#my apartment is tiny so i can't fit a couch

[burrowkit]

I stare up at the indestructible being. Finding his summoning spell was relatively easy. Stupid easy, really, when you think about it. And yet, somehow it was surprising.

A being that lives for eons.

He looks around the space. A tiny living room in my tiny apartment. "Let me guess, you want riches beyond your imagination?" He drawls, looking dissatisfied with the request. "At least that's easy. Most demand murders and riches. A thousand tasks, to set me free."

I keep silent. I know he's looking at my falling apart couch, which is easily older than I am. Maybe even twice as old as me. It's a pullout couch, something that weighs a ton but is still functional.

I've drawn the star with my couch in the middle. Not that I wanted to sacrifice it, but it really was the only place it fit. I glance against the nearby wall. A twin bed.

Because all I can afford is this tiny, bachelor apartment.

The cupboard doors are falling off... if they're even there. The closet door sits in the closet, having equally fallen off.

Some of the windows are boarded up.

"Well...?" The being pushes, staring down at me.

I carefully examine him. The more time he spends here, the more time he shifts his appearance. His hair takes on a yellower blonde than its original platinum. As if all colour had once been leeched from it.

His eyes glow with the brightest blues, as if he once belonged to the skies, fell, and the only memory being of the sky in his eyes.

I reach for a strand of my hair that fell onto my cheek. My platinum blonde hair. I tuck it behind my ear.

It shocked the nurses on my birth that I was born with the same sky blue eyes. Eyes that almost appear unnatural.

My mom has dark hair with a few golden highlights. Her eyes are a deep brown, with a few sparks of red and gold in them. As if he were a treasure. Or at least, that's what my dad supposedly said about them.

"I want you to teach me," I inform him, shifting my weight between my feet, unsure how to explain this.

"Teach you? Teach you what?" The demon prods, as if he needed more direction.

Re-thinking the words, he probably did.

For a being that's visited this world frequently, even without a summoning spell, I was still surprised to find four copies of his summoning spell. One at the local archives. One at the pawn shop. One in my mom's belongings.

The last, on my father's gravestone.

"My mom, she died of cancer," I try to explain. I thought I had practised this speech. Nothing compares to what I actually expected of him.

"And you want her brought to life, hm? That'll cost you extra," he informs me.

No. As much as I'd like my mom back, I know she'd hate being dragged back to her mortal shell.

Still, how hard is it? How hard can it be?

"We need to talk," I inform the demon.

"So. Talk," he spits at me.

I can tell he's becoming furious with me.

You're my father.

I can't seem to get the words out. Instead, I head over to my small desk, on the opposite wall of my bed, scooping up the letter and returning to the edges of the circle. I hold it out to the demon, and he swipes it.

He stares at the paper, and for a moment, I'm unsure of what he'll say. What he'll do.

And maybe that's why I decided to trap him in a spell instead of allowing him to roam free. At least here, he won't be able to escape and avoid his parental obligations.

"Who's your mom?"

I freeze at his words, forcing myself to look into his eyes. His eyes, which are now the exact hue mine are. I flinch, nervous. I look towards the photo at the head of my bed, and he follows.

There, a single photo lies of my mother on my first day of school.

"My Angel," he whispers, looking back at me. "You must be Charlotte."

I nod my head, staring up at him. He shifts again, his height shortening. Closer to my own height. Maybe so he can look me in the eyes easier. "I go by Char," I offer out a hand.

He takes it tentatively, shaking my hand. "Josh."

"I know," I smile at him. "My mom told me all about you."

He nods, looking around the space, releasing my hand. "So, I'm guessing you want to learn about who you are, what abilities you may have inherited, how long you'll live, right?" He inquires, moving around the circle.

"Something like that," I mutter, grabbing a seat on the edge of my bed. "I'd also like to know what mom was."

His head snaps to look at me, looking a tad surprised. "She never told you?"

I shake my head. "She left me a box that told me how to contact you. Then, I confirmed it by finding more copies..." I trail off, nodding to the other papers on my desk. "You're ridiculously easy to call."

He snorts in response. "That's cause most humans covet the best of things."

Implying he's one of the better demons to summon. I have to wonder if it's because he behaves well, or because he works well with others.

On some bizarre instinct, I snap the circle, releasing him from the requirements of the spell. It was an additional step in my mom's copies. In fact, some of the other ones have other additions. I opted to trust the one on my father's grave and in my mother's notes.

He grabs my chair by my desk, pulling it over to the bed. He sighs, taking a seat. "I never did find out what your mother was. Not an angel, but she was my angel," he offers. I'm not entirely sure what he means, but I get the sense that he truly did love her. As much as a demon can, you know. "Which would make you half of her and half a demon," he continues to explain. "Your life will likely be long living. Assuming you can refrain from playing with those dark spells."

He pauses, watching me carefully.

Dark spells.

Yes, my mother's box contained a grimoire containing all sorts of spells. Any time I tried to look at the worst of them, the book would rearrange the papers, preventing me from looking.

I already know why.

My mother, in her attempt to help conceal my nature, used dark magic. It's what truly gave her her cancer.

There are some dark spells I could play with, ones that leave no mark. Ones that would play on my demonic nature. And yet... I have to question why anyone would ever play with the other spells. Even the pages seem to be marked with a general feeling of oil and grease.

"As for your powers..." he trails off again. He whips his hand down, and suddenly a book appears. "This would be a good starting guide."

I take the book tentatively, flipping through the first couple of pages. It provides yet another summoning spell for my father. One that, like my mother's, calls upon Josh directly. But this one has no summoning circle. In fact, it's awfully similar to using a cell phone and calling him.

I flip to another page, describing the beginning guide of my physiology. There's a section on my father's powers. And another section dedicated to the abilities his known offspring have.

Known offspring.

Which likely means I'm not the first, nor the last of his children.

When I look up, about to ask him another question, I know he's already gone.

In fact, on my kitchen counter, I notice a small pile of coins. My couch, which is still in essence, the same, has been fully repaired. My falling apart home is now repaired to its former glory.

I flip to the last page of the book. There, an inscription lies.

If I had known you were on your own earlier, I would have stopped by. No child of mine should ever want for anything. Call if you ever need help, although do try to keep it interesting. There's only so many times I can rip the intestines out of a human before that gets dull.

Oh, and to answer your likely unasked question... there is a spell within this book that'll point you to your siblings. Be warned, they are older. But they all have one human parent. I stripped your mother's spells of protection from you. This will allow you access to your full ability.

PS- Although you never lived in luxury, it was due to your mother choosing to invest all of the child support to your education and future. You should have access to it all soon. I have attached one of my favourite photos of you. I'm sorry it's just a copy, not the original. I still need it.

Love, Josh

I look just below the note, and discover a photo. One that was taken by a stranger.

It was on my birthday. Mom and I decided to travel to Peggy's Cove in Nova Scotia. I smile at the memory, at the kindness of a stranger willing to take a photo of us standing next to the lighthouse.

I flip the photo around, and discover a second one behind it. One of the stranger taking a selfie with the camera, and us.

My dad.

Even though his appearance is different, now that I know him, I know it's him.

My father.

I wonder if he's kept a close eye on my through my life? I wonder, setting the book carefully onto my bed and heading for the kitchen.

There, along with the money, is a photo album. I flip it open and discover photos of my mom and I.

Primarily, photos of us on vacation. And, each one is accompanies with a 'selfie' of a stranger. A different one each time, but even through the photo, I know it's him.

I smile, remembering we had to stop taking vacations when I was still so young.

Or, if we did, we'd take them in secret.

But, I find photos of him with my mother. Her business trips, supposedly.

Which implies that, although he couldn't physically check in on me, he still sought out my mom. And, she clearly kept him up to date.

A single tear drop touches the photo album. Then, with some protection magic, it sizzles and disappears, leaving the book in its flawless condition.

"I love it, dad." I give a sad smile, wondering if I'll ever be able to have a close relationship with him.

I head towards my bathroom, and there, I find a variety of objects. Soaps, shampoos, cleaning supplies.

The weirdest part? The cleaning supplies seem to be working themselves on my bathroom. The most expensive products I couldn't afford for the last few months. They're scrubbing at the mold I was sure I'd never get out.

"Thanks, dad," I smile sadly at it.

The products multiply, quickly opting to clean the rest of my apartment, now that their presence is known.

I laugh. If this is some sort of spell to keep my apartment in tip top shape, I could get used to it. Although...

I look over at the money.

It's enough that I could upgrade. Still, although this was one of the few apartments I could afford myself, I did partially choose it because of its location.

I pick up the album once more and curl up on my bed, closing my eyes. Maybe, just maybe, I can make the best of my life.

I flip to the first page of the book.

Chapter 1. How to contact Josh in an emergency.

The demon collapsed onto your bed. A vacant stare in his eye as he uttered “this is the 10,000th time I’ve been summoned. can we make it easy? Please?”

[chosok-amo]

hi I see you want a request! hb some angst to comfort !drunkgojoxreader where he always shows up drunk confessing his feelings but then acts normal when he’s sobered up. Reader is tired of mixed signals and ends up going on a date with someone when gojo happens to visit sobered up

you can do whatever you want if u happen to be inspired! Hope this helps you get out of your funk

“OH, MY LOVER IS DRUNK” : GOJO SATORU

you and him, you were supposed to be best friends— supposed to. but neither you nor gojo can't keep the feeling of falling. he tries to deny the feeling so hard that he has to drown himself with alcohol, the thing he loves the least, just to forget the feeling, only to come back to you every time he is drunk.

w/c 4.5k

warning : drunk! gojo satoru, non-sorcerer gojo!, angst.

p.s thank you for giving me a chance to write you something, and I'm sorry it took me long enough to write this :'), but i hope you enjoy it! (i don't think i make this angst enough for my liking)

fanart credit to the owner.

it was a tranquil night, the moon casting a soft, ethereal glow through your apartment windows, bathing the room in a gentle light. though the clock read 3:00 AM, sleep eluded you, your mind too restless to find peace. lying on your cold bed, you stared at the ceiling, each pattern and shadow playing tricks on your eyes in the dim light. the blanket was draped neatly up to your stomach, its weight a comforting presence against the chill of the night.

your hands lay flat on top of the blanket, fingers nervously tapping the back of the other hand in a slow, rhythmic cadence. the silence of the night seemed to amplify every tiny sound: the soft rustle of the sheets, the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the apartment, the almost imperceptible hum of the city outside. despite the stillness, a storm of thoughts churned within you, each one keeping you wide awake and alert, as if anticipating something just beyond the horizon.

you were anticipating something, no— more likely, someone. that someone, neither your boyfriend nor your anything, he just likely is a more sinister thing, disguised as a best friend, unfortunately. sinister thing, you describe him, where a silver thread lies between you and him— a bright and bold, tale of your love, gojo satoru.

he is, my sinister thing’ you thought.

you were adrift, suspended in the air, with no destination, no specific place to call home. you existed in a state of limbo, neither firmly standing nor lying down, hovering in a liminal space. your presence was neither filled with love nor marked by the experience of being in love.

you were perpetually caught in a paradox, always existing in a state of “neither,” but never fully reaching a place of clarity or resolution. your existence was defined by an absence of definitive states or emotions, perpetually undefined and drifting, forever caught between the edges of presence and absence.

it was always waiting, waiting, and waiting.

just like how the night before, and before, and right now, waiting in your bed for him to knock— and when he does, you, mindlessly, like you're in ecstasy running a little by little in the middle of the night to open your door, without realizing there's another door you open— your heart.

stumbling, drowning in a sea of alcohol he hates, gojo satoru walks in. and you, like the idiot you are, guide him to your barely-fits-for-his-over-six-feet -ass couch, comfortably lying him there.

“careful,” you whisper through the night.

your warm hands meet with his cold ones, gripping you as if he's holding on for his dear life. you drape his body with a blanket, big enough for you to shield not only his physical form but also the emotions he holds for you, hidden beneath the warmth, hide his love for you, not that you need to know. gojo‘s blue eyes are warm, and dull as they indulge softly in the moonlight and gentle glow from your little lamp on the cover of your living room, appear soft and subdued.

you find yourself seated on the cold, hard floor, while gojo stretches out on your couch, facing you with a look of serene contentment. his handsome face is illuminated by a crooked yet mesmerizing smile, a testament to his charm even in his inebriated state. his hands, chilled and seeking, grip yours with a familiar desperation, yearning for the warmth you effortlessly provide.

this nightly ritual has become a part of your routine—gojo, drinking away his soul, stumbles through your door, his steps wavering yet purposeful. he collapses onto the couch, and you remain on the floor, the quiet observer of his vulnerable confessions. as he speaks of his love for you with a fervor that seems to swell with each passing moment, it’s as if he fears losing you with the break of dawn.

he loves like you’re the very essence of his existence, the heartbeat of his every moment. his affection is a force that shapes his world, a flame that burns eternally in his soul. to him, you are the embodiment of all his dreams and desires, the one who makes every day brighter and every night more meaningful. his love for you is not just a feeling but a profound truth that defines his very being.

when the alcohol fades and his clarity returns, he resumes his usual demeanor, leaving behind only the tender echo of his heartfelt declarations and the gentle imprint of his touch on your hands. he pretends, gojo satoru likes to pretend.

“always so beautiful,” he whispered, his smile fading as his eyes wandered over every contour of your face. he traced the delicate path of each freckle, every mole, and the subtle lines that marked the passage of time, memorizing every exquisite detail in his heart. his cold hand gently cupped your cheek, sending a chill across your skin that mingled with the warmth of his gaze, as if he were imprinting the essence of your beauty into his soul.

he draws your entwined hands closer to his chest, where his heart, in truth, has always belonged to you. from the very first moment you met, it was never his alone; it has been yours from the start. as your palm rests against his chest, you can feel the soft, steady beat of his yours heart, buried beneath his flesh—an intimate rhythm that pulses with calm and a tender, unselfish devotion.

a small smile graces your lips as you rest your chin on the couch, gazing deeply into his eyes and letting yourself be enveloped by their depth. “i’m in love with you,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with intoxicated. “so in love that i can’t remember a time when i wasn’t, as if my soul has adored you since the dawn of everything,” you listen to his heartfelt confession, witnessing the gradual collapse of his defenses, and your eyes shimmer, heart-shaped.

gojo chuckled softly, his voice thick with intoxication. “do you recall the first and last time we made love? your lips on my neck, since that day, your mouth has been nothing but heaven,” his words tumbled out in a drowsy, slurred cadence.

you, too, remember that day with crystal clarity; it is etched deeply in your mind, an indelible memory that clings to your thoughts like a cherished, haunting presence. each detail, every sensation, has become a permanent part of you, woven into the very fabric of your being. the memory of his touch and the sweetness of his kiss linger, a profound and enduring echo that remains with you always.

you still can feel his touch on your skin.

“of course you don’t know,” he whispered, his voice heavy with the weight of intoxication, as his thumb traced gentle patterns across your cheek. “and i’ll gladly take the blame for that,” he continued, his words slurred with inebriation, “i-i kissed your hair while you slept in the morning,” his giggle, light and childlike, bubbled up with a carefree delight. “i wonder if you ever knew.”

you shake your head gently, a small, small smile touching your lips, just a little. you wouldn't dare to open your mouth, oh, you wouldn't dare. to speak would risk breaking the spell of his drunken state, causing him to sober up and retract the love he has so freely and vulnerably shared. the thought of him withdrawing those tender confessions and retreating into the safety of his guarded heart is a fear too profound to bear. because at that time, it's all you have, his drunkenly confession.

so you remain silent, savoring the warmth of his affection as it envelops you, clinging to this fleeting intimacy as if it were a precious secret. afraid that when the dawn’s approach looms, threatening to sweep away the ephemeral beauty of his heartfelt revelations, leaving only the ghost of his love behind.

it's a frightening, haunting, spine-chilling sensation that grips you, filling you with an aching dread, so you remain silent. because maybe, in those three am confessions are your only salvation. just like a dark mirror to cinderella’s tale, your reality is sinking down from the ceiling, swallowing you whole when he sobers up when the sun hits your cheeks warm.

“oh, god, i love you so much. . .” he whispered, his voice laden with vulnerability as he clutched your hand tightly, pressing it against his chest. “this love i feel—it terrifies me. i'm scared for the love i have for you, it seems so powerful, like it could burn me alive or utterly ruin me. even so, i know that i’ll let it be, but fuck. . . i'm so scared.” his breath was uneven and strained, each gasp revealing the depth of his fear.

his eyes, gleaming with the weight of his emotions, flickered with a poignant brilliance before finally closing. as he drifted into unconsciousness, the full embrace of the alcohol took hold, and the tender confessions of his heart were swallowed by the enveloping darkness.

you remain in quiet contemplation, letting his heartfelt words gently seep into your thoughts. you extend your arm along the edge of the couch, laying your cheek softly against it as you gaze at gojo’s tranquil, slumbering face. his lips, tender and slightly swollen, and his cheeks, flushed a soft, rosy hue reminiscent of crushed cherries from the effects of the alcohol, form a serene portrait of vulnerability.

in the gentle light, his features are softened by the peacefulness of sleep, creating a stark contrast to the emotional intensity of his earlier confessions. the calmness of his face, so vulnerable and exposed in repose, contrasts beautifully with the passionate turmoil of his words.

as you watch him, the room seems to hold its breath, enveloping you both in a tender silence that honors the depth of the moment. the delicate interplay of light and shadow highlights the serene beauty of his sleep, allowing you to cherish the profound intimacy of this quiet, shared space.

when the morning comes, he'll sober up, and the alcohol will have faded from his system, washed away by the sunlight along with his love for you. he'll blame the alcohol in case he said anything foolish, and you? oh, you would find yourself blaming the moon, even the sun, because it's breath away the day for night to come, for casting hope into your soul, into your heart, and also crushing it at the same time in the harsh light of dawn. leaving you to grapple with the fragile hope that was both a blessing and a burden.

it was cruel, worse than cannibalism. you could have borne the agony of having your flesh consumed, but not the ravaging of your soul and heart, oh please, not my heart’ you would plead into the darkness as night falls. you were scared too, not because of loving gojo satoru, loving him is as natural as breathing, but because of the depth of your devotion— you are scared your devotion would turn violent. your devotion would make you believe him like a god, and he'll betray you like a man.

yet, despite the pain, you find yourself eternally awaiting the arrival of night, longing for those confessions whispered at 3:00 AM, even knowing they will leave you shattered by morning’s light. each dawn brings the same heartache, and today is no different.

you awaken to the insistent chime of your notification, your eyes fluttering open to the stark emptiness of your apartment. the couch where gojo once lay is now vacant, the space where he slept cold and unwelcoming. the blanket he used before now wrapped around you, carries no trace of his warmth. the comfort it once offered has dissipated, leaving behind only a hollow chill and the echo of his absence.

your grip tightens on your phone, the pressure biting into your hands, but it’s a mere shadow of the pain coursing through your heart. suddenly, the dam within you gives way, and a torrent of tears spills down your cheeks, cascading like a relentless river. the exhaustion of navigating gojo’s endless emotional games weighs heavily upon you, a suffocating burden that leaves you breathless.

you don't want anything, the only thing you want can't be bought with money. if i ask for your heart will you give it to me?’ you mock yourself. what a fucking loser.

“oh god. . .” you whisper, forehead touching the floor as you wailing in silence.

you feel foolish for clinging to the hope that, perhaps this time, he might remember, that he might repeat the tender words of the night before. yet, as each morning dawns with the same emptiness, your heart aches with the weary realization that your hopes have been in vain, leaving you to grapple with the sorrow of unfulfilled dreams.

the evening was settling into a serene quiet, your apartment softly illuminated by the warm glow of your lights. you were almost ready for your date, anticipation mingling with a sense of hope as you made final adjustments to your outfit. watching yourself in the mirror, you realize how dull your eyes are, losing their spark. after everything, you decided to bury your feelings beneath your flesh until only you know your love for gojo satoru.

a knock at the door disrupted your preparations, and when you opened it, gojo stood there, sober and uncharacteristically subdued. his eyes, usually brimming with playful energy, now reflected a deep, almost mournful sadness.

“hey,” he said, his voice softer just like always. he glanced around the room, his gaze lingering on the subtle details of your evening preparations—the carefully chosen attire, the delicate scent of perfume, and your eyes, those bright, beautiful eyes.

you moved through your bedroom, selecting accessories and adjusting your outfit, each motion a quiet ritual in the evening’s anticipation. gojo watched from the doorway, his gaze fixed on you with a deep, almost reverent intensity. his silence spoke volumes, a contrast to the usual banter that characterized your interactions.

gojo’s voice, tinged with an unexpected vulnerability, broke the silence. “where are you going?” he asked softly, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of concern and hurt.

you hesitated, caught between the desire to protect both his feelings and the truth. his gaze, usually so playful and intense, now bore a raw, wounded quality. the gravity of the question hung heavy in the air, and you could feel the weight of the decision you had to make.

“i’m—” you started, but the words caught in your throat. you could see the hope flickering in his eyes, mingled with the pain of realization. you knew that this was more than just a casual question; it was a plea for understanding, for clarity amid his confusion.

he took a step closer, his usual nonchalance replaced by a genuine yearning to grasp the reality of the situation. “i just want to know,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper, “where you’re going. what’s tonight for you?”

you looked at him, your heart aching with the weight of his unspoken fears. the room felt charged with the intensity of the moment, every detail amplified by the quiet desperation in his voice.

“i’m going out with someone,” you finally admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “tonight is… it’s meant for someone else.”

the words hung in the air, their impact palpable. gojo’s face fell, the light in his eyes dimming as he took in the truth of your plans. he nodded slowly, the understanding settling over him with a heavy sadness.

“i see,” he said quietly, a bitter edge to his tone as he took a step back, giving you space. “i didn’t realize…” the finality of his words and the desolate look on his face were almost too much to bear.

you hesitated, unsure of how to respond, but before you could answer, his gaze wandered over you with a mixture of admiration and sadness. “you look…” he started, his voice faltering slightly as he struggled to find the right words. “you look really beautiful tonight.”

his eyes roamed over your outfit, the careful details you had chosen, and the way the light caught in your hair. there was a softness in his gaze that spoke of more than just physical appreciation— it was as though he was trying to hold onto every fleeting moment, every detail of this evening as if to etch it into his memory.

“you always look beautiful,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “but tonight. . .. tonight it’s different. you’re. . . breathtaking.” the sincerity in his words was palpable, mingling with the unspoken sadness in his eyes. he didn’t move, didn’t retreat from the moment. instead, he stood there, quietly observing, letting his admiration and affection fill the space between you.

“i didn’t mean to intrude,” he said softly, his gaze never leaving you. “i just wanted to see you one more time. before you go.”

the room felt heavy with the weight of his gaze, the emotional intensity of his words. you could feel the ache in his eyes, a mixture of admiration and longing, as he took in every detail of your appearance. the compliment, so genuine and heartfelt, seemed to hang in the air, a poignant reminder of the affection he still held for you.

“it's okay,” you nodded softly, gazing at him from your mirror with a little smile, kissing your lips. the date was meant to be an escape, a chance to move forward, but it felt like an endurance exercise.

your date was polite and engaged in conversation, but there was an undeniable disconnect. every word spoken seemed to drift past you, a mere backdrop to the whirlwind of thoughts that consumed your mind. the laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the casual chatter all felt hollow, lacking the vibrancy you had hoped for.

as the evening progressed, the sparkle of the city lights and the charm of the venue did little to lift the weight on your shoulders. the conversations felt superficial, the moments fleeting and unremarkable. you smiled and nodded in response, but your thoughts were miles away, tangled in the memories and the lingering presence of gojo.

you couldn’t help but replay the images of that earlier moment—gojo’s earnest eyes, the softness of his compliments, and the way his gaze had followed you with such unspoken longing. his presence had imprinted on your heart so deeply that everything else seemed to fade in comparison. the way he had watched you, the tenderness in his voice, and the painful silence after he had left all resurfaced in your mind, casting a shadow over every interaction of the evening.

the date dragged on, each passing minute feeling like an eternity. you forced yourself to remain engaged, but the thought of gojo’s unspoken words and the gentle way he had looked at you overshadowed everything. you were caught in a cycle of longing and regret, unable to escape the grip of your own emotions.

as you stepped out of the restaurant, the cool night air was a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere of the evening. your mind was still heavy with the weight of the date's emptiness, and the city lights seemed dimmer as you walked towards your car.

just outside, by the entrance of the restaurant, you noticed a familiar figure leaning against a lamppost. gojo stood there, his posture relaxed but his eyes scanning the crowd with a determined focus. as your gaze met his, his face softened, revealing a mix of relief and something deeper.

there you are, beautiful, mellow you. walking alone looking pretty in that silk dress that you should be wearing for him, not the other man, him. seeing you so breathtakingly beautiful makes gojo satoru want to crash into every piece of you, and fuck, he swears to god, that's how stars are born.

“hey,” he said softly, pushing himself off the lamppost and walking towards you. the usually playful tone in his voice was replaced by a sincere warmth. “i thought i might catch you before you left.” you stopped in your tracks, a flutter of surprise and emotion rising within you. “satoru, what are you doing here?”

you're in front of him, eyes glimmering under the lamppost and the moon. gojo wants to run, to bury himself under the ground, or just tell you to stop looking at him with those eyes. stop touching me with your eyes’ he thought.

“i-i. . .”

even so, his eyes never leave yours, shaken as he tries to swim into your orbs. how its color slightly changes under the lamppost makes it even harder for gojo to speak as if the ground is a new language for him, and suddenly, he forgets everything he knows about gravity.

“please love me. .” he whispered, throat dry.

for a brief, electrifying moment, your eyes widened in astonishment. your heart is pounded with a frantic rhythm, faster than the fall of distant stars, yearning to escape its confines and find its way into gojo’s hands. it ached with a longing so intense that it felt almost unbearable.

the pain of desiring something so profoundly—something you’ve never truly known—made you question why your heart should yearn for a home it has never experienced. yet, despite never having been there, it cried out with an ineffable need to be held by him.

it was always his and never been yours since day one, but he already holds onto your soul with an unrelenting grip and your heart— your only refuge, is all you ever had to keep living. you can't live your life if all you ever had is just merely flesh and bone.

“satoru, are you drunk?”

“no—” he shook his head, fast enough to hold both your hands and bring them closer against his chest, where his heart was beating faster, also begging to be handed to you. “i'm in love with you, y/n. i'm sorry i always pretend like i don't remember in the morning, but please. . . i don't dare to, maybe if i love you less it would be easier for me to talk, but fuck—”

he paused for a moment, and in that suspended breath, your only fear was the possibility of him retracting his heartfelt confession. the weight of his unspoken words hung in the air, and you found yourself dreading the loss of such a precious revelation. the thought of him pulling back, of his feelings fading into silence, was the only shadow that cast fear over your heart.

so you shook your head, “no, don't stop,” you plea.

gojo swallows his pride, he feels pathetic. but he would bear the life long of feeling pathetic if it is meant to have your eyes on him, to have your skins and bones knit with his then so be it. “i love you—oh god, i fucking love you, in the purest, chaste, most victorian sense,” he says, laughing softly. “even a mere glimpse of your ankle might be enough to drive me mad.” you can’t help but chuckle along with him.

his hands enveloped yours with a desperate intensity, holding them as if they were the very essence of his longing. “i love you,” he breathed softly, his voice mingling with the whisper of the night breeze. “i want every single one of your tomorrows.”

he guided your hands closer to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to your wrist, his touch both tender and reverent. his eyes locked with yours, revealing a depth of emotion that seemed to illuminate the darkness around you. the moment his lips left your skin, the faintest trace of coldness lingered, as if the warmth of his affection had left an indelible mark.

with a gentle but purposeful motion, his hands slid to your waist, drawing you nearer. his touch was both firm and delicate as he turned you around, guiding you until your back was nearly pressed against the lamppost. the soft glow of the streetlight bathed you both in a halo of light, casting long shadows and highlighting the closeness of your bodies.

in this intimate cocoon, the world seemed to fade away. the chill of the night, the warmth of his breath, and the quiet intensity of his gaze created a fragile moment of connection. his presence enveloped you, a promise whispered in the night air, as if he were claiming every future moment with you, even as the night deepened around you.

“please. . ..” he beg.

he leaned in, his face inches from yours, until his lips lightly brushed against your own. “please, love me,” he whispered once more, his voice tender and pleading. his warm breath caressing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

the proximity of his lips, the softness of his words, and the gentle warmth of his breath all combined to create a moment of intimate vulnerability. his plea hung in the air, laden with the depth of his emotions, as he sought to bridge the gap between your hearts.

as the world around you seemed to slow, gojo’s gaze lingered on your lips with an intensity that made your heart race. his fingers, still resting on your waist, drew you even closer, the warmth of his body enveloping you. the soft glow of the streetlight cast a gentle halo around the two of you, accentuating the intimacy of the moment.

with a deliberate tenderness, he tilted his head slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. the anticipation built like a quiet storm as his lips inched closer, brushing against yours with a delicate, almost reverent touch. the kiss was soft at first, a gentle exploration that spoke of deep longing and unspoken desires.

his lips moved with a slow, deliberate grace as if savoring every second of the connection. the initial softness gave way to a deeper intensity, his kiss growing more passionate as he pulled you even closer. the world outside seemed to dissolve, leaving only the sensation of his lips pressed firmly against yours. his hands cradled your face, his touch gentle yet insistent, guiding the kiss with a blend of affection and need.

the warmth of his kiss seemed to infuse every part of you, a melding of hearts and souls that transcended words. when he finally pulled away, his eyes still locked onto yours, there was a look of profound contentment and vulnerability. the kiss lingered in the air between you, a testament to the depth of his feelings and the fragile, beautiful connection that bound you together.

as you slowly pull away from the kiss, your lips linger near his, you meet his gaze with a fierce resolve. “if you ever mock me or play with me,” you say, your voice steady yet charged with intensity, “i swear to god, satoru, i’ll fucking hunt you down.” the words hang between you, your breath mingling with his, a silent promise of the depth of your commitment.

gojo’s eyes spark with a playful glint as he hears your words. with a mischievous smile, he leans in, giving your lips a series of soft, teasing pecks. “i won’t,” he replies, his tone light and teasing, but with an undercurrent of sincerity. “i promise.” his playful demeanor contrasts with the intensity of your threat, yet his gentle touches and warm gaze convey a deeper assurance.

[rosyhoneydew]

A quick love letter to my Bucktommy family in the form of a fix-it <3

Bucktommy | fix-it | Teen | 1141 words | warnings: this is angsty at the start and tiptoes toward addressing biphobia so please care for yourself and don't read if that will exacerbate your hurt.

They're three beers deep when the doorbell rings again.

It's been a fucking night. He hadn't really had much to say to Eddie when he got there, thankfully he hadn't had to, especially considering Eddie was clearly in the midst of his own kind of night. It feels better, not being alone, at least. But the alcohol mixes with his head and twists the moment in his apartment further. How come every time I want to move forward I get pushed back?

He's not even paying attention when Eddie goes up to get the door, just fiddles with the bottle in his hand more, peeling the label into tiny pieces and laying them on Eddie's coffee table for him to pick up later.

"Shit-" Eddie stumbles as he makes his way. And then Buck can feel a little breeze as he goes to tell whoever it is that this isn't a good time.

"Oh thank god-" Buck freezes, determined not to turn around. "I wasn't sure you'd be home but I think I fucked up."

That's Tommy.

"I panicked a little. Evan asked me to move in and I think I freaked out."

"Uhh-" Eddie adds.

"We just got done talking about my ex who I had to end an engagement with and it just- it felt like he was trying to make up for his own freak out about it and-" Buck hears him take a deep breath, "I didn't want to force him into doing something he didn't really want to do, you know? He- he should get to make sure that's what he really wants." He takes another breath. "Are you not wearing pants?"

"Umm-"

Buck's heart rate had steadily ramped up hearing Tommy speak, but it's when he stops that Buck feels tears prickle at his eyes. He whips around then, still nestled into Eddie's couch, betrayal in his voice when he speaks.

"I did!" and shit. He didn't really mean to shout that.

"I'm gonna..." Eddie trails off as he heads into his bedroom.

"Why do you think I didn't make sure that's what I wanted?" he demands. He hadn't thought he'd be so angry, but this felt like something to him, and Tommy's running. Again. "Because that girl hit on me at the restaurant?"

Tommy looks shell-shocked. Like he's still grasping the fact that Buck is here, so Buck just keeps talking.

"Or because I haven't dated a man before? So I must not know what I'm talking about, right?"

"Buck-"

"Don't call me that."

"Evan," Tommy steps a little closer, and Buck leans toward the cushions, petty, but feeling raw still. "That is not why."

Buck levels him with a look.

"Okay, what you said is fair enough," he relents. "I didn't mean to make it seem like you couldn't make your own decisions about this."

"What did you mean?"

Tommy looks away for a moment, a flicker of pain on his face.

"I meant... what I said," he lands on. "You would break my heart, Evan."

"You don't know that." The tears finally crest over his lower lids and make their way to his mouth. "You can't just give up every time you're scared that I'm going to leave you, Tommy. It's not fair, you're not even giving me the chance to stay."

Tommy's lip wobbles a little now too, but he stays and listens.

"I wanted to stay, I wanted you to stay. With me. Permanently. Why would you think I would leave you?"

He cries now, and Buck hasn't ever seen him cry.

"I don't know," he gets out, choked and soft. "I see you, sometimes. With the 118 and everyone's families and I... I don't feel like I fit, Evan. I don't get how I fit into that."

"You fit into it because you're my boyfriend. My partner."

"I am?" he asks, treading closer ever slightly to the couch.

This time Buck leans his way. He sets his bottle down and looks down at his hands.

"Did you mean what you told Eddie? You fucked up? Because I fucked up, once, at the beginning of us, and you gave me that second chance and I'm so glad you did, Tommy, because these last few months have been better than I could've hoped. I don't want to let that go because of this so... yeah you can be, if you want."

Tommy rushes to the couch, he sits as close as he can get and grabs Buck's hands firmly. Warm and sure.

"I want that. I want us again. Please."

"You can have it," Buck whispers, resting his head on Tommy's shoulder. He squeezes Tommy's hands. "Just don't leave again, please."

"I won't, I won't."

Then there's a kiss at the crown of his head, and Tommy's other hand rubs soft circles over his back. He murmurs sweet nothings in Buck's ear all the while.

I'm sorry. I'm glad you were here. I missed you as soon as I walked out the door. I'm staying. I'm staying. I'm staying.

They sit like that for a while until a throat clearing from the hallway has them both lifting their heads to find Eddie, fully-clothed.

"What were you guys doing before I got here, by the way?" Tommy asks, humor back in his voice.

"Well, I was drinking my sorrows away. I don't know what Tom Cruise was doing."

"Ha ha," Eddie says, making his way to the couch, no qualms about forcing them to scooch over to make room. "We can talk about my shit tomorrow. You guys worked it out I guess?"

Buck looks up at Tommy, smiles, and kisses him with a loud peck just to make Eddie huff and roll his eyes.

"Yeah," Tommy says, looking at ease. "Although..." he starts.

Buck turns to him, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know that moving into your place is going to work," Tommy admits.

Buck sits up a little, mouth just opening to speak when Tommy cuts him off.

"I want to live with you, Evan, but your place is barely big enough for one person, so maybe we can workshop location, yeah?" he smiles a crinkly smile, the kind that always lets Buck know he's feeling fond, feeling secure.

It's Buck's turn to huff now. "It gets good light," he grumbles.

Tommy kisses his temple again, Buck gets the distinct feeling that he will be getting kissed quite a bit in the near future, and he chances a quick look at Eddie to see if they're being annoying.

Instead, he sees Eddie smiling too, he's looking on like he's proud and it makes Buck want to tear up again. Eddie gives him a nod and Buck nods back.

A weight lifts off his shoulders then. In the arms of the man he's growing to love and accepted by his family.

~~~~

I want to say a quick thank you to everyone who read, commented, shared my fics, sent me nice messages about my writing for these two, and to everyone who created content for them while they were canon. I'm thankful for every minute of it :)

[lovemomhatepolice]

Hey babessss could you do a drew starkey x reader’s first time together… smut? Love yo<3

31’ - drew starkey

navigation taglist requests

pairing: drew starkey x fem!reader

warnings: first time sex, sexual overtones, age difference (Drew is 31, reader is 21), established relationship, oral sex, unprotected sex (PROTECTED YOURSELF), drunk!drew, drunk!reader, blowjob, a tiny bit of fingering, English is my second language!

belonging: NO NUT NOVEMBER!

type: totally smut with plot, a little bit of fluff (because drew is a cutie pattotie)

word count: 5k

summary: happy birthday beautiful man. there can't be a better gift, right?

more content: drew starkey masterlist, obx masterlist

You nervously adjusted the shoulder strap of your black dress, once again that evening. At the tenth you stopped counting. You were terribly annoyed by its material, its length, well today just everything stressed you out. You didn't know why yourself, and you were angry with yourself, because you were supposed to act as unsuspecting as you could - and it didn't work out.

"Drew, are you ready?" you finally asked, exiting the bathroom after spending a long time in it.

Today was his 31st birthday, which was no small feat. After 30, life starts to get more serious, even for someone like Drew.

Drew heard you open the door and from his seat in the living room he could see you coming out of the bathroom. He swallowed hard as he looked at you - you were as incredibly beautiful as you are every day. But there was something about you today - the way you walked, the way you smiled at him, the way you wore that dress - he couldn't take his eyes off you. In fact, for a few seconds he stopped functioning at all.

“Yes, I'm ready,” he finally said, getting up from the couch.

"Great," You smiled at him and picked up your purse, which was lying on a cabinet in his hallway.

You didn't live together, it was still too serious a step in a relationship you had only been in for less than two months. Despite the fact that you had known each other practically all your lives, by the fact that both of you lived near each other and you were friends with his sister Brooke, your relationship progressed very slowly and you were both probably happy about it. Finally, in such a fast-paced world, you could at least relax for a while and enjoy each other longer.

He walked over to you and grabbed your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours. You were so perfectly fitting in his hand - and he would never get enough of that sensation. A part of him also just liked the way it looked; how he would tower over you and your small hand would disappear in his bigger one.

“Ready to go?” he then asked again, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss it.

"I should be the one to ask you that," you laughed lightly, blushing from the tenderness. Drew was always like that. He always took care of everyone, tried to make no one feel bad. And for that you loved him.

"My birthday boy."

Drew pulled you closer to him and threw his free arm around your shoulders. He began to lead you toward the front door. “Are you sure you're not the birthday girl?”

He let go of your hand so he could open the door, and then opened it for you, holding the other at your back. He teased you. “You're just as excited as I am, or even more so.”

"Oh, because in the end I'm the one who can take you out to dinner and pay for everything," you said, sticking your tongue out in his direction as he closed his apartment.

Drew was already like that - he never let you pay for any of your dates or food. And even when you had to split it in half (which he didn't agree to very readily), he continued to try to wring it out somehow.

He laughed lightly as you headed to the elevator together. He pressed the button and turned to face you, his back leaning against the elevator wall. He lightly combed his hair with his hand, on which his inseparable ring.

“We've been over this before,” he said, still looking at you with a goofy grin. “I won't let you pay anything on my birthday. And in fact, I'd best not let you pay for anything. And ever,” he snarked.

"And that you can not allow, and I'll do it anyway," you laughed and took the lip gloss out of your purse. You turned toward the elevator mirror and started applying it back.

He smiled, looking at you. The man pulled away from the elevator wall and walked closer to you. He then grabbed your hips from behind and pulled you close, gently trailing his thumbs along your sides. Because of the large height difference, he bent down slightly, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Stop being so stubborn,” he teased in a light tone, placing a light kiss on your head.

"You're the one who should stop being so stubborn," you muttered, putting the lipstick back in your purse.

You turned toward him and put your hands on his white shirt, gently correcting it. "It's your birthday and I want you to just let yourself be pampered."

He chuckled, his arms then moving around your waist while he looked at you.

“You’re the one that deserves to be pampered,” he said honestly and leaned his forehead against yours for a moment, placing a light kiss on it.

"You too. Big grown man" you laughed playing with the button of his shirt.

Drew looked unearthly today. Every day he looked like he was created by angels, but today? Today he outdid himself. White shirt, black pants and matching jacket. Plus his hair, which was now a little longer... he looked like a god. „You’re thirty one today, that's no even a joke anymore.”

He also giggled when he listened to you. He loved the feeling of your hands playing with the button of his shirt. It was such a random and small thing, but it was still soothing. He enjoyed those little moments between you. When it was just you and the whole world was suddenly silent.

“Don't remind me,” he said with a small giggle, and a smile appeared on his lips as he watched you. “I feel old.”

"But you have ten years younger girl, it makes you younger," you laughed and grabbed his hands, which he had on your waist.

He giggled, well aware of this. Well, your age difference was something too big and unusual for many. But he didn't care, it was nobody's business. It was only yours, and you felt the best you could.

“Somehow it worked out that way, huh?” he asked with a smile and moved one of his hands to grab your chin, letting his thumb gently brush your lower lip.

"Oh don't touch or you'll smear my lip gloss" I laughed, feeling his thumb on my lip.

He chuckled again and shook his head, but his eyes were locked on your lips. The way they just begged him to lean in and kiss them.

“It’s not like I haven’t smeared it before,” he said in a teasing tone while he continued to caress your bottom lip with his thumb.

"That's why I had to correct it,"you laughed, looking into his beautiful blue irises, which were now, as always, laughing.

"Don't exaggerate," he laughed and leaned slightly over you, smacking your lips.

You smiled into his mouth, returning the kiss lightly. Now his lips were also shining from your pink gloss, but before you could tell him, the elevator doors opened on the right floor.

You took his hand and intertwined your fingers together, walking out of the elevator in front of him. You headed toward the exit of the building, getting more and more excited about the party you had organized. Drew trusted you and let you lead the way, but as soon as you spotted your present driver parked in front of Drev's apartment building, you stopped for a moment.

"Wait, i have to blindfold you" you said and took out a blindfold from your purse so he couldn't see anything.

In the end, Drew thought the two of you were going to dinner. But in fact you were taking him to his favorite club in Charleston, where all his family and friends were waiting for him.

"And how am I supposed to go the car without seeing anything?” he asked with a smirk.

„I’ll help you dumbass”

He laughed as he listened to you and allowed you to put the blindfold on him.

“I hope you don’t leave me stranded somewhere,” he said with teasing tone, poking your ribs.

You bent under his finger as he stabbed you in the ribs and laughed. “Oh this is just my dream. To leave you here alone blindfolded.” you muttered and took out some more headphones from the purse. “You can't hear either, forgive me darling,” you added and put the headphones over his ears, kissing him lightly on the lips.

“I've lost all my senses because of you,” he muttered, letting himself be led toward the car. “I knew it a long time ago, but to do it in a literal way. Wow. I didn't expect that.” You snorted with laughter and slowly opened the car door for him, being careful not to hit him, because compared to a low car, Drew was a giant and could quickly get a bump.

You got in after him and greeted your driver, who already knew the address well, so he only smiled in your direction. After a while, you set off for your chosen location, which was not that far away, but you had to drive a bit. And you knew very well that if you both had a drink with Drew, you would neither return as a driver nor on your feet.

Drew instinctively caught your hand and intertwined your fingers, playing with your nails, which you had freshly done. You smiled under your breath and laid your head on his shoulder.

~~~ You have already entered the club without much obstruction, however, further without taking off either the armband or the headphones. You led him out into the middle, letting his friends and family surround him, until you finally gave them a sign that they could shout surprise, when at the same time you took off his headband and headphones at the same time. “Surprise!” you exclaimed along with the others, looking from the sidelines at his reaction.

Drew stood for a moment, as if enchanted. Then he began to look around him, and when he saw all his loved ones, it made his heart warm. Each of them on this one day decided to come and make the man's birthday even better.

You smiled sincerely in his direction, continuing to be surprised that it all worked out the way you wanted. Everyone was there - the entire OBX cast, Odesa, his hometown friends and immediate family. “Surprise?” you asked, laughing lightly at your boyfriend.

Drew tried to say something, but continued to be too surprised. “I-wow…” he laughed under his breath, walking a little closer to you. “Really, thank you.”

His smile continued to grow as he took in the sight of so many familiar faces around him.

“The best things for the best boyfriend,” you muttered, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him slightly closer to you, smacking your lips. You must have distracted him a bit before his mother managed to blow out the candles on the cake she had prepared.

He laughed again as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close. He placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, then turned to look at his mother, who was now standing in front of him with a birthday cake.

“How the hell did you manage to keep this a secret from me?” - he said, and everyone laughed.

“I guess we never know,” you said and wanted to move away from him so he could stand by the cake himself, but he cut you off.

But before you had a chance to take more than a step away from him he grabbed your wrist, preventing you from moving away.

“I want you here,” he muttered in a low tone only you could hear.

His mother set the cake down in front of him, and everyone started singing “Happy Birthday.” Drew’s eyes sparkled with happiness, and you couldn’t help but admire how his face lit up in the glow of the candles.

When the song ended, he took a deep breath and blew out the candles, laughter and cheers erupting from the crowd. You clapped along, feeling proud of your surprise.

“Alright, let’s cut this cake!” Drew said, reaching for the knife. He looked around at everyone, then back at you, his smile softer now. “I can’t believe you all did this for me. This means so much.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling a swell of emotion. “You deserve it, Drew. You’re amazing.”

As the cake was served, you took a moment to glance around the room. Friends were laughing, drinks were flowing, and the energy was electric. This was what you had hoped for—a celebration of Drew, surrounded by the people who loved him most.

Once everyone had their slices, Drew turned to you, a slice of cake in hand. “Here, let me feed you.”

You giggled, opening your mouth playfully as he brought the fork to your lips. The sweet flavor burst in your mouth.

The two of you sat somewhere in a corner, eating a cake together. Around you sat some of his friends and family, the rest were either getting ready to wish him well and give him a gift, another part was already standing at the bar, starting the celebration.

“Give me your jacket, I'll go put them away in the locker room, and you take care of the guests here.” you said to him, finishing your piece of cake.

"Don't be long," he muttered and gave you a small kiss on the forehead.

“I promise,” you muttered and went to the locker room, putting your jackets away together. In the meantime, his sister Mackalaya accosted you, giving you a tight squeeze. You had known her all my life, too, so it was great to see her again.

"How are you? How are you guys doing?"

Meanwhile, Drew continued to chat and talk to his friends sitting around him, but his eyes were continuously drawn to the direction where you had left moments ago.

“It really couldn't be better,” you smiled sincerely at her. “Drew is so wonderful, we are so damn happy.”

She chuckled happily at your answer, nodding her head with a smile.

"It's lovely to hear, you are just perfect for each other," Mackalaya said and glanced in her brother's direction for a second, seeing how he kept looking toward the locker room, waiting for you to return.

“We may come to you soon, after Drew finishes recording,�� I said, squeezing her hand. “I can't wait to see Liliana.”

You saw Drew stand from the table and head to the bar with the others. You laughed under your breath as your gazes met together again and Mackalaya no longer held you.

“Looks like the party is really getting started now! Should we join them?”

She then looked back at you and nodded her head with a smirk.

“I think it’s our cue to join them,” she said, then grabbed your arm and led the way toward the bar counter.

As you approached, you could hear snippets of Drew’s conversation, his laughter ringing out like music. He caught your eye again, and that familiar warmth spread through you. He gestured for you to come closer, his smile broadening.

He moved forward slightly, stretching his arm and grabbing you by the hip, pulling you against him until you were standing between his legs.

“What did you order?” you asked, glancing at the bartender, who was preparing various drinks and grabbed the menu in your hand and looked for something for yourself.

Drew leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I ordered a round of mojitos. They’re the best here,” he said, a playful glint in his eye. You could feel the excitement buzzing around you, the energy of the party enveloping both of you.

“Then I'll take the same too,” you muttered and handed it to the bartender, who added another mojito to his queue.

Drew rested his chin on your shoulder and let out a low chuckle as you felt him inhale the scent of your hair.

“How do you feel?” you asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Happy," he managed to utter before he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his nose brushing against your skin. "I just want to enjoy the moment. Care to join me?”

The way he looked at you made your heart race, and you couldn’t help but smile. “I’m in. Let’s make it a night to remember.”

The whole evening passed in a wonderful atmosphere. Everyone danced, drank drinks, talked to a lot of people and you all just enjoyed being with Drew on his birthday. The man also seemed to be in awe. He had a smile on his lips the whole time and didn't leave your side for a moment. Whether you were dancing or he was getting a gift from his friends, you always had to be next to him. And you didn't mind at all.

As the night progressed, the air filled with excitement. You found yourself lost in the rhythm of the party, the way he pulled you closer during a slow song, his hands resting on your waist, made your heart flutter.

“Best birthday ever,” he said, his eyes sparkling when he looked at you. Drew started getting slightly more and more clingy with you.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured, a playful smile on his lips as he leaned in.

He pressed soft, lingering kisses along your neck, sending delightful shivers down your spine. Each gentle touch felt electrifying, and you couldn’t suppress the smile spreading across your face.

Drew tightened his grip, making it clear he wasn’t going to let you go anytime soon. As the music pulsed around you and laughter filled the air, you knew this was a night you both would remember—one full of warmth, connection, and perhaps a bit of sweet spontaneity.

You turned toward him and didn't have to wait long for the boy to attach his lips to yours. He didn't give a damn that all his immediate family and friends were around. He knew very well that he was in a trusted circle and no one would judge him or put anything on the Internet. He felt safe here, and with you in his arms, it was even better.

Drew pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” he admitted, a playful grin on his lips. There was a light in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat.

Your kiss became more and more intense, but no one paid much attention to you. And even if they did - they didn't expect how great the feeling was growing in both of you. Suddenly you felt his hands on your buttocks as they gently clamped down on them, and you laughed, moving your lips slightly away from his to look into his eyes. This time there was something more intense in his gaze than usual. You knew that you both felt the same way.

His breath was slightly labored from the kiss, and his grip on your buttocks became firmer as he pulled you even closer so that you were practically flush against his body.

There was a hint of hunger in his gaze, a need for more than just a kiss.

“I want to go home,” he murmured into your mouth, smacking it again. “They won't even notice.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips. “What about all the fun?”

Drew grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I just want us to end this evening.”

The way he looked at you, filled with that intensity you both had shared all night, made your heart race. “Alright, let’s do it,” you said, a thrill of anticipation bubbling inside you.

You did not wait any longer, you both knew very well how the evening would end. You left the club unnoticed, leaving all your gifts behind. The club was closed tomorrow anyway, so you could easily return for them. You waited a while for your boyfriend, who struggled for a while to find your coats, but fortunately it didn't take long. Drew grabbed your hand and you went outside, immediately seeing your driver.

“I can’t wait to get you home,” he whispered, making your pulse quicken. You exchanged a look filled with promise, knowing that this night was just beginning.

~~~ When you arrived at his apartment, you couldn't keep your hands off each other. Drew had barely closed the door behind him, and he already had you in his arms and was leading you toward his bedroom, showering you with kisses all over your face. You were both laughing, which was typical of you, even at a time like this.

Drew gently laid you down on his bed, letting you take another moment to think about whether you really wanted this. Oh, how much you wanted it, and you knew very well that he did too. This was a big step in your relationship, but you knew you were safe in his hands and merely nodded, reaching up to his shirt collar to pull him close, bringing your lips together again in a kiss.

Your hands wandered in his hair, his all over your body. It wasn't long until you felt yourself starting to get wet from the rush of these emotions. You didn't shy away one bit anymore - you were well aware that your first time would be after alcohol, but you didn't doubt one bit that you wanted it. And so did Drew, whose eyes sparkled more beautifully than ever.

Drew’s touch was skilled and urgent, his hands roaming across your body as he drank in your every move. You could see the desire burning in his eyes, as he gently pushed you back down on the bed, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Fuck" he muttered, breathing heavy. "You're so beautiful"

You sighed, pulling him closer to you with your hips. You could feel that he was also already aroused. His still clothed cock fit perfectly against your body. You both silently cried out for the desired pleasure to come already.

He leaned down slightly, his lips trailing over your neck, his mouth hot and wet against your skin. He left a trail of kisses along your throat, his breath coming out in a warm plume against your skin.

"You feel so good," he said, his voice thick with growing need.

“Drew,” you muttered, moving your hips, feeling how hard he was getting with each passing second. You pulled away from him slightly and nimbly made him bottom out this time. You didn't wait a second longer. With trembling hands, you grabbed his belt buckle and tried to get him off. “Oh, someone is impatient,” the man laughed huskingly, helping you get rid of his belt.

Then his pants flew down and you could see his entire member, which was already standing in his boxers. This sight was bloody painful. You moved your finger over it, which made Drew moan, dropping his head onto his soft mattress. “Baby,” he muttered, looking at you with slightly closed eyes as you removed his boxers and his cock came free.

He was huge. You had seen him in passing before, but this was your first time. And you had never been so excited in your life as you were now.

You took him in your hand and ran your thumb over his pre-cum. Damn, it was such an arousing sight. You quickly replaced your hand with your mouth, taking him all the way into your mouth. He could barely fit inside them, but you wanted to be the best for him. You sucked on him, moving your head up and down, slightly causing yourself a gag reflex. You both giggled, however, you did not stop. You saw that Drew was getting closer and closer with every move you made, so you added your hand and squeezed his testicles. You could have sworn that this made him even closer.

“[Y.N], fuck,” he muttered, stroking your hair. Drew didn't take the initiative at all, giving you full control.

You felt his penis begin to pulsate in your mouth, so you sped up your movements even more. You took him deeper, licking and supporting yourself with your hand. Soon, with a loud exhale, Drew reached inside your mouth, and your throat was flooded with his cum.

It didn't occur to you to do this before, but now you swallowed it all with full confidence, moving your mouth up and down for a while more, helping him come down from his orgasm.

“You're wonderful,” he muttered, pulling you against him. You sat on his naked lap, connecting your lips at once. Drew could feel himself on your tongue, but it didn't bother him at all.

He quickly threw off your dress and attached his lips to your neck. You felt that dark marks would appear in these places the next day, but you didn't give a damn. You wanted the whole world to know that you loved each other. That you loved each other in this way. That you were all his and he was all yours.

Without warning, Drew pressed his lips to your one breast, squeezing the other. He swirled his tongue around your nipple, making you even wet your entire thong, which you were wearing at the time. With an audible smack, he moved to the other nipple, leaving hickeys around it.

“Drew, I need you, I'm begging,” you muttered, pushing him away from your chest. You were as wet as you had ever been, and the man's hungry panting increased that even more. Your words were like a command to him. He immediately changed your position, so that now you were lying under him on the mattress and waiting for him to finally be inside you. “You are so beautiful,” he muttered, placing kisses all over your belly, then your thighs, until he kissed your still covered clit.

You allowed him to slip off your panties and the sensation you felt when his mouth attached to your pussy was indescribable.

“How beautiful,” he muttered, curling eights with his tongue around your sensitive bud. “How wet.”

"Drew, stop teasing," I muttered, shrinking your feet behind his back.

He knew what he was doing with his tongue. He perfectly pressed, sucked and teased your clit, driving you closer to the end with each passing second. Without much warning, he put his finger inside your pussy and began to move it nimbly, hitting that point. "Fuck," you moaned, touching his hair. The boy looked at you, not stopping to caress it with his tongue and finger, then added another, stretching you accordingly.

“Please,” you muttered, feeling that you were close to orgasm. “Drew.”

The boy sped up his movements, pressing more with his tongue against your clit, which was already sensitive enough. You felt a pleasant sense of fulfillment as you reached on his fingers and tongue. “How fucking good you taste,” he muttered, returning kisses to you. You surrounded his neck with your arms, kissing him imprecisely. You threw your legs around his hips, moving your naked pussy along his length, wanting him to enter you already.

“There, wait, baby,” he said, smacking you on the corner of your mouth, ”Do you have condoms?”

You shook your head negatively, but at that moment you didn't give a damn. All you wanted was him inside me, just that. “It's okay, I'll take the morning-after pill,” you muttered, moving your hips, begging him for one thing.

“All right,” he groaned and grabbed his length. He touched you with his tip and you trembled because of it. You relaxed slightly, letting him enter your pussy. “How tight” he muttered, entering you slowly with his entire length. “Perfect.”

Drew moved inside you slowly at first, but seeing that it was only giving you pleasure, he sped up. You both looked at the spot where your bodies joined and smiled at each other. Oh, you have been waiting for this apparently for a very long time.

By how horny you were tonight and how much you were looking forward to it, it didn't have to be long until you both felt you were getting close to fulfillment.

You bucked your hips closer to him, wanting to be as close as possible and to feel him as much inside you as possible. Drew grabbed your hips and instinctively started moving even faster and hitting your sensitive spot each time.

“You're wonderful,” you muttered, combing through his slightly wet hair.

The boy only smiled at you and clung to you with his lips, breathing loudly. And with that moment you both came. You a moment earlier than he did. But when you felt his cum spilling inside your cunt and suddenly it was pleasantly warm there, you moaned.

When it was over, Drew slumped against you, tired but smiling like never before. You also smiled broadly, hugging him to your chest. He was still inside you and you could feel him slowly stop being hard, but it felt too good to end it. “I love you,” he muttered, placing a kiss on your sternum, between your breasts.

“I love you too, terribly,” you muttered, combing his hair from his forehead.

You kissed him in the same place, momentarily holding your lips there. “Happy birthday, sunshine.” The boy lifted his head slightly from your body and kissed you on the lips. “I couldn't think of a better birthday.”

A/N: I know! I know there was supposed to be another chapter, but with Drew turning 31 today, I couldn't resist writing something related to him ;p hope you liked it and that I didn't make any mistakes (there may be a change of narration somewhere, because at the beginning I wrote it in the first person ahahh)

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Rabid Logan is my new favorite logan

"Butterbean, please?" Wade begged.

"Fuck off," you groan, curling on the sofa and holding a pillow closer to your head. "It's just a migraine. I'm fine-"

"Totally fine, yeah." Wade frowned and mimed strangling you for a second. It had been 2 days. Yesterday you were having trouble with your vision and puking. Today you were hiding from the sun like a fucking vampire. And he had to go. He had work to do.

But in his head all he could see was your tiny 7-year-old self crying from the pain that no one else was taking seriously. But at least- at least Trigger was taking it seriously. Laying curled behind your legs with his head on your hip, he looked up at Wade like he wanted to know what to do.

"Fine," Wade said, "You won't go to the hospital? I'm gonna get you a baby sitter."

"I don't need-" But when you try to sit up and the movement makes your vision blur, you can't protest. All you can do is groan.

"Sure, shut up," Wade said pulling out his phone and taking a deep breath as he went through his contacts.

Vanessa- working Peter- pushover and working Al- just no. No. Love her but no Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. And Colossus would just fall through your fucking floor IF he could fit through the door way.

"Damn it," he hissed, dialing the last number he had. The last person he'd willingly hand you over to.

"What?" Logan growled.

"Hey, Peanut," Wade said, kicking a wastebasket closer to you as you lean over the couch to puke again. "Need a favor."

"No."

"Listen," Wade said, "I gotta go. Now. And my sweet angel baby sister has a migraine from hell and refuses to go to the hospital to get checked out. So I need somebody who can babysit and force her to go if the meds don't do what they're supposed to in... oh, 12 hours?"

Over the phone he can hear boots hit the floor and he exhales slowly. "Fine," Logan said.

"Thanks, Peanut. Hands to yourself. I gotta go. Duty calls." He hung up the phone and stroked your hair, moving the pillow just enough to kiss your cheek. "I gotta go, sweetie. Logan will be here pretty quick."

"I'm fine-"

"Totally fine," he agreed. "You just look like you're dying and threw up water for dramatic effect." He tutted and tucked the blanket around you before stopping to pet Trigger and slip out the door.

_________________

Logan slipped into the apartment and regarded the dog, who was watching him. The growls were low warning growls. His mistress was ill, but he wasn't. And he could smell vomit that was mostly bile and water. Old clothes and sweat. He shook his head.

This didn't look or feel like your apartment. Too dark and quiet. No warmth. And seeing you so still and clutching a pillow to your head made him wince. "Hey, kid," he said softly, walking slowly towards you. "You alseep?"

"No," you answer, your voice muffled. "Beer's in the fridge if-"

"Thanks," he answered. "You thirsty? Need food?"

"My head's not really happy with moving."

Logan moved the trash can and knelt next to the sofa, "Cold water on an empty stomach is a bad idea," he said. "Got anything else?"

"Lo, you don't have to do this," you murmur. "I'll be okay. It happens. Just not this long."

"What else have I got to do?" Logan said shrugging. "I'm 200 years old and I know a few things. Pretty sure we can get you through it."

"There's some electrolyte drink mixes in the cupboard above the coffee pot," you answer, breaking off with a groan when your head throbs.

Logan nods and squeezes your shoulder gently, "I'll figure it out, as long as you don't mind me going through your kitchen."

"Help yourself," you answer. "If you find jerky in the fridge don't eat it. It's Trigger's and he holds grudges."

[erinfern0]

roommates to lovers.

kyle "gaz" garrick x gn!reader

summary: getting a roommate seems like the best idea to help you with financial problems, especially with expensive rent, bills, and all. Kyle seems like the perfect fit, maybe not just as your roomie.

warnings: just sweet fluff, maybe a tiny bit emotional.

a/n: this is the first addition to my series of trope-based COD fics, let me know if you'd like to know the full list of my ideas before I post the fics as a masterlist!! Don't mind possible mistakes, I'll fix them tomorrow. I'm just a little tipsy now, but I really wanted to post this already!!

Barely getting ends to meet, you search the internet for possibilities of making your situation better. That's how you get the idea — finding yourself a roommate might at least help your financial issues a bit. You find some groups and chats for people looking for places to stay, and you stumble upon Kyle. A guy who knows it's better to share an apartment since most of the time he's away on deployment, so it's way cheaper than buying one for himself. Looking through his application, you found him interesting, to say the least.

Young sergeant, a gym rat who likes to cook and doesn't mind taking over all the chores whenever he's back. He doesn't listen to music loudly, likes his place clean and tidy, and seems charismatic. A perfect fit for you — who would get too stressed out if you had to see him every day. But he's home for a couple of days and leaves for deployment, so you don't need to worry that much.

Soon, he moved in with you, and you immediately felt a slight spark between you. You spend so much time together, that you seem to forget how life went without him beside you. Every time you accidentally brush against him in the hallway or in the kitchen, you feel that warm electricity. You start liking him and feel upset since in a few days he'll be gone again.

For the past months, your friends have been teasing you about your 'strange' relationship. How protective and caring he was of you, how you always had to touch each other in some sort of way. They've been mentioning how oblivious you two were and how you're practically a couple already, but you'd just ignore them.

It was only now that you felt they might have been right all along. Just a roommate, a friend at best wouldn't miss him as much as you did and you missed him way more than you thought this time. Getting a message from him didn't help you at all. A simple text, just after midnight, almost made you cry.

Gyle Karrick: It will take longer than expected. Three months, they say. Can't wait to see you again, xoxo

And fuck, you couldn't wait to see him, too.

Weeks passed on numerous phone calls whenever you could get a hold of him through his busy schedule. Lonely meals, mundane chores, and even your passions started to bore you to your limits. One of the few things you were looking forward to was his message. But day after day, you'd experience the same disappointment and worry.

That was until one day you were looking through selfies you took together or pictures of him while he was asleep on the couch while watching a movie. Adorable. Oh, you missed him. Later on that day, you sat in the living room, reading through your notes and textbooks to occupy your mind, as you heard someone try to open the door with their key.

It was late, you thought. That it's just your mind playing tricks on you, but no. Seconds later, he's inside the apartment, trying to be as quiet as possible as he thinks you should be sleeping. He sees the lights are on and freezes, unsure how to act. But as soon as you stand up from the couch, he drops the duffle bag he was holding, catching you as you run into his arms.

Unspoken greetings and a warm and tight hug almost made you two fall to the floor. But none of you seem to care, too occupied with hands wrapping around each other's bodies. Kyle looks into your eyes as you lean back, his gaze is so soft, so sweet, you seem to melt with the brown of them.

You're not sure when, but you lean forward, lips catching his. It's quick, he barely registers it. You want to apologize, feeling the warmth of your cheeks, the dizziness in your head. But he comes right back, kissing you again. This time, it's slow and sweet, just as you imagined him to be all those nights when he was away. You reach to his neck, wrapping your arms around it as he cups your face, pulling you closer.

“You're home,” you whisper breathlessly as soon as you pull away, your eyes meeting his lazily. The happiness of your voice makes him chuckle and point out how it was just a couple of months.

He, the sergeant with god-like attractiveness, bright mind, and silly humor, felt the same way you did. Kyle reminded himself of all the lonely nights he spent on deployment, imagining coming back to your shared apartment to see your gorgeous face again, to hear that sweet laugh, and to just enjoy the warmth of your body against his.

None of you expected the kiss or the butterflies flying around in your stomachs that came afterward, but it was more than perfect. His hand gently caressed the single tear that was running down your face and kissed the spot right after.

“You're my home.”

masterlist | request info

[pleasoflove]

love grows best in little houses — lee jeno

roommate jeno x f reader

fluff, friends to lovers, pining, close proximity … >:)

7k words

summary: love grows best in little houses with fewer walls to separate, where you eat and sleep so close together you can't help but communicate. if we had more room between us, think of all we'd miss... love grows best in houses just like this.

authors note: this silly modern all white farmhouse quote had me thinking!!!

“I’m home,” You announce quite obnoxiously, jingling your keys and shopping bags. You made sure to shake the doorknob a little before stepping in as well, doing the courtesy of warning your roommate in case he had company over. 

Instead, you find him relaxed on the couch, a knowing smile resting on his face. He gets up to help you with the grocery bags, “I could tell.” 

You give Jeno an eyeroll, hanging your keys on the little rack by the door. “I’m doing you a favor, okay? Last thing I need is to walk in on you going at it with some chick from your lab class.” 

He laughs a quick laugh, and you get lucky enough to see his eyes form into crescents before his features relax. “Don’t worry. I think I’d warn you before starting something in here.” 

“Better safe than sorry.” 

Sometimes you find yourself squinting and having quick, fleeting thoughts like maybe I should get my eyes checked, but you’re not oblivious to Lee Jeno’s looks, whose entire being seems to have been crafted by all the angels residing in the heavens themselves. All five feet and ten inches of his existence, from the little stray hair that sticks up from the rest to the bottoms of his feet; Jeno is a sight for sore eyes. 

He’s inescapable, too. Quite literally, since you live with him in something that would be flattered to be even called a shoebox of a home. 

The front door is simply the entrance to the kitchen— there is no dining room. The wall to your left side when you walk in is essentially the side of the staircase to your little loft, where your measly mattress sits on the floor. 

Beneath your loft is Jeno’s “bedroom”, where his mattress is placed directly on the floor as well. He’s got a curtain hung up to separate the joke of his room from the living room, which barely fits the couch that the two of you snagged off someone from Facebook Marketplace. 

So, yeah, your living situation is tough, except it only gets harder when the two of you share the most crucial and, possibly, most private space that anyone could ever have. 

The bathroom. 

Oh, it was tough on your heart. It still is, sometimes, though you’ve gotten better at pretending that you can’t see Jeno’s entire naked upper body when he steps out of the shower and you dash inside to finally relieve your bladder. 

It’s not ideal, you know, but it’s the best that your money (combined) can get. Before the start of your junior year, you had been in such a slump over a breakup with your ex that you slacked off hard when it came to apartment hunting. Prices had gone up tenfold by the time you started searching, and with every single day that passed, they only rose and rose, practically laughing in your face for your earlier incompetence. 

It wasn’t until you mentioned to your friend (coworker), Mark, that it had been absolute hell trying to find a place to stay. And bless his heart, that precious boy Mark Lee, as he lifted his hand to run it through his hair, only to accidentally knock off his uniform hat off his head as he exclaimed, I got you! 

That’s how you met Jeno. A friend of a coworker-turned-friend who had been sheepishly looking for a roomie to occupy that devilishly tiny space because even though it was smaller than a suburban backyard, the rent was still so high. 

Before you moved in, your automatic gameplan with any roommate was to interact as little as possible. Stay out of the kitchen if they’re in it. Watch movies in your room if the living room is occupied. Avoid being in the same space at all. Less contact with someone you barely knew meant less conflict, less tension, less worry. You just come in and out, talk about whose turn it is to buy the paper towels and stack the dishes, then move on with your life. 

Absolutely impossible with Jeno. Firstly, he’s a kind-hearted boy. Well, not a boy— he is a man. A boy-ish one with that smile he’s got, and the tenderness behind his words yet the playful venom he spits at you whenever he gets the chance. It’s hard to stay away when his personality is so well-balanced and welcoming that you can’t help but to interact. 

That, and it’s hard to avoid someone when you’re in the kitchen cleaning up and they have to walk right past you in order to leave. The first few weeks were awfully awkward; a constant cycle of oh, sorry, as the two of you tried to get past each other but couldn’t because of how close everything was together. Jeno gave up the act quickly and began to laugh softly at these little conflicts. It made you feel better, made you feel like you too could laugh at the silly reality of your situation. The apartment felt warmer. You’re unsure if it’s because it was tiny, and the heat was trapped, or because getting comfortable felt nice and it slowly transformed your place into your home. 

“Ah. Fruity Pebbles? Someone’s tending to their inner child.”

You huff, your back pressing against his as the two of you sort the new groceries into the little storage space that you have. “They were on sale. And what about it? I’m sure baby Lee enjoyed a bowl or two. Don’t mask your inner child’s excitement with learned patronization.” 

“Someone’s been reading lately,” He shoots back, and you can hear his stupid smile through his voice. “Big words for someone like you.” 

“You know what? You can forget about the pebbles. Get your own cardboard cereal.” 

“I don’t think it’ll fit in the pantry.” 

“Laundry day?”

Yes, laundry day. The most taxing and annoying chore of all. Laundry day, where you have to haul your drawstring bag of clothes down the stairs, out of the apartment and into the hallway, all the way down to the elevator. It’s a mission, it’s quite serious. 

Jeno stares up at you from the foot of the stairs, eyeing you with humor as he sees you lug around that giant sack of clothing. Oh, how helpful he is, only making you more self-aware as he stands with his fitted undershirt and notorious gray sweats. How lovely of him. 

You try coping with the close proximity by turning your attraction to him into annoyance, only your brain does this wicked thing where it gets so annoyed you cannot help but notice all the other handsome, kind, inviting things about him to get annoyed about.

You do not, by any means, have feelings for Jeno. He’s more like that hot friend that you are so sure is out of your league that you simply give up. Yes, he’s hot. Yes, you know nothing will come out of it. Yes, you are one hundred percent okay with that. It’s just difficult when he’s got a pair of eyes and you aren’t looking your best. Human nature to feel a little self conscious, you guess. 

“Let me come with,” He offers as you finally reach the bottom of the steps, mindlessly taking the lump of clothes and bringing it into his arms like it were the weight of a newborn baby. 

“Eh?”

“I will help you,” He starts again, this time speaking slowly to mock you. He’s trying to stifle a shit-eating grin from coming up on his face. He’s so unbearable that you lightly smack at his arm. 

You don’t understand why he would offer to tag along; the laundromat is one of the worst places to spend your free time at. The one you go to has a corner store right next to it, which is nice, but it feels boring again after you collect your snacks and choose a chair to sit in while you watch your clothes spin around and around. It’s even worse when the wall-mounted TVs play nothing but a loop of all the songs that reached top 10 on Billboard in 2013. 

But Jeno doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind a lot of things, you think, as you reach the building and hop out of his car. He’s got so much patience in his heart that you’re not sure what could ever bore him to death. 

The two of you pick your washers and start dumping your clothes in. It’s pretty quiet, save for the low rumbling of the other machines and Katy Perry’s Roar playing softly from the TVs. The bell on the entrance door jingles as an older lady walks in with a little boy who's got a candy bar in hand. 

When you finish loading the washer, you turn to Jeno swiftly. “Want anything from next door?”

He tilts his head, thinking. “Any sour candy.” 

While you head out on your mission to bag the snacks, Jeno picks a table by the window to sit at. He zones out, mindlessly watching the music video play out on the tv, but the sound is muffled in his ears. He's not sure if it's from his lack of focus or the overpowering sound of the machines running. 

He’s pulled out of it when the little boy speeds by. With the whole laundromat to himself, he weaves in and out of the rows like it's a maze, yet dutifully obeys his grandmother’s commands to pass him the little detergent tablets on the drying table. After he passes them to her, he starts running again. 

He’s about to pass Jeno again before he trips over his own shoelaces and tumbles down to the floor. Jeno automatically perks up, worry flashing in his eyes as he looks at the boy and then to his grandmother. Her eyes are busy on the laundry, sorting out the colors and the whites, and while Jeno is internally panicking about the wellbeing of the child, the little boy simply laughs it off and gets back up on his feet. He’s a little bashful due to having an audience, but after Jeno wordlessly sees that he’s okay, they both relax. 

The candy that he was holding had slid across the floor, so Jeno takes it upon himself to pick it up and give it back. He silently inspects it of any damage, earning a laugh from the little one as he hands it to him. 

The boy carefully unwraps it then breaks off a piece to give to Jeno. 

���Oh,” He starts immediately, taken aback. “No no, you have it.” 

The boy hums a short mm-mm while shaking his head, insisting that Jeno take it. 

With a weary smile, his big hand meets the small one in front of him and he gently takes the piece of chocolate, slow and careful in case the little boy has any doubts. 

As you’re walking back to the laundromat, you can see the entire interaction through the huge windows in the front. The look that’s on Jeno’s face as he interacts with the boy is enough to make your knees weak. It’s so soft, almost loving. 

When you step back inside, you try to be as discreet as possible, but the bell on the door alerts everyone that you’re there. The two boys look at you curiously before recognition crosses Jeno’s eyes. 

You slide him his bag of sour gummy worms, and without any hesitation, he tears the corner open and spills a few into his hand. He offers his open palm to the boy, who at this point, is giddy and glowing with this new established friendship. He happily takes the worms and nods his head very firmly, “Thank you!” 

The boy isn’t there for much longer as his grandmother finishes loading the clothing and calls him over so that they can get ready to leave. He stuffs all the worms into his mouth so that he can hold the box of detergent tablets for her. 

It isn’t long before your clothes are done in the wash so that you can dump them into the dryer. You and Jeno pass time by making fun of the music videos playing on the TVs and showing each other viral cat videos. 

If there is one thing you know about Jeno, it’s that he loves cats. He’s always making comments about them in passing, showing you cute videos, texting you that he’ll be home in 10, he’s just busy looking at the cats that are up for adoption. 

He wants one desperately, it’s just that… 

“You know there’s no room.” 

He sighs, leaning back into his chair and it squeaks. “We could, like, take it for walks to get the energy out. If anything, we can get an older, lazy cat. I think it would like the space between the window and the couch.” 

You laugh, turning your head to check the time left on the dryer. “The non-existent one?” 

He throws his head back and groans. Your eyes stay focused on the way his adam's apple bobs for a second too long. “Jeno, living in a space that small feels like a crime against myself sometimes. I would not want to put an animal through that type of pain. Hell, we’re the hamsters in the cage!” 

He chews on the inside of his cheek, giving you the stink eye, but it’s all in good fun. Deep down he knows that you’re right. 

The buzzer on the dryer goes off and catches the attention of both of you. You unload everything and dump it onto the folding table, a sigh slipping out of your mouth. 

Silently, Jeno offers to help you fold. You two split the pile of clothes in half and get to work, an awful Imagine Dragons song filling the silence. 

The entire situation isn’t quite ideal. The music is bad, the laundromat’s a little too cold, and you’d very much rather spend your time doing something else like ordering food and picking a thriller movie or challenging your roommate to a game of zombie COD. 

But that’s what life is all about, isn’t it? Doing mundane and annoying things with someone that you care about. Folding your laundry with Jeno right next to you, tackling the boring tasks in life with someone by your side. He didn’t have to come help you, but perhaps he offered because he didn’t want you to suffer by your pile of clothing alone. Yeah, that’s what it’s all about. 

It’s a little domestic. Okay, it’s painfully domestic. Everything about Jeno is- you live with him, for heaven’s sake. It’s an entire domestic fantasy playing out right before your eyes. 

At this point, you’re folding all your clothes on autopilot and you don’t even realize that the both of you are done with your piles. Jeno places every article neatly in your big drawstring bag, keeping it tidy before pulling at the string. He keeps it in his arms as he guides the both of you out to his car. 

“Let’s pick up some food, yeah? And search up some good thrillers in the car?”

Upsettingly domestic. 

When something, anything, occurs in Jeno’s life that requires him to tell another person so that he can get it off his chest, you are the first person to come to mind. How can he not think about you, when you’re the first face he sees in the morning? The one he makes dinner with, the one he discusses the houseplants with, the one he has to watch get ready in the bathroom, toothbrush in your hand as you sloppily call out to him to please remember to take out the trash. 

The two of you share a life together, you share practically everything together. Your living space, tidbits of your interactions with others, news that’s spreading around the city; your unmasked heart and soul shines through every single day. It’s so candid it could almost be romantic, yet it’s anything but that. 

Well, sometimes… 

No, Jeno doesn’t go there. But he can’t help but think… 

When something happens, you’re the person he wants to tell. The most basic and foundational characteristic of love. Sharing. It transcends the physical- of course, you do find yourselves splitting dinners and breaking the last cookie in half so that the both of you can enjoy. But it’s more than that, now. You and him break apart your own beings so that the other can understand, listen, and console. It’s love, he thinks. 

Platonic love, he quickly corrects. 

He’s been so busy thinking about it that he’s barely realized he’s been staring at the one piece of paint that’s chipping off the wall for too long. The sound of the shower water hitting the tub brings him back, and he looks to the closed bathroom door. 

He rushes to it, knuckles knocking on the wood. “Can I come in?” 

“Huh?” You practically holler. He laughs to himself, imagining your confused, scrunched up face. 

“Can I come in?” 

“Oh, yeah. Be quick because all the cold air gets in!” 

So he does just that, opening the door just a crack and trying to squeeze in his muscular form so that the air doesn’t rush in.

Jeno closes the door and leans against the bathroom counter, all the heat from the shower coddling him close. It could almost make him sleepy. 

“Taeyong wants to promote me.” 

“Huh?” You call, hands freezing in your hair as you wash it. “Are you serious? To what?” 

“Assistant Manager.” 

“Assistant Manager? Are you gonna take it?” 

“I don’t know, it’s just… I’m kind of nervous.” 

A beat of silence. He calls out your name. 

“Yeah, sorry. My face was in the water. Anyway, why? Scared an old geezer is gonna chew you out for the ‘new generation’s music’?’

He laughs. You’re lucky enough to hear it over the water. 

“It’s just a lot of responsibility, you know? Like, I’m so used to just doing what I’m told but now, it’s like, I gotta be in charge and tell the employees to get off their phones when they're on the clock. It’s betrayal, you know? How can I look Jisung in the eye and tell him that this is his first warning? I can’t do that.” 

You shut your eyes and try to stifle a laugh. It’s a laugh of endearment, though. Jeno cares so much about the people around him- even if it’s his younger coworker who works part time at the record store and barely even sees him more than three times a week. 

You shut the water off, voice clear. “Jeno. You worry a lot.” You pull back the shower curtain just a little to peek out, “Can you hand me my towel?”

He obeys, holding out the towel to the edge of the shower with his eyes closed. As soon as he feels it slip past his fingers and the sound of the shower curtain rings clink together, he opens his eyes. You’re still behind the curtain, drying off. 

“I think you should go for it. You’ll get more experience. Plus, from what you’ve told me, the record shop isn’t crazy unmanageable and unorganized. And,” You add, dragging out the ‘a’, “You’ll get a raise.” 

You’re right, he thinks, tilting his head and staring off. The shop is pretty calm, the customers are mostly older regulars and the occasional teenager in search of a Harry Styles vinyl. Plus, a raise would be nice. Really nice. 

“Did you tell Mark and Jaemin? What did they say?” 

Jeno hesitates. No, he hasn’t told them yet. You’re always the first person he wants to tell. 

“No,” He starts, honest. “I was gonna tell them right now, but I wanted to tell you first. I think I’ll follow your advice anyway.” 

Your heart stops in your chest. God, that made you feel so special. You’re at a loss for words before you feel the water drip from your hair down your back. 

“Good. Now step out ‘cuz I gotta dry off.” 

He smiles and follows your every word. He remembers not to let the cold air in, too. 

Jeno is your roommate. He is also your friend, a companion, a confidant. He’s nothing more, nothing less. 

People have eyes. They’re allowed to look. In fact, it is their god given right to let their eyes linger a little longer on someone as attractive as Lee Jeno. 

Why are you so upset? You can’t just shield him, carry a curtain around and charge a fee for people to look his way. He’s a free man. A free, good looking man. 

This party was a mistake. Watching Jeno be tonight's entertainer has planted a seed of bitterness and disappointment in your stomach that you have never felt. The bitterness is towards the situation- you’re not sure if you’re disappointed in yourself for feeling this way or for how the universe has laid out the cards. You long for something to happen. You wickedly hope for that girl to spill her drink on herself and be forced to walk away. You wickedly hope for Jeno to come to his senses and ask you if you wanna go back home and crush some random 12 year old in a shooter game. 

Come to his senses? What are you, his mentor? God forbid the man has fun for one night. He’s not even doing anything that bad. Just dancing with some girl you have never seen before, lifting his hand and caressing her jaw. He’s so unbelievable and so, so, so horrible when he gently tucks her hair behind her ear. You want to vomit. 

“You okay?” Jaemin asks, making you jump as he slips into the spot right next to you. He’s got a red cup in his hand and you hold back from snatching it and downing whatever the fuck is in it. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I’m kind of proud, actually. I’ve never seen Jeno interact with a woman before. Not like this, at least. I always thought he’d bring girls home every night, yet he never does.” 

Jaemin’s eyes flash with something like confusion, tenderness, sorrow. You don’t see it though, busy focused on the way Jeno leans into her and talks gently by her ear. She’s giggling and sliding her hand up his chest. You’re positive she can smell the cologne you helped him pick out earlier. 

“He’s just being courteous of you.” 

“I guess,” You say with a lazy shrug. Deep down you know you’re only trying to convince yourself that you see him and support him as a friend; strictly a friend. And you seem to play that part pretty well, because Jaemin does not question you at all. 

“I think I’m gonna head home,” You start, checking the time on your phone. Jaemin whips his head to look back at you, “Tapping out already?” 

“Yeah. I don’t really know anyone here, only came because Jeno invited me. Plus, he recently bought some new maps in COD, so, I think I wanna try those out.” 

“You sure? I think I could introduce you to someone, help you get that midterm stress off your mind.” 

You practically snort at his offer. He’s considerate, you think, but you cannot betray your own feelings. You’d be a fool to try and trick yourself into thinking a fling with some rando will make you feel better. 

Well… you’re still a fool. Yearning from afar, not doing anything about it. 

“Nah, I’m okay. Thank you, Jaem. Get home safe, okay?” 

He nods and the two of you part ways. 

You find yourself in an uber, shooting Jeno a text that says hey, i really wanna play COD so im heading home early. please be safe lol. :_)

You’re dropped off and you walk up to your apartment, trying your hardest not to wallow in your own feelings. You head straight to the bathroom to remove all your makeup and get ready for bed before pulling yourself up the stairs. 

Your mattress awaits you like it’s got its arms open. Cozy, warm, solid enough for you to cry into. 

Your home feels your pain. It’s like everything looks a little bit darker, the cream white walls seeming to be gray, the little light fixtures and hardware looking like frowny faces. The walls absorb all your feelings, reeking of longing and hope and something else that is usually paired with those two feelings. Something so captivating and large, dark and light, something so scary yet you just have to have faith in it. Something that you would rather die than confess to yourself. 

So it sits, pent up in the walls of your home. It haunts you. This stupid apartment haunts you, traces of the life you live with Jeno everywhere. You can’t hide. You can’t run to the other side of the hallway and lock yourself in the room in the very back- it’s not there. Your life and your feelings are right in front of your face, everywhere you turn, everything you touch. It stings, it burns, and god, this home will kill you. Your close and unavoidable proximity with Jeno will kill you. 

You’re so busy moping that you almost miss the sound of the door opening. It’s quiet, slow, and you bet to yourself that Jeno is trying his hardest to be kind, to not wake you up. 

You’re scared that you’ll hear the giggle of the girl, but it never comes. Just Jeno making his way around the shoebox, using the flashlight on his phone to light the way instead of switching the lights on so that he doesn’t disturb you. Curse that stupid boy. 

Jeno shuts the door to the bathroom and turns on the shower. The sound is so calming that it lulls you to sleep. 

He lets the warm water caress at his back, lets it help him relax. He replays every single thing that happened at the party. 

He regrets leaving you alone. In the back of his mind, he knew Mark and Jaemin would take good care of you, but shouldn’t he be doing that? Taking care of you. 

He’s not obligated to, of course, and he knows that if he ever mentioned that to you, you’d snicker in his face and tell him to shuddup and let loose. But he can’t. He tried and didn’t even get that far. 

Jeno got into the bedroom and onto the bed with that girl, his body slowly pushing against hers so that she could lay down. The top few buttons of his black shirt were already popped open and his mind was so foggy he almost didn’t hear his phone buzzing in his pocket. 

He felt bad, but he knew he would’ve hated himself even more if he ignored it, so he had pulled back and checked the screen. In his heart, he knew it was you. 

Luckily, you hadn’t seemed upset, but it was like guilt took him hostage as he realized you left the party without him. You got home without him, and you spent the night alone. Jeno suddenly felt so upset and so… gross. Grossed out with himself. He tossed you to the side just like that. And for what? A fling that wouldn’t fulfill his heart like you do? Yeah, no. 

“I’m sorry,” He starts, looking from his screen to the girl’s face. She’s got a look that tells him she already knows what's coming. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Um, yeah,” He says automatically, then falls quiet for a beat. “Well, kind of. I have to go.” 

“It's okay,” She says gently, and it hurts even more because she's genuinely nice about it. “Get home safely. I hope everything’s alright.”

So now Jeno’s home but he’s a little too late. You’re already tucked away in bed and he wishes he would've just come back with you, play a few games and then crash. It's odd not to hear you tell him goodnight; it's become like a ritual between you two. Some nights the two of you stick together like packed sardines in the bathroom, brushing your teeth and poking fun at one another with a quiet and subtle joy in your hearts. 

Jeno’s finishes showering by the time he’s done thinking over all the details. He dries off fast, feeling slightly uncomfortable and alone. Every space in the apartment is so silent that it’s unnerving. 

Before Jeno slips past the curtain to get to his bed, he stands at the foot of the stairs, making out the shape of your sleeping form, face smushed directly in your pillow. The sight is so you that he cannot help but chuckle quietly to himself. 

He sees you there, at the top of the stairs, and for a second it feels like you're waiting for him there. Patient and resting as he navigates through how he feels before making his descent upwards. 

Quickly, he realizes he's too sleepy to be plaguing himself with these thoughts. Jeno pulls back the curtain and sinks into his bed, subconsciously falling in a position that would fit against your body so perfectly if the two of you shared a sleeping space. You feel so close and so far from him. It's the last thing he thinks about before he falls asleep. 

How do you tell someone that you want them without actually telling them? 

Your relationship with Jeno is built on something so fragile that he’s afraid to mess up, trip and let the glass shatter. You’re friends– real close friends, if he thinks about it. You share a home together that’s small enough to make him think that it certainly violates a number of human rights. You cannot go a day without seeing or speaking to each other. 

It's so sour and it's so, so sweet. Spending everyday together, reading each other, communicating in small ways that mean the most– his heart swells and gets clogged in his throat. He’s so close to you it's like your fingertips are brushing against his as you sit on opposite sides of the couch. And, if all goes well, he could unabashedly take your hand in his and spread kisses on the back of it. Even better, he could pull you right into his lap and smush at your face, kiss you there too. So many possibilities… 

Along with those possibilities comes the ones that are on the other end of the scale. He could open up (more than he already has) about his feelings and unintentionally make you uncomfortable. Oh, he would hate himself if you felt uncomfortable in your own home. Then it would really be bad, because you'd both need time and space but you practically share a goddamn bunk bed and a kitchen that feels like a toddler’s first real-life toy. It pains him more to think that you'd be unhappy than how he would feel to be rejected. 

Instead, Jeno’s feelings manifest into actions and touch. When you get up from putting on your shoes and your hair's a little astray, he’ll reach over and fix it for you, keeping his touch light and gentle. He insists on helping you button up your coats and tying a bow on the back of your dresses. When he sees that you’re especially tired, he’ll wash all the dishes even though it was your turn. Sometimes, when the apartment feels especially warm and the lighting is cozy and you feel so lethargic yet blissfully happy, you’ll tell him about your day with his thumb caressing your cheek. And sometimes, you’ll lean into the palm of his hand and he’ll keep you still. 

It’s not until the day where he finds you knocked out on the couch that you slip up. He had come home late from work, the shop buzzing with people looking for a Christmas gift for that one vinyl collector of a friend. He had told you he’d be late, but you thought you’d still have enough energy to stay up and wait for him so that the two of you could eat dinner and call it a night. 

Unfortunately, you did not have the energy. Finals had been consuming your life and now that it was finally over, you ended up knocking out on the couch like a baby, leaving the lights on and everything. Jeno smiled softly at your sleeping form, a familiar type of warmth crawling into his heart and nestling inside it. He quietly slipped off his shoes and made his way straight toward you, calling your name softly as a test. 

You didn’t wake at all. You were gone. 

It kind of makes him laugh; a laugh of adoration, not amusement. It’s one of those things that’s a little funny in its own way. 

It happens, he supposes, when your heart and life is so full of love that it has to escape somehow. In touch, in kisses, in laughter. 

For you, it escapes loud and clear- verbally. 

After Jeno decides to take a risk and lift you into his arms, you automatically curl into him, trusting him even in the depths of your sleep. He’s slow to walk up the stairs, careful to not let your head hit the wall as he makes his way upward. 

And it’s when he lays you down on your mattress tenderly, hands lightly pushing away all the hairs that fell onto your face, that you stir just a little bit. 

“Goodnight,” He whispers to you, using his body to block out the light he hadn’t turned off. A dopey little smile creeps onto your face. You’re euphorically sleepy, the feeling of slipping in and out of it feels so good. 

“Thank you,” You rasp a little, turning over. “Love you.”

Then you’re gone again, and Jeno is frozen in place at the top of the stairs, shoulders stiffening as the words swirl around in his head. 

Firstly, he’s upset he didn’t get to say it back. But the disappointment washes away quickly and he’s overcome with joy, practically buzzing as he descends down the steps to shut off all the lights and get ready for bed. He’s got a stupid smile on his face that he can’t even put away as he brushes his teeth, and if any medical professional were to see him right now, he’s surely be diagnosed with lovesickness. 

He whimsies all the way to his room, pulling back the curtain and plopping down on his bed like it’s a cloud and he’s in heaven. He falls asleep thinking of all the ways to say I love you. 

Winter break is lovely. It’s an abundance of warm drinks, wooly socks, sleeping in, and having an excuse to wear corny pajama sets. Your heart is at ease and the cold weather feels so nice when it bites at your cheeks- especially when you feel yourself grow a little warm around Jeno. 

For Jeno, it’s even better because there are a plethora of Christmas parties. 

And, usually, there’s mistletoe. 

“Alright, don’t get too excited. Close your eyes!” 

He obeys, shutting them and even bringing up his hands in front of his face so that you don’t think he’s pulling any tricks. 

You’ve got him sitting on the couch in anticipation as you dig through your shopping bags to find what’s so important. After a few moments of rustling and humming under your breath, he hears you sigh in relief. 

You hold up two sweaters in front of you, side to side. One is clearly bigger than the other. They’re thrifted and it’s very obvious that they were previously owned by elderly people; maybe they scream vintage a little too much, earth toned with eye-catching patterns like stripes and triangles running across the entire sweater. They’re only a little bit outdated, but painfully cute, and perfect for the season. 

“Okay. Open!” 

Jeno lays his eyes upon the sweaters and immediately breaks out into a smile, eyes forming crescents. Really, he doesn’t even look at them for long. His gaze lands directly on you. 

“You like ‘em?” 

“Very much,” He affirms, with his eyes still set on you. He’s not really talking about the sweaters. 

“Good! We’re wearing them at Hyuck’s party this weekend.” 

So the two of you wear the matching sweaters to Donghyuck’s party. When the both of you step in, Jaemin automatically makes a face at Jeno, an expression that silently screams Finally? but Jeno shakes his head. He doesn’t look solemn, though. In fact, his eyes are hopeful and bright as he nods his head at everything you say. 

He doesn’t budge from your side, either. 

(He wants everyone to see that you’re matching). 

It pays off because Renjun tells you both that you look like an elderly couple, to which he quickly corrects himself and says ‘duo’ instead. It’s kind of embarrassing with the way that he rushes off after, face a little red. You’re not sure if it’s because of the fact that he’s tipsy or because he’s worried he’s crossed a boundary. If anything, his comment makes you have to hold back a smile, and from the corner of your eye, you see Jeno biting at his cheek too. 

Renjun’s flushed cheeks inspire you. “You want anything to drink?” 

Jeno contemplates for a second before shaking his head, “Nah. I’ll drive us back home.” 

But he follows you to the kitchen anyways, where it’s quieter because everyone is in the living room talking over Jingle Bell Rock. You swear you can hear Donghyuck break into laughter at some point; you can already envision his happy little glowing face nuzzling up to Mark. 

Jeno leans against the doorway to the kitchen, fingers playing with the edges of his sweater as he observes you moving around to get yourself a drink. He’s thinking about a hundred things at once, and somehow, you both calm and excite him. 

You approach him, steadily holding your glass so that nothing sloshes over and spills. “You wanna try? Just a sip.”

He nods and takes it from your hand, bringing it up to his lips for a second before he evaluates the taste. You wait expectantly, and then Jeno gives you a solid nod before looking back over his shoulder and extending his arm to place your glass on the counter. When he turns back around, his hand comes up to gently rest on your arm. He very, very carefully pulls you closer. It’s gentle, slow, and so subtle you almost don’t even realize the proximity between you two getting smaller and smaller by the centimeter. “It’s pretty good.” 

“Just pretty good?” 

“Yeah,” He replies, tone so soft and far away that you immediately realize he doesn’t really care about the drink all that much. And then you realize that he’s got these beseeching love-me eyes that make your heart twist in such a pleasant way that you know you can’t escape. 

You can’t go back to how it was before. You’ll never be your old self, coexisting with Jeno in your tiny home with no care or feeling in the world towards him. You can’t go back to the days of trying to sneak past him, trying to go through the days without making eye contact and conversation. You won’t even be able to go back to the days where you merely saw him as a friend, a casual buddy that you’re glad you have a good dynamic with because you happen to share a home together. You can’t ignore how you feel, what you feel. It’s so heavy and it lingers in the air between you two now. You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Look,” He nearly whispers, gesturing towards the ceiling with his chin. 

Mistletoe hangs at the doorway, green and white with a red ribbon adorning the stems. It’s so predictable and awful and overall so corny that you can’t help but laugh. Your tongue pokes at your cheek as your eyes trail from the plant back down to Jeno, who looks at you expectantly. He’s mindful enough to leave enough space for you to make a getaway if you want to. 

“Well,” You start, though it sounds more like a question, prompting Jeno to lean into you. 

He dips down and slots his lips against yours, pulling a wanton sigh out from you. You’re quick to have your hands on him, fingers tightening around the fabric of his sweater and you swear you can feel him smiling within the kiss. It’s almost enough to make you pull back so you can see the look on his face, but he holds you in place, fingers softly trailing through your hair. He hums contently, the deep sound of it making the tips of your ears warm. 

Your hands travel, sliding up his chest, and the two of you break apart before you end up devouring one another at the doorway of Donghyuck’s kitchen. 

Jeno smiles down at you as I’ll Be Home For Christmas starts playing. 

You’re a little nervous, the fear that comes with love pestering you at the back of your mind. You’re scared this’ll be a big unspeakable thing, a thing you’ll have to avoid in the house with Jeno. A thing that’ll never happen again, a thing to blame on the tiny sip of the drink he had and the consequences of spotting mistletoe. 

But Jeno’s eyes ask you to trust him, that he wants this just as much as you do. Perhaps this can be a reoccurring thing, except you don’t need mistletoe or drinks. You can do this in the comfort of your own home, when he gets home from work, after you both finish brushing your teeth, when you’re both making breakfast, or maybe in bed right after you wake up. 

You dive in again, hands sliding farther up till your fingers tousle through his hair, thumbs brushing against his ears. It tickles him a little, body reacting and caving into you a bit more, his hands cupping your cheeks. You tip your head back just the slightest and he follows, looming over you. He looms over you in a way that is so warm and loving and consuming - I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. 

Yes, he’s here. Holding you tenderly, your bodies shaped so nicely against one another at last. You’re no longer sitting on opposite ends of the couch, looking at each other from the top and bottom of the stairs, eyes lingering as soon as someone turns away. He’s touching you, and this time you don’t have to shy away or cough and he doesn’t have to play it off as a mistake, a mindless brush of skin that doesn’t mean anything. No, it means everything now. 

[cinnamokittykat]

Roomates! Soap x Ghost x Konig 🤭🤭???

Oh boy

Like, all of them as roommates for each other? Or with the reader? I'll try and write both but just a disclaimer, I'm not great at MLM content for various reasons lol, if that's what you were looking for :/ So, disclaimer, I'm not poly either so please forgive my mistakes here.

Room mates w/o reader:

- The first thing that comes to mind for me is that the grocery bill would be insane. 3 big, buff men living in an apartment, or more likely a house together.

- Also in my experience guys don't tend to shop very well for themselves so the fridge would be a bachelor situation.

- I do think that Soap would be the one to keep the food situation in check the most? He would at least try to make the groceries balanced

- If this isn't gay polyamory, then I feel like König would get yelled at once or twice for walking around naked

- IF IT IS GAY POLYAMORY‼️‼️‼️ then they most definitely like to walk around shirtless.

- Ghost and Soap cuddle each other on the regular :3

-They all cuddle, they had to get custom big furniture to fit them all together comfortably.

-Soap cooks for his boyfriends the most. Ghost burns things every time somehow.

-They have a tiny little black cat who loves all of them dearly. Koenig sat on a black shirt once, but everyone else thought it was her and he almost got kicked out of the giant bed that night.

-Thankfully she walked in the room right after. She was profusely cuddled. She is also just generally a very spoiled cat since no one really wants children.

Room mates x Fem! Reader

- The boys all had different reactions to you moving in. Soap was excited, he was all for having a new friend, and a cute girl like you around the house

- Ghost, on the other hand, wasn't that for it. A strange girl moving in with 3 strange men? Is she insane?

- König was in the middle. As nice as having a female roommate sounded, he also felt as if it was a less then smart decision on your part.

- It doesn't take long for them to all come around to your presence.

- As the weeks go on, they catch themselves sneaking glimpses at you while in the house

- Sometimes when the stars align them and it's just you and one of them home alone, you often find yourself cuddled up to Ghost or König on the couch more often then not. Soap has already been openly flirting with you at this point, so he does more overt things like taking you out or making food for you.

- As time passes by, you find yourself being taken out to more fancy places, you start receiving nice gifts, all thanks to their lavish mercenary salaries. Eventually, it all comes to a head and you come home one day to them sitting in the living room together.

- "We need to talk." says Ghost. You sit down nervously in an armchair. Johnny clears his throat. "It seems like I'm not the only one who's been treating you, lass." König stares silently with his arms crossed.

- "I wasn't aware it was anything serious..." you stutter out. "Oh, it doesn't have to be, we'll help you move out and everyone can forget each other." Koenig replies. "Wouldn't want to make you choose, you can't date all of us."

-Your heart ached upon hearing that statement. You came to love all 3 of them over the course of living there, but he was right. "Well hold on there, who says she can't?" said Johnny. "You haven't even asked her yet!"

-The men turn to look at you again. "Well, lass?"

-"I... I suppose we could give it a try. If you all are good with it."

[realcube]

˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖ CHARACTER GENERATOR for @4unnyr0se

𓆩♡𓆪 part of my lovers level — 3k follower event

𓆩♡𓆪 chosen trope: enemies to lovers

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ YOUR CHARACTER IS...

KATSUKI BAKUGO

you were acquainted with bakugo from training under best jeanist. and let it be known, you were there first. but one day, mr king explosion murder came sauntering and suddenly he's the centre of attention! jeanist's most "promising protégé". it just wasn't fair, nor did it make any sense.

especially because bakugo didn't embody any qualities a hero should have; and you had no problem saying that to his face. he wasn't compassionate, empathetic or humble — in fact, he would often brag about his superiority from coming from a more renowned school. he'd bring it up whenever the two of you were squabbling (which was frequently).

needless to say, you and katsuki bakugo were not on good terms. whenever you were in the same room together, it would always dissolve into a screaming match, to the point where best jeanist just found it easiest to keep you two apart than to try teach you both civility.

anyway, today you aren't at work, so you didn't have to worry about all that. instead, you're slumped on your couch in your pyjamas, watching your favourite animes while idly sketching. that is, until you hear your doorbell ring.

you had ordered food earlier to you eagerly hopped to your feet, grabbed your wallet for the tip and shuffled over to the door. you unlock it and peer around the side of the door, trying to hide your figure since you are clad in loungewear. however, that becomes the least of your worries when you lay your eyes upon the delivery guy.

immediately you burst into a fit of cackles at the sight of the one and only katsuki bakugo standing at your door, box of noodles in his hands. once he realises that it's you, he knits his eyebrows together and barks, "eh, what's so funny?!"

you would answer but you can barely construct a sentence with how winded you are from laughing you lungs out. and the one you are able to splutter out, first and foremost has to be a dig, "i see pro-heroing hasn't worked out for you!" your shaky hands grip your phone and open your camera, pointing it at him.

instinctively he covers it with his palms, the small explosions making you jerk your phone away for its safety. "just take your food, damn it!" he huffs, pushing it into your grip, then crossing his arms.

once you have it in your arms, you're able to calm down slightly, taking deep breaths. you wipe a final tear away from your eye, and glance silently between your food and bakugo. "what are we waiting for?"

"what do you think?!" he snaps at you.

"oh, a tip." you smack your lips together and give him a nasty once-over, "i'm good."

just as you are about to close the door in his face, he slams his hand down against it to prevent you from doing so, "i didn't just come all the way over here for nothing! damn noodles almost burned my hands off! give me my tip, lady!"

"awh, poor baby." you pout in order to taunt him, which only makes him even redder.

he huffs and snatches the noodles out of your hands, "fuck off! if your not going to tip me, then this is mine, thanks."

you roll your eyes, wanting more than anything to yank his hair and take your noodles back, but knowing if you show any sign of frustration, you'll be giving him what he wants. "right. i ordered the spiciest noodles on the menu. you couldn't handle that."

more tiny explosions seemed to be going off. "you're kidding! you think i can't handle it? get real!" he begins to open your noodle box, which is when a fearful tightness builds in your chest, "you're the one who couldn't handle it."

he takes one of the provided wooden forks and jabs it into your food, while you realise he was being genuine about the whole 'eating your food' thing. you thought it was a manipulation tactic to get you to grovel or something but no, this greedy bitch was seriously about to eat your noodles!

so you have to act fast, and think of a way you can have at least some of your meal, because there was no way he was just going to hand it over.

"wait—" you call out, and he freezes, looking up at you while faced down towards the noodles, right as he was about to take a slurp. "why don't we make it a contest? see who can eat more without crying."

bakugo smirked. there was no way he was going to back down from any sort of competition. (he was also a bit too keen on the idea of sharing food with you, but anywho.) "something else i can beat you in? sure."

he rips of the spare fork stuck to the side of the box and hands it to you with a fierce glint in his eyes, which you reciprocate. you dig your fork into the noodles as well, and blurt out, "okay. threetwoone go!" then rapidly start shovelling the food into your mouth.

"huh!?" unaware that there was going to be a countdown, and when it was agreed upon that you'd do it, but regardless, without a second thought he also started shoving heaps of noodles into his mouth.

from an outsider's perspective, it was definitely a weird sight to behold. two people standing in a doorway, eating hastily out of one box of noodles as though they've been starved for days. and standing so close to each other, and the optimal position was with your heads close to the box, so naturally your foreheads were almost touching. it didn't help either that the noodles were covered with chili sauce which made an entire mess of both of your faces.

not that either of you cared, you were in it to win it. although you were initially only participating as way of not getting your meal stolen, now that bakugo had ignited the competitive fire within you, the taste for victory creeped in.

with the rate the two of you were eating at, it wasn't long until there was only a heap of noodles left, that both of your forks were desperately scrambling over.

then it happened. you were simply slurping away as you previously have been doing, except one particular noodles strung you along until your lips were milimetres away from bakugo's. not quite touching, but both wide eyed, you realised the situation you were in.

while you froze up from the shock, you expected bakugo to use his teeth to sever the connection so he can continue eating. but what you didn't anticipate was for him to roughly grip the back of your head with his whole arm and pull you in for a heated kiss.

not that you were opposed. perhaps it was because he tasted like delicious noodles, but for some unknown reason, you found yourself melting into the kiss, allowing your lips to move gently against his when his tight hold on you eventually slackened.

it decreased in ferosity until you slowly parted. the air of uncertain passion lingering thick even when you were both stood straight, staring at each other.

there's a pregnant silence that loomed, until bakugo slowly raises his arm and extended his hand towards your cheek. at which you jerked away and scoffed, "you don't need to caress my cheek, princess. i can already tell you like me."

"i wasn't going to do that, idiot! i was trying to wipe the sauce off your stupid face!"

"oh," you uttered, lips parted slightly, "then go ahead, pookie."

for @4unnyr0se: firstly i would like to say that bakugo was delivery driving because best jeanist wanted him to develop humility and patience. bakugo was forbidden from doing pro-hero work until he got a 5-star rating lol 😭

hope you liked this :P i know it's a bit silly but it was either this or i was gonna write hardcore filthy smut for you and sir nighteye. the enemies to lovers thing would be that you're a villain and he catches you so he fucks the evil out of you 😔 but i was like maybe that's too intense lol

[t-girl-breeder]

hey I. I just scrolled through your whole blog and I have some thoughts

just thinking about. I just picture being a kind of reserved virgin tgirl. I've been out for a while but never really did anything exciting

and we become friends. and maybe it's just by chance that you find me or maybe I hear from some of my friends about. how you broke them and as they're describing the things they let you do to them and there's a hazy look in their eyes and my body just. clenches

and then I find you. just to be friends

but then we're in my apartment alone watching something or other. maybe there's a blanket draped over the both of us. maybe we started on opposite sides of the couch until you kept shuffling over and now I'm pinned between you and the arm

and at first I squirmed away but now I'm leaning into you

and I start opening up about being really lonely, about feeling really isolated

and then I start to blush and talk about how I haven't had sex as a woman, how I haven't had sex at all. how lonely and desperate I am

maybe you're asking probing questions to get me like this maybe I'm just admitting it

but I start talking about how I haven't even met anyone who I think would treat me how I want, who would use me rough and humiliate me and it's all spilling out and I'm looking up at you with these big doe eyes

and I swallow and in a tiny voice. I just whimper out "please"

and then you're above me and my clothes are being tugged off and I'm on my back and my hips are being tugged up and my legs are falling outstretched and I'm flushed and whimpering

and you run your thumb along the inside of my thigh and go down to press against my hole and. and you watch me clench and throb and groan something guttural

and I whimper out. that there's lube on my nightstand just. I can only take one finger

and then you're sinking into me and I'm twitching like I'm seeing color for the first time and your finger is long and reaches deep inside me and when you crook it I make the most stupid fucked out noises

and then. and then you look at my hazy flushed face right in my eyes and you slick up another finger and slide it in alongside the first

and you can feel me clench around you maybe in suprise maybe in protest but you fuck them deeper and I start to fall apart. my hole is tight but you're fucking it sloppy and rough and then you're adding a third and it's the most I've ever felt and I've never heard the noises that are coming out of my mouth

and then. and then you're drawing them out and I whimper and grind my hips missing them

but you're. you're grabbing my ankles and pressing them above my shoulders and you're lining your hips up with my own and i start talking about how you can't, you can't, you're too big you'll never fit you'll break me, you'll break my hole and my mind

and then I see you drizzle lube over your cock and I gulp and. and start begging to at least use a condom, how I can't handle you fucking me raw, how I know you'll cum inside me and knock me up and I can't have that happen it'll ruin me

and it's all for show and you know it and I know it because you sink into me raw and split me open and my back is arching and I'm moaning like a stupid whore and I'm probably cumming onto my belly and tits without even being touched

and then you start fucking me rough and deep start making me take all of it and I keep babbling about how you're raw and hot and unprotected and every time I say it I clench around you like I'm begging, like my body is drawing you deeper

and then you fuck that last inch into me and I cry out like I've been shot and probably cum again and then you're cumming inside me and you're knocking me up and I can't handle it but you're grinding your hips into mine so you're as deep as you can be

and then. and then when it all settles

I'm a lonely tgirl whore you probably found a plug next to the lube

without spilling a drop you just. plug me up so I have to keep it all inside me as long as you want

and then we cuddle and you have me fall asleep with it still in

and I give you a kiss on the forehead or something gay like that

holy shit this is really long. sorry this is a crazy thing to just drop in an inbox just love the blog and it got me thinking

<3

aww, that’s so cute! I didn’t know so many people were horny for me 🩵

[darkcrowprincess]

When Nico ran away, he met Luke Castellan. They formed a small friendship/alliance of liking Percy.

*Oh do I have ideas!*

We start this story with how every story with Nico di Angelo starts. With him being completely utterly miserable.

Nico is running. Cold seeping in his bones. Percy Jackson's calls for him to 'come back Nico' echoing behind him. Nico runs. Without thinking or how he shadow travels for the first time. The only thing he does is turn his head behind him for one last glimp. Percy is reaching for him, ocean eyes sad and afraid for him. Begging him to come back. That causes the anger inside to spread more. A cold ice burn freezing anger. Anger of heart break and denial. All centered around Percy Jackson.

When the shadows spits him out again, he ends up in an alley. Nico trips over his feet. He tucks and rolls, hitting two trashcans, and ends up staying there like that. It's lightly raining. 'Good,' Nico thinks, it fits his mood. He's still so cold. Logically, he knows he needs to get up and keep walking. Find better clothes than his jacket so he doesn't freeze to death. But all Nico wants to do is stay here. Wallow in his pain. Maybe fall asleep and hope everything is just a nightmare. Nico moves to lay on the hard ground. Letting the rain soak in more. He's in a fetal position. He knows he shouldn't, but he's so tired. Percy's words about Bianca echoing in his head. His eyes fluttering. The only thing in his sight is the empty alley.

******

"Hey kid! Kid!"

"You need to wake up!"

"You can't stay here! God your burning up!"

"Percy?"

"What?"

"Percy, you let her die."

"Are you a friend of Jackson's?"

"Just leave me here to die Percy Jackson."

"Ok, kid your definitely coming with me."

"Are you crazy Luke! Kronos is not happy with you already."

"He knows Jackson. Besides another demigod could be useful."

"Percy, Bianca, don't leave me alone, please."

"Hush kid your sick. No one is leaving you alone."

Between the voices fitting through Nicos delirious mind. He has a flash of opening his eyes. A moment where he sees a young blond man leaning over him worried.

*****

Nico wakes up on a couch. Wet cloth on his forhead, blanket tucked over him. His clothes changed(a baggy shirt and sweatpants). Nico looks around. He's in a tiny apartment. Outside he sees New York. It's night. Before full on confusion and fear hit Nico hears a voice singing coming from another room.

🎶He says, "Ooh, baby girl,

you know we're gonna be legends

I'm the king, and you're the queen,

and we will stumble through heaven

If there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes

I know you wanna go to heaven, but you're human tonight"🎶

Nico swallows hard and nervous, looking for a weapon he grabs a table lamp. Slowly he starts walkng towards the kitchen. He pushes the kitchen door open and peaks in. The singing has gotten louder. The male singing isn't a bad singer.

🎶And I've been sitting at the bottom of a swimming pool For a while now, drowning my thoughts out with the sounds

But do you feel like a young god? You know the two of us are just young gods And we'll be flying through the streets with the people underneath And they're running, running, running🎶

Standing at the stove, he sees the back of a young blonde man. He's making chicken soup. Chopping carrots and potatoes into something that smells (Nico hates to admit)really good to Nico. Nicos realizes how hungry he is. The music is coming from a tiny battery powered cd player radio on the counter.

"You finally woke up kid?" The blonde says without turning around to look. Nico squeaks in fear, lifting the lamp up for protection. The blonde turns off the music, then fully turns around and rases his hands up.

"Hey easy kid I'm not going to hurt you. I'm a friend of Percy Jackson's."

Nico growls at that. "What makes you think I'm Percy Jackson's friend?!"

"Well other than the fact you were calling out his name while you were sick?"

Nico blushes at this. The blonde makes a note of that.

"Percy's been looking for you kid, real worried about you. At least that's what my spies say."

Nico still keeps the lamp in front of him like a bat, he raises an eyebrow in disbelief. "Spies? What are you a mob boss for half-bloods?"

Luke smirks, "You really have no idea who I am do you?"

"I know I have a lamp and I can throw it at your head!"

"Yeah but than you won't get any food. I know your hungry. So sit down, or not. You can leave if you want no one's stopping you kid."

Nicos stomach growls. At this point Nico doesn't care, he's hungry. If anything he can do whatever that shadow thing was again if he needed too. He's sure he can again. Nico goes to sit, the blonde guy smiles. Than turns around back to the stove. A few minutes later he brings back a couple of bowls filled with chicken soup. Laying one in front of Nico and than his seat. Up closer Nico fully sees the scars on the guys face. As if some big Greek monster used him as a clawing post. The guy pointedly eats first. Nico than follows after waiting a minute. During the meal it's silence. Uncomfortable silence from Nicos side. When Nico is almost finished and can't take anymore, he finally asks a question.

"Who are you and how do you know Percy?"

The guy fully smiles, its a rather mean one.

"My names Luke Castellan."

*******

A few hours have passed, Nico and Luke are still talking in the kitchen. It's late but Nico isn't tired. He hasn't been more awake in a long time.

"So you tried to kill Percy."

"Kill is a strong word, I wouldn't exactly say that. I knew he'd survive the scorpion bite. My master had to think I was trying to kill him. I don't want Percy dead. I care very much about Percy Jackson. "

"You have a funny way of showing it."

"From what you've told me so do you. You know it's not his fault your sister died. Yet you still blame him."

Nico glares at him at that(unknown to him his eyes start glowing. The power of the underworld in him), some part of Nico wanting to throw his empty soup bowl at his head. Luke just keeps smiling.

"In fact I think we share the same type of complicated feelings for Percy. We both love him but are also terrified of him." Luke's voice oozes charm like gold. As if he's trying to entice Nico to seeing things his way. Nico can't look at him. The fear comes crawling back inside him. How can this guy see him so easily?

"Is that it," Nico says. "You want me to join you so I can give you info on Percy?"

"I think you want two things. Your sister back and Percy Jackson. Now the first can be real simple, especially with your help. A new world order without Olympian gods also means controlling the doors of death. The second, well I'm willing to share if you are kid. What I want, other than that is quite simple."

Nico looks at him with wide eyes.

Luke's eyes flash gold for one second. A bright other worldly gold. "I want the gods to pay. And a child of the big three can certainly help with that. The power you could be capable of could do wonders for our side."

Nico stands up in anger at that, his chair falling to the ground. "So your dangling my dead sister, and what Percy as a war prize we can share as barging pieces? So that I can join your little army!"

"Yeah, I am. Plain and simple kid. And I know your tempted. Or you would have just left with that shadow travel thing. I can see it in your eyes. You want to accept my deal."

Luke stays sitting but offers a hand towards Nico, " What exactly do you have to lose here? A father you never even met? Gods who are the real reason your sister's dead? A camp that's not even looking for you? Percy's the only one who has been looking for you might I add."

Nico eyes the hand. His heart beating fast loud, it's the only thing he can hear.

"I'm offering you everything you could ever want."

Everything else is silent. As if it's holding its breath. Nico lifts his hand going towards Lukes. It shakes and it's pale, soft and tiny compared to Lukes tanned, callus and big hand. His fingers curl back to hesitate touching Lukes and than-

*******

Somewhere Percy Jackson wakes up in a cold sweat. Terrified. He can't remember what he dreamed but he feels as if something big has changed. His big ocean eyes wide. Only thing he says is, "Nico."

@dark-emperor-ciska 👿👿👿👿

[the-therapist-needs-therapy]

seventeen as boyfriends

hyung line edition :

Seungcheol

"Babe, do you want to get married?" he asks and you almost choke on the water you were drinking.

Wiping your mouth, you give him a confused look.

"Why are you asking this?"

"So you don't want to marry me?"

"That wasn't what I was sayi-,"he cuts you off.

"I'm hurt, now. My girlfriend doesn't want to marry me. Who knows what can heal my wounded heart at this rate?"he starts to sulk and you sigh.

"You're overreacting. Of course I want to marry you. I was just surprised why you suddenly brought that up"

His eyes brighten and he traps you in a hug. Only god knows how long until he lets you go.

Jeonghan

"Seriously, y/n? You want to spend our 2nd anniversary in a library?" he asks, sitting in front of you at the table you had set your things.

"You chose to go to an arcade on our first anniversary date. It's only fair if I choose this time," you say, placing a novel in front of him but he doesn't seem to notice.

"What are we even supposed to do in this place? It's boring and quiet"

"You read, Jeonghan," you say, pointing at the book you had placed for him.

He gives you an exaggerated look but proceeds to read a few pages before he lets out a loud sigh.

"You know what, y/n? I'm just going to stare at you because you seem more interesting than whatever that book was talking about"

Joshua

"Come here," Joshua says, patting the seat next to him on the couch. You sit next to him and he places his guitar on his lap to teach you some basics. He goes on for a few minutes about the strings and their names.

"So this string here is the- y/n, you're not paying attention," he sighs and you look at him accusingly.

"It's your fault. You're not fit to be a teacher," you say, pointing a finger at him.

You watch his face fall as if he was upset.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I'll try to teach you better"

"I don't think you can"

"Why?"

"You're so handsome. How can you expect a student to pay attention to anything other than you?"

Hearing this, Joshua smiles. He gives you a soft kiss on the cheek and you can't help but to smile back.

Junhui

The first thing you notice when you get home from work is the tiny kitten near the door, inside your house. Without thinking anything, you pat the kitten and it purrs softly, making you giggle. Then, you realize.

"Junhui!" you shout, carrying the kitten with you to your bedroom. What you saw took five years of your lifespan.

Jun was sitting on your bed, playing with 3 other kittens and he looks at you with an apologetic look.

"So, you decided to bring 4 kittens home without my permission?"

"I'm sorry. I was just coming home after work and saw these guys in a box near our apartment. They looked so adorable so I couldn't resist bringing them home," Jun gives you puppy-eyes and the kittens do the same. You ruffle your hair in frustration.

"Okay, fine. Only because you and these kittens are cute"

Soonyoung

Sunlight kicks your face and you blink your eyes, trying to get used to the light. You turn around to find Soonyoung already awake and staring at you.

"Soonyoung?"

"Go back to sleep. I wasn't done looking at you"

"I have to go to work. I think it's already late"

"It's 30 minutes earlier than your usual waking time. Just go to sleep"

"What are you even looking at? I probably look like a mess right now"

"You're cute when you sleep. I just want to appreciate the sight I get to see everyday"

Wonwoo

Wonwoo is still gaming and it's been an hour since he said it was his last game.

You sigh, plopping yourself on the couch of his gaming room.

"Wonwoo...."

"I swear it's the last game. I want to win at least once today"

You huff at his reply and give a dramatic reaction, falling on the ground with your hand on your head.

"My goodness, I feel like fading away bit by bit. My boyfriend's attention is getting less a less each day because of that dumb square looking equipment. If only he doesn't spare me a glance now, I might fade away completely," you say, making Wonwoo look at you.

Seeing upon your reaction, he shuts his computer down and sits on the floor next to where you were executing your performance.

"What are you doing, y/n?" Wonwoo laughs and you sit straight, glaring at him.

"It looks like you're in a relationship with your computer and not me. How else was I supposed to get your attention?"

Wonwoo chuckles once again and presses a soft kiss on your lips, making your anger evaporate.

Jihoon

"I'm not giving you this lecture again, y/n," Jihoon looks completely done with you.

"Whatever you say, I am not eating these," you say, giving a puking expression at the vegetables in front of you.

"How else are you going to get vitamins?"

"I don't need vitamins. I'm healthy as I am"

"Healthy my foot. You got sick 3 times last month"

You cross your arms, still not giving in and it makes him sigh.

"Will you eat if I feed you?"

You look at him with a funny look but soon realize that he's not joking.

"I'll try"

So that's how you ended up finishing both your and Jihoon's vegetables.

[drawing-prompt-s]

Promphet update

Hey, I'll be gone for a little while longer but I wanted to give you guys an update because I know some of you have been concerned.

I moved out of the apartment and into a new unit today. This has a win and some losses.

The win is of course I am not at least no longer living with my roommate and basically her friends since those mfers should have paid rent for how nightly they're over. I live diagonal from her, but I will take what I can get. It also made the move easier.

Downside, she stole or destroyed basically everything of mine in the common areas that she could. What items she didn't just steal or use and never replace (and this goes for her friends/gusests as well), are thoroughly unusable. Aside from the most expensive at least - but I could have had her head on a spike for it.

But this damages ranges from now missing every cleaning product I owned (fabulosos, bleach, detergent, etc - so many etcs), to missing personal items or finding them in worse condition than they were left (my room was tiny, I only had so much room), to straight up just destroying my cookware or stealing it. She stole most of it and damaged pretty much all the rest - cookware less than a year old is now rusted beyond repair and had to be thrown out. I have one pot and 1 pan now everything else is missing. This coming from the girl who threw a whole fit in mediations about not wanting her things touched and separating our stuff out, only to help herself to using and destroying mine, of course).

On top of that she blatantly ignored mediation compromises and was just a general dick - even the maintenance men helping me move were commenting on it. After I realized she had stolen my things I didn't even want to both getting the food, but they told me to sit tight and they got what they could. She stole and kept most of my food as well, of course, because she got full dictation over what could and could not go.

The office provided me a $50 card to Walmart - which is nice because they're not technically responsible for anything of mine lost or stolen. But after the both the leasing and property managers came to talk to her the latter realized that this was going to go south quickly and decided to at least try and help cover some of my missing items. it wont be much of a dent considering Walmart prices, but it's a nicer gesture than I expected, and they got first hand experience with even a tip of her behavior that I have endured for the last 4 months.

4 months of this. I am so, so, so tired. I am certainly rambling but her and her friends did not let me get any sleep the night before. Which only made today worse - besides living off saltines and unsweetened apple sauce for more than a week (I ran out of the saltines 3 days ago - I splurged on take out with how hungry I was today though, and so I didn't pass out).

I am still made about the cookware though. Cookware is so expensive and most all of mine was gifted.

I can't sleep yet because I have to work, but god I want to. I am so tired. I have been so tired. I'm just crashing on the couch for the next few days.

2. Because I moved units today I was able to take Jolene to the vet and get her treated. She's doing good. A little mad at me for taking her and she got car sick, but she's cuddled up with me as I work and write this post. Looking sweet as can be and stealing my heart.

3. I feel like there was supposed to be a third part to this, and I started writing it, but for the last 4 months my mind has been fuzzy. Especially right now with the lack of sleep. So it just vanished from my head immediately. Sorry ya'll.

Give me a few more days and hopefully I'll be back good as new.

Your local, mostly friendly, eldritch Prompt Prophet

[bromcommie]

hiii max <333 for the WIP ask game, how about "211223 sleep ghosts"? sounds super intriguing!

Hi hiiii, thanks for the ask<33

Ah, so: the title's basically just a nicer way of saying, this is a chaotic dumping ground for pieces of scenes that I think of right as sleep tries to take me in its loving chokehold and then have to blearily type into my notes app to rework later. A lot of those pieces ended up being dream-themed, though, so there's that throughline to it, too. I usually just cherry-pick some bits to fit into other fics later, but I'm thinking of developing a few into a full, more surreal work as well? We'll see.

one of the more fully-formed, Steve-centric (with a blink-and-you'll-miss-it stucky moment at the end) excerpts under the cut:

He’s seven and there’s a stubborn hand on his neck, keeping him under the surface.

He’s seven and he loves coming to Coney Island in the summer more than anything—all that lazy, sugary warmth loosening his body up, all that chaotic life made palpable and stretching the limits of his tiny world—but the water’s colder and quieter than he remembers, the sand too slippery to push up against, and his body’s as useless as it’s always been, every motion a fight for breath.

He’s seven and he’s dying, except that he thinks there used to be a different ending to that story: used to be muffled commotion and the rush of noise in his ears when the hold at his neck was torn away, breaking him through the waves. Used to be all that hollering, all that sunlight off of bright, blinding sand, the shock of cool air against his face and oxygen singing in his blood like a victory.

In this story, however, there's nothing: just the mounting pressure and the bitter cold, the wide expanse of the ocean that’s the wrong shape, that fits all askew and rubs up painful against his memory. Just the deep, glacial-slow dark and the salt stinging his eyes and all that—

—silence, always the same eternal silence, always that still, suffocating cloak over everything, melting all of time down to a single focused point right before the first shell hits, right before the waves come crashing in, always that moment in which he's entirely useless just slipping against the traitorous sands just flung right out of his body just waiting caught in the seconds frozen like a terrified animal crushed in a trap he can't move and he's just—

He’s freezing but his lungs feel like they’re on fire, and he wants to say I told you so, I fucking told you so but he doesn’t know who he’s talking to because he’s all alone and he can’t even talk, can’t even breathe because he’s just—

—seven, he's just seven and someone much bigger than him is holding his head underwater, unyielding and angry because he’s small and he didn’t shut up when he was supposed to and he’s just—

—nearing twenty-seven and something much bigger than him is swallowing him into its depths, ancient and vast and utterly indifferent and he can't even fight back, can't say a goddamn word to argue his case because there’s saltwater crushing his thoughts, fear crystallizing like ice in his chest, because it’s getting so dark and he’s so alone and he didn’t think it would feel like this, being seven and almost-twenty-seven and never being warm again, because he doesn’t want to die but he’s drowning and he’s alone—

Steve wakes up gasping for air, lurching through miles and miles of the Arctic ice and upright on his couch.

He blinks through the stifling darkness, coughing out the absence of water in his lungs, but he can still feel the cold around his neck, can feel the wet salt on his skin and the pressure keeping him down and it's not enough, all that air drawing in and in and in and he can’t—

“—a dream, sweetheart, it’s okay. It’s alright, you’re okay,” he hears Bucky’s low voice, hushed and close and mindless, except for how that’s entirely wrong, isn’t it; he was just alone, and Bucky never called him that a day in his goddamn life. He’s all alone in an empty apartment in Manhattan, and Bucky died over half a year and half a century ago. “Just take it easy, Rogers, you're alright. You're okay."

His surroundings come to him like paint stretching in water, a slow bleed-through: the dim outline of his living room, the garbage truck idling down the street, the awful, panicked wheezing coming from somewhere inside his own chest; solid weight on the edge of the couch and steady arms keeping him in place where he tried to lash out and—"Buck?"

Some unpinnable emotion ripples over Bucky's face too quick to track, a barely-there flinch from his eyes—little fine lines collecting exhaustion in the corners, when did that—down to the tick in his jaw before the hand keeping Steve at arm's length resumes its soothing little circles on his shoulder. "Yeah. Yeah, it's just me."

It's a split-second of hesitation; it's enough to bring the rest of the present crashing through with a vengeance, and then he's shaking.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[graylinesspam]

Sleeping bag

When I was a kid (before we acknowledged the autism) I loved going to my Grandparents house. It was one of my favorite places in the world. But it was also a big upper middle class house, with white walls and bright as fuck florescent lighting, and loud echoing rooms with tile floor and tall ceilings.

Basically a sensory nightmare for a little autistic girl.

I loved playing with my cousins. But when the volume would hit a certain level and the lights shined into my eyes I'd often crawl under the dining room table until i felt better. No one seemed to mind. They'd keep on and wait for me to come out on my own.

Until i had my birthday at their house when i was in the second grade. Towards the end of the party I was feeling really overwhelmed and went to crawl under the table, and my classmates who were in attendance made fun on me and bodily dragged me out from under the table. It wasn't excessively cruel, they were just being ignorant kids, but it hurt my feelings.

I hid in the pantry while the rest of the kids got picked up, then afterwards I cried to my grandpa. I told him that I was embarrassed, that I didn't know why i had to crawl under the table, it wasn't very comfortable, and i had to bend my neck to sit up under there. But I just needed to. And I couldn't understand why I couldn't just stop and act normal. Even when I was playing with my cousins, i just had to crawl away sometimes.

Well I can't be sure this is directly related, but not long after this he bought Two tiny little popup tents with a matching sleeping bag to go inside. Even as a kid if I laid down in it my legs would stick out the front, but it was darker and a little quieter.

I set them up in the living room, just out of the way of the couches. And they stayed up in that room for the next two years, in the corner, already dark and cozy and waiting for me. Even if i technically had to share the tents with my sister and our cousins.

He passed away when I was 11. And for a while we moved in with my Grandma to keep her company while she mourned. I really didn't fit in the tent by that point. I was way too big, but I pulled it out of the closet and set it back up in the living room. I dragged out a sleeping bag, the red one, and slept in it for the first week we stayed there.

When we left, I took the sleeping bag with me.

That sleeping bag was the top most blanket on my bed right up until I went to college. It was the perfect material to sleep with my face under because I could still breath fine and it didn't get too hot. Sometimes it would slip off in the night because of the smooth material and i would have to drag it back up.

It became riddled with snags from the cat, got worn flat and thin from constant use, and had a corner torn open from closing it in the car door on a road trip. So when I finally got nice bedding as a teenager I would make my bed up real cute and leave the sleep bag on the floor until I was ready to go to sleep.

It survived six houses, all of middle school and high school. It was ugly and stained and the zipper broke years ago.

So when I moved out I finally got rid of it. I'm not the most sentimental person, and I won't hang onto things if they truly aren't useful. The sleeping bag had more than outlived it's lifespan. It came apart at the seams in it's last year. I couldn't even wash it. Besides I was an adult finally. I thought I could let my blanket go.

Lately I've been thinking about buying a red sleeping bag.

[lifblogs]

The completed and revised project for my class. Get ready for dystopian sci-fi horror! Some things will seem like they don't fit the setting, but I figured that Chrysse has more money and resources and strings to pull than others since her twin sister was a famous astronaut.

Black.

SUPERIMPOSE: "The year is 2073."

"Earth's population has grown to 20 billion. This overpopulation of the planet is causing mass destruction, conservation efforts all but lost.

"Most humans have been living in horrible conditions. They go hungry. Children are culled and killed. Food is scarce. Animals are dead. Farming is all but impossible."

"Different countries are trying many solutions, but so far only one has been chosen."

"3 years ago a team was selected to go to Mars to begin making the planet a new home for the human race."

"This was Mission Hail Mary."

"They have been the last hope for humanity."

FADE IN:

INT. APARTMENT/LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

SUPERIMPOSE: "Richmond, Virginia"

CHRYSSE, a 28 year old white woman, is herding her two children, JET, 7, and LEXI, 3, onto a ratty old couch with sagging cushions. There is barely enough room in this section of the apartment for a couch, and there is no light in this room. Not enough money, perhaps?

The family is crowded together. Lights outside show in through the blinds. Cars drive by endlessly, and people roam the streets. An incredibly thin TV, made of plexiglass, is across the room. It's on. A NEWS REPORTER is talking, dark circles under his eyes, despite his otherwise presentable look. He is in a suit that oozes of this not being our own time.

CLOSE ANGLE - TV

NEWS REPORTER

(on television)

...and now, to the events on Mars. We've been closely following Mission Hail Mary since the beginning, and we have some troubling...

CHRYSSE

settling an excitable Jet and Lexi on the couch.

JET

And then, and then! The spaceship blew up!

LEXI

Boom! Boom! Boom!

CHRYSSE

Shh, we have to listen. This might be about Auntie Lien.

LEXI

Who's... Auuunie Leen?

CHRYSSE

(somehow patient)

She's my twin sister, sweetie.

Jet is now jumping up and down on the couch despite it not having much give, and Chrysse is grabbing for him.

JET

I have a sister!

Lexi is clapping in acknowledgement.

The TV

showing recent footage from Mars on the screen behind the reporter, the connection shaky, as it is from a camera set up outside to observe the habitats and astronauts. He is watching it, there are jumbled words said that we can't make out because of Chrysse's children.

Zoom in on a grainy view of white and silver hab stations and a ship. They have been blown to pieces, debris strewn out for miles. The footage is too dark and disrupted to make out if there are any bodies.

CHRYSSE

she has managed to settle down Jet and Lexi. Lexi is in her lap, playing with the rings on Chrysse's fingers.

CLOSE ANGLE - TV

NEWS REPORTER

...we regretfully have to say that Mission Hail Mary is over.

What?

ON CHRYSSE

stricken, pale, almost inhumanly still.

CLOSE ANGLE - TV

NEWS REPORTER

I'm sorry, folks. This one ended in a disaster, and it was... our final hope. NASA will be reaching out to the families of the deceased, and...

(sigh)

...making arrangements to memorialize them. Again, I repeat, the deceased are as follows: Wyn Smith, Winona Avison, Gori Zova...

CHRYSSE

No, no, no...

NEWS REPORTER

...Lien Jane...

ON CHRYSSE

sound of the TV fades out. Her eyes are very big, and a small shudder takes over her entire body. Her eyes tear up, and then those tears are rolling down her cheeks, dripping off her face.

Lexi is still playing with the rings on Chrysse's fingers, and Jet is now kicking his feet and watching his mom. He knows something is wrong, but doesn't understand what.

Suddenly, Chrysse puts Lexi down, and Lexi lets out a sharp exclamation.

JET

Mommy, what's happening?

CHRYSSE

she leaves the room, heading out to a tiny kitchen with a coat rack near the front door. She grabs a coat, her keys.

CHRYSSE

I have to go.

JET

Mom!

CHRYSSE

(trying to hold in sobs)

I'm sorry, I have to go. I have to go, I have to get out of here. I'm sorry.

Chrysse walks out the door, leaving her two confused--and now distressed--children all alone...

INT. APARTMENT HALLWAY - NIGHT - TRACKING

Chrysse is running through the hall, down the stairs, ignoring the shaky and loud elevator someone else is using.

EXT. APARTMENT GARAGE - NIGHT - TRACKING

A chill spring wind blows through the dimly lit garage as Chrysse heads to an older car model (this car cannot drive itself). It's still sleek in its original design, but bears streaks and scratches that mar the deep blue paint.

She gets in.

INT. CAR - NIGHT

With fumbling hands Chrysse presses a button that starts the car, a light on her keys flashing. The engine revs in a quiet purr, and she drives out into the night, reckless.

Passing street lights and headlights illuminate her face, and as she leaves the less-crowded apartment area, the lights turn neon, bright and colorful. More people line the sidewalks. Some in dull, tattered clothes. There are drunks, a regular sight now.

Chrysse's lips are pinched together. She worries that if she opens her mouth she'll start screaming; we see it in the set of her jaw.

CHRYSSE'S P.O.V. - THE ROAD

It flashes past her, the road busy, and everything begins to blur, her eyes welling up with tears.

Lights ahead.

Are the lights in her lane or the other lane? Is that a truck?

Loud honking and her car beeping an alert has her swerving.

EXT. CAR - NIGHT

Chrysse's car swerves up onto a sidewalk and near the doors of a brightly-lit and bustling bar, missing getting hit by the truck. Car stops.

INT. CAR - NIGHT

Chrysse starts banging her hands on the steering wheel, and she's screaming, tears pouring down her face. Any words she tries to get out are incomprehensible.

Eventually she hunches over, forehead against the wheel, hair a limp mess around her face. She sobs. No one comes to check on her, strangers continuing on with their business.

EXT. MARS/DESTROYED HAB STATION - NIGHT

SUPERIMPOSE: "Mars, Hab Station Delta"

Debris, everywhere. Destroyed silver and white hab shells, plants that are quickly shriveling and dying in the Mars atmosphere, personal belongings, bodies, are all over the red terrain, some hard to make out in the darkness. All is still. Dead.

Wait! Some of the debris closer to the center of the destruction is shifting.

A bloodied figure in a ruined space suit stands up.

EXT. CHRYSSE'S APARTMENT - DAY

SUPERIMPOSE: "Richmond, Virginia"

"Five Months Later"

The day is filled with haze, but light still shines through. Curtains and windows are thrown open in a desperate attempt to get some clean, unpolluted air. Light pours in. Through the windows we can see Jet helping Lexi into her seat at the small, battered kitchen table. Chrysse is at a tiny electric stove, making breakfast.

INT. CHRYSSE'S APARTMENT/KITCHEN - DAY

Noise and music can be heard through the walls.

Sizzling fills the air as we see eggs and bacon cooking in some pans.

Toast pops out of a sleek, white machine on the counter; it must be a toaster. This is a feast, and the kids know it, excited to have some extra food. Chrysse is trying to juggle everything, eggs beginning to smoke from their pan on the back burner that is flaring in blue rings, and letting out a low hum.

Her thin, buttonless phone is on the counter.

It buzzes. An alert.

Distracted, Chrysse goes over to it to check the alert/message. She picks it up.

CLOSE ANGLE - PHONE

"(804)-546-2975"

"Hey, Chrissy Lissy."

BACK TO

Chrysse drops the phone on the counter. No, this can't be possible. But it's an unknown number! She's skeptical. Could someone be trying to pull a cruel prank? How would they know of this childhood nickname that Lien came up with? Could it be...? No, she can't even entertain the thought. She is barely breathing, picturing her dead twin sister in her head like she has every day for the past five months.

Another buzz. Another message.

CLOSE ANGLE - PHONE

"We need to talk."

BACK TO

Chrysse flips her phone over, and continues making breakfast for her kids. She puts the bacon and eggs on three plates that are set out, grabs the toast and butters it, and then pours three glasses of orange juice. We see that the butter and orange juice comes from a very empty looking fridge.

She looks at her empty coffee mug, and then at the old coffee maker--a white and brown tube-like device that doesn't take up much counter space. Unfortunately, she has forgotten to start the coffee-making process. Chrysse groans, subconsciously determined to focus on this problem because the messages don't make sense.

She sets about getting herself coffee.

JET

Mommy, what are you going to do today?

CHRYSSE

(weak, faltering)

I have to go to work, sweetie.

Lexi blows a raspberry at this, and Jet laughs, some snot coming out of his nose.

Chrysse, with her motherly instincts, goes over with a napkin to clean his face, and he is trying to dodge. Chrysse lets out a bit of a laugh at their antics--or is it a sob?

Coffee maker lets out a strange grinding noise. It's broken.

Chrysse tries to see what's wrong, as...

LEXI

(pounding the table with her silverware)

No work! No work!

She gives up, and sits at the table with her children. She stares into her empty coffee mug. She seems tired, lifeless, while her children are so full of energy, even in this dull, cramped space.

Focus in on Chrysse's phone, the family is blurred out, but we can see Chrysse's stillness punctuated by the children's activity. Sound is dulled. We hear a fast heartbeat.

Scenes comes into focus again.

CHRYSSE

You know, maybe I'll take the day off.

EXT. SCHOOL - DAY

The concrete schoolyard outside a multi-story school building made of light brown stone is teeming with children from ages five to ten--a swarming crowd. Strange, futuristic cars and buses are lined up outside. Parents kiss their children goodbye.

Chrysse helps Jet put his backpack on, and gives him a light nudge towards the school. He turns back for a kiss on the cheek, and then he waves to a BOY who has paused in entering the school to wait for him.

Lexi is in the car, waving through the window.

INT. CAR - DAY

Lexi fiddles with a hard-paged children's book while sitting in her booster seat, and Chrysse is driving somewhat recklessly, shaking. We see the phone, still flipped over.

Another buzz.

Chrysse jumps.

The message goes through to her car.

Screen lights up.

CLOSE ANGLE - SCREEN

"Aaron"

"Want 2 grab dinner 2night? There's that new Thai place on Bobbins I've been DYING to check out."

BACK TO

Chrysse lets out a forced breath at seeing it's not from the unknown number.

She presses the screen, getting rid of the message.

EXT. DAYCARE/FRONT ENTRANCE - DAY

The daycare is a one-story building with a white-painted exterior. There's concrete, a yard, a few rosebushes near the side of the building. A for sale sign is out front.

A young DAYCARE WORKER, a woman, is outside to meet Chrysse and Lexi.

Chrysse kisses Lexi goodbye, eyes not totally focused on her, and Lexi grabs the hand of the daycare worker to be led inside.

LEXI

Buh-bye, Mommy!

DAYCARE WORKER

Bye, Ms. Jane, hope you have a nice day.

CHRYSSE

(distracted)

Yeah.

She gets back into the car.

EXT. FOLLOWING THE CAR - DAY

Chrysse drives.

EXT. CHRYSSE'S APARTMENT COMPLEX - DAY

Chrysse sits down on the steps that lead up to her door, blowing out a breath, and holds her phone. A STRANGER stumbles past her.

CLOSE ANGLE - PHONE

"(804)-546-2975"

"Hey, Chrissy Lissy."

"We need to talk."

BACK TO

Chrysse, typing, fingers almost missing the letters on the screen.

SUPERIMPOSE: "Who are you?"