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adieutristana · 2 months ago

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Helloooo can you do a Jinx x femreader where they were dying Isha’s hair? The reader’s kinda just watching everything unfold and realising how much she loves Jinx when she sees her around Isha

of course! thank you for requesting :) i had a lot of fun writing this, honestly needed this after the events of act 3

summary: scenario of fem! reader watching jinx with isha.

characters included: jinx (romantic), isha (platonic/familial)

tags/warnings: fluff, mother/mother/daughter dynamic, spoilers for arcane s2 (act ii specifically).

men dni.

"hey, stop moving!" jinx playfully scolded isha, earning a giggle from the little girl. she shook her head, giving a wide smile to your girlfriend. "come on, i can't do this if you don't stay still."

jinx already has isha in a makeshift, miniature version of her own outfit which she employed your help to make. despite all of jinx's mechanical expertise, she somehow can't sew to save her life. just a few minutes prior, she used various shades of eyeshadow to draw on her tattoos. all the while, she strategically turned isha away from the mirror. the reveal had to be a surprise.

"pass me the hair dye, toots, would ya?" jinx asked, shooting a glance at you over her shoulder. you grabbed the bottle from a box of (stolen) cosmetics, passing it to her. she quickly snatched it up, and shot you a toothy grin as a silent thanks. she sat isha down in a paint-covered bathtub, jinx settling down directly behind her.

she got to work with isha's hair, running a brush through it quickly, then dipping a frayed paintbrush into the bottle to slather blue dye on isha's hair. isha jumped a bit at the cold sensation at first, but quickly relaxed. "yeah.. feels weird, i bet. i'll be done soon, 'kay?" jinx soothed, her hands moving swiftly in the girl's hair. even with a brush, she managed to get blue dye on her hands while making sure each of the strands were evenly coated.

all the while, you sat cross-legged on the floor besides the box of assorted items, watching the spectacle unfold in front of you. you had never seen jinx be so.. gentle with someone aside from yourself. so playful, so free of inhibitions or anxiety. it was endearing, truly.

you weren’t just seeing jinx, you were seeing powder shining through.

you couldn’t help but smile, jinx seemingly oblivious to you at present. she finished coating isha’s hair with dye, and you chuckled to yourself at the sight of isha’s usually fluffy hair suddenly so flat. it was cute. jinx looked over at you quickly, and beamed. she looked so happy.

god, you loved her. this could be something, right here. you, jinx, and isha. a family of sorts.

“i’ll be done soon, babe, okay?”

“okay, jinx. do you want help?”

“hmm…” jinx replied, her nose crinkling and putting her dye-stained hands on her hips. she wracked her brain for a second, pursing her lips, clearly wanting to involve you in this more than you already were. “you can dry her hair off, and help me with the big reveal!” she smiled.

you nodded, giving a mock-salute, much to jinx’s amusement. “oh, cut that out.” she playfully rolled her eyes. jinx gently guided isha out of the bathtub, and instructed her to tilt her head back, so that she could rinse her hair. the water ran blue, the little girl’s eyes slipping shut and a slow exhale escaping her.

you grabbed a towel from a makeshift shelf, and plopped it onto isha’s head. she squealed, suddenly unable to see, and giggled as you hastily dried her hair off. “all dry soon, kid. you’ve got some thick hair!” you observed. isha either didn’t hear you, or didn’t know what that meant. jinx just stood behind the two of you, trying to hold in her laughter. jinx crouched down beside you to braid the girl’s hair, her fingers still moving while she pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek. oh, jinx.

you lead isha to jinx’s mirror by her shoulders, jinx’s slender fingers covering her eyes. when you got to a stool, you lightly grabbed isha by her sides and lifted her, setting her down in front of the mirror. all the while, jinx’s hands were still covering her eyes, giggling.

jinx looked over at you, seemingly waiting for the okay to reveal isha’s makeover. you put your hands atop jinx’s, both obscuring isha’s vision even more. jinx’s hands were cold and calloused, but there wasn’t a feeling you loved more than those hands.

she quirked an eyebrow, those big, pink eyes that you loved so much looking straight at you, and you nodded. “you ready, kid?” you asked, and isha began frantically nodding. she was practically bursting at the seams with excitement.

you and your girlfriend both lifted your hands. “ta-da!” jinx exclaimed, smiling ear-to-ear. the pure surprise and wonder on isha’s face was incredible, examining herself in the shattered glass, toying with the small braids jinx had given her. isha looked back at you, trying to contain her joy.

“you’re lucky. i didn’t get to much of this with my older sis,” jinx began, looking down at the girl imitating her. pretending to shoot her zapper, making little ‘pew’ noises. it was adorable, and your heart swelled in your chest at the sight. “she was always… punching stuff.” her dark lips pursed, and you stepped forward to gently grasp jinx’s hand, before ruffling isha’s now-blue hair.

“no, but you still turned out pretty cool, love.” you remarked, much to jinx’s amusement. she shot you a little smile, lovingly squeezing your hand. “you flatter me.” she said, before closing the gap between the two of you.

pressing a soft, warm kiss to your lips, now intertwining your fingers. it was peaceful. it was sweet. you loved her-

and you heard isha groan in disgust to the side of you, breaking away to see the girl covering her eyes. jinx just giggled, gave your hand a final squeeze, and joked, “kissing, gross! i know, right?”

#arcane x reader #arcane x you #jinx x reader #reader insert #sapphic

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dwedgecreations · 2 years ago

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sturnioz · 3 months ago

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hear me out…. one of fratboy!chris’ ex fwbs runs into him and shy!reader at a party and she makes it very clear she misses sex with him

how are they both reacting?

you can't help but stare at her in awe. she is gorgeous.

cherry. that's her name — or rather, her nickname. all thanks to her vibrant red hair and big breasts that fit so perfectly in her low-cut dress.

you know you probably look a bit silly, standing beside chris in the crowded kitchen, your mouth agape and eyes sparkling as you watch how she carries herself with an intoxicating confidence.

her red lips curl into a sultry smile as she gazes at chris, her perfectly applied fake lashes fluttering as she speaks to him. you watch, mesmerised, as she leans in closer, placing a hand on chris' shoulder, her fingers lingering just a moment too longer as she whispers something in his ear. he nods, reaching into his pocket to grab whatever she asked for, and the sight suddenly twists your stomach into knots.

when her eyes finally dart toward you, your heart races. you straighten your back instinctively and offer her a polite smile as she tilts her head slightly, seemingly sizing you up.

"hi," she greets, her tone short and blunt, but you barely register it.

"hello." you kindly introduce yourself, hastily adding your name at the end, hoping to make a good impression. "you're really pretty."

"thanks." her tone is blunt again, and while the straightforwardness of her reply should sting, it barely registers in your mind; you're too consumed by her beauty, trying to comprehend how someone so stunning could be standing right in front of you.

"how do you know chris?" you ask, trying your best to keep the conversation flowing despite your social awkwardness.

"we used to fuck." the way she says it makes you blink, recoiling slightly. there's a sharpness in her tone that leaves you feeling unsettled, and a frown threatens to break across your lips — not because you're surprised by what she said, you're fully aware of how many people chris had slept with before you.

it's the way in which she delivers the information that feels off, leaving a strange feeling within you that you can't quite pinpoint.

"that's... that's cool, yeah," you murmur awkwardly, your admiration rapidly overshadowed by an uncomfortable tension. the intensity of her gaze makes you feel small, and you instinctively shuffle closer to chris' side, as if you're seeking out help or comfort.

chris remains silent, completely unfazed as he pulls a baggy filled with pink, heart-shaped pills from his pocket and hands them to cherry, who immediately breaks into a smile, her fingers lingering in his grasp just a moment too long.

"you're the best, as always," cherry says, her voice going back to that sultry tone as she leans in closer, her gaze fixed on chris. "am i still allowed to pay for this a different way or...?"

"nah, pills went up a lot since last time. s'gonna cost you," chris says as he holds out his hand with a nonchalant grin. "pay up."

"come on.. you know money isn't always the better payment." her tone is playful now, yet there's an underlying intensity that makes your stomach churn, and you swallow thickly, unsure on how to react with seeing this happen right in front of your eyes.

"i need the money." chris doesn't back down, his expression now firm as he still holds out his hand. cherry hesitates, her jaw tightening, the playful glint in her eye momentarily dimming as she reaches into her purse, retrieving a handful of cash and slamming a few hefty dollar bills into his palm.

your eyes wide at the amount you see — more than you originally expected for just a few miniature pills, and you're unable to contain your curiosity as you accidentally blurt out, "how much are the pills?"

"why?" chris snaps back his usual response when you ask about these things. he rolls up the bills and shoves them into his pocket with practiced ease, his eyes narrowing as he stares at you. "don't get any funny ideas, kid, or i swear��"

"s'just a lot of money..." you speak in awe, your gaze darting from the cash in his pocket to his eyes, searching for an understanding. "that's, like, a lot."

chris blinks, the corner of his lips twitching upward ever so slightly at your expression. "well, yeah.. its fuckin' drugs."

"i used to pay for it a different way, right?" cherry chimes in, her voice smooth and enticing. to be honest, you did forget for a brief moment that she was still here with you, and your head turns towards her, but her focused is locked on chris. "i still should, to be honest — you always liked it that way."

"yeah, i did," chris hums in agreement, and you shift uncomfortably beside him, chewing on your bottom lip as a wave of anxiety washes over you.

"do you still have those blue ones we used to take together?" she asks him, but her focus now shifts to you. "we used to get high together all the time, and the way he would move his hips when we fucked? it was something else."

you catch a glimpse of the smug, proud grin on chris' face from the corner of your eye, and a rush of discomfort floods your system, twisting your insides. the feelings bubbling up inside you are confusing, leaving your head spinning as if you've had three beers too many.

"i don't have that shit anymore, wasn't doin' good." chris confesses, pulling out a joint and fishing for his lighter, his nonchalance only making it worse for you.

"you still have my number right?" cherry asks, her voice low and inviting. "if you start selling it again, you should give me a call.. you know i'll be there."

as chris strikes the lighter, the flame flickers to life, igniting his joint as he looks at cherry — holding her gaze for a moment longer than necessary as he takes a hit, holding it in his lungs before releasing the smoke in a slow, deliberate exhale.

"yeah, a'ight. i will." he drawls, and your heart races as you watch cherry smirk at him, a look of satisfaction spreading across her face before she gracefully walks off, her hips swaying as she disappears into the crowd.

you swallow hard again, glancing up at chris, who's still staring in the direction cherry left as he takes another hit. you want to ask him what that was all about, to try for answers, but the words catch in your throat. it's not your place to question him, yet the urge to understand still lingers.

but, to your surprise, chris lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he pulls out his phone. "m'gonna run her money so fuckin' bad," he hums, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes flick to you. "she's not gonna know what hit her, kid."

#ᯓ꒰asks꒱#ᯓ꒰anon꒱#☆ fratboy!chris #☆ shy!reader #꒰ fratboy!chris x shy!reader prompt ꒱

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razrbladekiss · 3 months ago

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MAPLE HAZEL | Joel Miller — Part Two

SUMMARY: another day, another visit to joel’s little coffee shop. he’s as miserable as ever, and you’re probably the only person brave enough to want to spend time with joel outside of his work.

PAIRING: no outbreak!joel miller x afab!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.5k , i’m afraid this is v. short. </3

WARNINGS: fluff. angst. our luke danes-y joel is having a hard time trying to mentally confront his feelings. you’re just as annoying and oblivious to it all as always. mentions of food consumption. reader refers to her parents verrrrrry brief. mentions of reader’s hair blowing into her face, but otherwise nothing to note.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Joel’s back is flush to the counter when you amble through the door this morning, hair strewn across your face, strands set into sticky peach gloss. A few strong gusts of wind—and a stupid confidence in your locks to stay in place—has led you into this precarious position.

Typical. On a morning where you’d like to feel good about yourself, you’re suddenly left feeling like hot garbage.

“Coffee. Now.” Guttural and bone-tired, you hurl at him. But he doesn’t move. His eyes affixed to the chalkboard above the strategically placed syrup station, arms folded over. You’re lucky if he’s even heard you for his attention is wholly deployed to the new menu that he’s spent the better part of thirty minutes creating.

You trudge—cold and dishevelled—through the cafe, feeling eyes on your back. The woman whose face, outfit, and attitude is always put together, is currently struggling through her morning no thanks to the glorious October weather. And the fact that last night’s date went to absolute shit is no help to you today, either.

“Joel.” Exhausted from the day already—despite it barely pushing eight twenty—you squeak. He grunts in response, pointing to the coffee pot that’d just finished brewing as he awaited your inevitable appearance at his door.

Still, he doesn’t move. So you take it upon yourself to shift from one side of the counter, to the other—dropping your purse on it as you do so. It’s weird, being here. Being in Joel’s territory. It gives you a random power trip, more than anything.

But that’s short lived when you realize that your favorite pink polka-dot mug is too high on the shelf—and Miller is too enamoured with whatever it is that he’s doing—so you settle for the less appealing yellow butterfly one, and begin to pour in the liquid that’s definitely comparable to black tar heroin.

You take a swig, before you’re traipsing away from the carafe that you’ve been so gratefully acquainted with.

“I’m so over today already.” You moan, walking over to your seat. You’d have liked to have been sipping on a fresh maple hazel latte today, but you’ll take what you can get so long as you’re not having to actually make it yourself.

You lean over the counter—zoning in on the miniature cake-case—and lift one of those beautifully round cinnamon rolls. You take a bite, and all seems to be right in the world. Aside from the man whose bun you’ve just stolen.

“Joel, are you even lucid right now?”

“I am.” He mumbles, wondering whether the specials should be placed before or after the main menu. It’s a predicament he didn’t think he’d be faced with at this time on a Friday morning. But here he is.

“Whatcha doin’?” A little bit intrigued—because Joel has never struck you as a perfectionist—you ask. He doesn’t respond straight away, and you don’t mind because you’re raking your fingers through tangled strands, wondering why you never carry a hairbrush with you anymore. You’re also munching on your illegal cinnamon roll.

“Just tryin’ to make this stupid place look a little better.” He exhales a deep, exaggerated breath. Joel’s line of sight meets yours when he swivels around, a wonky smile pulling at your lips and a sheen of sticky buttercream icing twinkling beneath yellow spotlights.

He takes you all in. The black dress that you’re donning, your favorite double-breasted woolen coat—that you pull out of your wardrobe each fall—the collection of bracelets decorating your wrists. You’re a marvel, despite feeling less than adequate. A different kind of beauty.

Joel bites back any feelings, and blinks at you.

“Did you just take that cinnamon roll without paying?”

You nod, swallowing down the last mouthful, followed by a long sip of coffee. “I did. And I’d do it again.”

Yeah. He thought as much.

“The specials board looks good.” Striving to change the subject, you tell him. You look up at it, impressed by his handwriting and ability to draw little pumpkins and maple leaves. It’s sweet. “Why’d you change it?”

He glances at it with you, noticing too many imperfections. He sighs.

“Was boring me, the old one. But now…”

“Now this one isn’t up to scratch either?” You pose, setting your lips into a straight line. “But I think it looks great. And I come in here every single day, so I think that I’m qualified to say that.”

Joel chuckles. He supposes that you’re right. He also supposes that you need another refill.

“How’d last night go?” Almost as if he doesn’t want to know the answer, he asks. All the while pouring enough coffee into the mug to drown a small town. “Was Costco guy a hit?”

You groan. Dramatically. Joel grimaces.

“I take that to mean no, he wasn’t.”

Wordlessly, you nod. You take a long, drawn out pull of your coffee. Again. And Joel checks you out. Again.

The apples of your cheeks appear to be slightly more subdued, now. No longer blazing red. And your smile—despite faltering at the mention of your date—is as bright, and toothy as ever.

She’s so beautiful.

I wonder whether or not he was a jerkoff.

Soft spoken, Joel asks about Marcus for the last time when you swirl the remnants of coffee about in the mug. He’s curious. Maybe a bit too much.

“Ugh, I don’t even know what to say.” Slightly depressed—completely unlike you—you start. “It was so crappy, Joel. I had high hopes, but he was just so…eh.”

“Eh?”

“Yeah. Eh.”

“Meaning?”

“Boring. Irritating. A literal life-sucking, soul-destroying, personality vacuum.” Blunt, you tell him. “I’d rather sit and watch an entire room of paint dry, than have to spend another waking minute listening to him ramble on about his vapid life.”

Plump lips contort—against his better judgement—into a little smirk. Satisfied, perhaps. Content with the fact that your date—the one that you unintentionally rubbed into his face—went so awfully bad, you don’t even want to talk about him.

Very, very satisfied.

“But my lunch with Maria was great.” Starting to smile again, you explain. “She told me that she and Tommy are heading to Cancun next summer. And that they’re hoping to start trying for a baby—“

Joel grimaces. He hates this.

So. Much.

“Come on, it’ll be cute. Uncle Joel.”

He stares at you, a few loose curls poking out from above the backstrap of his hat makes it almost impossible to take him seriously.

“I’d rather not think about my brother and his wife trying for a baby.”

Your eyes roll. “Grow up, you prude.”

Joel’s hands fuse to his hips, a light sheen of sweat coating the skin of his forehead. He can’t tell if it’s because he’s hot, or starting to get annoyed.

“How is that me being a prude? I just don’t wanna think ‘bout my brother having—“

“Enough.” Warning—though fighting a giggle—you say. “I can’t believe that when I say that you’re brother is trying for a baby, you automatically envision Tommy having sex. That is not normal.”

He supposes that you’re right, but still. The mental image haunts him.

Maybe it’s just a girl thing, to think of that so positively. Like it’s something to share with the entire world. But to him—a guy—it’s the most inconceivable thing.

Perhaps it is a little bit prudish.

“Moving swiftly on…” Hands placed gently against the newspaper left at the spot to your right, you make eye contact with him again. “Maria said she’d cover tomorrow night.”

Joel says your name, letting his head tilt back a little bit. He seems annoyed at you for going behind his back like this. You can’t find it inside yourself to care, though.

“She said she’ll be happy to. ‘Cus you never go out, and have no friends, and no social life, and—“

“I get it.” His baritone is low as he growls. It’s almost primal. It’s actually a little bit seductive, you feel.

Despite being handsome—almost painfully so—you’ve never thought about him like that. It’s never once crossed your mind to harbor these feelings about your friend, but that has completely unintentionally awakened something inside of your already chaotic—much too busy—brain. And your vagina.

You feel very Bridget Jones-y, now. In a strange position, but wholly comfortable with the fact that you’re stuck here. In fact, you don’t hate the thought of pushing some more.

“And considering that you never get laid, neither, I said that I’ll be happy to help out.”

Joel’s dick twitches. His face falls.

“With setting you up, of course.” You finish, watching fifty different emotions flit over his hardened features. One of which being complete unadultered fury.

Fury for the fact that, maybe, you’ve teased a little too close to home. and getting to grips with being single stings. Or fury because he wants you, and you’re trying to push him onto another body.

Regardless, Joel looks pissed.

And so, with that, you take the morning paper, and stuff it into your little purse. He watches intently, and the little adjustment to your panties through your dress absolutely does not go unnoticed as you stand to attention beside the barstool.

Your coat is being shrugged on in a heartbeat.

“I’ve gotta shoot. My parents are coming to stay with me Monday for a few nights, and I needa stock up on tea leaves, fresh linens, and enough red wine to get so drunk that perhaps I’ll be able to tolerate an hour with my mother.”

Joel forces a laugh.

“See ‘ya tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” He watches you leave—like each day before this one—and smirks. “See ‘ya tomorrow. Maybe.”

Your head whips around as you get to the door, eyebrows fused together. With eyes squinting, you point at him. “Thin. Ice.”

The next evening rolls around faster than what you might’ve liked, and is considerably colder than before. A black scarf wrapped around your neck really tampers with the vibe of your very put-together outfit for movie night.

But you suppose that if you were to leave that at home, then you’d absolutely die of frostbite. And then the question of who’d annoy Joel if I was six feet under? rattles around your head. And you can’t possibly carry on with the prospect of death.

So the scarf stays on. And so does the matching hat.

“You look like one of the snowmen that the kids build on the green.” Is what he greets you with when you enter the coffee house. Neck and chin swathed in faux cashmere.

“Very funny.” You mumble, pulling down fabric to reveal your perfectly plush lips. “Let’s go. I’m starving, and it’s cold.”

“Don’t forget your coal ‘n carrot.” Maria jokes from behind the counter, and Tommy is almost doubled over laughing at his wife.

They’re so cute together. It makes you sick.

“Don’t poke the bear.” Joel murmurs to his brother. “I’ve gotta spend the evening with it, and I’d really rather my head stay intact—“

“I can hear you.”

Joel glances over his shoulder shrugging on his denim jacket with the white borg trim, and stifles a laugh at the sight of you; completely clothed from your cheeks down. It’s adorable.

“Sorry.” Murmuring again, he says. He gestures for you to go out first, before he’s turning to his brother and Maria, mouthing a quick thank you.

She simply smiles in response, and turns to her husband when the two of you leave the building.

“He’s totally into her.”

“Oh, no doubt about it.” Tommy replies. “Just hope he’s not too chicken shit to do anything ‘bout it.”

She agrees with a soft hum, making tracks to a table of new customers to take their orders.

Per Joel’s request, the two of you grab a burger from a very—very—greasy joint a few blocks away from the movie theatre, and you find it being one of the best you’ve ever had in your life.

Piled to the absolute high-heavens, it’s safe to say that you’d never seen such a creation before. Cheese, bacon, lettuce, tomato—a boat-load of pickles—and, like, six onion rings, had that monster very deserving of its title of gut-buster.

But the way that you absolutely mangled that thing had Joel way more impressed. He’d only ever watched you devour cinnamon rolls and the odd stack of pancakes. This was like a fever dream.

And the fact that you then decided on grabbing a purse-full of snacks to take into the screening of Beetlejuice with you, has you very deserving of a few freebies from his humble cafe.

“That movie never fails to make me smile.” You say as the two of you walk—arm in arm—back into the cold, dreary night. “But it always begs the question; if the Maitland’s died by drowning, then why aren’t they wet throughout the movie?”

Joel laughs and shrugs, finding himself tightening the grip that his arm has on yours. Neither of you mind.

“I just think that Keaton plays a demon super well—“

“Don’t call him that.” You defend. “I mean, I know that he technically is one, but still. He’s a stand up guy.”

“He’s a total jerk—“

“Joel.” You whine. He’s one of your favorite fictional characters, and it’s killing you to hear this slander. “He’s my—he’s my boy. I love him.”

He blinks at you. His respect for you is dwindling, mainly because you’re essentially saying that Keaton’s portrayal of a green-haired gremlin is better than his version of Batman.

Blasphemy.

“He’s hot.” You say after a few moments of silence, feeling your cheeks heat at the confession. “In a dilf-y way. I think.”

Two brown eyes almost bulge out of Joel’s head, and he literally cannot help the laugh that bubbles from the fissures of his throat. You are very troubled.

“That’s concerning.”

“The fact that I like older men is concerning to you?”

His heart thumps. He’s not sure why, but it does. It’s a strange sensation—one he’s not able to describe in so many words—but he enjoys it. He thinks.

Maybe.

“No.” He clears his throat. “The fact that you find Michael Keaton—as Beetlejuice—hot is concerning to me, kid.”

You throw your head back laughing, motioning to a bench that looks fairly dry. You’re not ready for your evening to end quite yet.

“Why’d you always call me that?”

Joel unhooks his arm from yours, taking a seat as you plop down onto the birchwood. He lets out a little grunt as he goes down, something about his back and knees hurting from slaving away alllllll day.

“Call you what? Kid?”

You nod.

“Dunno.” He shrugs, leaning back. Joel extends his legs, just watching the city lights pass him by. “I’m a lot older than you. It’s habit, I ‘spose.”

Dallas is bustling, tonight. A cold, foggy evening will seldom stop the population of Texas from stepping out on a Saturday night. Phil’s Line Dancing club is packed, as per usual. Wall-to-wall with people just looking for a good time.

The atmosphere is unmatched, to you. Nothing feels as good as your state. Especially on weekends and football days. You get a little wet just thinking about the Cowboys playing AT&T.

Your home is so vibrant. So colourful and beautiful, and you’re happy to be seeing Dallas in all of its glory with Joel by your side tonight.

Many a drunk couple stumble past you both as you sit and chat on the bench, the thought of his last sentiment still hanging over your head like a little rain cloud. He may be a lot older than you, but you don’t mind. You still see him as a friend.

A good friend, as a matter of fact. Great, even. The best, perhaps.

A friend who despite seeing every single morning—and sometimes evening—you still feel like you cannot fill in the blanks on the sordid details of his life.

“Can I ask you something?” You turn so that you’re facing Joel, eyes searching his face for an answer. He smiles. The lines around his mouth, crows feet and forehead wrinkles have your eyes softening.

He’s so handsome.

“Yeah, shoot.”

Fiddling with the chain on your wrist—the one that Maria got you from Toronto—it’s a struggle to find your words. The right words, anyway.

You clear your throat after an awkward juncture, finally able to verbalize what you want to say.

“Did Tess leave because of me?”

It comes like a ton of bricks to the chest. Joel didn’t think you’d ask such a heavy question, least alone after spending the evening—outside of the shop—together. It’s a very jarring—painful—position to be thrust into. But it’s a question that he knew he’d have to respond to first as last.

His heart wrenches. He knows the answer, but he doesn’t know whether you do.

“I won’t be offended. Honest.”

“Where’s—uh—where’s this comin’ from?” He stutters over his qualm, hand reaching for the back of his neck. He rubs at the skin, feeling his heart pound. “Did someone say somethin’?”

Your head shakes. “No. I’ve just been thinkin’…”

“Why?” Comes a little bit curt. He kicks himself, but you don’t seem fazed by his tone. “People talkin’?”

Again, you’re shaking your head. “No, Joel, I just wanna know.”

Inquisitive as ever.

He swallows thickly the acrimony that’s rising to the surface at the thought of Tess and the day that she left. Trying to keep it suppressed hasn’t done him the favor that he thought it would’ve.

“She left ‘cus she had enough.” He spits, doing the most to avoid eye contact. “Of me. Of Birch Grove. Of everything that I fuckin’ did.”

You gasp. You don’t think that you’ve ever heard Joel curse.

Raw with emotion, his voice sounds barren. Bare. There’s nothing left to say, on the topic, but so much at the same time. But he owes this to you.

“She never liked you, y’know?” Almost guilty, he says. “Said you’re always too chirpy and flirty—hell, I think she was just projectin’ ‘cus I never saw her happy to see no one.”

“No way.” Not nearly sarcastic enough, you laugh. “I’m surprised that she never spat in my coffee.”

“Yeah, well. I’d never put anything past her.” A little bitter, he responds. “Hated all you girls that’d come in. Even scared off Josie—told her not to come back, or she’d tell her husband that she was tryna screw me—“

Genuinely shocked, your jaw hangs low. “Jesus.”

“Yep.” He watches over the stragglers stumbling out of Phil’s, and looks at you.

Your cheeks, nose and ears are stippled with a rosy blush. If he were to set his calloused palms against your tender skin, he’s sure that the cold would be almost bone-chilling. But he refrains.

“Nasty, nasty piece ‘a work. Glad she left, if I’m honest.”

“You two…You seemed so happy.”

“We were.” Honest comes his proclamation. “Until we weren’t. Until she started to get envious of every single female that walked through the cafe doors, and turned into a big blonde green-eyed monster.”

“Jealousy is such an ugly trait.”

He agrees with a tight-lipped smile and a nod, ignoring the fact that he was feeling that very emotion when you went out on a date. With a man who wasn’t him.

But now, here you are. With Joel. On a not date. But he’ll take what he can get, so long as the two of you can have some time together.

“God, Joel. I couldn’t imagine my life not coming to see you every morning.”

He smiles.

“What?” You blush. But it’s not apparent, what with the way your skin is already flush.

“Nothin.’” Joel’s teeth show beneath the scratchy hair of his mustache. You smile back. “Just couldn’t imagine mine if you didn’t come ‘n bleed me dry of lattes ‘n cinnamon rolls, either.”

That’s wholly the truth. Something he didn’t think he’d ever find himself letting you become privy to. Yet, here he is.

“That’s sweet. It’s nice to know that you have a heart beneath all the band shirts, and flannels.”

“Yeah, well.” He stretches his arms out and you slide closer to him—taking the man completely by surprise—nestling comfortably into his side. A perfect fit, actually. “It’s hard to get to, but it’s there.”

You smile up at him, eyes twinkling beneath the streetlights above.

“That’s good to know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your gaze is averted to the sidewalk, now. Focused wholly on the night passing you by. “Hopefully I hold a tiny little place there.”

Joel hugs you into his side, silently reassuring you that there’ll always be a tiny little place in his heart just for you.

296 notes · View notes

blackynsupremacy · 2 months ago

Text

RETURNING THE FAVOR

pairing: nicholas chavez x black!fem!reader

summary: you and your fiancé, nicholas, start to look at things in a new perspective after spending the whole day with your three-year-old nephew, ashton.

contains: lots of words, so. much. fluff., cuddling, kissing, playfulness, mention of death in the family, nicholas being the big sweetheart he is. you call your nephew by the nickname “bookie” pronounced like “pookie”, but with a b.

taglist: @rosiestalez @elitesanjisimp @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @ellethespaceunicorn @sabrinasopposite @gxuxhdjdu @zombigrlll @paisholotus @tryingtograspctrl @afrogirl3005 @afrowrites

your older sister couldn’t thank you and nicholas enough as she handed off a backpack with all of the items necessary for caring for your nephew, ashton. she was making plans to do his hair and spend quality time with her son, but she got called in for an eight hour shift, so she didn’t hesitate to call you up to see if you and nicholas were available to babysit. you and nicholas enthusiastically agreed to take on the task of spending this time with ashton. fortunately, he was on a month long break before filming for his next project and this was your weekend off. a smile grew on both of your faces as you felt two tiny arms wrap around your legs. your beaming face looks down to meet ashton’s, who gazed up at you with those precious doe eyes and wide grin with his kinky afro of curls sticking up and around in different directions on his head.

“hi, ti-ti!” his soft high pitched voice made you and your sister simper as you bent down to gather your nephew within your arms.

“hey, bookie!” you greet him and turn him to nicholas who was already grinning as he greeted the boy before he reached his hands out to see if ashton wanted to give him a hug.

“hey, buddy! how’s my guy, huh?”

“uncle nic!” ashton jovially responded, quickly unraveling his miniature arms from around your neck to make grabby hands towards nicholas who didn’t hesitate to scoop him from your arms.

“here let me get this for you. we’ll leave you ladies alone. we’re gonna have a little snack until we get started. it’s always a pleasure to see you, s/n. we’ll be ready when you are, babe.”

nicholas said before placing a kiss on your cheek. he held the toddler on his side with one arm and like the gentleman he was, he took the backpack off your sister’s hands to which she graciously thanked him. he took his cue to exit to the kitchen while striking up a conversation with ashton about the snack options available and what he wanted. you and your sister smiled in their direction and turned to each other to resume your own conversation.

“girl, i can’t thank you enough for this. i hate that it had to be so last minute, but you know that i got—”

you interrupted your sister, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder with a small smile on your face.

“it’s okay, sis. you know that nic and i got you, through and through. life happened and we’re gonna help you as you keep going for your life and your family, so it’s no issue.”

she nods silently to receive your kind words and you both got a bit watery eyed and sniffled before composing yourselves.

“you’re right. i’m just trying to do what’s best for ashton, y/n. i swear when life hits me right one day, i’m gonna be able to return the favor for you and nicholas .” she gives you a cheeky grin and shoots a wink towards your way as the warm heat of embarrassment rise on your brown cheeks. you stood there stunned as she chuckled and shifted the purse on her shoulder.

“it’s okay, n/n. that’s a call that both you and nicholas have to make first, but know i got you like you got me when i had the munchkin.” you give each other one last hug, not without her giving you a few more key reminders regarding ashton’s care and the time she’ll be back before she heads to the driveway and exits in her vehicle.

you remembered three years ago when he was just born. you and nicholas had just started dating and he couldn’t help, but look at you with pride and joy at your excitement for your sister’s firstborn. ever since you two were little girls, you’d both dream of finding your respective prince charmings and happily growing a family of your own. boy, do dreams come true. ashton’s a little boy with the biggest personality. he’s silly, curious, intelligent, rambunctious, loved playing basketball, talking about his favorite superheroes, and not to mention the cutest little boy you’ve ever seen! he was a perfect mix of his parents, which was bittersweet considering the fact that his father had passed away from a car accident a year ago. it was an event that was truly life altering for your sister as she had to navigate life as a widow and a single parent. she had to pick up longer hours to keep the house, get counseling for her and ashton, and most of your family showed up before and during the funeral, but after a month, the phone calls and texts stopped coming. not you and nicholas, though. your older sister being the rock she is has supported you in happiness and heartbreak throughout childhood and adolescence, so it’s only right that you return that same love and kindness towards her and ashton, who you’ve sometimes seen as your own child.

you close the door and follow the same direction the boys walked to the kitchen. you stumble in to see a sight that almost puts your ovaries in danger of jumping your fiancé’s bones. his tall figure is standing in front of the counter, chatting it up and happily chopping up a food you can’t clearly see while ashton is clinging on to his leg like how a koala clings to a eucalyptus tree while gazing up at your giant of a fiancé with an attentive and expectant expression on his little face. you stare like a lovesick dope, watching nicholas laugh at something ashton said, putting away the knife he was using in a safe area away from the child and scooping the now diced assortment of fruit into two bowls. a smirk plays on your full lips as you cross your arms and lean up against the doorway of the kitchen before you speak.

“what are my favorite boys up to? it sounds like you’ve started the party without me.” you giggle when they simultaneously turn their heads in the direction of your voice. ashton taps nicholas’ leg and holds out his hands.

“uncle nic, can i bring ti-ti her snack?” he asks in the most polite manner.

nicholas nods, taking one bowl of fruit in his large hands and slowly squats to ashton’s level.

“of course, buddy! just remember to hold it with two hands and walk to ti-ti, okay?”

“mm-hmm!” his curls bounce as he nods before he does exactly what he’s told. you both beam as his little feet gingerly waddle from nicholas to you with two caring hands holding the bowl of fruit salad. he stops in front of you and beholds the snack for you to take.

“here you go, ti-ti. i picked the fruit you like and uncle nic cut it!” ashton cheerfully spoke, flashing his newly grown baby teeth.

your heart pounded in your chest before you squatted down to take the bowl. you ran your hand through his soft hair and kissed your nephew on his cheek.

“aw, thank you so much, bookie!” you playfully roll eyes hearing nicholas clear his throat in the background, signaling that he wants to hear praise from you as well.

“and you too, my love.” your brown eyes meet his briefly before your focus shifts back to your nephew.

“you did such a great job by listening and being careful. we’re so proud of you!”

you nod in approval and take a few bites of fruit. ashton bashfully giggles when he hears his uncle nicholas chime in with a whooping applause and jogs up to you both with another fruit bowl in his hand.

“alright, ash! you nailed it. bring it in, dude.” nicholas hypes up the smiling boy and brings his large fist down to ashton for his tiny one to bump against before he gives ashton the bowl for him to take. he’s already picking up an apple slice and biting into the fruit with glee.

“what do we say to uncle nic, bookie?” you question, peering at the eating toddler.

he swallows the food before answering,

“thank you!”

nicholas receives it with a small smile and gently runs his hand through ashton’s hair.

“you’re welcome, ash. whatever you need, you know that ti-ti and i will get it for you.”

you stand up from your crouching position.

“ashton, i gotta do your hair really quick, okay? remember when you had your hair in those braids and little ponytail? that’s what your mommy wants me to do, so you ready?”

ashton nods and pops a blueberry in his mouth.

“mm-hm. just don’t do it tight, ti-ti, it hurt.” his tone shifts to one of disdain and you can’t blame him. you remember back in the day when your sister used to braid your hair and you always complained that she did it too tight and she always would retort that you were “tender headed”. you didn’t want to keep up that argument any longer, so you just asked her to teach you the basics of styling your own hair. after some weekly braiding tutorials on a bratz doll head, you were straight.

“i swear, bookie. i’m not gonna braid it too tight. you’re gonna relax, watch tv, and eat while i do your hair. i pinky promise.” you held up your pinky finger and brought it to ashton’s small figure. you knew you gained his trust when he nodded and wrapped his pinky around yours, establishing your agreement. you peer up to nicholas who stood there watching the whole thing with a simpering smile.

“babe, you and ash get settled on the couch while i go and get the hair stuff, okay?” you request as you start making your way upstairs to your bathroom.

“you got it, beautiful!” he called out and didn’t let you leave before placing a quick peck to your lips to which ashton playfully gagged, causing nicholas to laugh and scoop up the boy in his arms.

“aw, don’t be like that, man! i gotta show ti-ti some love, too. come on, bud, tell me what want to watch and uncle nic will put it on for you. you like netflix? disney+?” the boys seat themselves comfortably on the sofa as they explore the many options on the tv with nicholas pressing the remote to find a show for his (already but future) nephew.

while you were gathering the products needed for ashton’s hair, the boys focus on the children’s television show that ashton selected for a few minutes. he even offers nicholas some pieces of his fruit bowl which he gratefully accepts. nicholas wasn’t hungry by any means, but who was he to deny a three year old with such good manners and an adorable, little face?

“uncle nic?” ashton’s voice broke the silence.

“what’s up, ashton?” nicholas’ brown eyes pulled from the tv to the toddler beside him.

“why do you always kiss ti-ti like that? is that nasty?” the boy tilts his head up to meet nicholas’ eyes and his brows furrow with curiosity. nicholas couldn’t help, but to chuckle before giving him an honest answer.

“i kiss her to show that i love her and i promise it’s not nasty, it’s pretty sweet actually. like candy.” nicholas was speaking straight from the heart as a small smile curved on his features, his cheeks tinted with the color of a rose as his mind went back to you. he noticed how ashton’s face turned from confusion to amazement.

“i like candy! so if i give ti-ti a kiss to show that i love her, i taste candy?”

nicholas admired the innocence of this boy. he knew that ashton had to be protected at all costs. he nods before responding,

“yeah, that’s exactly right, buddy! how about you give it a try when she comes back? you done with that?” nicholas points to the now empty bowl in ashton’s little hands. ashton looks down at the bowl and nods his head, giving nicholas his cue to take the bowl to the kitchen, wash it out, place it in the cabinet, and return to the living room. he walks in to see you return with a clear plastic box with what seemed to be a detangling comb, gel, hair ties, and an assortment of more hair products that you placed on the cushion. as nicholas returns to his seat, you take a fluffy pillow from the couch and place it down on the floor for ashton to sit on.

“ti-ti’s back, bookie! sit on the pillow, so i can do your hair.” you say, pointing at the pillow on the floor.

“wait i gotta do something first, ti-ti!” your nephew protests and moves closer to you.

“what is it, honey?” what you didn’t expect was for ashton to hug you tightly around your neck which you immediately hugged him back before he places a big whopping kiss on your cheek. he pulls back and smacks his lips as if he was trying to taste something.

“why are you doing your lips like that, ashton? is there something on my face?” you ask touching your face confused as all get out and then you hear nicholas snickering behind you. what has he put this boy up to?

“i’m trying to taste candy because uncle nic said that giving you kisses taste like candy! right, uncle nic?”

him and nicholas burst in laughter as you take the pillow from the floor and playfully whack your fiancé with it before laughing yourself, shaking your head as heat rushed to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“you both are a mess! nicholas alexander chavez, i’ma get you later, but as for you, bookie—” you lunge to scoop the boy in your arms and your fingers move rapidly on his sides. the melodies of your nephew’s hysterical laughter fill the room for a few seconds and you cease your tickling. you all take a moment to catch your breath and you put the pillow back on the floor again before instructing ashton to sit down which he happily obliges to. you roll up your sleeves, grab the detangling cream and comb, and you start the process of getting out all of the knots at the ends. nicholas watches you attentively as you glide the coconut scented cream through your nephew’s scalp. you ask him to pass you the braiding gel out of the box as you section ashton’s hair for the desired style. nicholas hands you what you need and his eyes focus on how your fingers move like clockwork within ashton’s dark, coily tresses.

whenever ashton whined a bit in pain, you and nicholas reassured him that you were being as quick and gentle as possible. within the next thirty minutes, you were done! the braids looked so fresh and neat. you took out your phone and captured a picture of ashton’s side profile and sent it to your sister. you gave ashton a hand held mirror for him to gaze upon his new look and the expression on his face made your heart swell.

“what do you think, bookie? you like it?” you ask, grinning and watching him walk around with his face still in the mirror before he stops to look at nicholas with expectant doe eyes.

“i like it! do you like it, uncle nic?”

with a prideful grin, your fiancé stood grand and tall, scooping ashton up in his arms and placing him on his hip.

“ash, i say this with all honesty. you look better than me.”

“really!?” ashton playfully gasped as he wrapped his arms around his uncle’s neck.

“really, really! you look so handsome, buddy. babe, would you take our picture, please?” he pulls out his phone from his pocket and hands it over to you. you don’t hesitate to nod and open the camera, waiting for your boys to get into a pose with cheesy smiles on their faces. you count to three and snap the picture before repeating the process several times and giving nicholas his phone back.

“don’t forget to send those to me, so s/n can get them.” you say, cleaning up the tiny mess you made and put the items back to where they belong before you come back to them. you all decide it would be great to get some fresh air at the park which was a two minute walk away from your place. after changing into some active wear and grabbing ashton’s backpack, you all exit your house and take the brief stroll to your destination. once you’ve entered to the playground area, nicholas volunteers to keep an eye on ashton while he plays and you watch from a distance while sitting on the bench. the park had some people there, but it wasn’t too much of a crowd. you take pictures and videos as you watch your fiancé and nephew bond. your heart skipped a beat when you see ashton go down a slide with nicholas ready to pick him up in his arms as soon as he came to the end or when nicholas guided ashton’s small hanging body across the monkey bars as his palms gripped each bar.

he’s so good with him. i wonder what would it be like if—

as if your mind was being read, you didn’t notice the older woman that sat beside you on the bench because you were hypnotized by the display of cuteness in front of you.

“is that your husband and son? if so, they are just adorable! i miss those days so much. you’re one lucky young lady.”

you were a bit bashful due to your daydreaming, but you got yourself together promptly and indulged in the conversation.

“aw, thank you! that’s actually my fiancé with my nephew, but with the way they are around each other, i don’t blame you for thinking that at all. it’s funny because i was just thinking about, you know, starting a family. i’ve been with that man for five years and i never thought i’d love him even more when i see him bond with my family, especially the little ones.”

“that’s because that’s his family too, dear. he’s going to fit right in as soon as you both tie the knot.” you turn your face to hers, there was an aura of benevolence and wisdom that reminded you of your late grandmother and oh, how you missed her so. you nod in agreement before resuming the conversation,

“you’re so right. when you put it like that, my nephew has called him ‘uncle nic’ for a whole year before we got engaged. i guess that just solidified everything!” you both create small talk for a few more minutes before the kind woman bids you a goodbye to venture on the walking trail. it wasn’t long before ashton and nicholas approach you to announce they want to shoot some hoops at the park’s basketball court. you agree before giving ashton and nicholas a water bottle and you all take the short journey to an empty basketball court. the park provided the balls for the community, so nicholas took one for him and ashton to have a little one v. one on the court. you lean up against the wired fence, observing your nephew dribbling the basketball up and down while his little legs speed past your fiancé. nicholas picks him up to let him face the goal. with the aid of nicholas’ six foot stature, ashton was able to shoot and get the ball through the net.

“he shoots, he scores! it’s nothing but net and the crowd goes wild for the mvp, ashton!” nicholas exclaims and places your triumphant nephew on his shoulders. he gazes at your figure and you took that as your cue to cheer, chant, and clap for ashton as if you were in a packed stadium.

“GO, BOOKIE, GO! GO, BOOKIE, GO!” you run up to them both, placing a chaste kiss on nicholas’ lips and taking ashton in your arms to give him a shower of kisses on his sweaty face.

“did you see me, ti-ti, did you see me?!” he excitedly questioned.

“yeah, i did! you did great. if you keep practicing, your mommy might put you on a real basketball team one day when you’re bigger.”

speaking of showers, you tell the boys it’s time to wrap it up here at the park. you suggest that after a wash up, you’d get some food, and enjoy some disney movies until it was time for ashton to be picked up as his mother was going to come back in a few short hours. once, you gather your belongings, you walk carrying the backpack and nicholas, carrying an exhausted and hungry ashton on his back. once you make it back to your home, you and nicholas complete your tasks to finish the day out. you take ashton to your bathroom to give him a bath to save your sister that time while nicholas goes out to grab the food. after his bath, you change ashton in a fresh set of clothes before you take him to the living room to pick out a movie to watch. you sit in comfortable silence, clicking the remote and you hear a little voice call out from beside you.

“ti-ti?”

“yes, bookie?” you quickly select a movie from the despicable me series and turn to your inquisitive nephew.

“where’s uncle nic?”

“he went to get us something to eat, love.”

“is he coming back? i really like him and i feel a little sad when he’s not here. just like how i feel sad when i don’t see you.” you knew he was asking that because of the obvious absence of his father. it made you so happy that nicholas was an exemplary man ashton looked up to, but what broke your heart is that ashton finally realized that when someone he loves is gone, he has an uncertainty of their return. no child younger than five should feel like that, let alone any child at all. you wrap an arm around his tiny body and place a kiss atop of his head. it was time to lighten the mood.

“how much you wanna bet uncle nic is getting your favorite?”

the glint of gloom in ashton’s eyes switched moods and his head perked up.

“he got me mcdonald’s!?”

you both turn your heads at the sound of the lock clicking and the door creaking open.

“mcdonald’s delivery!”

as if timing weren’t perfect enough, nicholas walked through the front door with a large mcdonald’s bag and a cup holder tray with three drinks. you leave the couch only to help him with the load by bringing the food and drinks onto the coffee table. ashton eyes gawked as he watched nicholas take out an assortment of burgers, fries, and nuggets before you all sit and indulge in the fast food. you hit play on the movie and watch the film as you eat. within an hour and a half, you and ashton were cuddled up against nicholas’ shield of a chest, you both lovingly watched as your nephew dozed off to sleep, his soft snores accompanied with the audio of the movie that was still playing the background. it was interrupted by the sound of a car horn tooting from out front. you yawned and knew it was your sister.

“you want me to carry everything to the car while you talk to s/n, baby?” nicholas whispered, his soft yet intense brown gaze held your sleepy one.

he grinned at your response of a nod before you both gingerly move, careful not to wake up ashton as you both walked him to his mother’s awaiting car. he can get pretty cranky when his sleep is disturbed and lord knows your sister didn’t want that after a long shift. nicholas opens the back door of the car and carefully places ashton in his booster seat. it didn’t take him long to figure out how to safely strap him in and he softly shuts the door. he circled around to the drivers side to wrap an arm around your waist as you talk to your sister.

“so how was he? it looked like ya’ll did a lot today, huh?” your sister inquired and glances to her knocked out son in the back seat and shifts her focus back to you guys.

“he was great! no trouble at all. i braided down his hair and after that, we took him out to the park where he kicked nicholas’ tail in some hoops. he’s already had a bath and something to eat, so you don’t have to worry about that, sis.” you all chuckle, your lips graciously smile and you wrap your own arm around nicholas’ sculpted torso. he peers down at you with affection in his eyes at your touch. you don’t notice it, but your sister does, and she couldn’t be happier for you both.

“aww, well i appreciate you both so much for watching him! y/n, remember that talk we had about me returning the favor because you know i got you.”

she points and shoots you a wink. nicholas chuckles watching you cover your face with embarrassment. after the laughter and chatting dies down, your sister bids you and nicholas a goodbye before pulling off. with your hands joined together, you and nicholas walk back into your home. you both take time to tidy up the living room before retiring to your own bedroom. nicholas lays in the bed in nothing, but a chain and grey sweatpants with his hands behind his head. his brown eyes burn into your figure as you slip out of your previous clothes and change into a pair of his boxers and one of his oversized t-shirts. you’ve been with him for five years and you still feel bashful under his intense gaze. you dig in your drawer to find your black satin bonnet and you easily slip it on your head as you saunter to the bed and lay your body up against his, your arms wrapped around his neck and your head on his shoulders. his large arms find themselves to embrace you, one of his hands hold on to your thigh to bring your leg up across his waist.

you both lay there in comfortable silence to catch your breaths from such an exhilarating day. you break the silence with a whisper,

“you’re really good with ashton, you know. i just wanted you to know that.”

“i appreciate it, doll and he loves you so much. i love you so much.”

he softly declares, placing a peck to your forehead, cheek, and earlobe. he stops to peer into your eyes then your lips and into your eyes again, silently asking permission to go further. you smile with a nod before you reach up to guide your lips to his, he holds your waist to pull you right on top of him as you both continue to give each other’s lips the longing, passionate kisses you’ve both been waiting for all day. a hum vibrates in your chest when his teeth gently pull at your pouty bottom lip out for him to release it and bounce it back to it’s original place. after a minute or two of indulging in each other, you both pull away to lay in your original position, now with swollen lips and shallow breaths.

“i love you too by the way.” you place a peck on his bare chest where his heart is.

“babe, i got a question. why did you and s/n talk about returning a favor or something?”

the heat of embarrassment rose on your earth toned face, he was no dummy, so it was only fair he was going to catch on.

“what she meant was that one day she would like to do the babysitting—you know, for us, when we–” you paused. the volume of your voice diminished with each word.

“have kids?” nicholas finished the sentence. still avoiding his eyes, you give a small smile and nod confirming his answer.

“yeah.”

“hey, hey. look at me.” his pointer finger finds itself under your chin to lift your eyes to meet his sincere gaze.

“if you’re thinking in that beautiful brain of yours that one day i want to start a family with you, then you’re absolutely right. spending that time with you and ashton had me thinking that if we’re this good at being ti-ti and uncle nic, what would it be like if we were mom and dad?”

you couldn’t help, but to laugh with excitement while putting your hands in your face. he pulled you in so close and showered your face with kisses.

“nope! don’t hide that beautiful face away from me. the same face that i’ll see at that altar and the same face i’ll see on our future children!”

“okay, okay! i give!” you let out giggle and give him a chaste kiss before pulling from his grip.

“so you want a baby with me?” you ask just one more time to make sure you weren’t dreaming. he lays another kiss on you. this kiss was sincere, a confirmation. he pulled back and gazed into your eyes.

“i wouldn’t want anything more with anyone else. does that answer your question?”

you nod and pull the duvet over you both.

“so, should we start trying?” nicholas seductively inquires in your ear after he scoots up behind you, caressing the melanated skin of your thigh.

“nah.” you answered with a dry tone before shutting off the light and pulling the cover over your body. nicholas was gagged. you guess he forgot what you said earlier when he played that little “candy kisses” trick on your nephew.

“come on, baby. whatever i did please let me make it up to you by making you a mommy, hm?” he playfully whined with a pout.

“uh-uh. i told you i was gonna get you! you can make it up to me when you’re off punishment.”

“now, how long would that be?”

“goodnight, nicholas.” you ruffle his hair and chuckled at him sucking his teeth as you nuzzled deeper within the covers.

“y/n!”

#black reader #nicholas chavez fic #nicholas alexander chavez x black reader #nicholas alexander chavez imagine #nicholas alexander chavez fanfic #nicholas chavez fluff #nicholas chavez fanfiction #nicholas alexander chavez x reader #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez x black reader #x black reader #x black!reader #black!reader #black!fem!reader #black girl

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officialaemondtargaryen · 3 months ago

Text

Never Gonna Be Alone - Part Two

Summary: When a friend from college contacts you about renting out your empty, spare bedroom to her brother, you aren't really sure what to expect.

Pairing: Modern!Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Warnings for the entire series: language, drug & alcohol use, sex, possible angst, pining & yearning, miscommunication, bit of a slow burn, and a lot of fluff, plus me attempting to be a comedian.

Masterlist | Playlist

Originally, you had made a bet with yourself that your silly little crush on Aegon wouldn’t last more than a week– then it was two, and suddenly a month had passed. Your feelings, much to your chagrin, had remained persistent.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying, either.

You had done anything and everything you could to stop thinking about him– kept your distance by taking extra shifts at work, joined an improv club, read approximately eleven new books, and even learned how to crochet so that you had an excuse to stay in your room 24/7. Worst of all was downloading that stupid dating app, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and they don’t say that the fastest way to get over someone is by getting under someone else for nothing.

The truth was a hard pill to swallow, however. No matter how many guys slid into your DMs and then ghosted after a couple of days of texting, no matter how many miniature cows you crocheted or books you read, you liked him. And not in the fleeting, passing kind of way that you’d originally expected. No, these feelings had taken a hold of you– rooting into you in the way that a stubborn weed roots into concrete.

Anyways, back to that dating app…

It had been a joke with yourself at first; a half-hearted swipe-fest with no real intent behind it. You weren’t actually looking for someone, more like waiting for someone to miraculously appear and make you forget about Aegon Targaryen. You were smart enough to know that Mr. Right wasn’t lurking on Hinge, but you figured there had to be someone out there who could temporarily distract you from his stupid, not-at-all beautiful smile, or the way he belly-laughed at your jokes that weren’t even funny.

The first guy to make it out of the 72-hour ‘Only-Talk-On-The-Hinge-App’ phase, and into the ‘We-Can-Start-Texting-And-Maybe-Plan-A-Date’ phase was a guy named Criston. Yes, you should have known by the name that it wasn’t going to work out, but he was dark and handsome– the complete opposite of the person you were actively trying to forget existed– and seemed interested enough in you to ask you out on a proper date. Sure, he was a bit boring via text, but you figured that not everyone can be as clever and witty as you, and you owed it to yourself not to write him off yet.

Aegon was sitting on the couch playing video games when you walked down the hallway and into the living room. You had been listening to him chatter with his online friends for the past hour and a half as you got ready for your date; his voice carrying through the thin walls of your shared apartment, hurling profane insults at random children and laughing along with his friends at the crude jokes they’d tell each other (their mother’s would be ashamed). You didn’t look at him when you entered the room, but you could feel his attention immediately shift.

He paused the game mid-action, pulling his headset loosely around his neck, and turned to look at you. The sudden silence of the room made you hyper-aware of his eyes on you as you made your way into the kitchen to grab your purse from the counter. When you finally turned back to the living room, you finally caught his stare.

His mouth was slightly agape and he swallowed hard before saying, “Where you off to?”

Without waiting for you to answer, he turned back to his game, pulling his headset back up over one ear so that he could still hear your response. Your shoulders fell just slightly as he turned his back towards you as if he didn’t care to hear the answer at all, as if your sudden appearance hadn't just thrown him completely for a loop and rendered him nearly speechless.

You straightened up and smoothed your dress and walked over to check yourself in the mirror one last time; delicately fixing a few fly away hairs and ensuring there wasn’t lipstick smeared on your teeth. “I am going on a date,” you told him with more confidence than you actually felt.

There was a brief pause and then he muttered, “A date, huh? Good luck with that.”

You caught his eyes in the reflection of the mirror and turned to look at him, quirking an eyebrow at the sarcasm in his tone. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was jealous, but that would mean that he actually cared, and you didn’t want to get your hopes up more than they already were. Before you could think too much about it, Aegon quickly looked away, dismissing you as he immersed himself back into his game, seemingly ending the conversation.

Not sure how to feel, you turned on your heels towards the front door without another word. You had half-hoped that you would have elicited more of a reaction from him by choosing this particular outfit, and couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed by the interaction; chalking it up to him just being a typical, clueless guy who probably didn’t even notice how much effort you had put into looking like that— because none of them ever did.

“Hey!” Aegon called out just as you stepped into the foyer. You stopped in your tracks, leaning back against the doorframe and cocked your head to the side to see what it was he wanted. “You, uh– you look really nice,” he added, the words tumbling out awkwardly.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden compliment.

"Uh, thanks," you replied bashfully, not knowing what else to say as you tried to ignore the warmth that bloomed in your cheeks.

The moment that you left your apartment you realized that this date was surely pointless, and that was made crystal clear from the second that this Criston guy had slid into the booth across from you more than fifteen minutes late. Despite the fact that he was the one to initiate the date, you were the one who chose the place and time; deciding on a comfortable hole-in-the-wall Italian joint that you enjoyed but didn’t get the chance to frequent often. They had a live jazz band that played on Friday evenings, which was perfect for a first date– intimate enough to set the mood with enough distractions to fill any conversational gaps.

And unfortunately for you, there were plenty.

Turns out that Criston was just as dull– if not more so– in person as he was over text. He only spoke when spoken to, answering your questions with stiff, one-word responses that made you feel like you were conducting a job interview rather than enjoying a nice dinner with someone that you were trying to get to know. You did what you could to steer the conversation toward more lighthearted and fun topics, like movies and music– the typical things two people would discuss on a first date– but every attempt was met with a flat, almost disinterested tone.

By the time the entrees had arrived, you had resigned yourself to the fact that this was a dud, and in doing so, you found yourself retreating to the very thoughts you had set out to avoid– Aegon.

As hard as you tried to stay present, unlike your date, the comparison was unavoidable. Criston’s lackluster personality and quiet brooding left you too much space to think; to imagine Aegon’s laugh, the way he teased you without a filter, making even the most boring moments feel like they had spark. The jazz band was a saving grace– offering you an excuse to zone out during Criston’s long, awkward pauses. But even then, the music seemed to remind you of the nights you'd spent in your shared apartment, secretly listening to Aegon strum his guitar in the other room, filling the air with a familiarity that always made you feel… at home.

Halfway through dinner and long after the conversation had fully flatlined, your date decided that it was time to make his move. He pushed back his chair and stood up, and for a split-second you were expecting that he was going to ask you for a dance, but then he mumbled something about needing to go to the restroom and grabbed his phone and keys before leaving.

At first, he was headed for the general direction of the restrooms, but quickly- and without hesitation- pivoted towards the entrance; practically jogging out the door, without so much as a glance back in your direction. Instead of feeling the least bit shocked or upset, you just sat there, fork hovering over your plate, staring at the door, thinking to yourself, “well, that tracks.”

Honestly, him leaving mid-meal was probably the best thing that could’ve happened.

You were off the hook from having to finish this awkward, disaster of a date, and wouldn't have to pretend that you were interested in seeing each other again only to be ghosted later on. You didn’t even mind getting stuck with the bill, knowing that this was the universe doing you a solid, and that you no longer had to waste any more of your evening trying to make small-talk with a guy who clearly had the personality of a brick wall.

Aegon was in his room when you got home, the soft strumming of his guitar coming to a halt the moment that the door clicked shut behind you. Silence replaced the gentle melody, and you could suddenly feel the weight of the evening's disappointment pressing down on your shoulders. Just as you slipped off your shoes and took a deep breath, Aegon appeared in the hallway, his hair slightly tousled, a hint of curiosity dancing in his eyes.

“You took a to-go box?” He asked, following you into the kitchen. You sighed in response, not wanting to talk about it. “Inn’t that like the Cardinal Rule of datin’ that you shouldn’t take a box home on the first date?”

“Considering that I had to pay for both my meal and his as he ghosted me in the middle of dinner, you best believe I brought my leftovers home,” your tone was laced with exhaustion and annoyance, not wanting to be interrogated or lectured. “Just mine though, not his, Alfredo?”

You shoved the box into his hands and grabbed a wine glass out of the cupboard.

“Here, let me,” he said softly, setting down the styrofoam box and taking the wine glass out of your hands. “There’s a freshly rolled joint on the livin’ room table, go, put your feet up. I’ll be right behind you.”

You wanted to protest but Aegon silenced you with one look, gently nudging you towards the living room with his elbow. As you settled into the couch, you could hear him shuffling around the kitchen, the soft clinking of glasses and the low hum of the fridge opening. You stretched your legs, sinking deeper into the cushions, and let out a long, steady breath; shutting your eyes for a moment and allowing yourself to be comforted by the space– the safety of it. This was home. Not the walls or the furniture, but the feeling of it. Strange how it never felt like this until Aegon moved in, at least not that you could remember. And now, he belonged here just as much as you did, his presence somehow made the air feel warmer, more settled.

“Here you are, m’lady,” he said smiling, as he handed you a generous serving of Pinot.

“Mm, thank you,” you smiled as you took the glass and indulged yourself with a long sip.

Aegon nudged your legs gently, signaling for you to move them, and you obliged with a soft sigh, letting him sit down beside you. As soon as he was settled, he pulled your legs back into his lap, his fingers absentmindedly tracing small circles on your calf. It was a small gesture– simple and unspoken– but it sent an explosion of warmth throughout your body, spreading from where his fingertips grazed your skin and settling deep in your chest. His touch was suddenly all that you could think about, and why is it so warm in here?

You weren’t used to this, not from him—this quiet, effortless closeness. You had never been this physically intimate before, and yet, it didn’t feel awkward or out of place. Instead, it felt... natural. Like some unspoken shift had occurred between you both, and this was just how it was now; the air instantaneously buzzing with a different type of energy. His touch was no longer just a fleeting moment as you moved around each other in the kitchen in the mornings as you fixed your breakfasts before work; it lingered, deliberate, almost soothing. Every soft stroke of his fingers made you acutely aware of how intimate this moment really was.

“So,” he said, turning slightly towards you, draping one arm across the back of the sofa– the other was still placed gingerly on your calf. “You met this guy where? Tinder, Hinge, Bumble, Fetish.com?”

You gave him an immediate side-eye and he smirked. “We met on Hinge.”

“Interestin’, I thought that one was the more superior app,” he shrugged and took a drink from his glass. “What happened?”

“Other than the fact that he had the personality of a wet napkin?” You sighed, leaning your head back against the cushion. “Honestly, Aegon, I should’ve seen it coming. He was a shit texter, but I kept telling myself maybe he’s just better in person. Nope! Still shit! Truth be told, the most interesting thing he did all night was ghosting me in the middle of dinner.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head in disbelief.

“That’s low, even for the sad state of modern dating,” he muttered as his soft smile was replaced with a frown. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m sure it was humiliating.”

You replied with a nod, taking another sip of wine. His fingers continued their gentle tracing along your calf and you felt another wave of warmth roll through you, but convinced yourself that it was just the wine.

“I’m just... over it, you know?”

He only nodded in understanding, allowing a comfortable silence to settle in between the two of you. The sounds of the city drifted in through the open window; the faint murmur of traffic, the distant laughter of a passerby talking on their phone, a warm, late summer breeze stirring the curtains– it all just faded into the background as you became consumed by your thoughts.

Aegon shifted slightly, his hand still resting on your leg as he set his glass down and reached for the joint on the table. With a flick of his lighter, he lit it and took a slow drag before passing it to you without a word. Your fingers brushed his as you took it from him, the contact lingering longer than it should have, and nearly sending you into cardiac arrest. You brought the joint to your lips, hoping that it would help you calm down before you did something to ruin the moment, and exhaled the smoke with a tiny cough.

His eyes lingered on you as you took another hit before passing it back to him. You were desperate to know what he was thinking, but you were terrified that if you opened your mouth to ask, every pathetic thought you had about him would come spilling out.

“Do me a favor, yeah? No more dating apps.” His voice cut through the haze, fingers tracing delicately along the outside of your ankle now. “Those twats online only want one thing and you deserve so much more n’that.”

“Oh, it’s already been deleted,” you grinned, sneaking a glance at him.

“Good,” he smiled and moved to get up off of the couch, you immediately mourned the loss of his touch. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my lovely roommate was nice enough to bring home her leftover Alfredo and I’ve got a serious case of the munchies.”

You sighed, leaning back against the couch as the harsh reality sank in.

This wasn’t just a silly little crush anymore– no, there was a reason why every attempt you made to push him away only resulted in him reeling you further in. It was sickening, really, once you realized it and how you suddenly wanted to scream it from every open window. The sensation made your stomach churn and simultaneously gave you butterflies, and goddamnit.

You were so in love with him.

Tag List: @primroseluna, @elllielewiss, @mrs-starkgaryen, @watercolorskyy, @st-eve-barnes, @seaheaded , @roxiphera

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vecnuthy · 7 months ago

Text

decode

@steddiemicrofic June prompt: stuff || wc: 483 || G || established relationship, moving in together, language, Eddie being chaotic

Confused, Steve grabbed the keys he'd just set down, and -- yep, right apartment number.

When Steve had left their brand new apartment that morning, he'd known that Eddie and Wayne would be relocating their things from point A(ll yours now, Wayne!) to point B(abe, this is ours. Ours.), but Steve didn't realize--

"Eddie?"

The apartment had been completely empty that morning when he'd left for work, the mattress that Steve had tied to the top of his Bimmer ("I'm not sleeping on the floor.") and yesterday's clothes being the only things left behind. Now, however, Steve wondered if there had been some kind of mistake with a hypothetical delivery service that he knew Eddie and Wayne definitely did not hire, because there were mountains of boxes in front of him. Towers. A miniature King Kong would have a field day in this apartment, and Steve could only stare, overwhelmed by the amount of....everything.

Until, finally, a familiar head of hair popped out from behind one of the towers.

"Eddie, is this really-?"

And then Steve's face fell, lips pursed at the sight of his boyfriend, blissfully oblivious to Steve's presence, absolutely jamming to the music blaring from the headphones clamped over his ears. Steve bit back a laugh at the guitar solo that Eddie vocally mimicked with his eyes closed as his air guitar got downright shredded.

Eddie bumped into a stack of boxes, then paused, hands held out placatingly to the swaying stack, and said, "Excuse me," before he went back to wailing along with the guitar in his head.

Steve could have taken him right then and there.

He settled for a light touch to get his attention, since it was obvious that Eddie would otherwise remain oblivious to Steve's presence, but when Steve touched his arm, Eddie's eyes flew open and the guitar wail turned into a banshee shriek, his arms flailing wildly as he fell back and into a tower of boxes in surprise. Steve tried to grab him, but it was no use. He followed Eddie to the ground, and the boxes crashed next to them.

"Jesus fucking CHRIST," Eddie cried, starfished on the floor, his chest heaving under Steve's hold. "Damn, Steve, you scared the shit out of me. I think I just lost five years of my life."

"I'm sorry," Steve couldn't help but laugh.

Eddie, winded, grinned back then winced and turned toward the toppled boxes next to them. "Hope those didn't have records in them."

Steve frowned at words scrawled on the toppled box. "It says The Prancing Pony?"

Eddie relaxed. "Sheets and stuff."

Steve's confusion only grew when he saw other names across the other boxes, until he landed on one that said Rivendell.

He knew that name.

"Why is Rivendell on that one?"

"That, my liege, houses aaall of your hair care stuff," Eddie smirked.

"....Eddie, no."

Eddie grinned wider and winked.

#why yes. eddie did in fact label the boxes with middle earth locations instead of writing 'kitchen' or 'bathroom' on them #wayne thought it was funny #only because he doesn't have to deal with it as much anymore #'....the shire??' 'that's the living room!' 'this doesn't make ANY SENSE'#EDDIE YES #steddiemicroficjune #steddie microfic #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #drags a hand down my face: this is the first thing I've written since February really

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crushmeeren · 4 months ago

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› › › we’ll find a way.

⋆ ⌒ inspired by Red Swan from AOT season 3.

̽ ⋆ main warnings › › angst/comfort, pregnant reader in Katsuki’s part, dealing with the grief of losing a sibling in Shouto’s part. ̽ ⋆

⋆ ft. katsuki & shoto ⋆

master list link

Katsuki works himself down to the bone. Then he whittles away at said bone until he’s nothing more than a pile of dust waiting to be swept off by the wind. Not surprising, seeing as how he’s had this iron clad determination since way before you met him.

And yet…. the past few weeks you’ve watched helplessly as your husband slips through your fingers like sand. Honestly, you knew what you signed up for. So you shouldn’t be so hurt when Katsuki starts missing more dinners than usual. You shouldn’t be so hurt when his patrols run even longer through the night. You shouldn’t be so hurt when he starts working on the weekends.

But you are. You’re so so hurt, and it aches in the hollow of your chest in a way no medication could ever hope to relieve. Recreational or otherwise.

Even so, you’re a goddamn sucker for Katsuki. No matter how much the bitterness swells inside you, no matter how hard you have to bite the inside of your lip so it doesn’t spill out as distasteful vitriol.

That’s why you give him the benefit of the doubt when he tells you for, what seems like the hundredth time, that he’ll be home for the day on Saturday. After all, you promised long ago you’d keep at least one day the of the week for each other, even if he hasn’t been keeping up his side of the deal.

That afternoon comes and you find yourself on the couch waiting for the blonde, clutching eagerly at the gift you’re going to give him. It’s something you’d both wanted for some time and finally, finally it seems luck is on your side. It’ll be worth all the pain you’ve dealt with recently.

An hour passes and you try to call him, fidgeting in your seat. He assures you he’ll be home in thirty minutes. Another hour and a half goes by and this time he doesn’t answer your call.

The evening is rapidly approaching and cicadas sing outside your window when a fury so powerful you can fucking taste it wells up on the back of your tongue and rushes through your veins. Blood flushes your face so hotly it burns your eyes and your heart pulses in your ears.

Looking down at the fabric in your shaky hands, tears bite your waterline and suddenly the rage flips on its head and melts into sorrow. Shoulders drooping, you sigh in defeat and carefully lay out the piece of clothing on your coffee table in plain view. You smooth out any wrinkles carefully.

You move like a tornado throughout the living room, gathering your phone, your purse, slipping on your shoes. Glancing back at the orange and black onesie on the table that reads “daddy’s number one hero,” turns your stomach to knots and you make haste to Kirishima’s house.

You were going to tell Katsuki that you were pregnant tonight, but now you’re sobbing into Kirishima’s shoulder at his house and ignoring your husband’s frantic calls and messages.

Not even a few hours later Katsuki’s calling his agency and telling them shove their extra work up their goddamn asses because you’re his entire fucking world and it makes him sick to see what he’s been doing to you.

He’ll be damned if he didn’t find a way to make it all work. It takes time to return normal, but now you’ll get to spend the weekends waking up to the sound of tiny feet belonging to the miniature spitfire version of Katsuki.

Maybe you will find a way.

Shouto doesn’t think. At least, not very often. To give him some credit, as he’s aged, he’s gotten better at determining the consequences of his actions before he makes important decisions, but that went out the window this time.

It’s why you choke on your sip of water, head jerking in surprise when Shouto chimes in next to you that he’ll take the underground mission his agency is offering to him without consulting you at all. You had a nasty gut feeling when they mentioned something about the remnants of the league of villains but you trusted Shouto to be smart about it.

It’s been years since the war, Touya is gone, but Shouto still is unable to shake off hunting down even a hint of evidence related to the league. It haunts him, and you’re certain it’s because he can’t bear to lose the last piece of something tangible related to his brother, and your agency knows that. Manipulative motherfuckers.

You decidedly keep your mouth shut until you’re alone before turning to your husband with one singular arched eyebrow.

Shouto sighs, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I know what you’re going to say.”

You exhale sharply through your nose. “Just promise me you’ll be back in time.” You cross your arms over your chest, staring at him with a pinched expression. He tilts his head to study your apprehensive features, the corners of his mouth tilting slightly downwards.

“Of course. I wouldn’t leave you alone, you know that.”

You stare at him for a beat longer before averting your gaze. You very much want to believe him, but these kinds of missions are chaotic on their best days.

Turns out you were right to be on edge about it. Shouto does in fact, not, make it home in time to be there with you on the anniversary of your brother’s death. You’re aware it’s not, technically, it’s not his fault. But he is partially to blame. It was cutting it close with the timeline of the anniversary and the mission. Shouto knew that, and still went.

If anyone would understand the grief and sorrow of losing a brother, it’s Shouto. It’s one of the things that brought you together in the first place.

When you wake up alone the morning of the anniversary there’s a tidal wave of heartache so violent sitting on your chest that you can’t stomach leaving your bed. Watching a movie doesn’t help, reading doesn’t help, taking a shower doesn’t. fucking. help. Your mind wonders a one track pathway to memories of your beloved brother. You can’t get him out of your head. Always, always, always his ghost haunts you.

Usually it’s not so hard to shoulder the grief when Shouto is there. He helps you reminisce and shed a warm light onto the otherwise cloudy day. Now you’re alone. It gets to a point that you have to lay any photo involving your brother face down because you may go crazy if you keep staring at them.

When you check your phone it’s empty. No messages, not even a phone call from your husband. Shouto really did abandon you, and you try desperately not to be upset but your heart cracks in half anyways.

You spend the remainder of the day curled up under your blanket, knees tucked to your chest. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes and soak your pillow until you’re sure you’ve cried out the entirety of the water in your body.

You must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next time you peel open your swollen eyes it’s to a significantly warm arm snaking around your waist and pulling you in so tightly to a solid chest that you struggle to breathe.

“Forgive me, I’m so fucking sorry. I love you.” Shouto’s voice is soft and cracks slightly when he speaks, the sensation of his warm breath tickles the back of your neck. You’re too drained to care about being angry with him right now, flipping over to bury your face in his chest and squeeze him back as the lump in your throat becomes too large to swallow around.

The throbbing ache in your chest dulls considerably now that Shouto is home. You stay like that for what seems like hours, and when something like Shouto’s silent tears trickle onto your head, you say nothing and hug him once more.

He may have missed part of the day, but he’ll be there for you in the end. He’ll always find a way.

#bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #mha x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #todoroki angst #shouto todoroki x reader #bakugou angst #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shouto #hurt/comfort #angst #dividers by enchanthings #dividers by saradika

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