each other’s lips afterwards, as you moved around him. Careful of your gloved hands, and the brush of dye in hand, as you straddled the boys lap, and scooted forward till you were comfortable. Kirishima’s hands instinctively coming to rest on your waist. Palms sliding up and around to rub your back, as you continued applying dye top his hair. The two of you were quiet after, taking in the sounds of the dorms, and feeling the music blaring through Kirishima’s radio. Until you’d finished applying the dye, finally, and set your tools aside. Peeling off your gloves, and wiggling your sweaty fingers in Kiri’s face. Laughing suddenly as he nipped at them with sharp teeth. “That felt like a threat,” You teased, wrinkling your nose cutely at your boyfriend- Kirishima, ever the fan of the expression, beaming up at you, and kissing at your collarbone, where your shirt had ridden down. “That’s me, the boyfriend eater. Hide your boyfriends or i’ll gobble em up, all manly like”, Kiri boasted, and you couldn’t help but snort- having to restrain yourself from running your hands through his hair. For now. “We both know you’re tasty enough,” Kirishima added, winking at you, and you rolled your eyes, smacking the boys chest gently, before wrapping your arms carefully around his neck, and shifting back and forth in his lap to the new rhythm from the radio. At some point though, as you stared down at Kirishima- matching grins on your faces, as Kiri raised a hand to boop at your nose, and your lips, something hot, and happy ran through you. A sudden realization, as you stared into those gorgeous red pools he called eyes. It seared through you, racing down your spine, and jolting you up in your boyfriend's lap so suddenly, he paused- always on red alert, brows raised in question. It had never been something either of you had worried about saying- had never even truly discussed it. You cared about each other deeply, your connection since beginning your journeys at UA unprecedented. You’d watched each other grow, been there for the ride. Helped each other. Loved each other. Because you did love Kirishima. And he knew that...but not until just then, the scent of dye clinging to the air, did you realize you were, in fact, in love with him. You were in love with Kirishima. Wow. Your face was unreadable for a few long moments, before you huffed- almost in disbelief- and kissed at Kiri’s questioning thumb, now brushing along your jaw, and lips. “What? Kirishima asked finally, unable to take the silence. “Just realizing how absolutely, unequivocally in love I am with you. Kinda jarring,” You admitted, candid as ever, noting the way Kirishima froze beneath you. Mouth agape, and eyes wide. “Was that lame?” You asked as an afterthought, lips slowly pulling into a grin as Kirishima opened and closed his mouth several times, before his hands found their way up and around your jaw. Hesitating again, just a moment, as through the process what he;d just heard once more- before smashing your lips together. Heat, and passion, and love, all pouring into that one intimate gesture, and fuck it. Your hands carded through the sticky red dye clinging to the boy's roots, as you kissed back. Kissing until you absolutely couldn’t breathe anymore, and breaking away to pant, though only centimeters away from each other’s mouths. Foreheads pressed together, red dye smearing between the two of them, completely forgotten. “I love you too,” Kirishima sighed, hugging you close, and peppering your face with kisses. “So, so much. Love you so much, holy- I love you? Haha! I love you! I love you!” He shouted, bringing a deep blush to your cheeks, almost as red as your forehead now was as you wondered idly if anyone could hear him. Until you realized, you didn’t give one shit if they did. “I love you too! Again!” You shouted back, bursting into a fit of laughter with Kirishima, as you kissed again. And again, and again, and again.