#rest should be extremely easy to throw together

[autistic-autumn]

got a bunch of spare time in the next few weeks. might actually try getting a siffrin cosplay together

[buttercupblu]

Satoru's Psyche|Escalating

"Should I really have to suffer for my actions?"

Previous SessionSession 2 of 10|Next Session

🗂️Patient Chart Update: Patient Gojo displayed extremely flirtatious and unruly behavior during the first half of his visit. Mentions of escape and kid-napping were noted as well as enforced close proximity with his nurse. Threatening remarks were also made at the end of his lunch in response to mentions of disciplinary action. Patient is scheduled for a bath but is pending the possibility of negative punishment to instill corrective behaviors. 📋Length of Session (w.c): 8.3k out of "i said we will cross that bridge when we get to it 😊" 💊Intake Chart (tags): mild violence but no in-action descriptors, coercion, manipulation, drug use, angst, unwatched close contact and touch, nudity, mentally unstable Gojo, Nurse!Reader ✏️Doctor's angel’s note: i hope you know what you're doing, Nurse 🎼Waiting room music: Overheated|Billie Eilish

Choose wisely.

Hunger stirs in your tummy, and Gojo's words sit with you through lunch. Your spoon clinks around the bowl, stirring the soup growing colder by the second though the growls from your stomach are too obnoxious to be ignored. But your mind wanders.

You're stuck. Earlier, you were all for serving up justice on a silver platter, but now you're seriously second-guessing your "genius" idea to punish Gojo by making him someone else's problem.

As if anyone will be crazy enough to say yes.

Everyone already avoids his wing like the plague. It's kind of an unspoken fact that you are Gojo's one and only. The only staff he allows near him. Anyone else would be playing with fire.

And if someone is brave enough to willingly throw themselves into the lion's den, they definitely can't be new. New to nursing—new to the ward. High expertise is needed here. Someone seasoned—experience which you lack yourself—otherwise, they won't last a second with Gojo.

It'll be way too easy for him to make them snap, like tossing a bone to a dog.

"Persephone." Yuko brings you out of your coma.

You perk up, instinctively smiling. "Hey, what's up?"

"You tell me," she snorts. "You've been playing with your food like break isn't over in 10 minutes." She touches your arm. "Everything ok?"

It's written all over your face, huh? You could deflate right now.

This is why Yuko is your favorite co-worker. Always reading you like a book without you needing to say a word. Quick to call anything off out.

Leaning back in your chair, you huff, rubbing circles into your temples to relieve the headache you didn't know you had.

"Yeah, yeah," you begin, "It's just—" You stop, her eyes hold so much concern and you've barely opened your mouth. Not sure if you should now because you know what kind of person Yuko is.

And if she knew even half of what you don't tell her during your lunch breaks spent complaining about work, she'd hang Gojo out to dry if she could. She often makes it very clear she hates you have to deal with him at all.

"—I'm just a bit tired. Gojo's scheduled for a bath later, him and two others. Gojo's easy but...I don't know. I feel slower than usual today. Definitely won't get home until late, again, because of all these sponge baths." You cringe at the last part.

Aside from trying to keep Yuko cool, you also don't want to risk the news getting back to the Director who could take you off of Gojo completely. No one else can take your place. And who knows what would happen if you disappeared from his roster for good?

How would his threats manifest?

Yuko scoffs, waving her hand.

"Gojo and easy do not go together," and you both shake your heads and laugh. "But I get it. You did come in super early."

"Thought there'd be less of us," you sigh.

"Sonya's been on our asses lately, right? But hey, she finally got us all here."

"A little too late. The damage is done," you pout, resting your elbows on the table, realizing you've accidentally grown used to chaos and ever-changing schedule.

You routinely plan ahead to make sure you can stand up when people fall short. Constantly putting yourself on the back burner seems to be a thing that always set you back.

"Sooo, you just need rest, ya? Nothing else? Gojo—" there she goes "—been 'okay' with you lately?"

Your heart skips. "Ya. he isn't so bad today," you lie, "I'd just love to be home on time for once. Maybe even a bit early, I'm soo close. Overtime's been wringing my neck for weeks."

Yuko looks at you with puppy dog eyes. And not in a "I feel sorry for you" kind of way, but one that almost makes you feel bad for not telling her the whole truth.

"Here," she pushes your soup towards you, "How about I do Gojo's bath and you get an early start on my last two? That way you can at least binge that show you won't shut up about later." She smiles.

You immediately protest.

There's no way you can do that to her.

Yuko never even crossed your mind and was far from your first pick, not because she can't handle him but because she's your friend. Not just a colleague, but someone you actually care about more than anyone else in this run-down job even if she doesn't feel the same.

She's too good of a person, and you'd be the Devil Incarnate if you let her do something so risky. Especially when you can just suck it up and get it over with.

"Woah, woah, it's just a bath, calm down," she says, taking your hands in hers as you ramble on, trying to convince her that you'll be fine or that you'll find someone else. Burdening her is simply out of the question.

"Who else but me, Seph'?" and she tilts her head, "You don't you think I'm as good as you?" And the way she says it, giving you that look she does when you're being stubborn, dares you to challenge her.

Now you really have to think about what to say.

Goddamn it, you regret saying anything at all, but Yuko's so motherly, how could you resist? Hiding from her is impossible, she would've sniffed you out sooner or later.

Easing your pains when she can is her specialty—helping to calm and settle you down when you blow things out of proportion.

Could this be one of those moments? Or are Gojo's words more than just hot air?

The back and forth is killing you, but the combination of Yuko's reassuring touch and your gurgling stomach puts the final nail in the coffin as she reminds you of the time.

Eyes wide, you look at the clock, ticking away faster than you realized, then back at your lukewarm soup.

Denying that you need help would be silly because technically it's true. You probably should've asked the Director for a little Gojo break forever ago, even if just for a few hours a few times a week. It would be better than nothing because if you can't function, Gojo can't be cared for.

So, who better to help bridge that gap for you than Yuko?

The gutsy woman has been your rock ever since you started at the ward, having your back and sticking with you through tough times when staff constantly dips in and out of the facility like a rotating door, unable to handle the job.

Yuko's a real day one, and next to you, she's the most competent nurse in these walls, fully equipped with a "take-no-shit" attitude that routinely keeps her patients in check.

When you really think about it, it'd be silly, downright irresponsible to trust anyone else.

Her offer is simply too good to dismiss.

"Thank you, Yuko," you cave, grabbing your spoon and finally allowing yourself to enjoy your meal. "You're...amazing. I don't deserve you."

She looks on happily. "Just promise me you'll take some personal time after this," she insists, worry evident in her voice. "We both know how much you care, but even superheroes need rest." She's too kind and right in more ways than one. "Besides, I think Gojo will like me, ya? I'm cool. I'm fun. He'll like a friend of friend?"

You roll your eyes—ya, totally, cool people definitely say they're cool.

Not knowing whether to joke back or wave her off, you softly smile at her concern before nodding, vowing to make good on your promise and feel a bit lighter knowing your wish for early release will actually come true.

Maybe.

The latest threat to your miracle in the making is Mr. Hampton, who is personally making it his business to drag the already long day by its edges, almost bringing time to a standstill with the way he's handling his bath.

Enormous and lumbering, the man Yuko usually deals with took his sweet time gathering his things and even longer trekking down the seemingly endless halls leading to the bathing area. Occupying every inch of the space like those massive trucks that hog the interstate, yet inching along at a pace that makes a snail look like it's in a sprint.

All that was missing were the yellow hazard lights.

Oh no, please, take your time, you think, watching Mr. Hampton clean each limb painstakingly s l o w in a tub that's comically too small for him. You may have been able to rush through Yuko's first patient, but this one wanted all that time back.

His pace resembles a giant's, and his cheery, nonsensical hums echo around the hollow chambers and lull you to sleep, turning your eyes into bricks under the spell of his melody. Perfect timing for the energy drinks from early to crash you out, tag teaming with the chair beneath you that feels a bit too soft as you lean over the tub, willing the colossal man to hurry up.

Warm water flows over your skin as you scrub circles on his neck, deciding to bite the bullet and take over the bath so he can play with the bubbles and get out when you hear a blood-curdling scream.

Your entire body goes rigid, shock reverberating through your spine and forcing you to halt as your mind goes blank. But steamy water brings you back to life, drenching your shirt and upper thighs when Mr. Hampton jumps from the noise.

The rude awakening makes you lock in.

The scream. It sounds like...no, you know it came from the west wing...where Gojo is.

And Yuko.

Hurried steps rush past your door, sounds of multidirectional distress and frantic shouts echoing through the corridor—staff members and patients alike sweep into a whirlwind of panic.

You're number one, dropping the scrubber and scrambling to help Mr. Hampton out of the tub, hands shaking as he grips them.

A security guard bursts into the room, face ashen and jaw tight.

"Nurse! We need everyone in the west wing, immediately!" The command is sharp, laced with an urgency you've never seen before.

And immediately feel responsible for.

"There's been an incident."

Without another thought, you wrap Mr. Hampton in a towel, trying your best to assure him that everything is fine when your obviously trembling body says nothing is. His confused gaze follows you as you lead him back to his room, the commotion in the air moving him a lot faster than earlier before you rush back out and head straight for the west wing—where chaos reigns supreme.

The usually pristine floors, normally squeaky clean due to lack of traffic, are now barely visible. Staff members crowd the familiar hall for the first time since Gojo made it his own, filling the space with more bodies than you're used to and making it difficult to find the source of trouble.

Not like you need to. The truth is painfully clear, and it's disrespectful to even pretend you don't know exactly what went wrong.

You push through the masses, clumsily bumping shoulders, your heart beating into your ears and making the world seem quiet as you inch closer and closer to disaster. Dragging imaginary shackles on your feet until you all but collapse once you spot it.

Gojo—barely restrained by guards, straitjacket nowhere in sight—standing absolutely furious.

And for the first time today, time seems to slow down, your mouth suddenly becoming dry when you look past him.

Yuko.

Halfway out the door to his room. Sprawled out on the ground. Bruised, unconscious, and no signs of breathing.

Your hands fly to your lips, mouth agape. Murmurs from the crowd swirl around you before attendants rush to Yuko's side, knocking into your pathetic frame as you stand too frozen to move.

They gently pick her up, careful to handle her motionless body and place her on a stretcher. Her usually vibrant face is drained of color, twisting the dagger in your chest when you spot the subtle rise and fall of her chest. Fighting for breath.

Fighting.

It hits you like a train.

Someone as kind as her, always greeting you with warmth and empathy and capacity every time she sees you, should never have to lift a finger let alone fight for her life. The sight is too much to bear.

Waves of helplessness crash over you and you can't even look at her. Regretting with every ounce of your being that you sent her in your place. Knowing this could happen. Concerned only with your silly wants and needs.

But you're so confused.

The ward should have weakened Gojo—Yuko should have been fine. The only threat Gojo has up his sleeve is mental torture but Yuko might as well be Freud. Her mind is sound, strong.

And that's where you fucked up, forgetting that Gojo's pure strength, especially when he's lost his fucking mind and triggered, is stronger.

Even with his security system in place, the devil is still powerful enough on his own. And like this was some sick and twisted experiment to help you figure that out, Yuko was the one to pay the price.

"I warned, I WARNED YOU!" Gojo's words pierce the overlapping voices like a sword, breaking your shock and drawing everyone's attention to the strange interaction between the two of you. "I don't like to be touched by strangers, Nurse." Guards struggle to restrain him as he pulls away.

All eyes fall on you and the stares are intense. Confusion and judgment.

Why was Yuko here in the first place?Where was Seph’?How’d he get out?How did this happen? 

Whether the murmurs are real or in your head, the effect is all the same, and you wish you could just completely vanish. Standing like a deer in headlights—and they're so fucking bright.

But Gojo is brimming with malice and amusement, chaotic energy pulsing from the hellish man and threatening to send sparks flying. Daring someone to be brave and push the button.

But despite his outward display of dominance, the pure rage on his face that makes you feel sick to your stomach about every decision you've ever made, there's something...uncertain lurking behind those fiery eyes.

Something like...apprehension.

Like he knows he's done something wrong.

Yet, words escape you, as if anything needs to or even could be said. But soon, fear and guilt turn to anger, threatening to consume you. Ready to eat you alive and spit out the bones with disgust because you are not a victim.

You have no right to stand here, spineless, shocked, or feeling even a little sorry for yourself. Holding back tears because you know what you've done.

Your fists clench, unsure how to deal with it, but there's fire in your eyes because someone needs to pay.

But then you exhale, thoughts shifting to Yuko as you take a good look around at what happened the last time you decided to take things into your own hands. All of your actions, even now, are rooted in selfishness. Like you've learned nothing.

Pushing down the knot growing in your stomach, you turn away to follow the medics, deciding your friend needs you more than you need revenge. Gojo doesn't deserve any more of your attention, even if it means risking your job or life to turn your back on him.

And there's nothing Gojo hates more than being ignored.

Struggled and strained noises grow louder. Guards tighten their grip on the fuming man whose raw strength outnumbers thousands of them even without his cursed energy.

You look back, their determination to keep him contained making you nervous. You don't anyone else to get hurt and Gojo is fully exploiting that.

You're painfully aware that your decisions have put you in this position, watching the guards' valiant but increasingly pointless effort to prevent Gojo from causing further harm. But it's obviously a losing fight, and the unease on their faces is unmistakably clear.

You wonder why they don't just run like hell.

"Let's go," a guard barks, but Gojo remains fixed in place. Moving a boulder would be easier.

"No, I'm filthy," Gojo protests, smirking, "And if I don't have my bath soon, there will be hell to pay."

Seeing no one else in the room, his eyes are locked only on you, his expression a menacing promise that would send anyone else running for the hills. A look that says, "Try that shit again, and there will be casualties instead of mercy."

Reinforcements are called but it won't be enough. The goddamn military wouldn't be enough. Gojo is...the strongest, after all.

"Stop."

Your cry freezes the room. Everything goes silent.

You hesitate, fuck, what should you do?

What can you do? No one else can suffer—no one else should suffer. Because of you.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you silently apologize to Yuko, swallowing a lump instead of looking back.

"I'll do it," you say firmly, "Just stop this and...and I'll give you your bath. Please—" The sharpest pang you've ever felt cuts through you. "—just don't hurt anyone else."

Pathetic. But necessary.

He looks into your pleading eyes with surprise, amazement even, before smiling.

The submission in your voice sounds better than anything he could ever imagine. A sweet tones that feed his already inflated ego.

Unsure of how to proceed, the guards exchange uneasy glances.

Gojo's strength is undeniable, that much is evident, and restraining him forever is simply not possible.

You know offering to give him what he wants is risky as hell...but this is your doing. Your mess to clean up.

So you squeeze your sweaty palms and give a decisive nod, signaling at the guards to let him go. They hesitate a second, then reluctantly agree, stepping back and leaving Gojo standing smugly before you.

Closing your eyes, you breathe, hating to have to look at him, but needing to stay strong. For Yuko. For yourself. And everyone else in the ward.

But Gojo's satisfied grin says it all. He's won this round.

You're ready to get the next over with.

The squeaking of your shoes has never been this loud, each echo bouncing off the empty halls and reminding you of how alone you are.

Alone—with a psychopath.

A bit more docile, doped-up psychopath but, the man could probably still rip someone's head clean off if he wanted to.

Still, Gojo despises anything that alters his body—mentally, physically, all of the above. Alcohol, medication, coffee, energy drinks—anything that threatens his need for absolute control.

But he also needed to compromise, and you refused to be alone with him again unless he took something stronger. Otherwise, it would be you, all the guards in the ward, and a pay-per-view premiere of his bath time.

He knew he had to agree because his ass is not for free, but only if you took it as well.

You blinked, hard.

You knew he would be skeptical—hell, it could be poison, and he wouldn’t blame you. But to suggest something so ridiculous?

"Half, then," he said, as if that made his suggestion any less idiotic, but, as you waited for your supervisor to dismiss the insane idea, the back and forth with Gojo actually didn't save you. And you didn't need to ask why. The entire ward shoots daggers at you any time someone walks by now.

Your supervisor reassured you that you'd be fine, the mild tranquilizer would be out of your system by the end of the day, then she patted your back as if to say, "Lay in the bed you made."

It felt unreal, holding the familiar pill between your fingers, one you were used to dishing out but now had to take.

With a quick snap, you broke it in half, holding his half out to the leering man. Gaze unwavering as he leaned forward and parted his lips, waiting. Taking a deep breath, you placed them both on your tongues, in disbelief at your reality, but Gojo's focus was elsewhere, not wasting this prime opportunity to rattle you more and taste you, closing his lips around your fingertip with a quick lick before you snatched away.

But it wasn’t quick enough to avoid the tingles shooting up your arm as you swallowed, no longer needing the water you had set aside, and a confusing mix of emotions churned as the tingles spread throughout your body.

Making good on his promise, he swallowed his own, still watching you with a knowing glint in his eyes. Like he knows what he does to you. And despite just witnessing this man's violence firsthand, you'd give anything to deny that he still has an effect on you. Hating yourself for being more concerned with the way he looked at you and the lingering sensation on your skin than the tranquilizer now coursing through your system.

The guards carefully lead you and Gojo to his private bathroom—they're more there for show than for protection, but you'll take what you can get, and they keep a firm grip on his replacement straitjacket.

You trail behind, mind buried with thoughts of what to say once you're really alone with him.

The door shuts behind you, followed by the familiar sound of a series of locks clicking shut. "We'll be right outside," one of the guards mutters, eyes shifting between you and Gojo, a stereotypical warning lacing his voice, but even he probably doesn't believe it.

"Perv," Gojo sneers and laughs, but you don't find a damn thing funny, the keys to his jacket digging into your palms as you spin around and face him, furious. What would be better? Slapping him, kicking him, or knocking his teeth out. Or should you be particularly evil and just let him sit in the shower, fully restrained and drenched in cold water and you let it rain down. None of the above will do you any good, but it'll show him exactly how done you are with his shit.

"That isn't funny. None of this is funny," it fumes out before you know you're speaking, "You've hurt someone—you hurt my friend." Your rage echos through the vast bathroom.

Gojo's laugh fades, his smug expression slipping from his face. Even you're surprised.

...oh shit.

You're actually confronting him.

The intense words burn through his usual arrogance, leaving a heavy, uncomfortable silence between you.

Then, for a fleeting second, his face does something weird.

Something you haven't seen before as his eyebrows draw together. Is that...regret?

"I'm sorry."

The record scratches. You’re fully positive you must be dreaming.

But when he doesn’t make a joke or even crack a smile, you squint at him.

The words are muttered and reluctant, but there they are, hanging in the air between you.

"It...won't happen again."

And he's serious, the same seriousness you see when his heart races as you take his vitals...but why? Because an apology? From him?? Unheard of.

Gojo has said some nasty things to you in the past that you've immediately scolded him for, but he's never apologized. He'd make a note when certain jokes didn't land, but he never took them back, preferring to cut out his own tongue than to waste his breath being sorry.

You know better than to take anything Gojo says at face value, but...what the fuck??? You almost feel offended.

He has to be joking, fucking with you to dig even deeper under your skin.

Or is he?

Fuck, you don't know how to feel.

He's so good at that, stealing the air back and hanging his words in them. Tempting you to pause and even consider if he ever truly means them. If he could mean them. The mind games are endless.

But then, the familiar cockiness returns and overshadows your doubts, twisting your stomach into knots with that familiar smile of his.

"Now," he says, strutting towards the stalls, "let's get this bath started, shall we?" And his easy, but confident steps call you to follow, a stark reminder of who you're dealing with. But he never knows when to quit. "Or should I really have to suffer for my actions?" and the bastard pouts.

Though you know he's being sarcastic and not to feed into his taunts, you can't help but wonder—what would suffering even look like for someone like Gojo?

Violence? Physical pain? A slow and agonizingly painful death?

But the guy is damn near invincible. What on earth could hurt him?

Whatever it is, it would have to be his absolute worst nightmare, but nothing comes to mind at the moment other than frustration because you have to keep making choices.

Return his energy or keep it professional? Tolerance or revenge?

"Apologizing won't cut it," you snap and gesture at his jacket, wondering how the hell he slipped out of the first one without leaving a trace. "And no tricks, or those guards will be back in here faster than you can tell another lame joke."

Smooth.

Gojo sighs sooo dramatically, like he can see straight through your kitty claws. "Fine, fine. Loosen up," he drags, "I won't cause any trouble. Just don't go getting any ideas now, Nurse." and he winks.

He's insufferable—but despite your smoldering anger, tendrils of doubt still creep in.

Your fingers slightly tremble as you begin to unfasten his straps, but each click feels a bit like victory, a fragile illusion of your 'control'—at least for now—because at the end of the day, Gojo had chosen you to listen to. And after today, he's sure you won't forget there isn't room for anyone else.

The jacket falls with a heavy thud, your eyes immediately scanning his upper body in search of any signs of injury or stress. The cascading bruises on his arms surprise you.

They feel so feeble in your hands; the evidence of him not as invincible as he seems is jarring. Pale, weak, and resting between your fingers. Devoid of the power that makes him so feared.

"Never seen bruises before," he tilts his head, "at least not on me"

You hope Yuko was at least partly responsible for the marks on the villain, but they appear self-inflicted, and he's not as mobile.

Fuck, now you'll have to bathe him too. Still, it's strange, seeing him like this. Even weirder knowing that he could still do damage in this state and you can't shake the feeling of this temporary 'truce'. If it isn't obvious by now, you've learned that Gojo always has something up his sleeve.

Warm water soothes you a bit, flowing over your fingers as it fills the large white tub—pristine, imported from somewhere far away, and standing on decorative claw feet. Your eyes wouldn't stop rolling the first time you saw it, completely annoyed with Gojo's over-the-top alterations and sense of style, but you'd be a liar if you said you never thought about sinking your body into it.

The best you could do was cope with the little porcelain tub in your apartment, and you get lost thinking about how you'd love to take a long, hot, and steamy bath when you get home—if you'll even have the energy. There's no way you'll be leaving early now, not like you deserve it, and you feel sick for even thinking about it. You doubt you'll even have a job tomorrow.

You look so defeated Gojo thinks, sauntering forward and lifting the hem of his shirt. You turn away, focusing instead on the temperature of the water, but the rustling sound of his shirt being pulled overhead and pants falling to the ground warms your cheeks.

His physique certainly isn't lacking, even in his current state, but still, you wonder how such a slim but toned frame could be so...powerful.

Could you be more obvious? Your flickering eyes are so telling, shamefully darting between him and the water, but he catches your gaze from the corner of his eye as if he's read your mind. How cute, he thinks, trying to hide away your thoughts.

Clearing your throat, you toss in his loofah. "Well...go on. It's ready." But Gojo only grins, amused by your attempts to look away despite seeing his muscled frame a number of times. Relishing in the fact that he still manages to fluster you.

"Your shirt," he eyes your top, "Your pants. Looks like you've already started without me."

The water stains from earlier sit beautifully across your chest, not yet fully dry, and drawing his eyes to your semi-erect nips.

His teeth tug at his bottom lip, eyes shamelessly raking over your hefty chest. "Always such a tease, aren't you, Nurse?"

You grit your teeth, cursing the conflict swirling in your stuttering heart, fully aware of the thin line between professionalism and this game of intimacy he refuses to stop playing. Everything is always a game no matter the circumstances. And he loves to push your buttons.

"Just get in, Gojo," you order, and after what feels like an eternity, the silence is broken by the sound of splashing water as he steps into the bath.

He slowly sinks in, sighing at the warmth of the water. Ringlets of steam engulf him, almost making his silky white hair disappear with it.

His arms string over the rim of the tub, a look of relaxation resting on his face as if he's had a long, hard day. You resist the urge to slap it off.

Sudsy bubbles form from the solution you pour under the faucet, hoping to shield your eyes from his body. You've seen enough today and expect the mini-rebellious act to piss him off, but as the bubbles grow, so do his eyes. Picking up a handful, he actually starts playing with them.

"Nice touch," he adds, blowing them right into your face, and you watch with a tight lip as he decorates the bathroom with them, knowing you'll be the one to clean it all up.

He sits a crown on his head and gives himself a bubble beard, nipping your nose with some that you're quick to wipe away, and his pale eyes flutter and settle on you in a curious way.

His arms flex as he leans over the edge—steam-slicked sweat dripping down his face that he doesn't bother to wipe away. "I'm ready for my sponge bath," he says, and if it was hard to take him seriously before, it's damn near impossible now—especially with that ridiculous bubble mustache.

Sickening, him still being so playful, so unserious, at a time like this.

You know Gojo's unhinged, yeah, quote, "mentally unwell and a literal danger to society", but to nearly take someone's life and then make jokes afterward?

God, you feel so stupid, walking around him like you were the shit but with the wrong guard up the whole time, playing right into his hands and accidentally rewarding this grown-ass man who likes to play with suds.

The reality of your circumstances replays in your head, the story of how you ended up here, coddling this monster, and you're still confused as hell as to why it had to be you.

Then again, this is what you signed up for...right? To heal. To help those who can't help themselves. To offer redemption some sort of redemption no matter how sick and twisted the person in need is.

With your loofah in hand, you resist the urge to roll your eyes for the 400th time today and keep your morals in mind. "Keep talking like that and I'll stop, Gojo," you say, reluctantly drenching the tool in soap before proceeding to do your job.

Gently washing his back, he sinks into your touch, closing his eyes and letting his body completely rest on the cool cast iron, breathing. Feeling like he's won no matter what you say because your scrubs feel like magic.

Across his arms and over his broad shoulders, you work your way down, bubbles glistening in your trail as you're careful not to miss a single inch of skin but don't linger too long.

Every now and then, you catch glimpses of raised marks between the foam, and because you hate yourself, your brain absolutely refuses to give you a break. You have to give kudos to his dedication to his craft. The muscle definition, the scar tissue telling stories of battles won, the evidence of his past before corruption—everything it takes to be a hero.

It's unsettling, yet fascinating, the polarity between his beauty and his monstrous deeds.

You've never really noticed because this level of care is another first for you. Usually, Gojo just hops into the shower and takes care of himself while you wait outside—easy and thorough but always taking his sweet time, all while loudly singing some annoying song that inevitably ends up stuck in your head.

But after today, it'll be impossible to trust him or you again, and the hushed whispers as the guards walked you both to the restrooms made that abundantly clear.

The pitiful thoughts seep into the way you hesitantly clean him, moving down to his chest and abs while making sure to avoid more sensitive areas, but the malicious glint in his eyes is unmistakable.

"Whatsamatter, Nurse?" Gojo taunts, feeling you slow around his stomach, "Afraid of gettin' too close?" And you can't believe you're praying for a speedy recovery for this monster so he can handle this himself again.

You ignore his comment and try to get this over with as quickly as possible, feeling humiliated enough as it is and he can sense it, mocking you with a laugh.

"You're so uptight. Can't you just relax and enjoy the view?"

God, please make him shut up, begging for relief so you won't scrub his cocky brow right off his face. "Just doing my job," you mutter, twice squeezing the loofah that feels a little funny in your hand as the soapy water rinses his chest.

It feels heavenly on his skin, but the subtle change in your movements makes his brows furrow. Slowing, more deliberate, heavy as if you're wading through molasses. You keep adjusting your grip but the material feels so strange—the texture almost too soft like it could melt into your palm.

Your breath catches when you brush his skin, not realizing how close your fingers drifted to the edge of the sponge, and though it was only a second, it sends an unexpected jolt through his chest.

The muscle relaxers. How could you have already forgotten, you both think.

But Gojo, ever observant, doesn't miss a thing.

His eyes narrow slightly as he watches you. "Feeling a little funny, Nurse?" His velvet voice teases.

"I'm fine," you lie, though you couldn't be less certain as the muscles in your hands start to relax more than you intended, the sponge gliding over his abs, and down his sides, the rhythm almost hypnotic and making his head fall back. You try to push through the haze, to finish quickly and be free of him, but you're losing the battle against numbness and heightened awareness.

And fuck, he has to bite his lip at your touch that suddenly feels so intense, a sensation too good to keep to himself, and one that you obviously need to stop being such a tight-ass.

You need to loosen up in a way that medicine can't help. And Gojo knows just the trick.

He licks his lips, tongue curling over his canine before splashing a wave of water on you in one swoop.

Saying you gasp is an understatement as the steamy wash drenches your face and front once again, setting a new record as you're hit not once, but twice in a day. The loofah slips from your hand as you instinctively reach up to shield yourself, but Gojo is quicker, wrapping his hands around your wrists and holding you in place.

A scream is ready to surge from your body when Gojo maneuvers both of your wrists into one hand, placing a finger to your lips.

"Ssssh ssh ssh ssh ssh," he hushes, his voice a little too calm, "I'm not going to hurt you." A lone droplet hangs from your eyelash and he swipes it. "I just want you to listen."

You freeze, your nerves on fire as you're forced into close proximity with him for the second time today, inches away from his face that gradually softens.

Though you can easily call for help, you know better than to argue—he knows you know better too but he never felt threatened in the first place. Besides, he can feel your breathing slowing, the effects of the pill combined with his firm hold sending a faint buzz from your wrists to your stomach, and his finger remains on your lips as he brings his closer.

His eyes flicker to your bottom lip. "You're so good at your job, Nurse," smoothly pulling it with his thumb. "That's why I like you. You're thorough but real. Just what I need to keep me sane."

Sane?

"Sane," he repeats like he's heard your thoughts. "Believe it or not, you keep me grounded...like a good boy. Be proud, not a single soul here or anywhere else can compare to me, let alone deal with me, and yet...here you are." He looks at you like you're a marvel. "You can handle that...can't you?"

Words fail you. This feels rhetorical. Why does he keep torturing you like this? What is it about you?

You haven't really thought about it since your first few weeks with him but now he's forcing you to think about the little 'power' he's given you that he can easily snatch back.

What happens if he decides to go further than flirting?

You can't handle it, any of this.

Hesitating, you're unsure of what to say but know it could never be the truth.

Gojo must sense it because he leans closer, his breath warm on your cheek.

"If you leave, I just might crack completely, beauty." A breath you didn't realize you were holding slips. "How do you think everyone else will do against me then, hmm?" Gojo knows he's a prodigy, but still manages to surprise himself sometimes, his eyes lingering over the spots on your uniform soaked through just enough to make the fabric cling—perfect aim.

Ice shoots up your spine from the heat of his unadulterated gaze, but you refuse to let him see you falter, and he can almost feel a prick from the daggers in your eyes.

"Oh, don't be like that," he purrs, thumbs grazing your wrists in a mockingly gentle touch. "We all have our boundaries, right? I thought communication was key in a relationship."

"Let go of me," you find your voice, "We're done here."

His head slightly tilts.

Look at you calling the shots, he thinks. So strong, so very serious.

"God, I can't help it," he breathes, "You're so fun to mess with."

He could laugh in your face, have his way with you, and show you that your resistance means nothing, but instead, he slowly releases your wrists and lies back against the tub. "I know you think about it—there's nothing wrong with a little fun...right?" and though the connection is severed, you don't know if it's the drugs or just him that makes his amplified touch linger as you sheepishly rub your wrists.

Gojo watches you blush red—thoughts you didn't know lived within you rushing to the forefront as if he's pushed a button.

Grimy, raw, unwanted thoughts of forbidden fruit, wandering hands, and stolen touches in the dark, wondering what his idea of "fun" is like under the sheets. With a psycho named Gojo.

You feel like you should throw up in disgust but the nausea never comes, burning hot between your legs instead.

Fuck, you have to get out of here.

You draw a breath, forcing away the torturous daydreams and quickly finish his bath.

"You should rest," you firmly say and pull the plug to let the tub drain. "And don't expect any more favors from me."

He sits up slow, his expression stone-cold as he slicks back his wet hair. Then he smiles. "I promise. Now dry me off?" he quips.

You ignore his request, swiftly handing him a towel before he can flash you. With a gruff, you lower to your knees, beginning to dry the floor of his messes and hoping to distract yourself from your questionable sanity.

The sounds of rustling fabric fill the chamber as he dries off, and once you figure it's safe, you look up to find a nude Gojo. Dripping with bubbles, hair plastered to his derpy face, and toned muscles, all the muscles, presenting themselves in all their glory.

The only things dry are his damn hands.

He throws the towel over his shoulder, sauntering towards you with a wicked grin.

"Well, aren't you gonna help me put this thing back on?" He nods at the jacket he knows is more bullshit than security. "Don't want you getting all worked up again."

The first time your brain registered that Gojo was flirting with you was on your third day as his nurse.

"Well, aren't you a breath of fresh air?" Gojo was sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall. It was the second time he'd noticed how sluggish you looked while tending to him, suggesting with a grin that you must be quite the party animal.

Ha. If only.

You tsked, tossing his bedsheets into the hamper, and assured him that your sleepy eyes and dragging feet were the result of long hours and running on fumes. Having time for fun was just a dream.

"I don't get out much myself," he says, alluding to the situation he's in, wearing sarcasm like a necklace. "I love a good night in as much as anyone else but, I don't know. The stuffiness hasn't grown on me yet."

You tugged the collar of your scrubs—the air did feel a bit thick, like the room hadn't been aired out in ages and you couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been sitting in it—how he could. That alone would be enough to drive you up a wall.

Sunlight flickered in your eyes, and you raised your hand to block it, noticing the small window perched above his chair.

"Let's open this then," you said, walking over and wrestling with the ancient wood for a moment before finally pulling the creaky flap up to the ceiling.

A sliver of your midriff peeked out as you stood on your toes to reach it, but what captured Gojo's attention most was the way the sun rays washed over your face. You scrunched your nose, the breeze sending wisps of your hair to tickle it, and he imagined the feel of your strands between his fingers.

The view was beautiful, you thought, hands gripping the warm bars. Trees surrounded the vast area, stretching out as far as you could see, the pathway to civilization completely covered in dense forest from this angle.

You never realized how high up his ward was—or how long the drop was from here.

"Too bad I'm not small enough to slip through those bars." He rubbed his stomach. "But you know me, 'Mr. BigBack.'"

He joked around as he usually did, looking to trigger your defenses, but your reaction was...odd.

Not only was this the first time anyone cared to do something so simple for Gojo, but it was also the closest anyone had gotten to him without their knees buckling.

The first two days of your trial, the Director had guards posted right outside of Gojo's door, their presence a constant reminder to stay alert and maintain a safe distance from the convict. Gojo was positive the mental barrier would keep a wall between you forever.

But then, you laughed. A real laugh. Snickery and cute. Finding his joke funny instead of threatening.

It surprised him, that sound, so natural and pure without hesitation. And he wanted to hear it again and again and again. "Who knew you could bring so much light into this place?" he sighed.

Later at lunch, you sat with Yuko, having your usual midday catch-up. You never start with yours but she, like most people in the ward then, was absolutely dying to hear about how you were dealing with the villain of the century.

"He's actually not so bad...yet. Corny, but," you took a pondering breath, "He kind of thanked me today?"

She immediately scoffed and waved you off, and who could blame her?

You were an anomaly, Gojo already showed that he was capable of mercy and now he was thanking you??

Being polite was too far of a stretch to believe, you must have been mistaken. But when you gave her the deets on why he'd do such a thing, she nearly choked on her apple. "He said that??"

"Ya?" You patted her back with a concerned look.

"Watch out, Casanova," she teased, clearing her throat with a nervous laugh.

Her comment threw you off for the rest of lunch, but when you thought about it later that night while surfing for new shows, a light bulb went off.

He flirted with you.

Thinking it was just another one of those literal dry-humor jokes or simply gratitude for making his stay a little less crappy, it flew right over your head. You always feel warm inside when you help people so you didn't think too much about it.

To you, it was just a kudos. Nothing more.

But the way Gojo stands in front of you now is everything.

As bold and brash as it gets.

Fuck. Me.

And your body betrays you, sending all of the vulnerable sensations you've been fighting to suppress from your soaking chest, tingling wrists, aching thighs, and heavy breath, straight to your throbbing clit.

Air escapes you and you couldn't feel more conflicted, scrambling to grab your supplies and leave.

Enough is enough. The guards outside can restrain him and escort him back to his room for all you care. You just have to get out of there.

Away from him.

Away from temptation.

Hot, overwhelming, guilty, mentally and physically unstable temptation.

In the quiet of the hallway a level below Gojo's ward, you lean against a wall, taking deep breaths and completely disgusted with yourself.

How are you supposed to keep dealing with this, with him?

This force that keeps pushing and pushing and pushing you to the edge until there's nowhere else to go. You can only imagine the hell the nurses he didn't like went through.

Taking care of him isn't getting any easier, and now you were fucking up and making mistakes.

But you're the only one who can do this. Who must.

So suck it up. Play along, Stop thinking only of yourself. Pretend.

Pretend.

Pretend?

...

What terrifies you the most is the thought that you may not have to.

You keep your scrambled thoughts to yourself when you're called into your Director's office at the end of the day.

You tell him the same story you told Yuko and take full responsibility for what happened, blaming it on exhaustion and needing a break. Swearing to never let it happen again.

By some miracle, you get to keep your job, though your one wish to leave early ended up costing you an hour and a half of unpaid overtime, and almost a friendship.

When you finally get home, you collapse onto your bed—images of the day, the ward, and Yuko flooding your thoughts, refusing to be pushed aside. You tell yourself that it's just the guilt talking, just anxiety gnawing at your edges.

But then there's Gojo.

The most prominent one of all.

Staring you in the face with lifeless eyes and a ghostly smile. Tugging on your moral strings like a puppet.

When you close your eyes, you can't shake the feeling that he's waiting for you, a lurker in the shadows watching and anticipating your every move. Have you become predictable? Now you're wondering if you could do something he wouldn't expect.

Leave it. Leave it. Le—

You're scrolling through your phone on a deep-diving, scouring the web for any info on your tormentor.

His past, his affiliations, anything to tell you who Gojo was, and who he is now.

But the man is an anomaly.

Not much is known about him outside of mainstream news and internet rumors.

He's just this guy that kind of popped out of nowhere in the worst way possible, conveniently on the tail of what could have been the most devastating incident in the history of Tokyo.

The media says he's a hero gone rogue but not much else. They've damned him to hell and that was that. Even the Director disclosed very little about him during your briefing and you weren't allowed access to his files or records because it's all 'confidential'.

Nothing.

The more you search, you less that comes up. Not even silly conspiracy theories that you definitely thought would be riddling Reddit. The longer you scroll, the more you find yourself beginning to question your own mind. Your interest. Sweet little buds of obsession.

Even though you hated taking it earlier, you actually need the pill now more than ever to relax as sleep eludes you and your mind wanders to imaginary scenarios as you stare at the ceiling. 

Tomorrow, you'll have to face Gojo again. And the day after that and the day after that and every day after.

In between your nearly non-existent off days, you'll have to see him and decide what face you want to put on.

Because you simply cannot walk away.

After all, he's right—no one else can handle him like you can.

extended angel's note:

when i originally decided to make this into short story, i had no plans on using a y/n perspective. it was just going to feature an OC name i’ve used in stories before, named Persephone, buuuut i decided to wanted to keep it immersive and include no physical descriptors/personality specifics bc i knew i wanted to upload it to tumblr. 

to keep it reader-friendly, yk? 

alas, Persephone has had her claws in me the entire time i’ve been editing and said with her whole chest that i couldn't just dismiss her like that chile. so i decided changed the perspective but keep her name in place of y/n. 

you won’t see it too often in the story bc it’s not super significant or said a lot in general, bUT it is relevant for a certain moment later in the story. you’ll know when you know 🤭. 

anyway, hope it doesn't bother you guys too much. and def feel free to mentally plug your name when you see it to keep yourself grounded into the story.

tag list p.1: @reddiamondjazz @kiwismoother @rune1920 @blkkizzat @suguwife

@xerroe @enthyn @gloomuri671 @ressyshi @startatdawn

@khenanadeche @heijihatsutori @inluvkai @ixqiix @strawnanamilk

@rosso-seta @05-simply-06-simping @sims-4lifers @bratidol @rh-tg1

@hyunsuks-beanie @n1vi @luna-v-roiya @neteyamsluvr111 @supsiii

@natadecoco30 @chiyokoemilia @ririoutspoken @kyoxko @strawberrymilkshakes-posts

@nen-nyy @cinnamorochiroll @kazeniya @maybe7tommorow @sxnkuna

@misoyuh @lupitalove @sebastianlover @gojosatorubrainrot @sleepiebunniee

@mmmidkman @theonecrackhead @thathorsegotpoobrain @iveivory @samistar

@yuuan-66 @gojoslefttoenail @soyalovestoyap @winkwonks-world @thebiggestsimpforyou 

[wonbriiize]

bestfriend!Anton who puts you on his lap to give you affection, touches your hair, kisses you on the neck...being super clingy and fluffy :(

pairing; anton x reader

genre; fluff, best friends to lovers

note; i thought this was such a cute idea so i wrote something based on it.. hope u like it anon ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

listen to your heart

while working in retail isn’t all that horrible most of the time, you despise it over the holidays. everyone goes crazy as they search for last-minute christmas presents for their loved ones, friends or anyone else.

today was one of those days when everything was so annoying that you really thought about quitting your job right then and there.

luckily, your shift has ended and you are now on your way back home. you seem to be forgetting what a terrible day it has been so far as you imagine yourself curled up in your warm bed while drinking hot choco and watching your comfort movie.

“*y/n*, someone is waiting for you in your room,” your mom says after giving you a big hug when you arrive at home.

you‘re confused as to who it could be, until you recall that your best friend anton texted you saying he‘d drop by later as you were spamming him with messages about that one costumer who was extremely rude to you.

you run up the stairs to your room. you’re not so sure why you’re so eager to see anton, but you can’t help yourself. being with anton after a tiring day makes you feel at ease. he just has that effect on you.

“ohhh, slow down,” anton sits up on your bed. you can tell he made himself feel at home because just a second ago he was laying in your bed as if it was his own. “why are you running? is the rude customer after you?”

since you can’t tell anton that you hurried up to your room because of him, you just throw yourself on your bed. “no, i just really missed my bed. it has been an exhausting day.”

“and here i was hoping that you were running because you couldn’t wait to see me,” anton pouts, leaning back on your bed.

you’re right, you think. but i can’t let you know..

“well, apparently you were missing me because how are you at my house when i’m not even there?”

anton shrugs. “so what if i missed you, is it so wrong to miss your best friend?”

you’re shocked at how casually anton can say things like this. does he truly not realise how much of an impact his words have on you? it irritates you that he's saying these things and acting so dreamy when you're already trying to shake the thought that you like him — much more than you could ever imagine liking someone.

you sigh, laying down on your back. “i just really need to rest.”

“hey, come here,” anton pats next to him. “we can rest together.”

for a second, you’re not sure if you should really go and sit down next to him, because your feelings are all over the place today and you don’t know what could happen, but you push those thoughts aside and just go for it.

“you can lay your head on my lap. i will give you a head massage. i‘m a pro,” anton softly smiles at you.

god, he really isn’t making it easy to not fall in love with him, you sigh. your head is telling you not to do it, but for once in your life, you decide to listen to your heart instead.

you place your head gently on anton‘s lap. you’re afraid you won't be able to resist kissing anton if you open your eyes and see him staring down at you, hence why your eyes are closed.

anton starts massaging your head softly and you’re surprised at how good it actually feels.

“i didn’t expect you to be actually good at this,” you say.

“i told you i‘m a pro,” anton chuckles. hearing him giggle put a smile on your face and usually you would try to hide that, but right now, you’re just letting it happen.

“there it is,” anton whispers softly as he touches your cheek, causing you to open your eyes immediately.

“what?”

“your beautiful smile.”

you start laughing nervously. what’s his deal? why is he being extra sweet today?

“don’t say such things, anton.”

“why not?" his hand returns to your head, but instead of giving it a massage, he plays with your hair, twisting it around with his index finger.

“best friends don’t say that..” what you just said has a sad undertone, but you don’t care. maybe if anton knows that he’s kind of playing with your feelings, he will stop being like that.

anton shakes his head. “no, they don’t.. but here’s the thing, *y/n*..”

the sudden change in the atmosphere makes you nervous so you sit up. still close to anton, but there’s a little distance between the two of you now.

“i‘ve been trying to tell you for the longest time that i don’t want to be just best friends with you,” anton blurts out. “i thought it was obvious that i like you.”

world stop. anton likes me?

“but everytime i try to make a move you put me back in the friendzone, saying things like ‘best friends don’t do that..”

with a sincere expression of sadness that makes your heart hurt, anton glances down at his hands.

“i guess you really don’t like me in that way and i was just stupid to to think that-”

refusing to let anton continue, you take hold of his hand and place it directly over your heart.

“do you feel this?” you whisper.

anton nods unsure.

“my heart beats this fast everytime i‘m with you.”

“is that a good or a bad sign?” anton pulls his hand away and looks questionably at you.

his question makes you laugh. “of course it’s a good sign.. it means that you’re the reason why my heart feels so alive.”

“oh,” anton nods, a little smile forming on his face. “so you do like me.”

now it’s you who’s nodding.

just a while ago you didn’t want anton to know how you really feel about him because you were so afraid that the feeling was one-sided, but now that you know it’s mutual, you’re ready to take the initiative.

you slip closer to anton and sit down on his lap. first he’s surprised at your sudden move, but then you feel his arms around your waist, holding you close to him.

seconds later, your lips meet his. not only was your heart racing faster than before, but because your bodies were so close, you could literally feel anton‘s heart racing as well.

you weren't expecting it, but as anton plastered kisses all over your face and neck, things heated up quickly. you didn't want him to stop, but knowing that your parents could walk into your room at any point made you want to go slowly.

“maybe we should continue this when we are alone, like completely,” you whisper as anton was kissing your neck.

“hmmm,” kiss. “maybe..” kiss. “you‘re..” kiss. “right.”

he stops, looking at you with the biggest smile on his face.

“this big smile looks good on you,” you put your arms around antons neck.

“and you know why i’m smiling like this? it’s because of you,” anton softly whispers before he plants another kiss on your lips.

[fuckingrecipes]

Hello! Do you have any advice on how to properly integrate vegetables into pasta dishes? I've been trying to experiment with making my own pasta dishes lately without following a recipe, and generally they've been tasting good! But my problem is that when I chop up, cook the veggies in whatever way, and then throw them in with the cooked pasta, they tend to sink straight to the bottom when I try to mix them in. I feel like I'm missing something here 🤔 Thank you!

Veggies will naturally fall to the bottom of your noodle dish when mixed in, So, the issue you're dealing with is one of Presentation.

There's a couple ways to deal with this.

Chop your veggies up quite small (thumb-knuckle size or smaller) and integrate into the sauce however you want. You can then toss the noodles in the sauce before eating, and they should be relatively evenly distributed. Some will fall to the bottom, but you can upend the pasta as you serve it so the 'bottom' is turned around to the top, carrying the veggies with it.

Have bigger vegetable chunks in the sauce, but when serving the pasta, you toss the noodles in only a little bit of the sauce, and then ladle the rest on top. This way, you'll have more access to the big veggies, but your noodles will still be coated so there's no risk of having a patch of dry noodles.

Put dry noodles into a bowl/plate, then ladle the sauce with veggies on top of the pile. You can then garnish with cheese, herbs, bits of nuts, or whatever you want. The one eating it is responsible for mixing or not-mixing as they please. (You can also go SAUCE first, then noodles, then other stuff, it's up to you)

Restaurants cook a bunch of sauce and make noodles on-demand as the orders come in.

Method 3 is extremely popular because it's VERY EASY to do, and there's fewer dirtied dishes. You just take the ingredients, pile them on a plate, and send it out to the guest.

If it's tossed in sauce, it's done by putting a single serving of noodles into a bowl or pot with a single serving of sauce (and whatever protein/vegetables come with that dish), thoroughly tossing/flipping/mixing and then transferring all of it onto the plate. If any big chunks were in the sauce and clung to the bowl, they'll be scooped out and laid on top of the plate of pasta.

The home-kitchen method of mixing a many servings of pasta together with sauce, and doling it out onto individual plates....large chunks will fall to the bottom. There's not really a good way around that, aside from having VERY SMALL chunks or being meticulous about scooping the fallen chunks off the bottom to put onto the plate you're serving up.

Enjoy =)

[rcttendolly]

𝐔𝐧𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞

Re4!Leon S. Kennedy x Fem!Reader

summary ! you and leon were sworn enemies and everyone knew. however, after a mission in mexico leaves you to share a bed with him, your relationship takes a slightly different direction

warnings ! masturbation, p in v, praise, slapping, rough/hate sex, orgasm denial/control, dacryphilia, creampie

wc ! 3.1k

notes: ajahjsaha i need him so badly (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

Unbearable.

The one word you could accurately use to describe Leon S. Kennedy.

Apart from asshole, of course.

It was well known throughout the entire DSO that you and Leon had deep rooted hatred towards each other, fuelled by snarky comments and work place tension; making your work life in the DSO worse than it already claimed to be.

It wasn’t easy working as an agent for the government, something both you and Leon knew too well, but paired together with a profound enemy within your enclosed space took a toll on you both.

However, you were both too stubborn to end this ongoing feud, something you both also knew too well.

So, instead of dissipating the unresolved tension, like mature adults, you both continued with the snarky comments and glares, adding more fuel to the already brightly burning fire.

——

“Yes, Hunnigan?”

The other end of the line was quiet for a moment before Hunnigan responded, as if she was reading something out loud.

“You’re being requested to go on a mission to Mexico,” You sighed in your own head, knowing that ‘requested’ was the wrong word choice. More like forced.

“some Cartels have apparently been witnessed transporting viruses belonging to Umbrella,” Hunnigan continued, “and we believe they have a rather large involvement in trying to spread Umbrella’s viruses to the rest of the world.”

Sighing, you grimaced at her comment, “And I’m guessing I’m being sent there to gather intel?”

“Yes, but you also won’t be going alone,” Hunnigan paused, “Agent Kennedy will be accompanying you.”

The world seemed to pause for a minute as you processed her words. Leon, coming with you, to Mexico, and you would be expected to work together?!

“Hunnigan-”

“Yes, we are aware of your… lack of compatibility with Agent Kennedy personality wise, but skills wise you compliment each other extremely well,” she sighed, “this is a request from the higher ups, so unfortunately you have no choice.”

Trying to push the looming thought of working with Leon out of your head, you responded, as calmly as you could muster, “When do we leave?”

“You are requested to be at the Reagan airport by 5am.”

You nodded, even if she couldn’t see you, “Got it.”

“Good luck.”

——

Eventually, your taxi arrived at the airport, and you glanced out at the still pitch black skies that loomed over you.

The airport, however, pierced your view as its bright lights woke you up better than any coffee could have.

“Thank you.” Stepping out of the taxi, you grab your gear and suitcase out of the boot before moving to stand in front of the airport. Your taxi driver nodded at you before driving off and in your peripheral vision, you noticed Leon Kennedy waiting for you.

“You’re late.”

You glared at him as you began making your way towards the airport doors, “my apologies, I can’t control how fast a taxi goes or the time it arrives.”

Leon rolled his eyes at your comment and instead decided to stride off in front of you towards the airport, meeting with a staff member inside.

He greeted you both, “your plane should be leaving in approximately 30 minutes, so we shall take you there now.” He spoke, a welcoming smile on his face.

——

Inside the aeroplane, you claimed one of the comfy recliner seats and sat down, throwing one of your legs over the other to cross them as you eyed up Leon.

He was wearing a black, tight fitted top, with black matching cargos, along with his tactical belt already secured around his waist. Glancing up at his face, his hair was swept into the usual parting and there were quite evident dark circles under his eyes; no doubt due to the early start.

‘Damn him for being so attractive.’

You sighed, yourself being kitted out with a white athletic top that clung to your body, and similar cargos to what Leon was wearing. A holster was strapped around your thigh and shoulder which homed your knife and hand gun, something you and Leon shared in common.

Leon made his way over to a chair further back in the plane, determined to put as much distance between you two as he could get, which you certainly didn’t mind. In fact, it was more of a blessing, as you weren’t sure if you were prepared for arguing at 5am.

——

Soon enough, the plane landed in Mexico and you and Leon were given the orders to get off the plane and find a nearby hotel. You would be staying there for the night and then starting up this mission as soon as morning rolled around.

Lugging your suitcase, you threw it into the boot of the car as Leon grabbed the keys to the vehicle, “Hey! I wanna drive.” You protested, as Leon just straight up ignored you and instead got into the car on the drivers side.

You felt a flare of annoyance ignite and you huffed out a sigh before closing the boot and defiantly climbing into the passenger seat.

“You’re incredibly unbearable.” You snarled, making sure Leon could hear the hatred lacing your words.

“Not the first time I’ve been told that.” He replied, almost nonchalantly as he started the car up and began driving to the indicated hotel on his gps.

There it was. The nonchalant attitude that always managed to get a rise out of you. It annoyed you how calm he was when it came to annoying you, and you annoying him, as you had a hard time keeping your temper under check around him.

‘Just breathe.’ You thought, turning your head to rest against your hand as you looked out of the window. ‘This mission will be over soon and I can get away from this asshole.’

——

As the hotel came into view, you perked up a slight bit, noticing how it was actually quite nice looking for a change.

A small smile adopted onto your face and Leon glanced at you for a moment before pulling into a parking space.

You both got out of the car and grabbed your luggage before making your way inside of the hotel and towards the front desk.

“Room for two, please.” You asked, as politely as you could as fatigue racked your body.

“Sorry miss, we only have one room available.” The guy behind the desk spoke, and you could feel that flare of annoyance ignite once again, along with a twinge of embarrassment.

Seeing your hesitance, Leon stepped forward and held his hand out, “just give us the key.” He muttered, too tired to deal with any of this.

The receptionist handed him the key and you glanced up at Leon’s hardening expression. ‘Well, at the least we won’t have to sleep in the same bed.’ You sighed, as you began trailing behind Leon as you made your way up to the bedroom.

Oh how wrong you were.

As soon as Leon opened the door for the both of you, the sight of a singular double bed came into view and you could feel the embarrassment strike you full force.

There was no way you were sharing a bed with Leon Kennedy! The guy you hated, for crying out loud!

“You can have the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor.” Leon’s voice interrupted your self contemplating, and you looked at him almost sympathetically. Almost.

“You were the one driving, shouldn’t you have the bed?”

“I’ve slept in worse.”

“So have I.”

“Just take the goddamn bed.”

“Fine.” You huffed, crossing your arms before watching Leon place his duffel bag on the floor.

“I’m getting in the shower.” He stated before walking into the bathroom and closing the door, leaving you alone in your thoughts.

Slowly, you walked over to the bed and sat down, grabbing out a clean pair of pyjamas for you to change into. Just a plain black tank with black shorts. Simple enough.

You placed them down on the bed as you waited for Leon to finish up in the bathroom and your attention was placed onto the door when you heard it open.

And god, you hated yourself for looking.

Leon was stood there with a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair dripping wet. The water shined perfectly onto his abdomen and biceps as he made his way over to his bag.

“Forgot clothes.” He muttered.

You sat there, in stunned silence, as you took in the appearance of the man before you. You could feel heat rising up your cheeks before flushing a shade of pink.

Before he could notice, you turned away from him and meekly nodded as you stood up and grabbed your clothes. “I’ll get in the shower now.” You squeaked, too embarrassed to look up at him.

As you walked inside the bathroom, you let out a breath you hadn’t noticed you’d been holding - if you hadn’t thought he was attractive then, you certainly did now.

Walking over to the shower, you turned it on and began stripping, noticing the arousal that had pooled within your pants. You flushed at the sight of it and sighed before stepping into the shower.

The hot water helped dissipate the growing tension that was on your shoulders and joints, yet only fuelled the arousal within in your stomach.

Sighing, you looked over at the locked door before slowly trailing your hand down to your core.

A little touch couldn’t hurt. Right?

——

Before long, you were full on fingering yourself inside of the shower to thoughts of your ‘sworn enemy’ that was right outside the door separating your two.

The excitement of being caught helped you to move your fingers faster as small moans and groans escaped past your lips, yet you refused to acknowledge how loud you were actually being.

Eventually, you reached your climax and you sighed contentedly, leaning against the shower wall for a moment before finishing up and stepping out of it.

Drying yourself with a towel, you got changed into your pyjamas and brushed your teeth before stepping out into the bedroom.

You noticed Leon sitting on the bed, his face slightly flushed as he locked eye contact with you.

“Can I help you?” You asked, slightly puzzled by his pinned stare on you.

“You do realise these walls are not sound proof in the slightest.” Was his only reply, and it took you a second before the embarrassment came and hit you full force, your entire face turning red, as the earlier arousal pooled back in between your legs.

Leon had just heard you touching yourself in there.

The realisation made your knees slightly weak as you walked over to the bed, sitting down on it. Leon was still intensely staring at you.

“I-,” you began, too flustered to manage words. “Um.. im- I’m sorry.” You sighed, looking over at Leon as he just stared.

“No need to be sorry,” He chuckled softly, his switch in demeanour confusing you no end, “I quite enjoyed listening to your little sounds.” He whispered, making his way closer to you.

You furrowed your brows. This man hates you, and now he’s saying he liked listening to you touch yourself?

Remaining silent, Leon reached over to you and lightly caressed your thigh. “You have no idea what you do to me.” He confessed, your lips so close that you could feel his breath on you.

“You hate me,” you replied, “and I hate you.”

“That I do, but the way you prance around, and the way you act, it does stuff to me,” he breathed, “and I fucking hate you for it.”

Your breath hitched as he leaned closer, his eyes dark and his gaze ultimately on you. “I fucking hate you too.” Was all you could breathe out as his lips aggressively slammed onto yours.

It was a battle of dominance between your tongues as his hands mercilessly roamed your body, the flimsy tank top doing nothing to hide your hardening nipples as he ghosted his fingers over them.

Leon touched you everywhere he could as he kissed you, acting as if he was a starved man (which he probably was) and his behaviour only aided in the growing slick between your legs.

As he moved away, a small, barely audible whimper left your lips and he laughed softly, glancing down at the trail of spit that connected you both.

Locking eye contact with him, he slowly pushed you back onto the bed, “be patient.” He muttered, before trailing his hand under your tank top and aggressively fondling with your breasts.

You wiggled your bottom half to grind it against his growing bulge, and you only got a glare in return. “Stay still,” he growled, teasing his fingertips over your sensitive nipples, “wouldn’t wanna make me make you, would you?”

“Fuck you.” Was all you spat out, and you barely had time to think before a rough hand collided with the side of your face.

A cry erupted from your throat at the sting and you moved your head back to look at him, your legs getting wetter and wetter by the minute.

He roughly grabbed your jaw, “shut the fuck up.” He breathed, letting go of your jaw to continue his unrelenting assault on your nipples.

He continued like this for a while until it got too much for you and you looked down at him, “Leon-, for godsake, just fuck me already!” You whined, the desperation seeping into your words and you only got a light chuckle in return.

“I’ll fuck you when I want to.” He growled, grinding his lower half into your core, and the sensitivity from his previous ministrations elicited a small moan from your mouth.

Effectively, he trailed his hand down your stomach and into your shorts, pulling them down with two hands. He looked at the soaked patch on your panties and sucked in a breath.

“Fuckin’ hell, doll, you’re soaked f’me.” He grinned, before lightly slapping your soaked cunt.

In response, you whined and moved your heat towards him more, temping him.

He seemed to give in and pulled you panties down, watching the line of slick that connected you to them with a smirk, “all this f’me? Lucky guy, huh?” He teased.

You couldn’t help yourself as you nodded, “uh huh,” you shuddered, “it’s all f’you.”

Leon groaned and reached a hand down to palm himself through his sweats as his other hand trailed a line up your cunt, collecting all your juices onto one finger.

He held it up to his face and stuck it in his mouth, moaning at your taste. The action caused you to blush furiously and you wrapped your legs around his lower half to push him closer.

“Hurry up.” You demanded, earning a light slap on your thigh.

“Don’t tell me what to do, okay, princess?” He spoke condescendingly but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on.

Leon looked down and slowly pushed two fingers inside of your heat and a low moan slipped out, encouraging him to start moving his fingers.

How wet you were helped him in his effort to prepare you for him and he began moving his hand quicker, soon teetering you on the edge of your orgasm as your moans grew louder.

Right as you were about to cum, he pulled his hand away with a smirk, and you whined out loudly in frustration. “Leon!” You huffed, glaring at him above you.

“What? I wanna savour you cumming on my cock.”

The honesty of his words did something to you, and you melted under it, shuddering.

Looking down, you watched as Leon pulled himself out of his sweats and God. He was big. You had a feeling this was going to hurt.

“Awh, don’t get all shy on me, I’ll be gentle I promise.”

You looked up at him and you could tell just by his stare that he was clearing lying. How could you expect him to be gentle when you were staring up at him with them fucking eyes of yours?

He wanted to make you cry on his cock.

With precision, he lined himself up with you and slowly began pushing himself inside with a groan from him and a moan from you.

Once he bottomed out, he looked at you and grinned, “Not too much, sweetheart?” He cooed, and you shook your head.

Well it’s about to be. He thought, as he began moving his lower half - slowly at first, like he promised.

However, that didn’t last long. Soon, he was pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, your legs on his shoulders in a mating press and loud, high pitched moans came from your mouth.

“Shit- try and be quiet, doll, we’ve got, neighbours, remember?” He groaned, moving a hand up to you to place it over your mouth, trying to quiet your moans.

It proved futile however, as his thrusts got more aggressive, your moans only grew louder, penetrating the barrier of his hand.

Tears began welling up in the corner of your eye at his relentless pounding and you griped onto his biceps, incoherent babbling coming from you constantly about how good his dick was, or about how he was hitting the right spot.

You whined as the familiar feeling of a coil began tightening in your stomach, the impending presence of your orgasm looming over you as you wrapped your hands around his neck, digging your nails into his back, leaving scratches in your wake.

Leon hissed at the slight pain and he leaned down further, kissing you relentlessly as he noticed you were nearing your orgasm for the second time that night.

“Good fuckin’ girl, fuck-,” he groaned, “look at me, pretty. Pretty, look at me when you cum. You can cum, be good and cum f’me.”

You locked eye contact with him as your brows furrowed in pleasure and that coil within you snapped, white hot pleasure searing throughout your body.

Your cunt was tightening around him rapidly and Leon groaned, the tightness pulling him to his orgasm as he spilled his cum inside of you with a low groan.

——

You and Leon laid there for a few minutes, catching both of your breaths.

Leon was the first to sit up as he slowly pulled out of you and watched his cum spill out of you, soiling the sheets beneath you.

His gaze soon went up towards yours and he laid down next to you, a small smirk on his face.

You recognised his smirk and huffed, “I still hate you.”

“I hate you too, sweetheart.”

This was going to be one hell of a long mission.

[alessiasfreckles]

i'll always look after you (part 2) (alessia russo x reader)

Your girlfriend is grumpy when she's sick. Part 1 here!

a/n: part 2 of the lessi sickfic! based on this request. i hope you like it! also big thank you to @wosoamazing for helping me out with the writer's block!!

-------

“I hate being sick,” your girlfriend grumbled, pouting. “It’s so boring.”

“I know, baby,” you said, giving her a quick kiss. “What did you get up to today?”

It was the third day of Alessia having to stay at home with an extremely stubborn cold. On the first day, she had almost enjoyed having a day off, using the day to sleep. On the second day, she started to get restless, annoyed by her own constant sniffling and coughing. Today, the third day, she was just downright grumpy. Your phone had been buzzing nonstop during training, making the other girls tease you about how bored Lessi clearly was. 

“Nothing!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms up dramatically. 

“Nothing?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve just been lying here all day, not moving, not texting me, nothing?”

Your girlfriend rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and pouting again. “Okay, fine. I watched some tv, rewatched some old matches, maybe went for a small run, scrolled through instagram-”

“Wait, baby, did you just say you went for a run?” you asked incredulously.

“Maybe…” 

You sighed, sitting down next to her on the sofa. “You know you’re meant to be resting.”

“I know, I just. I hate being sick,” she sniffed. “And I thought maybe a little run would be okay, just to get me moving, and into the fresh air, y’know?”

“I know, baby,” you said, pulling her in to lean against you. “How was it?”

“Awful!” she said, bottom lip quivering. “I got to the end of the road and then started coughing and couldn’t stop and had to come back home.”

Tears of frustration brimmed up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. 

“Only a few more days, and then hopefully you’ll feel well enough to come back to training.” you tried to console her, but she pulled away. 

“I do feel better, though! It’s just this stupid cough and this stupid runny nose and-” she said, tears starting to stream down her face, and she hiccuped as you pulled her into a tight hug. “I miss playing football and training with you and all the girls. I know it’s stupid, we spend so much time training and playing, but I still miss it.”

You nodded, your heart breaking for her. “It’s not stupid, baby, I promise. I know exactly what you mean.”

You sat quietly for a moment, the silence broken by occasional sniffs from Alessia. 

“I have an idea,” you said, and she looked up at you. “What if we do some stretching together? I know it’s not the same, but at least you’ll be moving your body.”

She thought about it and then nodded, a small smile on her face. “Does that mean you’ll wear those leggings that make your bum look great?”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “I can do, if you want.”

“Yes please,” she said with a grin, and then quickly pouted. “I’m sick, remember? It would help make me feel better.”

“I was going to wear them anyway, you don’t have to play the sick card,” you laughed, getting up to go and get changed. 

You kept the stretching session relatively easy, not wanting to push Lessi’s body further than necessary, especially when she really should have been resting. You could understand her restlessness though, you felt the same when you were sick. Afterwards, she leant over to give you a kiss, resting her forehead against yours. 

“Thank you, baby,” she said softly. “You always know how to make me feel better.”

“Anything for you, my love,” you replied, your heart full. 

The two of you spent the rest of the evening watching a film and cuddling, before heading to bed early, ignoring your girlfriend’s protests that she didn’t need any more rest. It paid off, however, when the next day she woke up and declared that she felt well enough to come back to training with you. 

Being worried for her health, you tried to convince her to spend one last day at home. She kept you distracted with kisses and wandering hands until you realised that you had to get ready and leave now, otherwise you were going to be late. You didn’t have enough time to debate with her whether she should stay home or not anymore, so you gave up, making sure that she was bundled up in multiple layers so that if she was going to insist on going to training, at least her cold wouldn’t get any worse.

When you arrived at training, your teammates teased you for not having your girlfriend under control. 

“Don’t blame her,” Lessi said with a grin and a wink. “I can be very convincing when I want to be.”

The team doctor was not impressed by her return, but begrudgingly agreed that she did seem healthy enough to participate in the morning gym session, and that they would see how she felt at lunch before deciding whether she was cleared for training on the pitch in the afternoon. You couldn’t help but smile at the look of relief on the blonde’s face as she entered the gym. 

You were at the far end of the large hall, in the weight area, when you heard some coughing from the treadmills at the other end of the gym. You waited a beat, seeing whether the coughing would let up, but when it got worse you dropped the weights you were holding and rushed over. 

Lessi was doubled over next to one of the treadmills, Kyra stood next to her with a hand on her back. You bent down beside her, rubbing her back gently, offering her a water bottle, but she was coughing too hard to take a sip. 

“Shit, Ky, can you get the doctor?” you asked anxiously as your girlfriend stopped coughing long enough to take a quick breath but immediately started again. The Australian nodded before running out of the gym, returning a minute later with the team doctor. Lessi was still coughing, but not quite as badly as she had been. 

“Right Alessia, I need you to try and take some deep breaths for me, okay?” the doctor said, placing a stethoscope against the blonde’s back. She nodded, trying to take a breath between coughs. “I’m just going to take a quick listen.”

You rubbed a thumb against the back of your girlfriend’s hand as the coughs subsided and she was able to breathe again, face pink from exertion. After a couple of breaths, the doctor removed the stethoscope and stepped back in front of her. 

“It doesn’t sound too bad, but I’d like you to stop training for today, and take tomorrow off as well. And I’ll talk to Jonas about the game on Sunday, but you definitely shouldn’t be starting. Have you been drinking enough? Not just water, you need hot drinks as well. Cough drops couldn’t hurt either,” she said, and you watched Lessi’s face fall. 

“Okay,” she said miserably. “But I can play on Sunday?”

“Come and see me on Sunday morning, and if you’re healthy, I’ll tell Jonas that my recommendation is that you can play as a sub, alright?”

The blonde nodded, chewing at her lip. After the doctor left, you pulled her into a tight hug. 

“Can we go somewhere else?” she asked. You nodded, leading her into an empty  equipment room nearby. Once the door was closed, she let her body sag and her face fall into her hands. “I just feel so stupid. I shouldn’t have pushed, I shouldn’t have tried to go for that run yesterday, I should have stayed home today, I just-”

“Oh, baby,” you said, quickly pulling her into another tight hug. You stayed like that for a minute until you felt her body soften against yours, her arms wrapped around you. “You’re not stupid. Anyone else probably would have done the same.”

Just then, a soft knock sounded at the door. It opened quietly to reveal Leah, poking her head through.

“Less, you okay?” she asked, a concerned look on her face.

Your girlfriend shrugged, then nodded. Leah raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Fine,” Lessi slumped down. “I’m still poorly, I guess.”

Leah sighed. “You have to take care of yourself,” she started. Her voice was stern, but kind, and when your girlfriend’s lower lip started to wobble and tears filled her eyes, the England captain pulled her into a tight hug. “I know you wanted to come back, but it’s important for you and for the team that you’re in full health. And it’ll be even longer until you’re back to full health if you push yourself too hard. Believe me, I know how hard it is. So, y/n is going to take you home, okay? We’re mostly done with training for today, so neither of you will miss too much.”

Lessi sniffed and nodded, wiping a tear away. “Okay, Lee. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Less,” Leah said, her eyes kind. She turned to you. “That okay with you, y/n?”

“Sure,” you nodded, taking your girlfriend’s hand. “Come on, trouble. Let’s get you home.”

[diminuel]

God… Wani transitions, looks so much more like a man than when they first met, and Dragon — so used to being reprimanded and poorly treated by men stronger than him, and used to being cordial and friendly with men he knows are *as* strong as him — but Wani is 10 years his junior. Still a rookie. And the marines teach you to *respect* and *submit* to men stronger than you. Which obviously the RA objects to. But Dragon is *head* of the RA so *everyone* is subservient to him — except his personal friends, whom are all basically equally as strong as he is if not stronger.

/except for Wani/

And whatever level of misogyny Dragon picked up pre-RA from the marines its pretty clear the flavor wouldn’t have been “ugh this woman thinks shes as strong as ME a MAN? Lets teach her a lesson boys!” as much as “pretty lady! pretty lady! impress the pretty lady!!!! make her like you make her job easy as possible so MORE pretty ladies want to work with you!!!!” So whatever Dragon believed about their difference in strength, experience, intelligence, etc. wasn’t assss relevant to him pre-transition. Thats his girlfriend why would he want to compete with or see bis girlfriend as a threat? They love and support eachother forever and ever.

But now he’s a man and he’s less experienced and cocky and all the things Dragon had beaten into him are signs of immense disrespect from one man to another man *clearly* stronger and smarter and more experienced and higher ranking and—

….and now Dragon’s bed is very, very empty. Which is weird because he doesn’t want to get out of it either.

Wani eventually comes back and Dragon has never felt lighter. Nothing really matters except Wani. He’s decided he’d abandon the RA if Wani asked. He really would. He knows his lover has dreams (dreams he’s apparently stomped all over). The RA isn’t a dream, it’s a necessity. But that means he can leave. He belongs to Wani first.

He’s pregnant. Theyre going to be fathers. Wani has NEVER seen Dragon cry like this. He missed him so much and now theyre going to be a family. Its barely past noon and Dragon has a resignation speech ready to go. He just wants to spend the rest of his life with Wani. Clearly his RA duties and his past are getting in the way so he needs to give being supportive his full attention round the clock.

Wani nearly clocks him over the head. Is he INSANE?! He doesn’t own ANYONE. Nobody belongs to ANYONE. Wasn’t that the whole point of his OWN RA? What sort of man throws his ideals away to impress a lover?

Stay in the RA. Wani isn’t giving up on their utopia either. (Maybe he hasn’t given up being king of the pirates yet either.) if theyre raising this child theyre doing it as equals Dragon. Wani thought thats what they were when he fell in love. He was surprised when becoming a man would somehow make that harder (aren’t they even *more* similar now?)

He’s right. Dragon’s respect for his lover should have never been made conditional or brought into question. He never truly forgives himself for fucking this up. Maybe Dragon has given Croc too much leeway with some boundaries, but that should have never been made into an issue of gender. A discomfort Dragon is only able to tolerate for a girlfriend but not a boyfriend. All or nothing. 50-50.

Of course. Reprimanding a superior in thr marines like this would get you on cleaning duty for a month. But he doesn’t feel disrespected. Or threatened. He’s *proud* his Wani is so strong and confident to talk down a man twice his size. Maybe Dragon is bigger and more experienced. But Crocodile is twice as brave and twice as determined and twice as confident and that’s *important* and it *matters* and it makes them both better people together. He’s good for him. Theyre good together. Theyre going to have a great kid and he couldn’t be more excited.

(And besides. Wani is only going to get bigger and stronger.)

Ah, I love it ;w;

Dragon going from one extreme into the other, letting his actions be guided by what he feels is expected of him in a given situation instead of letting himself be guided by his convictions. But luckily, Crocodile's there to knock some sense into him~

And Dragon's right, Crocodile will grow, he will get stronger. ♥

(Though the angsty part in me whispers what about when Crocodile does lose faith in himself? What about when his dream shatters because he was too cocky, too confident and nearly gets killed in a confrontation with Whitebeard? Unless that happened before or doesn't happen at all.)

[ohmegayeen]

Thoughts b4 bed, this...got ridiculously long..SKIP TOWARDS THE END for my Peri and Dev idea I'd like to personally see if you don't care about my godparenting ramble. 💖 (I marked it with a star for easy spotting.)

Godparenting is self harm (in certain situations). You CANNOT pair a fairy, who has basic empathy, with a child who is being neglected and/or abused, and expect them to NOT get attached or to love them.

Cosmo and Wanda loved Timmy. They were his parents!!

Juandissimo loved Remy. He couldn't move on from him.

It's also horrible for the kids when they get a fairy who doesn't develop that parental/guardian relationship.

Peri failed Dev because he remained distant and overly professional. (I'm not saying he didn't care, that's a whole other debate. I'm just saying he was not what Dev needed. Dev needed a Cosmo, Wanda, or Juandissimo.)

I'm sure other fairies failed kids in similar situations, maybe even worse, because they didn't want to fall into that emotional trap. It's BEYOND hard not to. You would have to be extremely hardened, dissociated, or heartless in order to do that.

At least the kids get to forget their failed experience.

Fairies have to remember. They have to remember for the rest of their lives that they either:

A) Got bonded with a kid and had to say goodbye, a type of goodbye that's honestly like a funeral. You will never see each other again (except in passing. But you can't contact them.) The loss and yearning would be too much for anyone.

B) Have to remember that they couldn't bond with the kid and thus failed them. They failed that neglected/abused child. That child had to grow up with their abuse without any escapism because you had to remain professional and throw away your whimsy. I'm CONVINCED Peri is NOT the only fairy to be annoying about "da rules". I'm actually pretty sure that's the NORM because of how all the fairies reacted to Cosmo and Wanda with Timmy.

Going into fairy godparenting, knowing that you could come out with either outcome, is self harm to me, (SH is doing anything that you KNOW will hurt you physically or emotionally, it can be any number of things! JS this here because people have a VERY narrow view about what counts as SH!) and really makes me overthink about like...

Fairy mental health? How does fairy therapy look like for these situations? I kind of envision it similar to ppl IRL who work with abused kids need therapy, yet they keep going. They keep moving on and helping kids (or doing their best to).

⭐️All this to say my idea for Peri and Dev:

I would love for Peri to learn from his situation with Dev and why it didn't work. I know ppl want them to get back together asap, but tbh I think a slow burn would work best, for Peri's mental health. I think Peri should shadow his parents and Hazel for a bit, and learn/see how they do things, including how they interact with kids. I think Peri needs some self reflection first.

My idea is this:

Peri shadows his parents for awhile and does some self reflection. While he shadows his parents, he watches Dev from afar. Not like, intently like some ppl HC, just in passing. Like Dev will interact with Hazel and Peri will make passing remarks like "he's a good kid", (if him and Hazel are getting along) or "oh, Dev.." (if he does smth rude to Hazel)

Eventually, smth happens to Dev that finally seals it for Peri, he has already been meditating on everything for awhile, but whatever happens to Dev is the final straw. (I wonder what happens??) And he gets permission to be Devs godparent again and then bursts in to save Dev!

(this would all happen maybe thruout the whole season, and this event would happen at the ending of S2? Ik ppl would be impatient for that, but!! I think it would work best AND be a rlly satisfying season conclusion!!) and a rlly good start for S3 (iiiif we got all that lmao, I'm being VERY hopeful that we get at least 3-4 seasons! which I shouldn't when S2 is still up in the air lol. oh well. I can dream.)

Uuuh. Yeah. IDk just some thoughts I've had. Sorry this was so long. If you read it then wow! I'm shocked haha. 💖 (bonus points if u read the tags hahaha)

goodnight. 💖💖

[letsgetrowdy43]

quinnfluffquinnfluffquinfluff

maybe

fluffy quinn blurb where he goes all overprotective mode when the reader is pregnant?

Stop Worrying ☆—

This doesn't fit into the timeline… ignore that, I made it before I planned out the Au!!

Au Masterlist!!

"Honey? You're sure you're feeling up to it?" Quinn had been wracked with nerves ever since you'd gotten pregnant for the second time. He had always been a tad bit worrisome for your safety pre-kids, but you being the mother of his kids now added a whole layer to his anxiety that something could happen to you.

You were only around seven months pregnant, and the Devils were entering the Playoffs for the first time in Jack's career, meaning that you had to be in attendance.

"I promise you I'm okay, if I feel like I'm not safe, at any point, I will let you know" you whispered as you placed a sloppy kiss on his jaw, "besides, Taylor is on her way to watch Warren so we need to finish getting ready," you whispered as you pressed your necklace into the palm of his hand, pleading for him to help you put it on.

He let out a nervous huff as his fingers moved the hair from the back of your neck, "I just know how rowdy the Rangers fans can be, and especially with the rivalry, I'm sensing no good can come from this" he clipped the necklace together before placing a chaste kiss to your neck.

A smile worked its way onto your face as you watched his worried gaze, "I like your worrisome side," you joked as you turned around to face him. "You like when my anxiety is through the roof?" he asked with raised brows, looking down at your stomach as his hands rested on the growing bump. "I never said that, I just think your worrying face is cute" You leaned forward to place a sweet and short kiss on his lips before pulling away to fix his hair.

You'd noticed that he was letting it grow out after a comment you had made on liking the length, your fingers pulling at the strands as you played with his curls.

A knock at the door pulled the both of you away from the moment as you made your way from the hotel bathroom to the door to let in the babysitter. "He went down about an hour ago, so he should be easy" You smiled as Quinn grabbed both yours and his coats. "If anything is wrong, please call, we will have our phones on at all times" he smiled as your university best friend led the two of you out of the door and into the hall.

"We are gonna be just fine," you stated as you made it infant of the elevator, a smile on your face as you extended your hand out to him.

And you were fine, throughout the entirety of the game, up until it was time to leave.

Morale had been low for Devil's fans following the loss, and most of them were extremely drunk as an outcome of the night. So fights were bound to happen, just as they did at most playoff games. What you and your husband hadn't expected was for one very drunk man to throw another man in your direction while in a verbal fight.

You had been walking hand in hand with Quinn, conversing with Luke and Jim about your pregnancy and how excited Warren had grown about being a big brother. Then all of a sudden a grown man was hurdled into the side of you, nearly knocking you off of your feet before Luke grabbed onto you to steady your balance.

A groan left your lips as you found your footing once again, your eyesight moved over to the guy at your feet who was being pulled back upright by Quinn, annoyed mumbles leaving his mouth as he pushed the random back into the direction he originally came from.

Quinn examined you with worried eyes, examining your every minuscule move for sign of hurt before he quickly bid his family goodbye and made a bee-line to the car.

"Quinn I'm okay," you said trying to keep up with him as he basically sprinted to the priority parking lot. "I knew it was a bad idea to come here, it's too unsafe, way too many people," he huffed out as they made it to the car.

Your hands found the side of his face to make him look you in the eyes, "hey, I'm fine, no one is hurt" you whispered trying to bring him back to reality with you, you took one of your hands and grabbed one of his to put it on your stomach.

The baby gently kicked him in the hand, "see, baby girl is just fine, I'm just fine, you need to calm down" you said with a smile as he swallowed thickly, nodding his head as he looked down at your stomach.

"She's fine?" you nodded, "you're fine?" he asked looking up at you again, you gently nodded as you stood on your tip-toes to place a soft kiss on the high point of his cheek.

"We are both fine, and you are also fine," you smiled as you watched him nod and accept the comfort, "now let's get back to the hotel"

-

-

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Aita for lieing to my mom for 6 years about a guy I dated?

🤐🇮🇪 <- so I notice me. This sounds bad but all things considered, i think I'm justified at least.

Tw for domestic abuse, physical abuse, fighting and non-explicit mentions of many other forms of abuse.

So in 7th grade grade I (12/13f at the time) was dating a guy named Jay(13/14m at the time)(not his real name and we were in the same grade) for about three months. I had a crush on him for years before we dated so I was ecstatic when he finally asked me out. Looking back now at 22, I can see he pitied me as i was very unpopular and no one wanted to be around me due to the fact I was very nerdy and very autisitc(I have a mental disability). He used me for sexual things and it wasn't super healthy but I was just happy to be getting attention as neither my school nor home life was safe from abuse/bullying.

Towards the end of those three months, an incident occured. Me and Jay were working on a mutural computer lab project that should of only tooken a week but the day we were set to start, jay had iss (in-school suspension. I don't know why). I needed his choice for a song because the project couldn't start without choosing it and he wasn't texting me and was being petty and whiny about it. Finally he picked some pop 2010s song and I got started. He was in the suspension for half the week so I was the one who did a majority of the project.

When he finally came back, he was being demanding and a jerk and I said fine, I'll do my own project and you can do yours, I wanted to do firework by katy perry anyway. He then demanded my part of the project since I wasn't doing that song anymore and I told him no and when he demanded it again, I deleted it infornt of him. Typical preteen arguments right? Well he slapped me. In front of all of his laughing friends. He'd never done that before and even though I had previous experience with physical abuse(a few instances with my dad but my mom didn't see it till much later after this incident. This is important.), never from a partner.

I don't remember too much as I saw red and reacted before I could think but I do remember ripping him out of his chair, throwing him on the floor and punching him in the chest and face a few times while his friends cheered me on in surprise. I was an average height but underweight and he was both taller than me and almost 300 lbs but it felt so easy. Once I was done I got up, told the teacher I was doing it on my own, aced the project while he failed and none of my bullies ever tried to physically fight me again. I went from nerdy shy weird pushover girl to scary strong weird girl and I'm ok with that. He hit first.

Even though we eventually broke up, we made up and it was something we joked about together as i didn't realize how serious that was at the time. But my mom did realize how serious it was and tried to explain to me how bad that was, that I should never let a partner hit me and she never wanted to see me talking to him again. She was being responsible but I was 13 and riding off the excitement of showing a guy I liked what for that we dated again not a month after we broke up. Except this time I wasn't dating Jay Lastname, I was dating "Sean mcduffin" or at least that's what i called him around family and because my mom never saw or met jay, she didnt recognize sean.

Our second time around only lasted another three months before we broke up and we're friends all through the rest of our school years, never more, but my mom still called him Sean because we'll.. I told her that was Sean and I couldn't back out now. I'm gonna shift gears for a second so stick with me.

I had gone through two extremely abusive relationships back to back from one in sophomore year (sexual and emotional abuse) and one in senior year (sexual, physical, religious and emotional abuse) and my mom didn't learn until a year later after I graduated. After my mom learned about it and the extent of the abuse with my father, she helped me heal and eventually started asking questions about the relationships and my dad and I answered her as were the closest weve ever been. She off handedly compared the one in senior year to the incident with Jay and then said how happy i seemed with Sean right after made her relax and hope i wouldnt be in another abusive relationship and it hadn't hurt me too badly.

I then realized I had never explicitly told her Jay and Sean were the same person and I had lied to her when I said they weren't (she had suspicions but never proof and trusted me). So I told her they were the same person and she got this very defeated look on her face. I apologized as I realized that was kinda shitty of me because my mom was just trying to protect me but I can also see why a 13 yr old who grew up in parental abuse wouldn't nessesarily take domestic abuse seriously. She just signed and said she wishes I was honest and I shouldn't of lied about it because it was serious. I explained my side but we eventually just moved on to talk further into our initial topic and she's not brought it up since.

I can see where I was the little 13 yr old asshole but I can also see why I wouldn't of taken the lie as seriously as I should due to my history. He never hit or hurt me again and I never heard of him doing it again so I guess i desuaded him from a life of abuse. Idk. Was I the asshole? Me and him don't talk anymore and since getting therapy, I've realized what a shitty person he was to me before, during and after our small relationship.

(small context: we were school friends only, he never really came over to my house or met my family more than once the second time we dated and I didn't talk about him as much after the second break up due to my focus on friends shifting from school friends to my girl scout troop. We were inseparable in school but outside of it, we rarely spoke.)

What are these acronyms?

[spotsandsocks]

Hiii spotty

🎃 + sleepy

-❤️🪐

I personally was kinda surprised by this one but I like it - enjoy!

“Not sleepy”

The statement would be significantly more believable if someone’s head wasn’t resting heavy and floppy into the curve of Buck’s neck.

“Of course not, totally wide awake. I can tell.”

The sheer amount of love evident in those few words is overwhelming. Buck throws Eddie an amused look while he shifts Jee in his arms, getting ready to stand and take her to bed. The adorable little girl snuggles deeper into her uncle’s arms and Eddie keeps a firm grip of his facial expressions, only allowing the smallest part of his emotions to show.

Jee grumbles another sleepy protest as Buck gets them upright, her tiny weight obviously nothing to him, “Don’ wanna go bed, no’ fair”

The petulance is just too cute. Much like the sight of Buck and his niece reading together had been. Jee falling asleep curled up on Buck’s lap was a lot to process. The desperatly tender expression on Buck’s face as he’d stroked her hair and read to the last page despite her having checked out the story a few pages earlier almost cracked Eddie there and then. He’s been waiting for the right time and he won’t last much longer. He thinks Buck is at least slightly expecting it. He hopes he is anyway.

Jee is quiet again, falling asleep again almost as soon as Buck started moving towards her bedroom. It’s extremely easy falling asleep in Buck’s arms, he should know it’s been his privilege for a little over a year now. Buck disappears out of sight with his niece and Eddie starts to tidy up.

“Fast asleep.”

The words come at the same time as arms wrap around his waist and tug him into a hug. Buck kisses his neck and Eddie closes his eyes, enjoying the ordinary moment. He loves this man so very much and either all moments are special or none are so why not now.

He twists within the circle of Buck’s embrace and kisses him, making it soft and gentle.

When they part Buck blinks happily dazed eyes at him. “What was that for?”

“I need a reason to kiss you now?” Eddie quirks an eyebrow.

“Not really but that one felt particularly pointed.” Buck’s sparkling blue eyes dance with pleasure and amusement and love. So much love and Eddie feels it all too.

“Maybe it was. You were pretty damn cute this evening with Jee.”

Buck’s eyebrows lift, inviting additional information. Eddie just kisses him again and puts everything he feels into it by the end of the second kiss he’s reached breaking point and the time is definitely right. So he asks the question that’s been on the tip of his tounge for weeks.

“Will you marry me? Because I really need to be married to you, like right now.”

He doesn’t miss the sharp inhale or the flash of joy in bright blue eyes before Buck responds with a slow drawl.

“Probably can’t manage right now …” his soon to be fiancé looks delightfully smug; eyes twinkling, head tilted at a charmingly cocky angle and Eddie’s gonna kiss the smirk right off his face any minute, “but I’m free next month, think I can probably fit you in.”

Tagging a few to share or no one will even see this and it’s kinda cute if I do say so myself

@bekkachaos @bi-buckrights @beyourownanchor6 @dr-shortsighted-owl @inell @exhuastedpigeon @eddiebabygirldiaz @diazsdimples @hippolotamus @stagefoureddiediaz @monsterrae1 @lonelychicago @dangerpronebuddie @daffi-990 @tizniz @thekristen999 @thelikesofus @spaceprincessem @jesuisici33 @underwaterninja13 @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @disasterbuck @repressedqueen @ronordmann @caroandcats

[miyosei]

LOVE IS A CHORE !

premise. a step by step guide on how ( not ) to fall in love with your best friend. — ft. xiao

reader is gender neutral, modern (?) au, everyone is in university here, mentions of throwing up but it doesn’t actually happen, xiao is a musician but it isn’t a major plot point i was just inspired by the newest promo video.

one. realize you are in much deeper than you thought.

The first time Xiao felt the switch flip inside of him, the cherry blossoms were starting to bloom on the first day of spring.

It was the last day of the seasonal fair—and you had invited him out to enjoy the evening together. Because your friend had bailed on you and you didn’t want the spare ticket to go to waste. Of course he agreed, what reason did he have not to?

And when he shows up ten minutes late with flushed cheeks and tousled hair and more apologies than he's ever said in his entire life—you laugh it off, assure him it's okay, and jokingly let him know that he still had the rest of the evening to make it up to you.

Xiao takes your words extremely seriously, and as nervous and paranoid and cracked out of his mind he is—he is determined to make it a night the both of you remember. And as always, he keeps his word. You aren’t sure of the last time you had this much fun.

When it’s time for the fireworks to start, he finds himself looking only at you—because you insisted that this is where you get the best view. ‘How cliche,’ he thinks to himself when you drag him to the attraction. But he makes no move to sway you otherwise, and you soon find yourself suspended in the air, sitting right beside him in the ferris wheel's carriage.

You look so nice like this. Well, you always look nice, but this time it’s different. This time it’s just you and him and the muffled sounds of the fireworks booming in the distance. And Xiao thinks that if every day could be like this, with just you and him, maybe that kind of life wouldn’t be so bad.

The realization strikes him like a bolt of lightning. That this is a problem. That he’s really screwed now. That ones Hu Tao finds the cheesy photos the two of you took at the photo booth it is absolutely over for him.

But, Xiao has never given up before. So, in theory, he should be fine… Right?

two. accidentally confess your feelings thinking you’re alone, run away when it turns out you aren’t.

The answer is no; Xiao is not fine. He has spent way too many sleepless nights cursing himself and trying to get you out of his head. It is so easy to not catch feelings for your best friend, how could he have messed up this bad? Xiao thinks it’s stupid, idiotic, and so not like him. It’s just some stupid crush, it’ll go away—it has to go away. Because it’s interfering with his every day life, and Hu Tao will not leave him alone.

The time is noon, this was supposed to be a joint study session between him, Hu Tao, Kazuha, and you. But this time you were the one running late, Kazuha is off in his own world, and Hu Tao decided that instead of actually studying, she wanted to spend her time trying to get a certain phrase out of Xiao’s mouth. One that definitely wasn’t even true.

“Are you done?” he finally speaks and looks at her from across the table with an unamused expression. “Why are you so adamant on this anyway?”

She rolls her eyes and lifts up a finger directly up to his face, “Because you are so obviously in denial! By the way, everyone already knows you like each other. The only two people dumb enough to not realize it are you two.”

Denial is a strong word. And quite honestly, Xiao thinks he could get pretty comfortable with it.

But the corners of his eye twitch ever so slightly, his grip on the pen tightens in his hold, and those two smug grins are almost enough to send him right into a coma—even if he doesn’t physically show it.

“Right… So then what if I do?” He chooses his words carefully, like he’s only entertaining the thought. Like he doesn’t actually have these feelings for you. Because that’s ridiculous, and he would never fall in love.

“You do,” Hu Tao corrects him without missing a beat, and Xiao finally gives up.

“Okay, fine. I do. Now what?”

The grin on her face spells nothing but trouble, and the regret that settles upon seeing it is enough to last Xiao a lifetime and more of embarrassment and shame.

Hu Tao echos your name, something that irritates Xiao more than it should have because yes, obviously it was you. Who else would it be, they were quite literally just talking about this? Unfortunately for him, Hu Tao finds nothing but joy in playing tricks like these—especially if it got a reaction.

“Hmm…. I don’t know, the only thing left to do is start dating and get married!”

Xiao almosts bursts at that sentence alone, his face exploding into the brightest shade of red anyone has ever seen. “Are you crazy?!” he stares at her in a flustered fury, “Don’t even joke about something like that, I’m not going to marry—”

His voice calls flat when he spots you out of the corner of his vision. You’re standing in the doorway, shocked with the most deer in the headlights look carried onto your face. Anything Xiao wants to say finds itself caught in his throat, and he decides to do something he hasn't done for years to come—he bolts for the door and rushes himself right out of the library.

three. try to go back to the way things were, curse yourself when it’s not that easy.

Three days have passed since that incident, and to say things were awkward would be a horrible understatement. Xiao, against his own will, had completely forgotten how to talk to you.

He called you later that night to apologize. That Hu Tao was just trying to rile him up, that he was sorry if you were uncomfortable at all, that you could just forget that entire thing had even happened in the first place. Anything to save both him and you the embarrassment.

You tell him it's alright—you always do. And you invite him to hang out at the nearby arcade, to make things up and to hopefully ease the heavy tension.

It doesn't work. because the moment he sees you he feels like running all over again. Xiao doesn't know if you feel it too, but the awkwardness that lingers in the air is so thick he feels like coughing up the springs in his chest. But he pushes through the discomfort—he promised a fun afternoon, and he doesn't break promises.

And he tries to avoid the subject of his “confession” by any and all means possible. It’s easier than it turns out to be, because Xiao is too busy dragging you around to even think about anything else.

There’s a monotonous buzz in his ear, something he dismisses as a byproduct of being around all of the beeping machines and blasting music. He can hear you call out to him, something out of concern he can only assume—everything is a blur, but Xiao promises he just needs to sit down for only a little bit.

When did he become so scatterbrained? It was never this bad before, he was never nervous around you before. You’ve known each other since elementary school, you were neighbors for even longer than he can remember, he’s slept in the bed of your childhood bedroom. So what changed? What happened to him?

No, nothing happened to you. It was definitely him, something was deeply and fundamentally wrong with him. Because you’re so close, and your hand is on his back because he keeps coughing up a storm, and the scent of your perfume is so sweet that it makes him want to throw up.

Xiao goes home with a high fever and guilty apologies. What was supposed to be a fun day out turned into you walking him back to his dorm room. You promise him it’s okay, and that you only want him to feel better soon. And Xiao, despite wanting to say so much more, says nothing.

He wakes up in a cold sweat later that night, smothered in bed sheets and in the same boring-walled dorm room.

Really, Xiao doesn't think he can keep up this act for very much longer.

four. know that love means being vulnerable, but not weak.

Ganyu almost drops the vase in her hands when Xiao gives her the run down. They were moving things from the concert hall when she’d noticed he was out of it, more so than usual. And against her better judgement, the ever so kind Ganyu prodded him with a stick and jumped back when he actually took the bait.

“And you just… Ran away?” She repeats, wide eyes in disbelief like he had just told her something blasphemous. When Xiao only confirms everything with a bored shrug she almost wants to pull her own hair out. Of course, she was more understanding than most other people, but even Ganyu had her limits. How could he treat this situation so casually? Like he wasn’t ruining his chances with you at this very moment? Like he wasn’t going to cause everyone in his inner circle to start aging prematurely?

Xiao doesn't even deny it and admits to everything with a straight face—that he did run away after indirectly confessing to you, that he’s been trying to avoid you in hopes that these feelings would finally die down, that it’s not working in the slightest and now he only misses you even more than he already did.

Truly, you’re the only one that knows. That underneath his blank eyes and bored expression, Xiao is just as afraid of his own feelings as anybody else. And he could never hate you for simply being you. But you know things about him that he doesn’t even know about himself—and that’s more than terrifying to think about.

He’s spent so long building his character and making sure he’ll never been used again. But you come in with that stupid smile and your dumb sparkly eyes and Xiao feels himself grow weak in the knees and heavy in his chest.

“Would you be okay with that? Dating, I mean.” Ganyu asks after a silence that lasts a little bit too long.

Xiao doesn't say anything. Would he be okay with it? Of course he would. Because you don’t flush at the thought of holding your best friend’s hand, you don’t think about what it would be like to date them, and you definitely don’t dream about kissing them under the moonlight.

And Xiao thinks to himself, that if you were willing to have him, he’d be more than okay with it.

five. confess your feelings — for real this time.

It’s raining, one of the harshest days of the season, and Xiao has caught the weather on a horrible day. He hadn't even bothered to bring an umbrella, soaked through his jacket and pounding his shoes against the slippery pavement in a rush to get to the library, where he was supposed to be 10 minutes ago in a last minute project group work.

He stops only when a shop door opens suddenly and skids to a halt just in time to avoid running straight into you. He stiffens ever so slightly when your eyes meet and you immediately shift to avoid contact, a small part of his heart squeezes in his ribcage. But Xiao’s throat is tight and dry, and any words caught in his chest are unable to come out.

Of course it would be awkward, he's been avoiding you for his own selfishness after all. And at this point, Xiao wouldn't even blame you if you began to resent him even just a little bit. But instead, you silently lean the umbrella over his head and give him a gentle smile. The same one as always.

“Come on,” you tell him, “I’ll walk you to wherever you need to go.”

He lets you, not even daring to argue back. There’s a lot of things he needs to say before his nerves finally kick in and he chickens out. But his hands are sweaty in his pockets and he can feel his chest on the verge of exploding by the second.

What are you thinking about right now, he wonders—stealing glances at you every so often when you aren’t looking. He just has to say it, just has to force the words out of his throat, but no matter how hard he tries, he just can't do it. And the two of you arrive at the library before Xiao can even blink, and he curses himself for being such a coward in such a crucial moment. Of course it would turn out this way, how humiliating.

“Well, we’re here.” You say with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, something close to regret flutters in your irises. “It was nice, seeing you again. I don't know if you have something going on, but you've been acting weird lately, I guess I missed you a little bit. But if you ever—”

“I like you!”

Xiao blurts out the words without thinking of anything else, exploding them out into the world like confetti on new year's day. His cheeks are flushed, he’s still soaking wet. It’s messy, disorganized, and it’s not even close to the perfect scenario he crafted in his daydreams. But It’s so perfectly him that you just can’t say anything else.

“I like you a lot. I always have. and I think I was so scared that you would hate me; or you would think I’m weird, or that you didn't like me back. And when you walked in that day I was so panicked I didn't—”

He stops talking only when he finally takes note of the tears that build up in your eyes. He blinks once, twice, a third time—then, the reality sinks in and his mind goes into overdrive. In one moment you were standing in front of him, and in the next he met you with a tight embrace, not caring that he was getting your own clothes absolutely drenched.

“I’m sorry,” Xiao whispers quietly when your hands tighten around the sleeves of his jacket.

“Shut up,” you grumble through muffled words and your umbrella fallen beside you on the pavement. For once, you’re thankful that the rain is able to hide your tears—or make them less obvious at the very least, “I’m mad at you right now.”

You aren’t, he knows you aren’t. But really, Xiao thinks he just might've just deserved that one.

six. remember that nothing necessarily has to change at all.

Two weeks have passed since his clumsy confession, two weeks since he’s “officially” become your boyfriend. In quotations, because it feels like it’s always been this way with you. You still watch cheesy romcoms every Saturday, you still support him whenever he has a performance due, Xiao still clings to you in your sleep like he’s done ever since the two of you entered high school.

The only difference now is that he can hold your hand whenever he wants to, and you don’t feel weird about coming around just to hug him from behind anymore. And while he still gets butterflies every time he even thinks about it, it’s more socially acceptable for him to kiss you when he feels like it.

And most times they don't even feel like dates, but now he gets the special 'couples only discount,' at the local cafe, and Hu Tao’s annoying kissy faces become more of a tease than a taunt, and Kazuha is, well, Kazuha.

It’s messy, it’s unorthodox, and it’s a long way from being perfect. But it’s with you, and for Xiao, that’s already more than enough.

[hbyrde36]

Shelter in Place

Chapter 1 here <-

Written for @thefreakandthehair - Lex’s Spicy Six Summer Challenge!

My prompt was : Hurricane

WC: 5703 | Explicit | Chapter 2/2 | AO3 link

Chapter 2

Steve wasn't sure he’d ever slept so well, at least not since the monsters came into his life. He still stirred a few times during the night, an unavoidable thing really when you’re sleeping on a couch that is definitely not meant to hold two grown men, but each time he woke still surrounded by Eddie’s warmth and the scent of his skin, he was quickly lulled back to sleep by the comfort of it. 

When morning finally came, Steve woke up alone. He didn’t think twice about it, there were any number of reasons Eddie would have gotten up before him. To get water, to pee, to relieve a stiff neck from the position they’d been laying in. 

Steve smiled to himself at the memory of them being pressed so close together as he stretched, letting out a big yawn. He buried his face in the throw pillow Eddie’s head had been resting on and breathed deeply, sure that no one had ever smelled this good to him before. 

A quiet clatter came from the other room, answering at least the question of where Eddie had gone. The kitchen. 

His back was to Steve as he entered the room. The power was still out, of course, but luckily the cooktop was gas. Eddie was heating water to boil on the stove, and had some sort of system rigged up to make coffee, with a strainer, a filter, and a couple of mugs. Steve wanted nothing more than to walk up behind Eddie, wrap arms around his waist, and hook his chin over the other boy’s shoulder, but he stopped short. 

That, he realized, was probably too familiar a gesture for this extremely new and undefined thing he felt brewing between them. Steve forced himself to reel it in. Yes, they had hugged and held hands last night. Yes, they fell asleep together cuddled up on the couch, but in reality they were friends now and nothing more. Even if Steve already knew that he really, really, wanted it to be more. He was skipping a step, they needed to talk about it. Eddie didn’t even know that Steve wasn’t straight yet.

He took a deep breath and pumped the emotional and physical brakes, remaining a few feet away as he softly said, “Good morning.”

Eddie visibly stiffened at the sound of his voice, which, in hindsight, should probably have been his first clue that something was wrong, but again Steve found it too easy to explain away. Not everyone was a morning person, and clearly, because he was still in the process of making it, Eddie hadn’t had any coffee yet. Plenty of people were grumpy before coffee.  

“Hey.” Eddie grunted, with a half-turn towards Steve, quickly going back to his task without ever making eye contact.

Steve tried to go on as if everything were fine and normal, though there was a kernel of dread beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. He rummaged through the fridge for the half-and-half and pulled the sugar bowl down from the cabinet.

“Did you sleep okay?” He found himself asking, like an idiot. As if he hadn’t been there right next to the guy all night, but he had to make conversation somehow. Why was this so awkward? 

“Yup.” Eddie replied simply, his second short and clipped answer of the morning. 

Okay, Steve mouthed to himself silently. Something…might be wrong here.

Possibly. 

He wracked his brain, wondering where things went wrong. He knew everything he told Eddie last night would be a lot to process, but he seemed to take it well enough at the time. 

Steve busied himself with making breakfast, anything to keep from standing in the middle of the kitchen staring longingly at Eddie’s turned back. Out again came his trusty cast iron skillet, and in no time he had an impressive plate of cooked bacon draining on paper towels. He felt Eddie’s eyes on him as he cracked eggs into the pan, one handed, because how else do you crack eggs when a cute boy you want to impress is watching?

“I don’t think I'd ever get used to that.” Eddie murmured quietly, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Steve looked up, grin already beginning to form before he caught sight of Eddie’s face. His eyes were guarded, mouth set in a tight, thin line. Steve’s heart sank, he didn’t understand. Did he go too far by staying on the couch with him all night? He shouldn’t have assumed that it was okay just because Eddie had fallen asleep on him. Maybe it made him uncomfortable, or maybe Steve was just over reacting. He fought to keep the smile on his face, hoping that if he acted like everything was fine, somehow it would be. 

After divvying up their simple breakfast, Steve traded Eddie a plate for one of the cups of coffee. They stood at the counter, neither making a move towards the table. It wasn’t that weird, Steve reasoned at first, he often ate breakfast that way, but with each second that ticked away in silence Steve got more and more nervous. He had this, admittedly irrational, idea that if Eddie ate his food then things would be okay.

He sipped at the cup of coffee he’d been given and watched through the corner of his eye as Eddie did the same. Steve nibbled a piece of bacon halfheartedly, wondering if it was all in his head. No, the air between them was thick with tension, there was no way he was the only one feeling it. 

Whatever the problem was, he wanted to fix it. He needed to fix it. Steve knew now that he wanted Eddie, and for a while last night he thought there was a chance that the other boy felt that way too, but maybe it hadn’t meant as much to Eddie as it had to him. That was fine, he would take whatever Eddie was willing to offer, and if that was only friendship then so be it. Either way they needed to clear the air.

“Are you..um. Is everything..uh. Is something wrong?” Steve stammered.

Eddie shrugged, and at first Steve thought he was going to leave it at that, but then the other boy pulled a face far more reminiscent of the way he’d glared at Steve when he first arrived, than the kind looks and smiles they had come to share in the evening.

“Oh y’know, Harrington, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like, It was one thing last night, in the dark. Emotions were high, you got carried away. I know how this goes. In the stark light of day though? There’s no way you’re okay with being that up close and personal with Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson.”

Steve cringed at the nickname, knowing he himself had used it to refer to the other boy before. God, he was an asshole. He was so confused though. It felt like he had been dropped in the middle of a conversation. Was Eddie mad? Did he think Steve was mad?

“I don’t understand, I mean. It's fine. I guess we’re both huggers? It's not a big deal, is it?.” Steve ventured, trying desperately to save this somehow.

Eddie rubbed roughly at his eyes, before waving a hand towards the living room. “I was only half asleep when you…before you got up to blow the candles out last night.”

Oh, Steve could almost feel the color draining from his face as he processed what that meant. Eddie had been awake, had felt him brush his hair back and probably knew he’d been staring. Fuck, that meant he knew Steve had kissed him. The tiny gesture had felt like a sweet thing in the moment, but now it made him feel like a creep. 

He opened and closed his mouth several times, reaching for what to say and coming up with absolutely nothing. The longer he took to respond, the more closed-off Eddie looked. Leave it to Steve to ruin a friendship before it’s even started because he had to go and get a stupid crush on the guy! 

Eddie scoffed. “Perfect!  Exactly the reaction I thought you’d have this morning! It’s okay, Steve, I won't tell anyone what happened or any of the rest of it. Look, I think I'm just gonna go. The storm has let up enough this morning, I'm sure I can make it to the trailer. It’s fine.”

It wasn't even close to true. Rain still hammered down outside, relentless and loud even on the asphalt shingled roof of the Harrington house. The wind had slowed a bit, but it still wasn’t anything you’d want to be caught out in. 

“No! You shouldn’t go yet. Not until it’s safe.” Please, I don’t want you to go.

Eddie shook his head.“You don’t want a reminder of your big mistake sitting around your house all day, so let me just do both of us a favor.”

“Please, just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.” Steve begged.

Eddie sighed, rolling his eyes while resolutely refusing to look in Steve's direction. “You got caught up in your feelings after sharing your trauma and shit with me, and it made you do some things you never would have otherwise. Certainly not with another guy anyway, and now you’re regretting it.”

“Eddie, I didn't say any of those things.”

“Your face said it for you. You looked full-on panicked about it not two minutes ago!”

“Yea! Because I thought you were asleep and you weren’t! Now you know I was looking at you and that I kissed you! God I'm so stupid, and such a creep!” Steve rambled, covering his face with his hands, unable to keep looking at Eddie when he was so embarrassed. “I kissed you without your consent, granted it was on the forehead, but still. I’m so sorry, no wonder you want to leave.” He was horrified with himself.

Steve felt the air shift around him, as if Eddie had moved closer. He held his breath, waiting for the other boy’s response. Whatever it might be.

“That’s what's bothering you about this?” Eddie crooned, his warm hands wrapped around Steve's, forcing them down and putting the two boys eye to eye. “You thought I wouldn't want you to kiss me, that I'd be, what? Upset about it?”

Steve gulped, nodding. 

“I'm not, for the record, but why did you do it?”

The way Eddie was studying his face, Steve knew he couldn’t lie, couldn’t make up an excuse. Total honesty was the only way to move forward. It was almost as terrifying an idea as telling him about the upside-down.

“You aren’t what I expected you to be. I used to watch you at school, I didn’t know why at the time, although I think I'm starting to get it now. I thought you were loud, obnoxious, and ridiculous, and on closer examination you definitely are all of those things, but you also turned out to be this caring, funny, lovely, and amazing person. Not only have you made this storm bearable, but I had so much fun with you last night. When I freaked out you were so patient with me, even though I acted like a lunatic. You wanted to know what was wrong, and it felt like you actually cared about the answer. You listened. Then you fell asleep, or so I thought, in my arms, and I looked down at your face. It was like I was seeing you for the first time. You’re.. beautiful.”  

Eddie released Steve’s hands. He frowned at the loss, but Eddie quietly shushed him as he cupped his cheek. Steve shivered and slipped his eyes closed. The first warm brush of lips took his breath away, but it was the scratch of stubble on his chin, something Steve had never felt during a kiss before, that drew a low moan out of his throat. 

Eddie pulled back but didn’t go far, resting their foreheads together as he chuckled lightly.

“I’m sorry for assuming things and freaking out. I just, I thought you were..” Eddie trailed off.

“Straight?” 

“Yea.”

“So did I until about 8 hours ago.” Steve admitted.

Eddie blinked rapidly. “And you’re just…okay with that?”

“Sure. I mean, I almost died a few months ago, and last year, and before that. It seems silly at this point to get worked up about being, whatever it is I am. I just want to be happy, and make someone else happy too, if I can. What difference does it make really, if that person is a guy or a girl?”

“Well, when you put it like that.” Eddie laughed, grinning widely before pulling Steve in for another kiss. It’s a bit rougher this time, surer, and more demanding. It leaves Steve feeling breathless and more than a little weak in the knees.

He would have been happy to stay there kissing in the middle of the kitchen all day, but Eddie insisted that they sit and eat the breakfast Steve had gone through the trouble to make, even if the food had gone a little cold.  

-

Later, once the kitchen was cleaned up, the two of them naturally migrated back to the couch. Eddie laid against the arm of it with Steve between his legs, back pressed to Eddie's chest. He liked the way it made him feel small, even though he and Eddie were practically the same height. Steve liked being held, and found himself fantasizing about what it would be like to be the little spoon in bed. He wondered if he’d get to find out sometime with Eddie.

Neither of them were in the mood to play boardgames, or do much of anything but just be together. It should have been boring, laying there talking and sharing the occasional kiss. It was anything but. Steve hadn’t felt this settled or content in a very long time.

“Where are your parents, by the way?” Eddie asked, after a long period of comfortable silence. “You mentioned they were gone. I guess I was hoping for a heads up if there's a chance they could show up here soon. Don’t want to risk getting arrested if they come home to find the town freak in their house.”

Steve, who’d been playing with Eddie's hands, lacing and unlacing their fingers and twisting his rings around, stilled.

“You shouldn’t call yourself that.” Steve murmured. “No one else should either. I’m sorry, by the way, if I ever did or said anything…” He couldn’t remember ever personally giving Eddie a hard time, and given their current circumstances he probably should have broached the subject before now, but he hadn’t thought of it.

“You didn’t.” Eddie was quick to assure him. “Hagan hassled me more than once, but you never did.”

Steve relaxed, sinking further down into Eddie’s body and pulling his arms tight around him. “I’m sorry for Tommy then, there’s a reason I stopped hanging around with him and Carol, and it wasn’t because of the monsters and shit.”

“You're not responsible for other people's shitty actions, but thanks. I don’t mind the nickname though.”

“Why?”

“For one thing it’s true. I definitely am a freak.” Steve could feel Eddie’s smirk where it was pressed to the side of his head. “And it’s a hell of a lot better than the other f-word they could call me, so I figure, why not encourage it?”

Steve tilted his head thoughtfully. It made some sense, even if he didn’t like it.

“To answer your question, my dad travels a lot for work. He’s gone anywhere from a few days to a few weeks at a time. Mom used to stay home with me when I was really little, but by the time I was 5 they were hiring sitters so she could go with him. She didn't trust that he wasn’t out cheating. From 12 on I was mostly on my own when they would leave.”

“Sounds lonely.” Eddie guessed.

Steve sighed. “I used to pretend it wasn’t, but yeah. I was definitely lonely. It didn’t matter that my life was better when they weren’t here, what with my dad being the major asshole that he is, a part of me still wanted them around. I was just a kid who needed his parents.”

Eddie shifted, kissing Steve on the back of the neck and running fingers through his hair. “I get like that sometimes too. Not that my uncle ever goes anywhere, he just works nights, and with me being in school we live on opposite schedules. I know he’d be around more if he could though. We have breakfast together as often as we can. Well, breakfast for me, dinner for him, so we can keep up with what’s going on in each other's lives.”

“Why do you live with your uncle? If that’s…if you don’t mind me asking?”

“No, it’s okay, but I have to warn you that it’s not a happy story.” 

Steve turned in Eddie’s lap so they were now chest to chest. He wanted to be able to see the other boy's face while he spoke.  

“My dad got caught on a job. He used to steal cars for this guy who ran a chop shop in Indy. I guess he wasn’t too keen on the idea of spending another stint in prison, because he led the cops on a high speed chase that ended with him crashing in a ditch. The car flipped three times. The police report said they were killed instantly.”

“They?” Steve asked.

Eddie sighed, the sound held a strange mixture of sorrow and fondness. “My mom and dad might have been terrible parents, but they were disgustingly in love with each other. She rode with him on a lot of jobs. He called her his look-out, but I think they mostly just didn't like to be apart. It’s kind of fucked up to say, because it left me an orphan, but I always thought she was probably happy that they went out together. I got Wayne out of the deal though. He stepped up and took care of me, loved me like I was his own.”

Steve squeezed Eddie as tight as he could, burying his face in his neck. “Jesus, Eddie. I’m so sorry. I feel terrible for complaining about my own parents.”

“No, Stevie, don't do that. It’s not a competition for who had the saddest childhood, and someone else’s experience doesn’t make your own any less important.”

“Stevie?” It made him feel warm all over, and he couldn’t resist rubbing his lips over Eddie’s pulse point.

Eddie chuckled. “Is that all you got out of that?” 

“No, I think I get it.” Steve did get it, and he was touched that Eddie wanted to make sure he knew his troubles were just as important as anyone else’s, but the pet name was really doing something for him, and now he was distracted with tasting the skin of Eddie’s throat. He didn’t want to talk anymore.

Eddie sucked in a breath as Steve caught his earlobe between his teeth. “Really liked that nickname, didn’t you sweetheart?”

Steve whined. It was mortifying, but he couldn't have stopped the sound from coming out of him if he tried. 

“Oh, baby. I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

-

For what felt like hours, the two of them did nothing except make out. Steve desperately wanted to let his hands wander, to feel every inch of the other boy under his fingertips. The problem was, every time things got a little too heated, Eddie pulled back. Steve didn’t really want to push, he wouldn’t want to rush Eddie into anything he wasn’t into, or ready for, but he strongly suspected it was being done for his benefit. 

The next time Eddie put a stop to things, Steve studied his face. His eyes held the same heat Steve knew was reflected in his own. They were both more than half hard, had been for a while, and there was no hiding it when they were all but lying on top of eachother.

Steve smiled, tucking a stray hair behind Eddie’s ear. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Eddie…” Steve teased.

Eddie leaned up, pulling Steve with him so that they were sitting next to each other, and took his hand. “This is new for you, right?”

“I guess, technically.”

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, as if even he didn’t like what he was about to say. “Are you sure you’re even really gay, or bi, or whatever?”

Steve wasn’t offended, he could understand Eddie's hesitation, even if it was a little ridiculous seeing as they had already spent quite some time with their tongues down each other's throats.

He cupped Eddie’s face and swiped a thumb across his cheek, encouraging him to open his eyes. “I don’t think I really care about labeling myself, at least for now, but yes, I'm sure. I know how I feel.”

Eddie blew out a long breath. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to freak you out or scare you off.“

Steve gathered up a little of his old cocky King-Steve confidence, and swung a leg over Eddie, straddling him.

“Do I look freaked out?” He asked, grinding down lightly into Eddie’s lap.

Eddie groaned, surging up to capture Steve’s lips with his own. He gripped him firmly by the hips and pulled him down hard, pressing their dicks together through the thin fabric of their sweatpants. Steve whimpered. He was painfully hard and aching, he knew if they kept going he could absolutely get off like this, rutting up against Eddie while they explored each other's mouths, but he wanted to try something. 

Steve slid down Eddie’s body, sinking to kneel in front of him on the floor. Eddie tried to hold him in place at first, until he realized what Steve intended to do.

“Can I?” Steve asked, hooking his thumbs into Eddie’s waistband on either side.

“Fuck.” Eddie gasped, looking down at Steve like he couldn't believe this was real. He nodded, adding his hands to Steve’s, helping to push the pants down around his ankles. 

Steve pushed lightly at Eddie's knees to part his thighs, allowing better access. His mouth began to water at the sight of Eddie’s hard length, red at the tip and leaking pre-come. His want for this boy was so strong that for a moment, Steve forgot to be nervous, forgot that he’s never done this before. 

His lips parted as he leaned in, tongue darting out to lap at the head of Eddie’s cock. The taste was salty and a little bitter, but Steve discovered that not only did he not mind, he liked it. He moaned, sinking down to take the first few inches of Eddie's dick fully into his mouth. 

Almost immediately Eddie’s legs began to shake. Steve looked up at him through his eyelashes, while bobbing his head at a slow pace, eager to see on the other boy’s face just how much this was affecting him. 

Eddie’s lip was caught between his teeth, and his pupils were so blown-out that it made his eyes look black. He was panting, and his hand hovered a few inches away from the back of Steve's head, unsure of its welcome.

The thought of Eddie forcing his head down, and maybe making him choke in the process was not something Steve would have ever guessed to be a turn on for him, but fuck if the idea didn’t make his eyes roll back a little. He palmed himself through his pants, desperate for friction and a little relief.

He tested it out himself first, taking more and more of Eddie down his throat until he hit the back of it. He choked a little but didn’t gag, and that was all he really needed to know. He reached out for Eddie’s hand and placed it on the back of his head, hopeful that he would understand what Steve wanted.  

Eddie wove his fingers into Steve's hair and gripped it tight, guiding him up and down on his cock. He hummed his approval, the vibration making Eddie moan and his breath stutter. Steve continued to rub himself through his sweats but it wasn’t enough. He shoved the front of his pants down letting his own cock spring free, and began to stroke himself in time with the bouncing of his head.

As Eddie quickened his pace and started to give shallow thrusts up into his mouth, Steve learned to relax his throat. He enjoyed the way he was not only pleasuring his partner, but giving up control to him too. It felt intimate in a way that sex had never been for him before. 

“Baby, I'm close.” Eddie choked out, releasing his hold on Steve's hair, giving him the opportunity to decide if he wanted to pull off, or swallow. 

Steve had been on the receiving end of enough blowjobs to know what felt good, and honestly he was so turned on by the whole thing that he couldn’t imagine letting up now. He pumped himself furiously as he hollowed his cheeks, sucking and and then swirling his tongue each time he reached the head. 

Eddie tensed above him, and his cock pulsed between Steve’s lips as he came hot and thick down the back of his throat. Steve followed him over the edge straight after, his loud moans muffled in his still full mouth.

Steve eased off Eddie carefully, knowing how oversensitive it could feel after, and sat back on his heels for a minute while he relearned how to breathe. 

Before he knew what was happening, Eddie had already hauled Steve up to cradle him in his lap. He tried to protest that he was a mess and there was no reason to get both of them sticky, but Eddie didn’t care. He pulled Steve to his chest and crashed their lips together, licking into his mouth like a man possessed.

Eddie broke the kiss only when they were both gasping for air. “That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Really? I wasn’t sure if I'd be any good at it.” Steve admitted, suddenly feeling shy. He nuzzled the side of Eddie’s face. 

“Good? Stevie, that was mind-blowing. I think you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

-

They were, in fact, a mess, and eventually Eddie agreed to move, if only because Steve started complaining about his shirt sticking to his chest hair.  A shower was unfortunately out of the question with the power still out, but they had two perfectly good tubs full of water upstairs. 

They decided to share the one in Steve’s parents room, it was big enough to hold them both as long as they let some of the water out so that it didn’t overflow. They took turns swiping a soapy washcloth over each other's skin, giggling when they’d find the other’s ticklish spots. Steve would have liked to linger, once they were clean, to relax and float in the other boy’s arms for a while, but the water was cold enough to break them both out in goosebumps.

It was nearing dinner time when they were finally dry and dressed. It probably wouldn't have taken so long, if only they could have stopped kissing for five minutes. 

Downstairs, Steve began to cook, as Eddie padded around the kitchen, lighting every candle he could find as the room grew dark. Steve knew it was their only form of lighting, but it also set an undeniably romantic atmosphere, and he had to remind himself more than once not to fall too hard, or too fast. 

Because he didn’t know what this was, this thing between him and Eddie. Was it just a fling, or an extended one night stand? The last thing Steve needed was to get his heart stomped on again by a pretty brunette with curls, but he was afraid it might already be too late to protect himself from that. 

It didn’t help matters much that Eddie kept wrapping himself around Steve from behind as he stirred a pot of sauce, whispering in his ear about how gorgeous he looked when he flaunted his prowess in the kitchen. All he could do was hope that Eddie wanted to keep him too.  

They ended the night sprawled out together on Steve's bed in nothing but their underwear. The house had grown increasingly warm as the day went on, but it was still raining too hard to open the windows. The heat didn’t stop Eddie from wanting to cuddle though, a fact which Steve was both grateful for and wary of. How would he ever be able to sleep alone again after spending two nights wrapped up in Eddie Munson? He should have put himself out of his misery and just asked Eddie what they were, what he wanted, but he couldn’t make his mouth form the words. Instead he turned, giving Eddie his back and finally fulfilling his dream of falling asleep as the little spoon. 

-

Steve woke up first, happy to find Eddie's arms still wound tightly around him. He wondered what had disturbed him, thinking vaguely that he might have heard something like a car door slam in the distance, but the weight of Eddie's body collapsed halfway on top of his, was enough to dissuade him from investigating. 

He had almost fallen back asleep when his bedroom door burst open. 

“What the hell, Steve!” Dustin shouted, sounding appalled and indignant.

Steve tensed, he was facing away from the door, with Eddie behind him, but there was no mistaking that voice. Eddie stirred, and Steve hastily reached down for the sheet, pulling it up over both of them. He eased himself out from under Eddie and sat up, rubbing his eyes and tried not to panic.

“Dustin, what are you doing here?” Steve groaned. He knew the moment Eddie was fully awake, as he sat up too, resting a reassuring hand on his lower back.

“The storm is over so we came back early. I made my mom drive me over to check on you, she’s waiting out in the car.  I wanted to make sure you and Eddie hadn’t killed each other!”

“Clearly we’re fine, Henderson.” Eddie quipped. He was trying to sound like his normal self but Steve could feel a tension in him that mirrored his own. They had no way of knowing how Dustin would react to them.

“This is so unfair! Eddie was my friend first!. Of course you had to go and usurp me, make him your boyfriend, and now both of you will only want to spend time with each other and you won’t hang out with me at all!”

Steve turned bright red at the word boyfriend, and had never wished harder that he had locked his fucking bedroom door. He looked at the kid and sighed heavily. “Can you at least get out so I can get dressed and then we’ll talk?”

“Fine.” Dustin said, stomping his feet like a toddler on his way out to the hall.

Steve glanced at Eddie. His eyes were soft, concern coloring his features. He didn’t know what to say or how to apologize for this. He felt like it was his fault that they got caught in such a compromising position.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Eddie offered.

“No, I got it.”

Now fully clothed, Steve stepped out to meet Dustin, leaving the door open just a crack behind him.

The kid didn’t give him a single second to try and explain before launching into interrogation mode.

“Is this why you wouldn’t Date Robin? Steve, are you gay?”

He could faintly hear Eddie snort from the other room. 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “I won’t date Robin because we don’t feel that way about each other, we have both told you this.”

“But you do feel that way about Eddie?” 

Steve bit his lip, knowing Eddie could hear every word they were saying. “Yea, I do. I’m sorry if that’s weird for you.”

“It’s a little weird, but not because you’re both boys.”

Steve was simultaneously relieved and confused. It was too early in the morning for this shit. “What’s weird about it then?”

“I’m just kinda surprised he’d go for you, to be honest. I mean, he’s so cool and you’re, like, our mom.”

Steve scowled as Eddie cackled from behind the door. He grabbed Dustin by the arm and marched him down the stairs, all the way to the front door.

He stopped before opening it, making sure his face showed how serious he was about this. “Can you promise me you’ll keep it to yourself? Hawkins is not really the safest place to be out, and it’s… really new.”

Dustin sobered, all kidding aside for the moment, and nodded. “Don’t worry, I won't tell anyone. You two can do that when you’re ready.”

“Thanks, buddy.” Steve ruffled the boy’s hair and gave him a playful yet firm shove out the door.

“You promise you’ll both still hang out with me?” Dustin yelled over his shoulder, halfway down the front steps.

“I promise. Now go, don’t keep your mother waiting. I’ll stop over later.”

Steve waited until Dustin was safely back in the car before shutting the door and heading back upstairs. He was nervous to face Eddie after everything Dustin had said. Panicked that his use of the word boyfriend would scare Eddie off. 

All of the apologies he had at the ready died on his tongue the second he reentered the bedroom. Eddie leapt from the bed, quickly pulling him into his arms and kissing him deeply.

“So, boyfriend. Which do you think Dusty’s gonna be more mad about in the end, us dating, or me knowing about the Upside-Down?”

Steve grinned so wide his face hurt. 

“Definitely the boyfriend thing.”

Tagging as many of my pt .1 rebloggers as I can 💜

@steddierthings @every-aj-needs-an-angel @kas-eddie-munson @haircarebfs @penny00dreadful @corrodedbisexual @connected-dots-st-reblogger @bat-outta-hel @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @manda-panda-monium @wrayofmoonshine @stedumpsterfire @archimedes11 @estrellami-1 @pinkdaisies1998 @cam-cat-writer @current-steddie-brainrot @nebulousboundsfloof @notegwy @didyoujustsaydidhejustsaydragon @pxningfo0l @seths-rogens @idea-less-author @poguestyleskye @gregre369 @pjoneedstherapy @nightmareglitter @berenwrites @multimediawhxre @bennys-burgers @7shrewsinatrenchcoat

[magicaldragons]

'in the name of pain and outrage'

an analysis of the ending

I say this with utmost love, but episode 16 was a shitshow.

i walked into this show accepting it at face value – a show that would take itself lightly, with a compelling subplot marinated in humor, and a dose of sweet romance.

this show tried to include very mature, sobering themes with slapstick humor, which is definitely possible if balanced properly, but i feel this show was not able to achieve this the way do bong soon or others could.

to get some of the discrepancies out of the way:

they never told us that the women's senses were connected, geum joo should not have been able to feel namsoon's thirst – that's something they abruptly added to fuel the tension of the situation.

there is absolutely no reason nam soon would react like that to the drug, when you compare it to how every other user was affected by it.

the strength exerted by gil-joongan did not feel like enough to knock her out like that

and with how easy it would've been to leave the situation, it's very obvious that nam soon taking the drug was an ill-planned way to raise the stakes and increase suspense

the homeless couple truly had nothing of value to add to the show or it's message

none of the show's themes or messages were delivered properly towards the end, and it went against everything it preached.

the immediate tone change after ryu si-o's death did not do any justice to the effort put into his characterization

i do not understand how nam soon became a cop, all technicalities considered

why was she throwing humans out a window from the second floor, even if they're criminals??

they REALLY cheapened the whole marriage conversation by bringing money, property, and heirs into it. that was NOT romantic or wholesome. hee-sik deserves better parents, tf.

side note: i'm pretty disappointed with namsoon's character arc, but lee yoo mi worked within the purview of the script to give us honestly wonderful acting, especially in episode 15.

now, to get into the ending, i'll start with this:

what we got, felt like an empty victory. hollow and out of place.

i've always been an advocate for all parts of a show coming together to create an experience – there's usually no single keystone.

but as soon as si-o died, the rest of the episode felt like a blur, with all loose ends being succinctly wrapped up and prepared for season three. byeon woo seok, and his characterization really carried the show as a unit, and added to its cohesiveness. i did not find myself rooting for geum joo and nam soon's successes afterwards

because they had failed the ONE thing most of us had been hoping for them to do:

to save people who were victims of oppression from those with the power of money, and empower them, including to save si-o from his oppressors, and help him take down pavel.

there is no satisfaction in geum joo doing it by herself, because she has no emotional investment in destroying pavel.

losing hwaja and si-o, watching namsoon & heesik become one dimensional all of a sudden, and seeing tertiary unrelated characters having their loose ends tied, is extremely unsatisfactory – for a show that had an incredible cast and so much potential.

at the same time: i loved the portreyal of gil joongan's mission to help the elderly and her enthusiasm for her future, and the addition of binbin + looking into their past from an additional angle also really elevated the emotional context of si-o's character arc.

i loved each character, truly, and to not see the plot and writers give them the detail and care they deserve, is wholly disappointing.

the show took me on a whole journey, emotionally,,,but to know exactly what would make it better, and be aware of its discrepancies makes me grieve the potential it had to truly leave an impact on its viewers, with a solid takeaway message.

[gellavonhamster]

u ship smoker and tashigi! 😭i luv them sm!! what is the most thing u like in them? And why u love them!?

Ok let's see, I can rarely put into words coherently why I ship one pairing or another, so I'm gonna freestyle here

I do remember telling @patron-saints when asked the same question that I like ships where both characters look in the same direction as much as they look at each other. I think this might be the thing I like about them the most - that both of them are people with a strong moral compass who try to do the right thing even if it goes against the rules, dedicated to pursuing actual justice not whatever passes for it for most other Marines. (I do wonder where they're gonna end up by the end of One Piece because I don't think that at this point the whole institution of the Marines can really be fixed). It's not an easy path, but they walk it together and they push each other to be better while at it. I love the moment in Punk Hazard where she literally yells at him that they should survive by any means whatsoever, even if it takes swallowing their pride, because they can't just throw away their lives - they have a duty to others:

And she's right! And he listens! And she's basically talking to him the way he talked to her in Alabasta when he urged her to become stronger, there's nothing nice about it but it works because that's how he operates and she knows it well by now. It also shows how more confident she's become and how they've grown used to working with each other - I don't think she would've dared to talk to him like that in Alabasta. And he, in turn, trusts her to carry on with their duty on her own and replace him as the leader if he doesn't come back...

...because she has become stronger and he knows that. (He's also protecting her here, and I think he also knows that appealing to her sense of duty would be more likely to make her not follow him into danger than insinuating she's not strong enough to face that danger with him. Because by now he also knows well how she operates). Not to make the same post again, but there's a similar moment in One Piece: Stampede, and it's, like. If I had a nickel for every time Tashigi wanted to follow Smoker into what might be a suicide mission and he had to force her to stay behind, I'd have two nickels, etc. So, battle couple but less in the sense of physically fighting back to back and more in the sense of fighting the same battle, working in tandem, guiding each other, and having each other's back. Or something.

Speaking of Punk Hazard, I don't think the bodyswap plot was done well with them. I think it was mostly an excuse to show Tashigi with her boobs out. But it did make my brain go brrrr because I started thinking about how he ought to apologize to her for being so careless with her body because poor girl must have caught a cold and probably developed a nicotine addiction, and imagining how that apology would go led me to ao3, and the rest is history (which included me writing my own take on the apology). Though I do think some seeds were sown in my mind way before that arc...

...for example, I feel like this panel in particular did something to my psyche.

Which brings us to the more headcanon-based and less serious part. I imagine their potential romance would grow to be a steady, solid thing based on partnership and trust (which is the kind of relationship I tend to ship because I'm boring like that <3), but it would start out extremely awkward. Because she's a sweet clumsy girl who tries hard to make people take her seriously and he's a gruff, rather rude guy who has a kind heart underneath that. Also, they're probably very much are not supposed to get into such kind of relationship considering that she's his subordinate. Potential for cute AND funny AND slightly angsty scenarios, for dancing around each other without knowing how to make the next step, whether to make the next step. Also for copious amounts of unresolved sexual tension... and what it would result in when it is finally resolved. And I like that for my ships.

(Also, lemme be shallow real quick: I think they're both hot, and even hotter together)

TL;DR I just think they're neat

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

valentine

pairing: steve harrington x reader

WC: 1.9K

warnings: cursing, some suggestive stuff, a little nightmare sequence that involves punching and blood mentions. should be it!

summary: you blinked and suddenly, you had a valentine. ❤️

A/N: a late v-day post, i guess. inspired by the lovely Laufey song. much love to @alecmores for proofreading 💗💗💗

it cut off some of the ending when read on mobile 😒 but it’s looking completely fine on computer. just an fyi

masterlist

I’ve rejected affection for years and years. Now I have it and damn it, it’s kind of weird.

Out of your twenty-one years of living on this planet, this is the first year you have a relationship and it’s simultaneously the greatest feeling in the world while also making you want to run away. But you can’t find it in yourself to run, not from him.

Steve. Steve Harrington is your boyfriend. 

You feel like you need to pinch yourself every time he looks your way and throws a smile meant for you, or feel the furnace heat of his fingers grasping your hips before pulling you into a kiss, sweet or searing.

He tells me I’m pretty.

The two of you are just laying in his bed on a lazy saturday morning, with no hurry to be anywhere, facing each other as you practically share his pillow causing your noses to bump with a simple shift. The blanket covers both of you from the waist down, your top half open to the slight chill dancing through the room.

Steve's shirtless and you're wearing an oversized shirt you found at a garage sale, one that goes to rest at the top of your thighs, but right now it’s bunched up high, allowing Steve to toy with the elastic of your underwear and drag his knuckles over your exposed waist. Legs tangled together, your cold feet pushing into Steve’s calf causing a gasp of shock from the boy which pulled a heartfelt giggle from your lips.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” A hand instantly moves to tuck loose strands behind your ear.

You don’t say anything, you can’t. Not when he’s looking at you like that. Soft eyes that twinkle, an easy smile that displays his stunning smile lines, his freckles, and moles that mark his face and body that you smother with thousands of kisses when given the opportunity. How his bed head of hair is curled and twisted this way and that, the ends tucking and touching his ear lobe and neck or even his jaw.

You don’t know how to respond to the sudden compliment, you haven’t received much in your years. So as you memorize him, you instantly say the words back to him, in your own way, of course.

“You’re quite pretty yourself, Steve Harrington. Very nice on the eyes.” A finger trailed his nose and down to his jaw.

A deep rumble from his chest filled you with a warmth that pushed away the February chill. You weren’t sure if you should’ve called him that. Most guys don’t like the word "pretty" being used when complimenting them, most like strong or handsome, pretty to them seems weak when it isn’t towards a girl. But when you looked at Steve he was all those to you, but pretty will be the one to always come to mind when you look at him, especially in moments like these. Intimate and away from prying eyes.

With every passing moment, I surprise myself.

You’re usually scared of guys, whether it be in a general sense or a relationship kinda sense. You’ve been on dates, didn’t like the guy and stopped talking with him or you liked him and went on a few dates but those ended up fizzling out as well.

But Steve Harrington made you feel scared, but the good kind of scared. The roller coaster adrenaline scare, where you’re whooping and hollering at the top of your lungs. Clinging to the metal bars for dear life worried you’ll fly away, but they're holding you securely in their grasp.

Steve constantly made you smile and laugh, scream out of slight fear or extreme pleasure. He held you in firm hugs, his chin digging into your scalp as he slowly swayed your bodies. He made you feel safe and loved.

Loved. You’ve fallen in love with him after just a year. Now you were scared.

What if he’s the last one I kiss? What if he’s the only one I’ll ever miss? Maybe I should run, I’m only twenty-one.

You began to panic. There was no real reason to panic, but you're an overthinker, constantly making useless scenarios in your fast-paced mind, thinking the worst of peaceful times. It’s a terrible flaw, but one you can’t push away no matter how much you try.

‘What if he gets bored of me? What if he thinks I’m clingy? What would he do if I told him I love him?’

Evil thoughts that would creep up in the time of silence.

You stared at nothing while you sat behind the counter at Family Video, body unconsciously swiveling the rolling chair from side to side. Steve and Robin are out on the floor putting away new releases and returning stock, their friendly banter becoming white noise to your ears as more corruptive thoughts came to mind and cramp every single space in your brain.

Your fingers pick at your nail beds, you don’t even feel the pricks of pain or feel the little trickles of blood pooling to the top. Only when you feel someone else’s hands pulling yours apart into their hold do you snap from your trance.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Steve's melodic voice rings in your ears.

“Huh?” Not too sure what he means.

His eyes are focused on your hands, pulling each finger in his eye line and then bringing a kiss to each nail. It made you flush at the sudden display of affection.

“I was calling for you,” another kiss, “and you didn’t answer so I came here,” kiss, “and your eyes were just wide and you were picking at your nails. I thought you stopped that.”

‘Great now you disappointed him’ ‘Probably thinks you’re a liar’

You bit your bottom lip, “got lost in my thoughts. That’s all.” A shrug of your shoulders.

He still held your hands, fingers laced together and his thumb ran atop your knuckles. He was warm and comfortable, it pushed the negative thoughts away just a bit.

Then he crouched down, hands placed on your knees and head tilted to look up at you with your small bit of height. His head tilted and swayed, trying to find your eyes that you wanted to hide away from him, he could always find what was wrong in the end.

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, “I’m not gonna make you tell me what’s wrong, or I won’t act like a mind reader, cause I’m not-“ “Beg to differ on certain days.” You interrupted.

He breathed a laugh, “if you believe so. But I just want you to know you can talk to me if something is bothering you, especially if it’s about me. Cause I don’t want you to think the wrong thing.” He squeezed your knees.

You looked at Steve, held his eye contact, and said, “I really like you, Steve Harrington.” The closest thing to I love you right now.

He smiled wide, “I really like you too, sweetheart.”

I’ve lost all control of my heartbeat now.

He said the words. He said the words.

“I love you, (Y/n).”

It felt like all the air left your lungs and now you probably looked like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing. Trying to process everything that just happened while also trying to find the words for a proper response.

“(Y/n)? You okay?” He has a firm hold on your biceps.

Your own hands are also holding his biceps, eyes dancing across his face. You wanted to memorize this moment, the way he looked in the overhead lighting of the grocery store where you were buying snacks for a night in.

He just had to say the words that rocked your heart in the freaking grocery store!

“Sweetheart, say something, please. You’re scaring me a bit,” a chuckle but you knew he was concerned.

“Uh,” you blinked a few times, “really caught me off guard with that.”

The both of you chuckled, you from the absurdity of the moment and Steve from your comment. But it felt so perfect, a special moment to remember for the future.

When I hear I love you, now I’ve got someone to lose.

You tried fighting back, you desperately tried with all the strength you could muster into your bones. You yanked hard against the metal cuffs, the skin on your wrist starting to sting from the breakage. You tried kicking with your legs, but it was no use, you weren’t close enough to hit anything or anyone.

You could only stare and scream as you thrash. Watching helplessly as the soldier beats Steve down with his knuckles. How his skin breaks and bleeds, the loud cracks of his nose breaking causing blood to spill from his nostrils.

“Stop! Stop! Please! We’re telling the truth!” You tried to plead with them.

They just laughed and continued the harassment. Steve always being the hero, making sure they don’t lay a finger on you, causing him to be the center of their attention and attacks.

When the soldier got tired from throwing punches, he gripped Steve’s neck tight. You could slowly see the blood leaving his face, the air not making its way to his brain. His feet scrambled against the floor to find some purchase.

In what seemed to be his final moments, he looks at you.

“Steve!” You cried as you blotted upward from the bed.

Your chest heaved with heavy breaths and sweat formed at your temple while your back and chest were sticky with perspiration. A hand touched your chest to feel your heart as you pushed sticky strands from your face.

‘Just a nightmare’ ‘It was just a terrible nightmare’

“(Y/n)?” A scratchy voice was heard through the darkness of the bedroom.

“Steve, sorry.”

You felt him sit up, his hand rubbing circles to your back along your sleep shirt. He laid his head on your shoulder and placed his free appendage on your thigh.

“Was it a nightmare? Cause usually if it's dreams, there’s a different way we go about things.” He tried for a laugh and you gave him one. “There we go,” he sighed.

“Can you just hold me?” You whispered. An unspoken ‘I love you’

“Always, sweetheart.” ‘I love you too’

The first one to ever like me back. I’m seconds away from a heart attack.

“You know you are my first boyfriend, like ever.” You randomly blurt one day in Steve’s kitchen.

“No way, I find that hard to believe.” He called over his shoulder as he worked on breakfast.

“Oh!” You hop onto his counters, “and what makes you think that? Do enlighten me.”

He didn’t say anything quickly, so just as you were about to say something, he spoke up, “because you’re… you. Anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

He said the words so easily like they were the most obvious answer to your question. He was trying to give you a heart attack with how sugary sweet he is.

“Like I can’t believe I get to call you mine. Every day I wake up and remember I’m dating you and it makes my day one hundred percent better already. And knowing I get to call you or see you throughout the day, it keeps me from going insane during the boring or terrible moments.”

You were speechless. Steve caused every word and thought to leave your mouth and brain, all you could say was, “I love you.”

I blinked and suddenly, I had a valentine.