#someone forgot to start the rice | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trickphotography2 · 1 month ago

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Rooster wasn't for you. You were opposites in so many ways - he was an extrovert to your introvert. The center of attention to your wallflower. You weren't interested in a one night stand, and he couldn't offer more. So his volunteering to help with Friendsgiving was just a friendly gesture after you returned from a deployment...right?

Word count: 7.8K

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“Just a minute!” you called, swiping a strand of hair from your face. The knocking stopped, and you quickly washed the flour from your hands, drying them on the towel thrown over your shoulder while heading to the door.

And there, standing on your front step as the sun started to rise, was Bradley. His normally styled curls were sleep-mussed, his grey t-shirt clinging to his arms and untucked from his Navy PT sweatpants. The smile on his face grew as he took you in - sweatpants, a baggy sweatshirt dotted with flour, fuzzy socks, and not a stitch of makeup. The difference from your normally put-together appearance was stark. “Morning, Duch.”

“You’re late.” Laughing, he held up a bag of microwavable frozen corn.

“Had to turn around when I forgot my contribution.” Rolling your eyes, you stepped back to let him in, watching to ensure he removed his shoes before following you into the kitchen.

“The turkey’s already thawed and in the sink. I just need you to clean it out, and I can take it from there.” Bradley nodded, tossing you the corn before going to the kitchen. You put it in the freezer and walked to the downstairs bathroom to wash your hands before resuming your spot at the counter, picking up your bread lame and staring at the unbaked loaf. A part of you wanted to do a simple score, knowing that it would just be eaten, but the hostess in you demanded a more intricate design. The indecision tore at you. To buy time, you sprinkled the top with more rice flour.

“Can you get me the trashcan?” Bradley asked, and you nodded, quickly abandoning your project. After you set it beside him and pulled off the cover, he tossed the netting and plastic. You couldn’t help but notice his biceps flex as he shifted the turkey. But you shrunk back when he reached into the cavity and pulled out the giblets and gravy package, shaking your head at his raised eyebrow. He discarded them as you braced yourself, nose scrunching when he removed the neck. “You alright there, Duch?” he teased.

“Gross.”

“It’s just a turkey neck,” he said, holding it closer to you. You jumped back.

“I will throat punch you if you touch me with that.” He laughed, edging it closer, and you raised a fist. There was a reason a condition of you hosting everyone for Friendsgiving was someone else cleaning the turkey.

“Didn’t take you for being squeamish.”

“You would be, too, if your grandpa chased you around the house with it when you were a kid, and you had to lock yourself in a bathroom to escape.” At his barked laugh, you shook your head. “I told that to my ex, and he thought it was funny to put it in his zipper and chase me around the house with it. If floppy dick isn’t attractive, a turkey neck sure as shit isn’t.”

Bradley choked on a laugh. For as prim and proper as you were at times - hence the callsign Duchess - you sometimes reminded everyone that you also had a military sense of humor. “Maybe you just haven’t seen the right ‘floppy dick,’” he smirked, dropping the neck into the trash.

Shrugging, you glanced away from him when the oven beeped, alerting that it was preheated. “You’re right. Bob probably has a pretty one.” A rosy flush crept up his cheeks as he turned back to the turkey and forced a laugh. Bradley didn’t want to hear that you were thinking about Bob’s dick. “Put it in this afterward, and I’ll dry it.” After dropping the roasting pan beside him, you rewashed your hands.

Standing in front of your bread, you bit your lip to keep from giggling as you contemplated scoring a dick into the dough but decided to go with a traditional wheat stalk. To your surprise, he grabbed the roll of paper towels by the sink and patted the turkey dry, even the cavity. As you removed the Dutch oven from the preheated oven, he tied up the trash bag and took it out. After putting the bread into the oven, you set the timer and moved to the sink, glancing at Bradley when he came back in. Standing beside you, he reached for the soap and lowered the water temperature before scrubbing his hands. Removing the hand towel from your shoulder, you draped it over his after drying your hands. “Thanks,” he murmured.

“Thanks for taking care of the turkey.” Standing by the island, you crouched to retrieve a cutting board. The sound of other cabinets closing made you peek over the countertop to see him rooting through the overhead storage. “Are you looking for something?”

“Coffee mugs.” Biting back a retort about making himself comfortable, you pointed to the right of the stove. You bit your tongue when he grabbed two mugs - including your favorite - and went to the wet bar where the full pot was finished brewing. Placing the cutting board on the counter, you grabbed a knife from the block and were surprised to see a mug of coffee beside your workstation. Murmuring your thanks, you grabbed the creamer from the fridge along with packages of herbs and butter. “What are you making?” Bradley asked.

“A marinade since I didn’t brine the turkey.”

“You want a hand?”

“I’ve got it,” you said automatically. “I’ve got a schedule.” He didn’t need to know that you were already behind after falling asleep on the couch early last night and forgetting to set your alarm. And he definitely didn’t need to know that you’d only been awake for 20 minutes before he arrived. If you put your head down and focused, everything would still be ready to eat at the agreed-upon 3:00 PM. Some of your time to get yourself ready would just have to be sacrificed. For some reason, you’d insisted that everyone dress nicely for Friendsgiving. Wearing a uniform almost every day didn’t give you any opportunities to dress up, and sometimes it felt nice to wear something other than jeans and a t-shirt.

Setting your tablet up, you navigated through the bookmarked recipes and rinsed the herbs before pulling them from the stems. Bradley leaned against the counter beside you and sipped his coffee while glancing around the kitchen. Seeing him relaxing there, one leg crossed over the other and looking like he’d just rolled out of bed, made something flutter in your chest.

“You know, you could have saved a lot of time if you’d just agreed to let Hangman fry the turkey.”

That made you snort. “I just finished my renovations - the last thing I want is for my house to burn down.” It had taken months to get your home exactly how you wanted it. After twelve years in the Navy, you were ready to put down some roots, and buying a home had seemed like the smart thing to do. Living in a construction zone for the last year hadn’t been fun, but a well-timed deployment meant you weren’t there for the worst of it. The results were worth the pain, and you’d jumped at the chance to host when you got back and realized most of the squad had no plans for Thanksgiving. You couldn’t wait for them to see the changes in the Craftsman that had been a definite fixer-upper when you purchased it. The kitchen had been completely gutted and replaced with double ovens and quartz countertops, and the smaller kitchen island had been moved and changed to a wet bar with a wine fridge, replaced with an oversized one. The popcorn texture was scraped from the ceiling throughout the house, the floors redone, and the walls painted. The primary bath had been updated with a large soaker tub and walk-in shower, and you loved the giant closet. The guest bathrooms still needed work, as did the yard, but those were projects for later.

“It looks good, Duch,” he said softly, gaze holding yours for a long moment. You felt those inconvenient butterflies again and shoved them aside, dropping your eyes to the cutting board. Bradley wasn’t for you. You were too different - he enjoyed nights out at the bar, while you liked to spend time at home. He liked being the center of attention while you preferred to blend into the background. Besides, he didn’t seem much like a relationship guy, given the number of flings he had at the Hard Deck, while the idea of casual dating gave you hives. Pushing away from the counter, Bradley reached under the sink for a trashbag, putting it into the can before washing his hands. He moved closer, nose twitching slightly at the scent of rosemary, and braced his big hands on the countertop beside you. “Alright, what can I do?”

“You don’t - ”

“Lemme help.” His eyes met yours, smiling when you sighed.

“Fine. The meat injector is in here,” you said, bumping one of the drawer handles with your hip. “And I’ll need the chicken stock from the pantry.” Pouring the stock, herbs, and a couple of sticks of butter into a stockpan, you handed Bradley a silicone spatula and told him to stir. You rolled your lips together to keep from smiling when he pulled his phone from his pocket and watched videos of turkey injections before declaring he would be in charge of it. Reluctantly, you agreed. Once the marinade had cooled, the bird was given a second drying, you had finished the coffee, and Bradley had rewatched the video three times, it was time. He studied the turkey through narrowed eyes as you tried not to laugh. “You want to - ”

“Ah!”

“The breast and thighs - ”

“I’m doing it, Duch,” he cut you off.

“Well, remember that if it turns out dry.” The unimpressed look Bradley shot you made you grin as you put your chin in your hand and motioned for him to proceed. The tip of his tongue poked through his lips as he filled the injector and hovered the needle over the turkey. His eyes darted to you, and you raised an eyebrow. “You can tap out at any time, Rooster.” Instead of replying, he pierced the meat and pushed down on the plunger. You couldn’t help but laugh when he yelped, marinade spraying in his face after pushing too hard. But when he reached to wipe it away, you caught his hands. “Don’t put turkey germs all over your face,” you scoffed, towing him toward the sink. You held his chin while cleaning his face with wet paper towels.

“Now you’re just messing with me,” he chuckled when you scrubbed his mustache, but he didn’t pull away. His breath was hot on your hand, and his smile soft when you reached up to dab away a speck of garlic in his eyebrow. Balling up the paper towel, you shook your head.

“Wash your face with soap to make sure you don’t get salmonella. Cyclone’ll kill me if you’re out with food poisoning.” Turning on the water, you ensured it was warm before getting a clean washcloth. The oven timer beeped as you dug through the linen closet, and you hurried back into the kitchen, throwing the towel on the sink beside him and grabbing the pot holders to take out your bread. Once it was on the wire rack to cool, you moved to the turkey.

“What’re you doing?” Bradley demanded, turning while drying his face.

“Taking over.” You gasped when he closed the space between you in a few strides, wrapped his arm around your waist, and lifted you away from the counter. “Bradshaw! What the hell?”

“Told you I’m doing it,” he chuckled in your ear. Once back on your feet, you spun in his hold and stared at him. Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his cocky smirk.

“Fine, but if you waste more of my marinade, you’re out of my kitchen.”

“Deal.”

Thankfully, there were no further incidents, but you kept a close eye on him while slicing up a loaf of bread you’d baked two days before and let go stale for stuffing. After covering the roasting tray with tin foil, the bird went back into the fridge to rest for a few hours. “Thanks, Rooster. I guess I’ll see you later?”

“What else can I do?”

“You don’t - ”

“I want to help. I haven’t…” his eyes dropped to the floor as he shrugged. “I never got to do this before. My mom and I would always go to my cousin’s for Thanksgiving before she died, and it always seemed kinda fun.”

Everyone on the squad knew that Bradley’s parents had passed when he was young. He didn’t mention them often, but you noticed he’d get quiet sometimes when people talked about their families. So his volunteering the information felt important, and glancing at the clock showed that you were still behind schedule. “Fine.”

“Yeah?” he asked, excitement flashing in his eyes.

“Don’t look so happy - you’re doing prep work. You can peel potatoes, assemble the veggie tray, and roast the garlic. I need to work on sides and desserts.”

And he did. Bradley followed your instructions, grimacing while peeling potatoes over the trash can until you took out a plastic bag and put it in the sink for him to do it there. You kept an eye on him as he cut the spuds into uniform pieces after explaining that they wouldn’t cook evenly for the mashed potatoes, somewhat worried that he would cut himself. Rather than deal with the onions, you delegated the task and tried not to laugh at his near-constant sniffles and swipes at his watery eyes as you diced peppers. Once you dug out the hand-me-down crystal platters, he arranged the veggies you’d prepped the night before while making pies. Dips were mixed, and cans of olives and bottles of pickles were opened and drained before being plated.

Other than bumping into one another when going for the fridge at the same time, it wasn’t too bad sharing the kitchen. The coffee pot was quickly emptied, and Bradley brewed another between shredding blocks of cheese. You sang along with your playlists, his deep voice joining on a few songs while teasing you about others. When you sang about karma being a kink, he watched your hips sway at the sink, clenching his jaw when you sang a breathy ‘oh god.’

He slid the roasting tray into the oven when the turkey was rested and ready to cook. “Now what?” he asked, turning to look at you.

“Now we keep an eye on it for about four hours. Baste and re-inject it every hour or so,” you shrugged. A glance at his watch showed it would be almost 2:00 PM by the time it was ready. As though realizing it would still be hours before eating, his stomach grumbled its discontent. He blushed when you smirked. “I guess the least I can do is make my sous chef breakfast. Get the muffins and butter from the fridge for me.”

“Did you make these?” he asked, setting the containers beside you as you heated a skillet on the stove.

“I did - family tradition is grilled muffins on Thanksgiving morning. You okay with blueberry?” At his nod, you started slicing muffins in half. Rather than giving you space, Bradley stayed at your elbow. A comfortable silence fell, broken only by sizzling butter. His gaze met yours when you glanced up at him, and a smile tugged at his mouth.

An image of reaching up to bury your fingers in his messy curls and tugging his mouth down to meet yours flashed through your mind. Your fingers twitched with the urge to do it, eyes drifting to his mouth and lingering there for a moment too long. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you forced yourself to look away, heat creeping into your face.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when he reached up to shift a strand of hair that had fallen from your messy bun. “I’m glad you're back, Duch,” he said, voice slightly raspy.

Forcing a laugh, you plated two muffins and handed them to him. “Everyone misses the mom friend of the group when she’s deployed.” Your eyes darted to his stomach when it growled again, just in time to see the front of his sweats twitch. Pretending you didn’t see it, you nodded to the living room. “The parade is recording if you want to watch it.”

Bradley opened his mouth as though he would say something before taking the apparent dismissal. Alone in the kitchen, you touched your cheek and felt warm skin. With a deep breath, you grilled yourself a muffin as the sound of the broadcasters came from the living room. After topping up your coffee, you joined him. He sprawled on one end of the couch, plate balanced on a thigh as he sipped his coffee. Sitting on the opposite side, you crossed your legs and let out a soft groan. Only a couple of hours standing in the kitchen and your back was already starting to protest. “What else do you have to do this morning?” he asked after a moment.

Mentally running through your list, you sighed. “I need to do some cleaning and get into the attic. I’ll start cooking a bit closer to noon, so things just have to be warmed up.”

“What do you need from the attic?”

“My nice china. My parents bought my sister and I sets for our hope chests when we were kids.”

“What’s a hope chest?”

“You know, stuff you’d need once you get married?” When his eyebrows shot up, you shrugged. “They weren’t really serious about it - it was more of a joke. But, every once in a while, they’d buy something for us and put it away for when we were older and say it was for our hope chest.” Taking a bite of muffin, you gave him a sad smile, “Mine’s more of a ‘hopeless’ chest,’ though. I guess they finally gave up on me getting married because they gave it to me when they sold their house and moved closer to the grandkids. I figured I’d get it out and use it instead of having it sit in the cardboard boxes it’s been in for over two decades.” Something passed over Bradley’s face but disappeared in an instant. Wanting to change the subject, you asked, “What do you usually do for Thanksgiving?”

“Nothing. It’s just another Thursday.” When you frowned, he lifted a shoulder. “A couple of times, I went to the Officer’s Club, or someone would invite me over. But most of the time, I just make myself a turkey sandwich and catch up on sleep. What about you?”

“If I’m not with my family, then this. When I first commissioned, I went to the O-Club with some friends but missed cooking and hanging out. And you know how hard it is to go home for the holidays.” He nodded even though he didn’t. Bradley never asked for the time off unless he was dating someone who insisted on it. With no family to visit, he was happy to volunteer when there was reduced manning and allow others to take leave. “So I invited a couple of people from my squad over, and that was that.”

“It’s a lot of work.”

“It is,” you agreed. “But it’s worth it.” Bradley’s fingers curled around his plate and in his sweatpants, his chest expanding as he took a deep breath. When he shifted forward, you quickly stood and reached out your hand for his empty plate. “Do you want another one?” Shaking his head, he stood and took your plate.

“Do you?” Swallowing hard, you shook your head and watched him walk back into the kitchen. Biting back a groan, you gave yourself a moment to collect yourself. Things had been…different… since you’d gotten home. And as much as you enjoyed these quiet moments alone with Bradley, it also stung. You’d thought the time away would help, but as soon as you were back, it was like no time had passed. He was still there, partnering for foosball in the Ready Room and coaxing you to go to the Hard Deck. Making sure that you sat next to him in briefings. Offering to look at your car when it made a noise.

Friends. That’s what friends do for each other. After all, he did the same for Nat.

Collecting the empty coffee mugs, you followed him to the kitchen and watched as Bradley cleaned up the mess and set it in the sink. “Don’t feel like you have to stick around, Rooster. I can handle getting everything ready.”

“I’m happy to help if you want me here. I’d just sit at my house watching TV and wait to come back if I went home.”

Chewing the inside of your lip, you bit back a wave of want. “Don’t think this gets you out of the dress code,” you replied, forcing your voice to be cool while allowing your eyes to run the length of him. “I’m serious - slacks and button-downs, not sweats.”

Laughing, he snapped a salute. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll make sure I run home and change to pass your inspection.”

The rest of the morning was a blur, punctuated by moments of stark clarity.

Bradley’s hands on your waist as you climbed down the attic stairs.

Biceps flexing as he carried your Christmas tree to a spare bedroom to set up tomorrow.

His elbow bumping yours as he dried the china and set it aside.

The look of concentration on his face when he basted and injected the turkey again.

His body passing close to yours as he emptied the dishwasher and you assembled dishes.

Just after noon, he went home to get ready while you showered. People were due to arrive around 1:30 PM, and you were back on schedule with your unexpected assistant.

Sooner than you expected, there was a knock at the door. Groaning, you capped your mascara, shimmied into your black sheath cocktail dress, and went to answer it. Bradley stood on the porch, having changed into a pair of slacks and one of his nicer Hawaiian shirts, hands in his pockets. Folded over his arm was a coat, and he grinned at you when he caught you looking at it. “Wasn’t sure if I would pass inspection without a sports coat,” he chuckled, allowing his gaze to rake over you. A flush rose on your cheeks as you reached behind yourself to pull up the dress zipper. It caught just above the top of your thong. “You look… you’re fine.” Chuckling, he shook his head.

“Turn around, Duch.” After a beat, you stepped back to allow him inside and did as he said.

“There’s a hook and eye at the top,” you said and inhaled sharply when you felt his fingers brush the back of your neck. The smell of his cologne enveloped you, and you bit back a moan when his hand moved to your lower back and tugged the zipper up. After a beat, you turned to face him and were surprised by how close he was. His mouth curved into a smile as he looked down at you, hand resting on your waist.

“You look fine, too,” he said softly. Your hands itched to move to his chest. Bradley’s eyes drifted to your lips, and your breath caught as his fingers flexed around you. If asked, you would have sworn you felt the lightest pressure pulling you closer - but then someone knocked on the door. Stepping out of his hold, you smoothed your hair down and ignored the brief moment his hands hung in suspension before being shoved back into his pockets.

“I came early to see if you needed a hand,” Phoenix said when you opened the door. In her hands was a tray, and she’d also chosen a cocktail dress for the occasion. Her normally tied-back hair was loose around her shoulders.

“Hey,” you smiled, hoping that you weren’t blushing. Nat’s eyes shifted over your shoulders and narrowed slightly.

“What are you doing here?”

“Same as you - seeing of Duch needed help.”

“He’s been here all morning,” you blurted out, flushing when both sets of eyes landed on you. “He’s taking care of the turkey.”

“The guy who hates cooking is in charge of the main dish?” Nat smirked. “Probably would have been better letting Hangman fry it.”

“He’s being supervised,” you assured, glancing over your shoulder to see him rolling his eyes. Stepping back to let Nat into the house, you accidentally bumped into Bradley, who held your hips to steady you. Quickly moving away from his touch, you took the tray from her and motioned for them to follow you into the kitchen. “I haven’t had a chance to put any drinks out, but there’s some coffee left and wine chilling. I still need to make the cocktails, but there’s also soda and flavored water.” The two followed you, exchanging a look that you missed.

As soon as he entered the kitchen, Bradley tossed his coat onto the wet bar and moved to the oven, flipping on the light to check the turkey before glancing at his watch. “I need to do the last basting, right?”

“It’s about that time,” you agreed, glancing at the clock. Digging through a drawer, you pulled out an apron and put it on, crossing the strings behind your back before tying them in a bow across your stomach. You thought you heard a murmured ‘Jesus Christ’ when you turned around to see him holding the pot holders.

You could feel Nat watching as you worked together to remove the turkey and then return it to the oven, popping olives into her mouth and smirking. “Looks like you guys have it down,” she said. “Don’t need my help at all.”

“Nope,” Bradley said, drowning out your, “You can feel free to relax.”

“Might as well do something since I’m here,” she shrugged, pushing off her elbows. “What can I do?”

And so, with a third set of hands, you set them to making large batches of seasonal cocktails while you cut the bread you’d made that morning, covering it with slices of brie and dried cranberries before drizzling it with honey. A quick scroll through your schedule gave you the times to start cooking, and you preheated the second oven.

The house slowly filled as more of the squad arrived. Countertops were quickly covered with their contributions - thankfully, more than beer and wine, and only a few sides repeated - and you mentally shifted your schedule to accommodate the additional dishes.

Mav, Penny, and Amelia were the last to arrive, with her new bartender, Georgia, in tow. Penny had asked you if she could invite her, given that the woman was new to the area and didn’t have anywhere else to spend the holiday. You’d replied with, “The more, the merrier,” just like you had for everyone else’s requests to bring a guest.

But you regretted that sentiment when you saw how she zeroed in on Bradley, staying close to him while you worked in the kitchen. The few times you broke away to mingle - showing off your renovated home, making sure that everyone’s glasses were topped off and that they didn’t need anything - you saw her hanging off his arm, giving him a simpering smile that set your teeth on edge. And, while she’d adhered to the dress code, you weren’t exactly thrilled to see that her breasts were nearly spilling out of her low-cut dress.

“You need anything, Duchess?” Payback asked, setting down the pitcher of spiced ginger pear and bourbon.

“I’m good,” you replied, wiping your hands on the dish rag thrown over your shoulder and blowing a loose strand of hair from your face. “Turkey should be done in a few minutes; once it rests, we can eat.”

“Thanks for doing this,” he said, glancing over at your full house. Aviators were sprawled across your living room and spilled out into the backyard. It was exactly what you’d hoped for when redesigning the house - plenty of space to comfortably entertain.

“I’m happy to, Payback,” you smiled, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. “Beats having a quiet house for the holidays.”

“Want me to get the turkey out for you?”

“I’ve got it covered,” a voice said behind you, and you couldn’t help but wonder about Bradley's slightly sharp tone as you pulled away from the hug.

“Got it,” Payback replied, raising an eyebrow and lifting his hands. “Let me know if you need anything, Duch.” Squaring your shoulders, you turned to face the man behind you and forced a smile.

“I’ll clear off a spot on the stove for you to put the pan, and then we’ll let it sit for half an hour.”

“Then it’ll be done?”

“Then you’ll have officially made your first turkey,” you nodded. When the timer went off, Bradley quickly pulled the bird from the oven and set it on the stove, closely inspecting his work.

“Does it look right?”

“Yes, relax.”

“Did you make it?” a smokey voice asked, and you felt your shoulders rise. Glancing at Georgia, you saw Bradley’s eyes dart between you.

“He did,” you answered, smiling at the woman.

“I just followed her directions,” he replied.

“It looks great!” Georgia giggled. Forcing a smile, you undid the apron strings and pulled it off before excusing yourself. You could feel eyes on you as you walked down the hallway to your bedroom and shut the door, retreating to your en suite.

After washing your hands for the millionth time, you quickly applied lotion while examining your appearance in the mirror. Compared to Georgia, you looked matronly with your hair pulled back and a higher neckline. Sure, your dress was classy - somewhat tight and falling just above your knees - but not attention-grabbing.

Not that you were trying to grab anyone’s attention.

A knock on your bedroom door startled you, and you peeked out to call, “Who is it?”

“Rooster.” Glancing back in the mirror, you saw your cheeks were slightly pink and scowled at your reflection.

“Get it together,” you hissed before turning off the light and going to open the door. And there he was, smiling down at you.

“Your phone was going off,” he said, holding up your cell. When your eyes flitted toward it, the device unlocked to show your family group chat was going off. Taking it from him, you swiped up to see videos and pictures. A smile crept onto your mouth as you clicked the first and heard your older sister’s voice.

“Guess what?” she said before tossing a card down and throwing her hands up. Cheers and laughs broke out, and you could hear your nephew complaining as your grandmother said, “Looks like Mom won!”

The camera panned to show your other nephew licking whipped cream off his pie, utterly unfazed by the family now pounding on the table in a drumroll. Catching Bradley’s interested expression, you moved so he could see the screen. Scrolling through the other videos, you watched your mom roll down a hill with the boys and your dad holding a glass of wine with your brother-in-law. The sight made your heart clench, and you sighed. Being away from family on the holidays was the worst. Thankfully, they all understood that your job didn’t always give you the flexibility to be with them.

“Looks like a fun group.”

“They are. I’m glad I get to spend Christmas with them.” He nodded, a flicker of sadness and something else in his eyes. “What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Mav’s already told me I’m spending it with him and Penny.”

“Sounds like fun.” You knew a complicated dynamic existed there but didn’t want to pry. His shoulder lifted, eyes drifting to your now dark phone. And that’s when you recognized the look on his face - longing. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” When he saw your unconvinced expression, he sighed. “Holidays kind of suck when you don’t have family.”

“I’m sorry, Bradley.” Something in his expression changed when you said his name and reached out to touch his arm. His eyes darted from your hand to your face, and you quickly pulled away. But he was faster, catching your fingers and holding tightly. Your breath caught with the intensity of his gaze, and he stepped into your room. His breath was warm on your face when you refused to retreat. Lifting your chin, you saw his throat bob when he swallowed.

“Hey, there’s a timer going off,” Bob called down the hall.

“Be right there,” you yelled back, pushing lightly against Bradley’s chest and forcing space between you. But when you tried to shake off his hand, he held fast. “I need to go, or something will burn,” you breathed. Reluctantly, he nodded and released you.

You’d already removed the green bean casserole and macaroni and cheese from the oven when Bradley reappeared. Unsurprisingly, Georgia glued herself to his side as he sipped his drink. Though you could feel him looking at you, you refused to meet his gaze.

When everything was ready, you looked over your kitchen and nodded approvingly. When the guys offered to carve the turkey, you turned them all down and delegated that task to Bradley. “He earned it,” you said, glancing at him before busying yourself with opening another bottle of wine. With Coyote and Fanboy at his elbows critiquing his cuts, you steered clear of that part of the kitchen and chatted with Penny while pulling out silverware.

Hangman refused to let you go around the room and tell people that food was ready, instead pulling out a chair and helping you stand on it before whistling loudly to get everyone’s attention. “Dinner’s served!” you said, placing a hand on his shoulder, his arm around your hips to keep you steady. “Thank you for bringing something, and please help yourself. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone - I’m glad I get to spend it with you.” Lifting your wine glass, you took a quick sip and laughed when Hangman lifted you off the chair to set you back on the floor.

Choosing to wait until your guests had a plate, you leaned against the wet bar and smiled tiredly, watching your hard work be devoured. There weren’t enough chairs for everyone at the table, so the group spread into the living room. You took a few pictures and sent them to your family.

Someone stepped in front of you, pulling your attention from your phone. “You’re not gonna eat?” Bradley asked.

“Just waiting for the line to clear,” you replied, forcing a nonchalant tone. The corner of his mouth twitched as he shook his head.

“Come on, Duch.” His fingers curled around yours, drawing you from the counter and into the line. Grabbing one of the smaller salad plates, you let him push you in front of him, taking small amounts of almost every dish while he served himself larger portions. After topping up your wine, you walked to the living room and felt him behind you, ignoring Georgia's attempt to get his attention. He motioned for you to take the last spot on the couch and sat on the floor. “Jesus,” he moaned after taking the first bite of turkey.

“Mmmm,” you agreed. “You did a good job.”

“Who would have thought the guy who made the barracks evacuate after he burned ramen would make a good turkey,” Nat smirked. Bradley flipped her off, unable to keep the proud grin off his face.

Dessert was eaten, and the last bottle of wine finished before 7:00 PM. The house felt quiet as it slowly emptied, and you hugged everyone goodbye. Already, tentative plans for a Christmas party formed even as you fought off a yawn. After assuring Penny that you were fine cleaning up, she left with Mav and Amelia in tow.

Which left only Bradley.

The sound of running water drew you back into the kitchen, and you paused in the doorway at the sight of him rinsing silverware and loading the dishwasher, a hand towel thrown over his shoulder. “I can take care of that,” you said quickly. Bradley glanced at you and shook his head.

“Relax, I’ve got it. Can the plates go in here, or do they need to be hand-washed?”

“They can go in there.” Ignoring the order, you walked around the house, picked up empty glasses and forgotten dishes, and set them by the sink. Donning your apron, you surveyed the leftovers, “Did you want any of this?”

“Yeah, I’ll take a plate.” Nodding, you started to put the food away. Thankfully, there wasn’t a lot left. Everyone had been happy to take leftovers, and you were glad you’d had the forethought to buy containers for them to keep.

The silence was comfortable, and you were stifling yawns with the back of your hand. Between the turkey, wine, and lack of sleep the night before, you were ready to change back into comfy clothes and pass out. Without prompting, Bradley started to cut up what was left of the turkey, placing some in the containers you’d portioned for him before putting the rest in the fridge. You started the dishwasher when it was full and wiped down counters. After tossing the rest of the turkey, he took the trash out.

When the door swung shut, you took the opportunity to stretch, moaning when your back popped before bending at the waist and letting your arms dangle. As much as you enjoyed hosting, your body took a beating, being on your feet all day. You would definitely need to invest in some mats to make the kitchen floor more comfortable before your next full day of cooking.

Even when the door opened, you felt too good stretching to stand up straight. You heard Bradley chuckle and then the sound of water running, followed by the snap of a trashbag being shaken out. Finally, you stood and threw out a hand to steady yourself when the world spun. Hands wrapped around your hips and drew you closer. “You okay, honey?”

The term of endearment caught you off-guard and had clearly slipped out by the flush on Bradley’s cheeks. “Honey?” you echoed, quirking a brow.

“Duchess,” he corrected.

“Rooster.” Your hands rested on his forearms, feeling the muscles flex as his fingers clenched around your hips. Taking a deep breath, you felt your chest brush his. His lips quirked into a wry smile. “What?”

“Just waiting for something to interrupt.” At your questioning look, he chuckled. “Been trying to kiss you all day, and something always gets in the way.”

“What?” you breathed, shock written across your face.

“Been thinkin’ about kissing you since that night at the Hard Deck, actually.”

“T-the Hard Deck?”

“Yup. Before you deployed.” Heat rushed to your face at the memory - or lack thereof - of your going away party. There had been one too many shots, and you had a vague recollection of Bradley driving the Bronco. Of him telling you not to throw up while he helped Nat into her apartment before taking you home. Half carrying you to bed and making sure you had water and medicine - warm hands on your face and a raspy laugh.

“When I was drunk?”

“When you told me you liked me.” Mortified, you felt a sudden flush of heat and tried to pull away, but he held firm. “But that you didn’t think I was a relationship guy.”

“Roo - ”

“I am. A relationship guy,” he clarified, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “For the right woman.” Your mouth was dry, unable to force out a single word. “I was gonna say something before you left, but you avoided me. And then you were gone for three months.”

“I… you messaged me.”

“Wasn’t exactly something I wanted to say over email,” Bradley chuckled. “I like you too.”

“What about Georgia?”

That drew him up short, and a confused look crossed his face. “The bartender?”

“Yeah. She… I mean, she’s clearly interested. And more your type.” Groaning, he leaned down to rest his forehead on yours.

“Honey, I’m not interested in her. And she’s not… ask Nat. She’s been on my case about my” - he lifted a hand to make air quotes - “‘hoe phase’ since I got out here.” That drew a snort from you, and Bradley pulled away to smile at you bashfully. “Gimme a chance, Duch.”

Hesitating a moment, you took another deep breath and gave the butterflies in your stomach free rein. Hands shaking, you wrapped your arms around his neck and nodded, unable to keep from matching his smile.

Moving slowly, as though afraid to spook you, Bradley leaned down and brushed his nose to yours. “As much as this is doin’ things for me,” he said softly, pulling at the apron strings tied at your stomach, “I think we’re done in the kitchen tonight.” Biting your lip, you could only nod, leaning away as he tugged it over your head, balled the apron up, and tossed it behind you. With his hands back on your hips, he walked you backward and lifted you onto the counter, stepping between your knees. “This alright?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, allowing yourself to reach out and run a hand through his curls. Bradley's eyes closed when you lightly scratched his scalp, and he swayed closer. His breath ghosted over your lips and -

“Fucking Christ,” he groaned when his phone started to buzz. You jumped, feeling the vibration against your shin, and laughed as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck. Your breath caught, feeling his lips on your throat. When he reached into his pocket and scowled down at the screen, you saw Nat’s name before he sent the call to voicemail.

Leaving the phone on the counter, he smirked and guided your legs around his waist as your arms went around his neck. His hands cupped your ass as he lifted you. In the doorway to the kitchen, he paused long enough for you to slap the walls until the lights turned off before walking toward the couch and lowering himself onto it. Your knees dug into the cushion on either side of him, forcing the hem of your dress higher.

From this angle, he had to look up at you. Hands migrated from your ass to thighs, callouses lightly scraping and fingertips darting under the fabric to trace shapes on your skin and drag the hem higher. Lightly, you ran your thumb along the scars on his chin before ghosting over the ones on his cheek that had always intrigued you. A moan rumbled from his throat as he followed your touch, mustache tickling the delicate skin of your wrist. Blushing, you wondered how it would feel on your inner thighs. He chuckled, kissing your cheek, “What’re you thinking that’s got you red?”

Rather than answer, you turned and kissed him - just a light brush of your lips against his that seemed to catch him off-guard. You stared at one another for a long moment until he guided you closer. His mustache prickled, not unpleasantly but different, when he kissed you again. It was sweet and unhurried, a direct contradiction to the hardness you felt straining against his zipper.

Pulling away, you smiled tentatively down at him, seeing the remnants of your lipstick on his mouth. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and you leaned forward to press your lips to them. “Hi,” you said softly.

“Hey.”

“You like me?”

“Yeah. You like me?”

Rather than reply, you captured his lips again. “Drunk words,” you said between kisses, “are sober thoughts.” He barked a laugh before tugging you closer and licking into your mouth.

“Shoulda said something earlier,” he chided, gripping your ass tightly. “Coulda been doing this for a long time.”

“Blame the tequila.” The word came out as a moan when he trailed kisses down your neck, and you felt him smile.

“Thank god for tequila,” he mumbled, nuzzling your breasts and making you grind down on him. Bradley caught your hands when your fingers trailed down his chest to tug at his shirt. “Nuh-uh, honey. Gonna take you on a couple of dates before we get to that.”

“What?”

“No more ‘hoe phase.’”

“Maybe just one more night?” That made him laugh again as he shook his head.

“No, Duch. Wanna do this right with you.”

“I’ve heard the stories. I know you would.” When you rocked against him, he pinned your hand at your lower back and stilled you with a hand on your hip. He growled your name and smirked when your thighs clenched.

“Liked that, huh?” he teased. “Ms. Prim and Proper Duchess likes to be bossed around?” Heat flooded your face, and he chuckled again. Without warning, he stood, and you squeaked, trying to keep from falling. But he held you steady and set you on your feet, towering over you. “Can I stay over?” You didn’t hesitate in nodding, and his kiss was rough before he pulled away and swatted your ass. “Go get ready for bed while I lock up.”

When you emerged from the bathroom, face cleaned and in your panties and a tank top, Bradley was lying in the middle of your bed in just his boxers. Groaning, he looked at you and shook his head. “Where are those sweats from this morning?”

“You want me to wear sweats to bed?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe and raising an eyebrow. His hand drifted down to his hard cock, squeezing lightly. “You’ve seen me in less at the beach.”

“Trying to do this right, honey.” Rolling your eyes, you walked to your dresser and pulled on sweatpants before digging out a pair of fuzzy socks. He laughed when you tossed them at his head, setting them aside as you circled the bed to lie beside him. Quickly, he pinned you beneath him, settling in the cradle of your thighs. As he licked into your mouth, you felt his hips rolling against yours. “Still too damn sexy,” he murmured against your lips.

“Housewife lingerie does it for you?” you teased, running your hands through his hair. Rather than answer, he looped an arm under your knee and drew it up, allowing you to feel him better. “Fuck.”

“Not tonight.”

And, unfortunately, he was true to his word. Anytime your hands strayed to his boxers, he pinned them over your head, seemingly content to tease and kiss all night.

Eventually, though, you could no longer keep from yawning. After setting his alarm - Bradley was on duty in the morning while you’d taken the day off - he tucked you against him, your back to his chest. His cock pressed against your ass as he kissed your shoulder, hand slipping under your shirt to brush the underside of your breast. Sighing, he murmered, “Best Thanksgiving I’ve had in a long time.”

You couldn’t help but agree.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note: Do I think that Bradley has a raging domesticity kink? Possibly.

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sunnie-angel · 1 month ago

Text

A Fever You Can't Sweat Out

Part 5: Homecoming

fem!jason todd x fem!reader summary: jay's finally home and she's got some promises to keep tags: somnophilia, oral sex, fingering, biting, strapping, resolved sexual tension rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.5k a/n: so this is the last of my pre-written chapters. i'm putting this series on temporary hiatus, but there is an outline for the second half i just have to actually sit down and finish writing it.

part 4 | series masterlist

The sound of the key in the front door has you tripping in your haste to get off the couch. You come careening around the corner just in time to watch Jay drop her duffle bag on the welcome mat with a thud before you’re on her. She catches you one handed, arm a crushing bar around your lower back. Jay honest to god dips you, spins you around until you’re on your toes and dips you into a kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. Her hair is a wild mess where it drapes around your face. Breathless she spins you upright, pulls back and rests her forehead against yours.

“Miss me?” she teases and it’s all you can do not to burst into tears now that she’s finally home. “Hey, hey, none of that now,” she murmurs pulling you close. “Thought my baby girl’d be happy I’m back.”

“I am! I am, just missed you s’all,” you reassure her, hands tangling in the fabric of her t-shirt. Tentatively you rise back up on your tiptoes to kiss her when the most awful growling noise erupts from her tummy. You giggle until your sides hurt, her face going from embarrassed to sheepish in the span of seconds.

“Was in a rush to get home,” she says, colour dusting her cheeks.

“Go shower Miss Saved the World,” you tell her, then press a quick kiss to her lips. “Got some leftover rice from dinner, pretty sure I can whip you up something quick.”

“Sorry,” Jay says, dropping a grateful kiss to your forehead before dragging her bag with her to the washing up area.

It’s easy to simmer the eggs and chicken together, the sounds of the pipes running hot water coming from the bathroom. With a start you realize you’re humming, mirin and soy sauce getting added to the beat of the song. Warmth bubbles up in your throat as you hear the water turn off, the sounds of Jay puttering around finally filling the apartment again. A waft of steam escapes from the bathroom door just as you turn off the heat on your pan. The barstool’s legs scrape the linoleum as it gets pulled back in tandem with you carefully pouring out the mixture on top of the rice. Proud of your efforts, you place the bowl on the counter in front of her with a flourish. She catches your hand and presses a soft kiss to your warm palm, her gaze a mixture of grateful and tender.

“Wait! Wait!” you interrupt her before she can dig in. You turn around and start rooting through the freezer. “Knew I forgot something– aha!” Triumphant you pull out a baggie of frozen chopped green onion and sprinkle it across her bowl. “Okay now you can eat.”

With a fond huff she tucks in, eyes dropping closed at the first bite. A final weight lifts off of your chest as she suddenly goes ravenous, attacking her makeshift dinner with the feral attitude of someone that hasn’t eaten well in a while. Jay lets you hold her hand as she eats, bears your careful inspection of her knuckles with their fading bruises without a word but tightens her hold on your fingers whenever you try to let go. Sighing heavily, she leans back full and sated.

“You treat me too well,” she says, stomach warm and full.

“Nah, just the way you deserve,” you reply honestly. Still keeping hold of her hand, you hug her from behind, burying your face in her damp hair. It didn’t smell right when you stole some of her shampoo while she was gone, something essentially Jay missing from it. It smells like her now and you breath it in.

“Said a lot of things about how I was gonna treat you,” she murmurs, lax in your arms and eyes still closed.

“Later,” you tell her. “Right now you’re more likely to fall asleep face first in my pussy and I don’t need that blow to my ego.” You card your fingers through her hair and feel her shake with laughter.

“Probably,” she admits.

“Go sleep it off and just let me enjoy having you home for a bit. Go!” you urge her and finally she listens. Plants a kiss to your cheek before stumbling off to the darkened bedroom. It doesn’t take long to clean up, mostly putting things to soak in the sink for you to deal with in the morning. By the time you make it to the bedroom, Jay’s already fast asleep. With a smile, your curl up behind, arm looping around her waist to keep her close. You’re not letting her out of your sight anytime soon.

The dream is warm. A kaleidoscope of memory folding together. Jay holding you close, Jay kissing down your chest, Jay looking up at you from between your thighs like some dangerous creature just breaking the surface of the water. She kisses your inner thighs like she did on that rainy day two months ago. Pets and blows on your mound the same way she did last spring. Parts your folds with eager fingers to nibble at your clit like she did right before the first time she fucked you. You breath out a heavy sigh, plaintive as she starts to build up a rhythm. Dreams of Jay are always welcome – frequent now that she’s not here to help you relive those memories – even if you always wake with a cry and the feeling of clenching down around nothing.

This time, the dream feels even more real than usual. You can practically feel the heat of her breath on your cunt, the blunt shape of her nails as the drag along your skin. You grind your hips down, dig your heels into the mattress and toss your head side to side as you chase your pleasure, desperate to come before the dream ends and you’re left with your empty bed.

Something solid prods at your hole and you wake with a gasp, sleepy confusion making you slow and stupid as Jay curls a finger inside of you. She suckles on your clit and your back arches as the sensation lights you up.

“J-jay?” you call out, hands blindly searching for the back of her head between your legs. “You’re really home?” It comes out more vulnerable than you’d expected, voice hitching into a high pitched whine as she curls a second finger into you.

“Never leaving home again if my baby girl can’t tell the difference between me’n a dream,” she growls into your thigh before biting down, teeth sharp as she litters the skin with blooming marks. Thumb steady on your clit she keeps finger fucking you, slick dripping down her wrist. She finds the gummy part of your cunt she’s been hunting for, hooks her fingers in and pulls just as she latches onto your clit again. You come on her face with a squeal, head falling back as the electricity rips through you. She pats your thigh patronizingly.

“There she is, there’s my good girl.” She kisses her way up your trembling body, the burning warmth of her skin telling you she lost her pyjama shirt a long time ago. “Came for me so quickly, your cunt knows exactly who she belongs to, doesn’t she,” she coos at you, a hand reaching out to tweak at your breast. Reflexively your body arches up into her and she grins. “But I made a promise, didn’t I? Said I was gonna make you scream.” Jay rolls her hips against you and you can feel the hard, cool tip of her strap notch at your entrance. “Scream for me, okay baby girl?”

The strap slides home in one long thrust that has your body pulled tight, head dropped back and slack jawed as she pries open your still sensitive cunt. Jay mouths at your throat, sucks a necklace of pretty marks as she slowly draws back and then slams back in. You keen as the textured length of the cock scrapes your insides, fat girth bigger than anything you’d let yourself take in her absence. All the tiredness has drained out of you, replace by something simmering in your blood. You can hear the wet sloppy sounds your cunt makes as she thrusts into you again, her hips hitting yours. She hooks a hand under your knee and readjusts the position of your hips before drilling back down into you.

You gurgle as she hits something you think might be your cervix, deeper than she’s ever been before. She’s carving a place for herself inside of your cunt, walls stretched thin around her. Your whole body jolts up the bed with every thrust and it’s all you can do hang on.

“Jay, Jay need it. Need more, please,” you beg her, her strap fucking you just right.

You claw at her back when her calloused fingers find your clit again, moaning loud and wanton as she picks up the pace. Pleasure bloating in your gut as sparks start to collect under her fingers, your cunt clenching. She leans down to kiss you and you can taste yourself raw on her tongue, still dripping with the leftovers of your first orgasm. Jay pinches your clit and you come with a scream, whole body spasming under her as she fucks you through it. Your vision goes blurry and your thighs twitch around her hips but she keeps going.

“Don’t I always keep my promises?” she purrs, voice thick. “Keep you well fucked in my bed, my sweet girl?” Jay slows the roll of her hips to slow, filthy grinds. Threads both hands through yours and pins you to the bed with her full body, the vulnerability of the position making you gasp high in your throat. Knuzzles into your cheek with the tip of her nose. “Knew you’d wait for me.”

“Didn’t like you gone,” you whimper. “Missed you too much.”

“Missed you too,” she says, rests her forehead against yours. Lingers just out of reach to kiss you, shares your air, your greedy gasps. “Missed my little love.” Finally she givens and kisses you. “Couldn’t sleep without you.” She grinds her strap into you. “Couldn’t think without wonderin’ about you, ‘bout that picture.” Jay kisses the corner of your mouth as you pant at her hips undulating. “Wanted you chatterin’ in my ear ‘stead of the others. Fillin’ up the room with laugher.” You squeeze her hands, her damp hair tickling the sides of your face.

“Don’t leave again,” you beg her.

“Love you too much to let you outta my sight,” she reassures you.

“You– you love me?” you repeat back in wonder, heat rising in your cheeks. She stops moving and you mewl at the loss.

“I– what? I’m literally balls deep in you at 4 in the morning and you want to know if I love you?” She asks. You try to hide your face in the pillows but she won’t have any of it.

“You’ve never said it before,” you tell her shyly.

“Yes, baby girl, I love you. I’ve loved you since the minute I walked into that bar and saw you sittin’ there all doe eyed. Happy?” she says exasperatedly, punctating her last word with a filthy grind that has your clit throbbing. You grin and bury your face in her shoulder. Her words put to rest an annoying little part of your mind that hadn’t been able to put the what if aside since the moment she left.

“Love you Jay,” you mumble into her skin.

“What’s that?” She says, pretending not to hear you. “Gonna need you to speak up a bit.”

“Love you love youloveyouloveyou,” you slur as she fucks you until you’re keening, words warm and true. Her brows scrunch up the way they do when she’s close, mouth dropping open as she works the both of you closer to the edge. Your third orgasm rolls over you, takes you by surprise and washes you clean as you tremble and shake under the weight of Jay’s solid body. She kisses you, soft nips that have you chasing after the comfort of her mouth.

“Such a good girl for me, my little love,” Jay coos into your hair.

The alarm doesn’t wake you up in the morning. It’s the kettle, the one Jay insists makes the best tea because it boils the water right on the stovetop, the one she always forgets is loud enough to reach the bedroom if the door isn’t shut fully, that wakes you with it’s rattling whistle. There’s a book face down on the pillow besides you, the cracked spine softly touched by sunlight. With a sigh you roll back over and close your eyes, still hopeful the last of your tiredness is still enough to pull you back under for a few more minutes before your alarm goes off and you have to drag yourself out of bed and off to work. Wait.

With a shriek you try and rush out of bed, uncoordinated, sore limbs only tangling you up in the blankets and almost causing you to faceplant onto the carpet. Your elbow stings with the slight friction of the rugburn buts its going to be nothing compared to showing up to work 4 hours late if the wall clock is right. Whatever dignified noise you made must have been louder than the teakettle because suddenly Jay’s there to help you up.

“Hey, hey what’s all this then? Miss me that much?” she jokes and you scowl. You can’t afford to get your asshole of a manager any more on your case than he already is.

“I was supposed to be at work 4 hours ago,” you seethe, still not quite angry enough to pull back from her touch after so long. “Did you turn off my alarm?!”

“Yup,” she says unapologetically. Before you can storm off to the bathroom, she wraps you up in her arms even as you hiss and scowl. “Aaaand I also called in and said you were taking the day off because your fiance was back from deployment.”

“I— bu- what?” you sputter. Jay just presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“Real piece of work that manager, said if it was for one of our brave boys then you could take tomorrow off too,” she hums.

“You told my dick of a boss with his Top Gun hard on that my fiance – who does not exist – is back from a deployment – that didn’t happen – and he just gave me two days off without any notice,” you spell out slowly, still trying to figure out at what point you had slipped into a different universe.

“Well there might have been a little—” she pitches up into a tearful voice “—we didn’t know if Richard was going to make it, but he’s alive and asking for her.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” you tell her, rolling your eyes affectionately at her.

“Yeah, ridiculously in love with you,” she says semi-seriously. She plants a kiss to the top of your head. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you tell her and savour the warmth of finally having her home.

#jason todd x reader #fem!jason todd #fem!jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x reader #fem!red hood #sunnie writes 🌻#a fever you can't sweat out series

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sweetiesicheng · 4 months ago

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san - smartie

word count : 844

you hear someone knock on the door and get up from the table in your apartment. you go to the door and look through the peephole to see your boyfriend standing outside. you unlock the door and open it.

"hey," you smile and kiss him before letting him inside.

san just grumbles and goes straight for the table. he sits down and immediately thumps his head against the table.

you grin while closing and locking the door. you go over to san and tap his shoulder. "take your backpack off," you say to him. he moves his arms, and you help him take his backpack off, leaving it on the floor. "you okay?" you ask him and sit down next to him.

"just got out of office hours..." san says to you, sounding defeated.

"with who?" you ask.

"my math professor," he mentions and sits up. "i'm failing, but he offered to let me retake some stuff for some credit."

"why are you taking a math class when you're a dance major?" you question your boyfriend.

"baby, i've told you plenty of times that it's required. you've literally looked at all of the classes i have to take," san replies. "can you please help me out? i'll make you dinner."

"you owe me more than dinner," you say to him. "alright, take your stuff out. i'll help you."

you push your things out of the way besides your tablet while san takes out everything he needs. san sets up everything while you look over his shoulder.

"gosh, babe. that's a lot of stuff," you sigh. "i'm going to cook rice first," you say to him. "figure out where we're starting, okay?" you say to him.

"got it," san replies and manages to find the syllabus for the class in the midst of the pages of his notebook.

you go into the kitchen and rinse the rice a few times before turning the rice cooker on. once you're done, you open the fridge and grab an energy drink that san likes to drink. you return to the table and find san already looking confused.

"you look confused," you say to him and put the energy drink on the table. you sit down next to him and look at what he's trying to work on.

"i am confused," san says to you. "this looks nothing like the problems we did here," he says and points to his notebook and the quiz paper.

"okay, let me look," you say to him and lean over. "so for this first one, it looks like you didn't use the right formula," you say and look at his notebook. "wait a minute..." you open the notes app you use for your classes and look through some old notes. you finally find the one you're looking for and show san. "babe, you didn't write the formula right," you inform him.

"huh?"

"see? you forgot this," you say, pointing on your tablet's screen.

san groans, "i probably wrote everything wrong then..." he says to you. "hang on, i'm going to go through the powerpoints again," he says to you.

san starts to work diligently, trying to get at least one quiz done before the night ends. you start working on some assignments but move on to cook dinner for the two of you.

"if you are failing because you wrote the formulas wrong and memorized the wrong ones, i'm gonna call you an idiot for the rest of the year," you say to san.

your boyfriend just groans, "don't do this to me right now, baby..."

you giggle, "i'm sorry. i'm sorry."

"that doesn't sound genuine," he replies.

"can kisses make up for it?" you ask him and bring a bowl to the table. "eat."

san looks up at you, "what happened to me cooking dinner?"

you smile at him, "you haven’t cried for help yet, so i think you’re okay for now," you say to him and kiss his forehead before returning to the kitchen. you bring a bowl of food to the table for yourself and eat with san. "good?"

"mhm," he hums as he takes a break to eat. "really good."

when both of you are done eating, you check san's work that he has done for the first quiz. the paper is littered in red ink, and it's clear that san made many mistakes. however, his corrections in his notebook look correct as you look over his work.

"this one is wrong. you forgot the negative so the answer is wrong," you say to san and point to his mistake.

"oh, you're right," he replies. he takes the paper and adds a negative sign. he fixes the answer and hands his notebook back to you.

you look over his work again, making sure everything is right. "i think you're done with this quiz," you say to him.

"yes!" san cheers.

"now you have more to do!" you say to him, leaving him to groan again. "don't worry, smartie, you got this," you say and kiss his cheek.

"thanks baby."

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ziggyzolch · 9 months ago

Text

Your Prettiness is Seeping Through (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Summary: You and Wanda get sent to a mental hospital at the same time. Super huge trigger warning!!!! This story contains talk and descriptions of bulimia, eating disorders (reader) , suicide attempts, depression (Wanda) and mental illness in general. Please read at your own risk!! If you feel like any of these will trigger you, don't feel obligated to continue reading.

----------------------------------------------------

---------------where's your head at?---------------- ❅❅❅

Four times. Your mother caught you four times before she actually showed any concern.

The first time your mother caught you, she had called you disgusting. She threatened to tell your father, not out of worry but spite. She forgot.

You weren’t expecting her to be home so early, and that’s when she caught you the second time. The door to your room was open, which your mother took as an invitation. She stopped in her tracks, then slowly walked out, closing the door behind her, not without an awkward stare-off. She never brought it up.

The third time went about the same as the second.

Right now was the fourth, and this time she was accompanied by your father.

The position you were in was unbelievably compromising. You hadn’t even realized you blacked out until you were startled back into consciousness by your father barging into the bathroom. A gasp came from behind him, your mother peeking her head over his shoulder.

“Oh my god.” Your mother covers her mouth with her hand, your father staring at you blankly.

Crouched on the floor in your underwear, vomit covered tissues surrounded you, the stench of bile seeping from the toilet. “No, it’s,” You sluggishly push yourself off the floor, attempting to pick up the discarded tissues and wipe the vomit off the toilet seat, “Not what it looks like.”

Your mother pushes past your father, touching a sore spot on your forehead. Red coats the tip of her fingers when she pulls back her hand. That's when you notice the little blood pool on the floor, you must’ve hit your head when you fell.

In hindsight, you should have double checked the lock on the bathroom door.

“Please, leave.” You plead.

The worry in your mother’s eyes is nauseating. She had never shown this much care the other times. You figure the forehead injury is what pushed her over the edge, and the presence of your father.

“Clean up, we’ll talk about this tomorrow.” Your father gently places his hands on your mother’s shoulders, ushering her out.

You sighed, picking up the rest of the tissues you placed around the toilet to make cleaning up easier. Using up the entire toilet paper roll, you finish wiping the vomit off the toilet and go to the sink, cleaning up the saliva and vomit off your forearms and hands.

It’s been 3 years since you started. In all honesty, you had no idea why you resorted to bulimia. You had been losing weight fine, there was no reason to. It was after you got food poisoning that you realized how easy it was to reverse everything. Having an addictive personality didn’t help, and by the third day you were scrolling through forums and websites, trying to get worse.

Every girl you knew had some kind of disorder. It was a bond you and all of them shared. You couldn’t talk to the pretty girl about the various types and shades of lip gloss, but you could relate with her on how much you hated this one specific area of your body.

You couldn’t keep up with the STEM girls’ ramblings, but you found that all your mothers had called you fat.

You couldn’t offer any help to the digital artist when she complained about not finding the right brush to bring her idea to life, but you could offer each other weight loss advice.

You couldn’t relate to the girls’ boy obsessed conversations, but you could relate to how you could never be with someone that weighs less than you.

You couldn’t enjoy a plain rice cake for lunch with the skinny girls, but you could relate to wanting to get worse.

Vanity was a shared characteristic of every girl you knew. You’ve seen the fit soccer girl pull at her love handles, the STEM girl pull at her shirt and adjust her posture, the pretty girls sucking in when a mediocre boy passed by, and the skinny girl tearing up after getting weighed at the nurses office, and every girl that got weighed after her. If you could relate to one thing, it was that you all hated at least one part of your body.

So, nobody asked how you lost weight so fast. Nobody asked why your lips were cracked at the corners. You and your two best friends had all developed bulimia independently, which was crazy to you, but also encouraging. They would never report you and vice versa. You were each others fucked up kind of support system.

Right now, though, they weren’t there to reassure you that it’ll be fine.

'You’re not too skinny, your mom won’t find out, the marks on your knuckles aren’t too obvious.'

Right now it was all out in the open.

You were so fucked.

❅❅❅

On the other side of town, Wanda Maximoff was being made to throw up by her best friend. Her hand trembles as she shoves two fingers down Wanda’s throat. She had walked in on her half-conscious on the floor of her bathroom, an empty pill bottle held loosely in her hand. She gags when she feels the ridges, almost throwing up when she grazes her uvula. With one hand still down her friend’s throat, Natasha used her other to pull out her phone and call 911.

Wanda mumbles incoherently as Natasha ends the call and throws her phone to the side, sighing in relief when Wanda finally expels the contents of her stomach. Natasha had known how hard her brother’s death was for her, but she had never expected it to get this bad.

Pietro’s death was devastating for all of them, but they had to move forward. Natasha and Wanda threw themselves into their work, just like the rest of their team. Everybody was so preoccupied by their own missions, their own guilt and their own healing. A year had passed and everybody except Wanda seemed to have moved on. Natasha hated herself for not getting Wanda help sooner. She had seen the empty bottles of alcohol and discarded razor blades littered around Wanda’s room.

Wanda walked in on her cleaning up, face paling before she turned and left. Natasha hadn’t seen any more bottles or razors after that, and it was enough for her to think Wanda was doing better. That she got her wake-up call. She never brought it up, she never offered her any more help, she never asked. Natasha figured Wanda closing herself off even more afterwards was out of embarrassment.

Natasha had grown to be a kind of older sister figure to Wanda. She cared deeply for her and it scared her. After losing the closest thing she had to a little sister, the thought of losing another was terrifying. So, she didn’t get too close, she didn’t ask why Wanda never ate with the team anymore, she didn’t want to care.

Wanda throws up a little more before the paramedics arrive. Natasha looks back and forth between Wanda and the door, rushing to the door when the knocking becomes more insistent. “She’s back there.” She points towards the bathroom, guiding the paramedics to Wanda. Natasha finally gets a good look at her best friend as the paramedics carry her away.

She notices how thin she’s gotten when her gangly legs dangle as the paramedic carrying her rushes out. She notices how her nails had been chewed down to the nub as they placed her on the stretcher. Natasha notices how pale her face is as she enters the ambulance with Wanda. She can’t stand it.

She takes out her phone, texting the rest of the team and getting them up to speed. Everyone except Wanda and Natasha had been on a mission, Wanda must’ve thought she was alone. Natasha sighs, finally turning back to her friend. She grabs her hand and pushes down the nausea at how lifeless she looked. A napkin appears in her vision. She accepts the paramedic’s offer with a little smile, wiping the vomit off her fingers.

This was going to be a long ride.

❅❅❅

Next Chapter

A/N: This is just a prologue, and the story wont be so bleak after this chapter i promise. thank you for reading!

#marvel #marvel imagine #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #the scarlet witch #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch x reader #wlw #reader #x reader #sapphic #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #neutral milk hotel

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mixsethaddams · 2 years ago

Text

Steve was having a really bad day.

He forgot to pass on a message to a co-worker which, ok, wasn’t the end of the world exactly, but it made his insides squirm.

He forgot to write a list for his boss which, again, nothing that couldn’t be rectified, but it made his palms itch.

A customer yelled at him over something out of his control and he had to stand there and take it because what is retail if not the first circle of hell.

Steve sat in the break room and wished his coffee was hotter while he ran his hands through his hair.

“It’s just one of those days,” he told himself over and over. “It’ll be over soon,”

He wasn’t working the next day so he was counting down the very seconds until he could dart out the front door and not have to come back for a whole forty hours.

Things didn’t improve after he swallowed his lukewarm coffee and went back to his duties. Everything he said seemed to land wrong. Everything he did seemed to need redoing. It felt like his co-workers were annoyed with him even though he knew that realistically they had no reason to be. Steve’s jaw was sore from clenching it shut, trying not to burst into tears right there in the store and hold it together at least until he got to his car.

Even staying an extra fifteen minutes after he should have left to help someone finish a task they were struggling ended up being the wrong thing to do. Why did he stay? Had he clocked out? He should have. Did he not know that overtime needed to be approved a day in advance?

Steve let the feeling of the latest failure of the day wash over him as he grabbed his things and left after his shift.

Eddie wasn’t even going to be home when he got back. He was running a campaign for his D&D group which was being hosted in Gareth’s place a full fucking two hour’s drive away. Eddie was just going to be staying the night there and coming back tomorrow, instead of driving home when they finished. It made sense. It was going to be a ten-hour session and they didn’t even start until almost noon. It was just something that happened every other week and Steve usually enjoyed having a few hours to himself but today he would have killed to have his boyfriend waiting for him.

Steve’s lip wobbled while he drove. His eyes were misty and he was blinking rapidly to keep them clear. He was determined to get home before fully breaking down. He just wanted to order dinner, wrap himself up in every blanket he could find, and watch the latest episode of Married At First Sight. When he finally got back to their apartment, his phone pinged with a text from Eddie.

“Hope work was ok! I’ll call you before I go to sleep later? We’ve got about four hours left”

Steve sighed at the screen. Eddie always called him to say goodnight when he stayed at Gareth’s. Usually Steve loved it because Eddie would be a little bit drunk after having some post-session beers with his friend and they’d giggle together on a video call until Eddie’s eyelids drooped. Tonight though Steve wasn’t sure he could handle the reminder that he was alone when he wanted so badly to be held.

“Long day. Probably just crash soon as I’m home”

“You good?”

“Just tired. Hope you’re having fun :) “

Steve regretted the food he ordered for dinner. He wanted the orange chicken but for some reason he ordered sweet and sour pork. It wasn’t bad, it was fine, but the chicken was his favourite and it almost felt like a form of punishment for his bad day. So now Steve was crying uncontrollably over a container of rice. He felt so stupid but it was just one more thing that had gone wrong for him today. Crying at this point didn’t even feel cathartic. It just gave him a headache and made his throat dry.

He didn’t finish his food, and he didn’t watch TV. Steve dragged himself to his bedroom, leaving his clothes in a pile in front of the dresser he grabbed his sweatpants from, before he took a pill for his headache and fell, unshowered, into bed. It was still bright outside.

Steve felt the bed dip next to him. For the briefest moment a kind of raw panic gripped his chest and he was too scared to open his eyes. It wasn’t until he felt a familiar brush of fingertips over his temple, sweeping strands of hair out of his face, that he calmed down.

“Stevie?”

Eddie whispered it softly and Steve opened his eyes. The room was dark, but there was a navy blue hue, like the sun was only barely below the horizon, that meant Steve could still see Eddie’s outline.

“What time is it?” mumbled Steve.

“Almost nine,” said Eddie gently, still rubbing his hand through Steve’s hair.

Steve scrunched his nose. Nine? That wasn’t right? It wasn’t bright enough to be morning. He peered up at his alarm clock, still flashing the same date it had been when he closed his eyes before fitful sleep.

Steve sat up quickly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, panicked again. “Why are you here, what happened?”

Steve knew Eddie’s D&D sessions never cut short for anything less than a national emergency so he was instantly on high alert. Eddie driving all the way home was even more concerning. Steve gripped Eddie’s arms, he was still wearing his leather jacket. It was cold from being outside. He lifted the edges of the jacket as if he was checking to make sure Eddie was all in one piece.

“Nothing happened,” soothed Eddie. “We just finished up early,”

Steve was still looking over Eddie’s body like he was expecting to find a missing limb or something.

“What?” asked Steve, confused. “Why?”

Eddie shrugged.

“Wasn’t feeling the vibe,” he said easily. “I plugged the plug and said I needed to get home,”

“You never finish early,” said Steve. “And you never drive home. What happened?”

Eddie sighed.

“Why don’t you tell me?” asked Eddie gently, reaching up to cup Steve’s cheek.

Steve gulped.

“I don’t…” stuttered Steve. “Nothing, what do you mean?”

“Baby,” said Eddie firmly.

Steve chewed his lip to stop it trembling.

“I just had a bad day,” said Steve quietly. “You didn’t need… You could have stayed out there,”

Eddie gently pulled Steve forward, so he could rest his head in the crook of Eddie’s neck. Steve breathed in the well-known smell of cologne and cigarettes smoked outside. He practically melted into it.

“Thought this might be where I was needed more,” murmured Eddie, twisting around on the edge of the bed to allow Steve to relax more comfortably into his hiding place. “Looks like I was right, hmm?”

“Ruined your game though,” said Steve, muffled against the leather of Eddie’s jacket. “I just had a bad day,”

“It’s not ruined,” assured Eddie as Steve’s arms wrapped around his shoulders. “Knowing I left you here by yourself after a bad day is what would have ruined it,”

“I didn’t even say anything,” sighed Steve. Eddie was running a comforting hand over his back.

“You didn’t need to,” said Eddie. “Soon as you didn’t ask for a more solid time to expect me to call you, that’s when I knew,”

Steve sniffed back a tear.

“So dumb…” said Steve, frustrated almost more than ever with himself now. “I’m sorry, this is so fucking dumb,”

Eddie shushed him gently.

“No it’s not,” said Eddie, nuzzling into Steve’s hair. “Sometimes things creep up on you like this. It happens,”

“I wish it didn’t,” admitted Steve, pulling back to look at Eddie.

Eddie rested their foreheads together.

“I’m always here for when it does, though,” said Eddie softly.

Steve closed his eyes and let Eddie take him into another embrace, holding him tight for what could have been seconds or hours.

Steve didn’t remember when Eddie finally slipped his jacket off. He didn’t remember feeling him sliding into bed next to him, gathering him up and holding him as close as he could. Steve just remembered the feeling of Eddie heartbeat against his own chest, the sound of his breathing, his fingertips scratching gently against Steve’s scalp.

All Steve knew was feeling safe. Protected. Like one bad day was no longer drowning him because now, he remembered how to keep his head above water.

#steddie #my writing #seth writes #steve x eddie #why yes i did have a bad day and project it onto steve harrington

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koolades-world · 7 months ago

Note

Can you do the brothers accidentally spilling too much food into their bowls

So like a few examples are

Too much cereal into their milk

Too many oats into their yogurt

Too many fruits in their yogurt

Too many noodles in their soup

Too much eggs in their rice

Etc

And MC thinks they’re so fucking funny by going “I think you have some ___ in your ___”

Can we get their reaction to it

Please and thank you

hiii!! of course :)

this was completely written on mobile because im traveling so forgive any cases of autocorrect doing its job incorrectly. i forgot how hard it was to get tumblr mobile to cooperate in general 😭

enjoy <3

Mc commenting on the brothers spilling too much food into a bowl

Lucifer

of course this old man isn’t amused

he’ll give you one of his signature side glares

but he just assumes it’s some weird human thing and move on with his day

however, if you somehow get his brothers to start saying it too, it won’t go as well as it did for you for them

Mammon

he will be commenting about how you’re a stupid human

honestly, he’s more embarrassed than anything

why? he’s not sure but he hates that you pointed out his mistake haha

but you could do it over and over again, and he’d forgive you

Levi

he understands you!

as someone who’s chronically online, levi swears he’ll get you back one of these days

be careful because he’ll be ready when you least expect it

he may or may not make it so this will happen, how devious!

Satan

he’s just mostly confused

be prepared to get one of his side looks, not too unlike lucifer’s

(do not bring that up though, unless you want to make him very upset)

he’s just going to enjoy his food elsewhere, aka away from you haha

Asmo

he’s the only one to actually ask what that means

I mean, it’s not the words that confuse him

it’s everything else haha

if you teach him how to use it, he’ll start using it too, just let him know not to try it on lucifer

Beel

unbothered king

food is food after all, isn’t it?

he questions it a little, but nonetheless chows down

perhaps not the best brother to try that on haha

Belphie

the most “little shit” about it all haha

will straight up tell you to shut up and that he doesn’t care

(he does)

he’s a little butt-hurt about it so he scarfs down the food so you can’t point it out again

#obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me lucifer #obey me beel #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me belphie #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date #obey me! shall we date?

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chthonic-cassandra · 3 months ago

Note

hello my friend! currently rereading dracula, as you know, and wondered if you have any recs for where to start with criticism about the novel? 🖤

This question makes me so happy! <3

I am dreadfully out of date on this, but I can certainly give you places to start; these are not all necessarily recommendations for criticism I like (there's precious little of that), but more introductions to classic criticism in the field.

The classics

The Norton Critical Edition of Dracula (edited by Nina Auerbach and David J. Skal), alongside the Cambridge Companion to Dracula, are both good introductions which collect representative examples of some of the most popular scholarly strains of thought on the novel. When someone asks me to recommend an edition of Dracula to start with, I always suggest the Norton.

Leonard Wolf (who was not Virginia Woolf's husband, but who was one of Anne Rice's college professors) was one of the most important voices in the critical reevaluation of Dracula which started in the 1970's. I often disagree with him (so much so that I once wrote a fic about how much I disagree with him), but his annotated edition of Dracula was my first. His important works are A Dream of Dracula and Dracula: A Connoisseur's Guide. He (along with Radu Florescu and Raymond McNally) was an important early proponent of the "Dracula is Vlad Tepes" theory, which was hotly opposed by...

Elizabeth Miller, ornery grand dame of Dracula criticism. She is extremely invested in being the most reasonable and the least prone to flights of fancy of all the critics, which means she does often say useful things, but she's also a little boring. She's best known for Dracula: Sense and Nonsense, but it's more a litany of complaints than actually analysis. Her books in general have useful primary source stuff.

Once you get into analysis of Dracula reception and adaptions, then I can with a full heart recommend David J. Skal's Hollywood Gothic, full of delightful trivia, which was truly Skal's strength.

Recommendations I more stand by:

Donald Glover's Vampires, Mummies, and Liberals: Bram Stoker and the Politics of Popular Fiction is one of the very few works of Dracula criticism that I thought actually dealt in any kind of thoughtful way with the racial politics of the book.

Christy Desmet's essay on Ophelia, Ellen Terry, and Dracula, collected in Shakespearean Gothic, was excellent and I still think about it; the whole collection is very much worth reading.

Loved Ann-Louise Kibbie's Transfusion: Blood and Sympathy in the Nineteenth Century Literary Imagination, which isn't all about Dracula but obviously deals substantially with it.

As a teenager I had a lot of fun reading the uploaded issues of The Journal of Dracula Studies and sometimes fantasized about submitting something to them while concealing my age/lack of higher education to see what happened (I never did). I remember feeling very vindicated by Katharina Mewald's "The Emancipation of Mina?" but don't know how it would hold up now. I haven't kept up with the most recent issues (perhaps I will start!) but at a glance there seem to be some interesting things.

ETA forgot about Allison Case's Plotting Women: Gender and Narration in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century Novel! Good Mina material, comparing her with Marian in Woman in White.

#another important note about my copy of the leonard wolf annotated dracula is that's stained with my blood but that detail is going in tags #dracula #criticism #recs

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ladybyakuya · 6 months ago

Text

| BLIND + IZUMO HARUICHI.

+cw. — izumo haruichi x f!reader, coworker to lovers, oblivious pinning, flirting, confession, description of panic attack, claustrophobia & coping mechanisms, forced proximity, fluff, angst, character study, smut ( kissing ).

+wc. —3.1k ( shocker )

+syn.— last summer Izumo Haruichi came under your radar but this summer he has managed to get under your skin.

+notes. — part of ‘HELP WANTED’ mini server collab hosted by @interstellar-inn | redirect to blog navigation.

+tags. — @dear-koi @qichun @violet-turning-violet

The refectory of the office is oozing with ruckus this afternoon. It is not unusual but today it is just unbearable. The compartment plate in front of you is still filled with rice, curry, and salad as when you started eating your lunch. The line for the food is still alive; people are gossiping, taking food onto their plates, gossiping, taking spoons and forks, chopsticks— the sound of utensils clanking against each other one after another or sometimes all at once in sync is bugging you today. Your ears should be used to it by now after working for two years straight but it seems like a bother today. It is awfully loud in here. Everything is, even the heat.

Among this hustle and bustle, the only sound that bothers you the most is someone’s voice. It is faint to catch on from where you are sitting but the voice keeps coming to you in bits and pieces, like ebb and flow. Sometimes it is there and sometimes it is not. Sometimes your ears pick up on it but sometimes not and when it does not, your heart waits for it, even searches for the sound to reappear. And the heat is just making it worse. You can practically feel the beads of perspiration cascading through your cleavage as you search, waiting for the voice to turn up again. The air conditioner is on though, and the fans are working perfectly fine but with this kind of crowd, and heat in the dining place is at par with some blast furnaces.

“Well, I can take you there sometimes if you want,” Izumo states as one of the new interns, sitting diagonally to him, places a dumpling from her plate to his. Aoi Kaguragi, Izumo Haruichi, Reno Ichikawa, and Iharu Furuhasi are sitting at one table but Izumo is the most disconnected from them.

“No. No. Haruichi-san, it’s fine. I can manage.” The girl sitting beside him pleads. A group of four girls who joined as new interns have occupied the table beside them. There is just a slit of partition between the two tables. Most tables are for a group of four people, but cubicle tables are cluttered together to make the team bigger, and better to establish a good workplace culture to some extent.

Izumo expresses his thanks with a sun-kissed smile to the girl who just gave a dumpling to him, without asking. You make eye contact with him for a second but it's awkward. Aoi's nose shrinks. It acts as a distraction from Izumo’s azure gaze. Aoi stuffs his mouth with the dumpling Izumo just received out of disgust earning an alarming glare from Reno. Izumo does not even bat an eye to it. But the girl protests, “Hey. . .” Aoi glups it before saying, “he hates dumplings.” Iharu is busy eating his lunch. This guy . . . he woke up early, made breakfast for himself, got so busy and immersed with cooking that he forgot to eat. So, he is eating quietly. Reno keeps telling him to slow down but who is he? His dad?

“Well, wouldn't it be easier if you could get some directions and details?” The girl looks confused so Izumo divulges. “I live around there. So, yeah I could get you in touch with some agents if you want,” The girl looks at him with so much hope as if she has a chance to ask for the moon.

“Oh my God. Really? Thank you so much Haruichi-san,” she chimes

Oh Fuck! Here it comes. Aoi, Reno, and Iharu share a look as you get up. The clank of your spoon was a little too loud to be ignored. Okonogi asks, “You didn’t even eat today too. Are you okay? Do you wanna leave soon today? I can finish your work if you want . . . ”

“No. Kono-chan. It’s alright. I don’t feel hungry. I will eat when I feel hungry,”

“Yeah, gallons of coffee and tons of cakes,” Kikoru prompts without missing a beat. Your shoulders sink at her statement. She is not lying but gallons? Tons? That’s surely an exaggeration. You take your plate and as you walk past his table he gets up. Please let him not run into you. . . please god, please.

“Going to share the rest with your boyfriend?” He grabs a bottle from its designated section. You watch him walk, pick a bottle, and then come back but he halts in front of you blocking your way. Of course. Why didn’t you expect that? You should have taken a different route.

“So what if I’m?” you squint your eyes at him since his Adam’s apple shift. Now, that’s different, unlike other days. Your eyebrows jump. Teasing each other is as easy as breathing for you and him. So, you just give in to this golden opportunity. “Your flirt game is so bad, no wonder you’re still single, Haruichi-san,” you snicker emphasizing ‘Haruichi-san’ since you have already been granted the authority to call him by his name but sometimes it is just amusing how he hates it when you do not use it; even if he specifically said that you can call him Izu-kun or simply Izumo. He just wanted to get included in your league of people; the people who you have given a nickname. It's almost like adopting a puppy.

Izumo rolls his tongue inside, along his bottom lip too quickly to pinpoint his frustration. He is pouting now. His hand proceeds to his nape scraping his hair for a moment in the hope of seeking some respite from this heat. Why does he even keep his hair long? Why not just cut it? Or put it in a bun. Your eyes go to the bunch of interns who are eagerly watching you two as if you are big stage actors. “My flirt game isn’t bad, . . . he trails off and then sighs. His hand swings back in his pocket as clarifies, “It’s just that . . . the person I like is a fucking idiot. That’s why I’m still single.”

You scan the group of interns at his valor display of vulgarity. Girls must find it hot, don’t they? That’s why he does it, isn't it? Good for him! He has an audience now. You bet they are practically swooning. Aoi’s face is a sight to behold. Iharu has given up. Even Reno has his head tipped down while holding the bridge of his nose. He is not someone who loses patience easily except Kafka Hibino, his mentor and co-worker.

“What a loverboy.” You opined to him before your gaze switched back to the girl who was trying all the ways to get his number. Yeah, it was very obvious especially since she was practically rubbing herself on him since the day she joined. How do people do that? Get hooked onto someone like the twinkle of a star. That too in this heat. It is hard enough to keep coherent behavior, thoughts, and habits intact but now you have another problem, Izumo Haruichi. He is being spectacularly annoying today.

You look at the girl before saying anything. You will probably be doing her a favor.

“don’t waste your time on him, he is going to break your heart, girl.”

The spoon from her hands falls on the dish splashing a little bit of soup on her dress. People have already started to look at this table by now.

“You’re just jealous,” the girl sneers back.

You part your lips forming an apology at the tip of your tongue but you realize the damage you have done. She hurriedly tries to clean herself with a napkin to avoid eye contact.

You should not pick on people’s emotions like that, however small, however meek it may seem to you, it's a lot for them. What’s with you today? This is not like you. This is more like . . . Haruichi. He has this habit. Maybe it's starting to rub off on you simply because he is now working with your team on this upcoming project.

Izumo has always been like this. Flirting with girls, leading them on, giving them hope, and then, breaking their hearts. Does he realize that? The hurt he leaves in his wake? He is like a swan in a lake leisurely swimming in the evening that attracts ducks, influencing them to be like the swan, elegant and beautiful when there is a surge of fresh batches of interns; every year. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it backfires.

His flirting is not limited to just girls. That’s how he became such close friends with Aoi. But then again, it is not exactly flirting. Could it be he is unaware of how he carries himself? Nah! That’s too much of giving him the benefit of the doubt or maybe has managed to charm a part of you. Yeah! That would happen in any case. He picks up on people’s emotions really quickly and does not hesitate to call them out. It’s a nasty habit.

That is how much you know about him, as a co-worker. Outside this office, he is a total stranger to you. So, you do not have to look out for him, worry about being among the swarm of ducks, he might turn into one, or fearing if there hides a hawk among them.

“That’s too much talking for an intern,” Iharu remarks, taking his plate and standing up.

“I agree.” Reno nods his head. “Wait, what?” He is not surprised by Iharu’s statement but rather his wit. Before the situation gets elongated you try to put an end in your way but whether the bow will pierce the heart or the head you gamble on that.

“Yes. maybe you’re right. That was so rude of me. But you see,” you bow your head a little to match her eye level since her eyes are on her plate. “ I don’t go for committed boys.”

Izumo’s face is aghast. What did you just say? He is not committed. He is single. Excuse you, did you not hear him a while ago?

Izumo looks at Aoi, clearly uncomfortable and frightened by your burst of bubbling behavior. That was odd of you. He has never seen you this annoyed. He has always been like this with you, teasing and flirting around you with other people. Maybe the heat is going in your head today. You walk towards the dustbin to empty your plate before keeping it on a designated table. Everyone watches you as Izumo follows you like a kicked puppy searching for his owner. It’s pathetic.

He is not pathetic . You are just dumb. How can you not get it? How can you not see it? His feelings for you? Well, not that he exactly laid his heart out in front of you but isn’t it obvious? Everybody on his team is aware of it. Everybody on your team is aware of it. Are you really that dumb? Or do you just choose to ignore his feelings? If it is the latter then he is done for. Perhaps, the fear of abandonment and rejection compels him to create backups while at the same time, it gives him a refuge to hide his feelings; keep them protected, warm, and soft; so that he can still talk to you, still be around you, breathe the same air as you.

After all, who would look for a leaf in a forest?

“Fancy a candy?” Izumo chimes as he leans against the door frame of the archive room while you slide the access card to open the door.

“No thank you.” You tartly reply with a poker face. God, he followed you here, which means he is gonna yap for as long as he is here and God forbid he better not talk about what just happened in the dining hall.

Izumo mumbles to himself, stepping into the room, “Guess I’ll have it then,” with a pout.

“Did the storage closet door lock behind us?” you ask as the bang of the metal door sends jolts throughout your body.

“I think so,” Izumo walks towards the door to check. He hopes that you are not playing any prank or something but then again, who would like to be stuck in the archive room? Especially in summer when the air conditioner is out of service and the fans have been hopeless since last spring. Izumo hears a loud thud. As he turns he finds you curled up in a fetal position on the floor struggling to breathe.

“Oh no no no no” you blabber feeling the dread and anxiety piling on top of your body. It is getting heavier. Seeing you like that, Izumo forgets what to do. At first, his feet move slowly though, then he quickens his pace but finally skids towards you since his calf muscles betray him.

“Breath. Look at me.” His voice is so faint or maybe you are already sinking in the depth of the attack. You know what to do. The tactic to overcome this. But with people around it gets harder. Most people do not know what to do and even if they did they are only aware of the ‘321’ rule since it is easier to remember, faster to execute, and the default suggestion before the medic arrives. Right. Medic. You can call, right? You touch your hips for your cellphone feeling only your skin and clothes. Your phone is at your work desk. Fuck. Your only hope is this guy, Izumo Haruichi.

“That’s not. . . it. you inhale barely but manage to say the next set of words in one breath.

“That 321 rule doesn’t work on me.”

Immediately, your chest starts to feel heavy. Your head feels heavy. Your breathing is labored.

“Yes, I know. I know.” Izumo assures. His voice is so still, so even that it gathers all scattered pieces on him finally. “54321 it is.” He adds. He tries to make you sit but you are so stiff under the influence of fear that even with his strength he is in no luck. Moreover, he does not want you to treat him as a threat rather than a cane to grab on.

“Identify 5 things you can see,”

Your eyes roam everywhere, to the farthest point it can see things. It has already started to itch and water. You blink rashly before mumbling. “Files—you inhale a long breath. “cabinets, AC, tables, chairs”

“Next. 4 things you can touch”

“The wall,” you say and touch it. You can finally sit up now, leg sprawled on the hot floor. Next, you touch your i-card. “My ID card.” Then your hair clip. “my hair clip,” unfastening it from your hair letting your hair fall onto your shoulders; it's a turquoise one today, and finally his ID card. You grab it in your hand and watch closely, flipping it too to glance at the other side . What an awful picture of Izumo .

“Your ID card.”

Izumo holds you by the arms. His touch feels cold against yours. The full-sleeve dress is the only barrier between his skin and yours. Your palms clamp around his upper wrists.

“Okay, 3 things you can hear:”

“A.C.”

“Fans.”

“Your voice,”

Izumo nods every time but it becomes slow at your third pick.

“2 things you can smell.” It sinks in him: how in desperation and hunger you seek whatever you can get.

You take your scented handkerchief out of your pocket. Izumo takes it and holds it against your nose. Your exhaustive eyes look at him. His perfume smells rather too sweet today. You fall into his chest, embracing him. “Your perfume,” You whisper nuzzling against him. He is still sitting with his legs folded. You can hear his heartbeat, yours too. You are alive. You are very much alive.

“1 thing you can taste,” He says in a low voice, like the start of a lullaby. Reluctantly you pull your face away and look up. At this angle you can see his tongue, it’s white due to the candy. Could it be lichi flavored? There is still a bit of it left, peeking against his teeth.

Curiosity cascades into your body like rain and soaks him wet in a fraction of a second. It is an entirely foreign sensation for Izumo: Your lips are plush and soft with no hint of lipstick. The way your fingers press into his chest is unforgiving to his taut muscles creating a sense of pain, but a different kind of pain; the good kind. You are desperate and forceful. Your lips taste like spicy and honey. What did you have for lunch today?

WAIT. You break the kiss. Izumo is as stunned as you are. His azure is asking why did you stop? You are still holding on to him. How did he know that the ‘321’ rule does not work on you? Moreover, how did he know that you have claustrophobia in the first place?

Ah! Now it makes sense.

The realization paints your mind like it's high on drugs. Before you can think twice, your hands trail up to his nape enveloping his face. He instantly pulls you into his lap folding his legs one over the other to make you comfortable. He is swift and strong. This time, he is the one to demand first. The candy must have melted by now. It was coconut-flavored. You do not remember swallowing it neither does he but only the feeling of your lips on his, his on yours. He pulls away from the kiss gasping for air. His mouth and nose are cherry-tinted. He is getting an earful from Aoi for sure.

“I have texted Aoi.” His hands recoil back into his pocket from under your shirt. “He will be here soon.”

Izumo looks at the ground. Is it awkward? Yeah! Definitely. Does he want this to get over with? NO!NEVER. Damn him for wanting you. Damn him for craving you even at desperation like this.

You give him a long hum. “Why do you look like a crumpled receipt? It’s not like I will break your heart once we are out of the room, Izumo.” You place a kiss on his cheek. “Still have to thank you for saving my life.”

You get out of his lap. He blinks hopelessly. Yeah, his suffering isn’t going to end . You still are as dense as a cabbage and so defenseless, so tactless, by god it drives him nuts. “I love you,” Izumo mumbles to himself. Aoi opens the door as you look at Izumo.

“What did you just say?” Both of you walk side by side as you two walk out of the room. Aoi is still holding the door.

“Nothing” You continue to scrutinize him with your eyes. “I said, I hate you.”

You smile. “Yeah! I hate you too.”

Poor Aoi is still holding the door witnessing the cheesiest corny confession ever.

—

network: @underratedcharactercorner

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falafelluva · 2 months ago

Note

warnings: not a warning but to the anon who sent in a request with a flower emoji and something with that my fics make them giggle pls resend it because my phone glitched and it got deleted n now I feel bad 😞😞💔!

Girllll 🥹🥹🥹🥹

I forgot it HAHAHAHAHAH BUT I HAVE SOMETHING NEW 👀 kenny crushing on his younger cousins babysitter and is literally making things up just to stop by etc.

; 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃 - 𝘬.𝘺𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘻 ✮

summary: the req

warnings: x

author’s note: scuse my disappearance yall, they r trying to put me in a mental hospital. This is so short because im trying to eat my rice and I made u guys study psychology in this 😔😥

It started as nothing more than a coincidence—or at least, that’s what Kenan told himself. His cousin Leila had a babysitter now, someone his aunt had raved about over the phone. “She’s amazing with kids,” his aunt had said, “Leila loves her.”

Kenan didn’t think much of it until the first time he stopped by his aunt’s house and saw you sitting on the couch, Leila sprawled across your lap with her favorite picture book in hand.

You looked up and smiled, warm and effortless, and Kenan swore his heart stopped for a second.

“Hi,” you said casually, brushing off the dust from the book

Kenan cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. “Hey. Uh, I’m Kenan. Leila’s cousin.”

“I know,” you replied with a small laugh. “She talks about you all the time, star boy, right?”

Star boy.

From that moment, Kenan couldn’t help himself. Anytime he had a free afternoon, he found a reason to stop by his aunt’s house.

Dropping off snacks for Leila, picking up a book he ‘forgot’ the last time, or even randomly asking his aunt if she needed help with errands.

The truth? He just wanted to see you.

One Wednesday afternoon, you were in the kitchen cutting up some fruit for Leila when the doorbell rang.

You frowned—his aunt wasn’t due home for another couple of hours.

When you opened the door, there he was. Kenan stood on the porch, hands stuffed in his pockets, his signature sheepish grin plastered across his face.

“Hey,” he said, glancing over your shoulder. “Is, uh, my aunt home?”

You raised an eyebrow. “No, she’s still at work. You didn’t know that?”

“Oh… right. Must’ve mixed up the time.” He scratched the back of his neck, clearly caught off guard by your question.

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a teasing smile on your lips.

“You’ve been stopping by a lot lately. Are you sure you’re not just here for the snacks?”

Kenan laughed nervously, feeling his ears heat up. “Maybe. Leila does have good taste.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, unconvinced but amused. “Come in. She’s in the living room drawing.”

Kenan stepped inside, pretending to head straight for his cousin, but his gaze kept drifting toward you.

You were wearing a simple outfit—jeans and a t-shirt—but somehow, you made it look effortless.

He sat with Leila for a few minutes, watching her color in her sketchbook, but when she got distracted by her favorite cartoon, he wandered back into the kitchen.

“You’re good with her,” he said, leaning against the counter as you wiped down the cutting board.

You glanced at him, a hint of surprise in your expression. “Thanks. She’s a sweet kid. Makes my job easy.”

Kenan nodded, his heart racing as he searched for something else to say.

He wasn’t usually like this—nervous and fumbling for words. But there was something about you that made him feel like a teenager again.

“You’re, uh, studying?” he asked, motioning to the notebook you’d left open on the counter.

“Yeah, just some school stuff. Nothing exciting.”

“What are you studying?”

“Psychology,” you replied, setting the board aside. “I want to work with kids one day. Maybe as a counselor or therapist.”

“That’s cool,” Kenan said, genuinely impressed. “You’d be great at that.”

“Thanks.” You smiled, and for a second, he forgot how to breathe.

Just then, Leila called for you from the living room. You excused yourself, leaving Kenan alone in the kitchen, staring at the counter like an idiot.

“What am I doing?” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

—

The next time he stopped by, he didn’t even bother coming up with an excuse. He showed up with a bag of snacks for Leila and walked in like he belonged there.

You were on the floor with Leila, helping her put together a puzzle, when you glanced up and spotted him.

“Back again?” you teased, your eyes sparkling.

Kenan shrugged, trying to keep his voice casual. “What can I say? I like spending time with my favorite cousin.”

Leila looked up and beamed. “Kenan!”

“See?” he said, grinning as he sat down next to you. “She’s always happy to see me.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Uh-huh. And it has nothing to do with the snacks you always bring.”

“Hey, I know how to win people over,” he said, smirking.

As the afternoon went on, you noticed the way Kenan’s attention kept shifting from Leila to you.

He asked you about your classes, your favorite movies, even what music you liked. It was almost… sweet.

When his aunt finally came home, you were packing up your bag while Kenan lingered by the door.

“Need a ride home?” he offered, his tone casual but his heart pounding.

You looked at him, surprised. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said, grinning. “But I want to.”

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, sure. Thanks.”

As you climbed into his car, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Kenan was charming, in a slightly awkward but undeniably endearing way.

And Kenan?

He felt like he’d won the lottery just having you in the passenger seat, laughing at his jokes and filling the car with your presence.

Maybe his excuses weren’t so bad after all.

#kenan yildiz x reader

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altruistic-meme · 5 months ago

Text

skk fic rec time !!! 🖤🖤

okay i officially have more skk fics bookmarked on my ao3 than my sister has fics in general bookmarked on hers. so. it is time for another ficrec list by abram, bsd/skk version this time!!!

i have no idea yet how many fics will be on this list. i will go until i decide to stop. but as of right now i have 124 bsd fics bookmarked and i definitely won't be listing all of them so if anyone wants a pt. 2 then i certainly have the material to do that.

i'm not putting warnings with the fics, but bc this is BSD please do take note of tags and warnings that are given! i read a lot of fics with darker material so do be cautious!

One-Shots:

keep you alive, set you on fire by flyby @orbitalflyby (Explicit, 23k) Dazai steps out in a dress and heels for a mission, since the gown won't fit Yosano. He's only supposed to spend an hour or so leading their targets on a dance around a charity gala, but the unexpected arrival of a certain Port Mafia Executive threatens to disrupt all his plans. And when he and Chuuya find themselves finally face to face, they end up entwined in a tense game of mutual provocation...

Don't Pull Your Punches by kanekei (Teen and Up Audiences, 5k) Everyone thinks that their partnership is a series of Dazai being a troublemaker while Chuuya is helplessly dragged along for the ride. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. Some days it feels like Dazai is the only one aware of how insane Chuuya actually is. OR: 3 times Dazai cleans up after Chuuya + 1 time he doesn’t bother

The 5 Elements of an Apology by artemisiatea (Teen and Up Audiences, 6k) in which dazai learns that change is hard, but accountability is harder

Tea Over Rice by the_most_happy (Teen and Up Audiences, 8k) “Oi, Dazai— what would people say if they saw us?” Dazai gave him a puzzled look. “That we’re happy,” he answered. He made it sound simple; he made it sound pure. “They would say we’re happy.” They never stopped being Double Black — just different clothes and less blood on their hands. [Or: What if Dazai and Chuuya escaped the Port Mafia together?]

Lost All Judgement by todxrxki (Teen and Up Audiences, 12k) “Uh, sorry, but unfortunately I already have a date to the dance.” “Oh, really?” Tachihara says, sounding disappointed. He pauses for a second, clearly processing what Chuuya’s just told him, and then says, “Who is it?” Chuuya certainly hadn’t budgeted for this. Panicking, he tries to think of the people that he knows that are single, and before he knows it, the first name that comes to mind is slipping out of his mouth. “With Dazai.” / After a momentary lapse in judgment, high school student Chuuya ends up having to pretend to date his enemy Dazai to get Tachihara off of his back - and quickly finds it's nowhere as bad as he'd imagined.

oh darling it's alarming to think of us apart (you know you've got me in your pocket) by interludewings (Teen and Up Audiences, 20k) “Okay so if we’re both still single when we’re twenty two,” Dazai’s smile grew even wider. “Let’s marry each other.” By the time Chuuya’s twenty two, he’d probably be in a relationship with someone else, and the possibilities of them even remembering each other were slim to none. And so, Chuuya gave his answer. “Fine, let’s do that.” In short, fifteen year olds Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya made a stupid promise one day in their school library out of boredom, which leads to the next seven years of their life filled with fighting, burnt notebooks and late night conversations.

The Undercover Mission by OldSauk411 (Teen and Up Audiences, 16k) It all started when Atsushi was sent to drop off some papers that the Port Mafia had let them borrow. That was when he saw her, the woman with orange hair and blue eyes standing in the Port Mafia's hallways and talking. She was beautiful if he was being honest. However, after he left, he forgot about her- at least until a few months later, when the ADA and the Port Mafia teamed up for an undercover mission. One that was led by said 'woman'. Aka, Chuuya Nakahara. _____ Or: Atsushi sees a woman from a distance and thinks she's beautiful, up until the Port Mafia and the ADA team up for an undercover mission and it's revealed that the woman was actually Chuuya Nakahara.

Nothing but your spine by osamuchuu (Mature, 6k) “Oi, Dazai. We’re here.” Chuuya reached into the car to shake Dazai’s shoulders a bit, rearranging his coat to lay over the man’s back. Dazai swayed and blinked up at him. Whatever painkillers he’d been given had stolen the sharpness from his face. Dazai looked fifteen again, wide-eyed and vulnerable. And then he smiled. He smiled and Chuuya’s heart stuttered because it was so fucking real, so small and different from all the painted faces he wore now. This was dangerous.

strange loyalties by finalizer @tarmairons (Mature, 13k) “The Agency dorms are being fumigated,” Dazai explained cheerfully. “So, I offered—Atsushi can stay with us.” Or: Atsushi's observations from inside Yokohama's strangest household.

[sidenote: this is actually a sequel fic and while i loved the first one, this one really just took me to a whole other plane of existence which is why it's the one on the rec list. i do also rec the first one though!]

Yokohama public High School- almost as crazy as their pep rallies by BlowingYourMind (General Audiences, 20k) "The slacks! They're way too tight on him! Exactly no teachers ass should be like that, the students may be offended-" "Dazai, I think you're the only one that notices, and maybe refrain from eyeing up your co-workers like that-" "But how can I not!" Dazai huffed "It's right there in front of my face, it's hideous!" Oda sighed. he was just an average man with an average job gaining an average salary, but he would need to find a way to help Dazai and his obvious crush on Chuuya Nakahara before he lost his sanity. Or The story of how Chemistry teacher Dazai Osamu fell helplessly for coach Nakahara Chuuya, and the student body's many attempts to get them together.

If you refuse to listen I'll say it twice, love of my life by olympiansally @olympiansally (Mature, 15k) There’s Atsushi, Dazai’s star pupil. There’s Fyodor, arguably Dazai’s soulmate, a single mind in two bodies. There’s Kunikida, Dazai’s partner. There’s Oda, the reason Dazai wants to live. And then there’s Chuuya. If he asked Dazai to define him, to name his purpose, Chuuya already knows what he would hear. Chuuya is his dog, Chuuya is a slug, Chuuya is a chibi. And sure, maybe he is. But none of that is enough. Or, Chuuya can’t figure out what he means to Dazai exactly, but if he would only listen, he would realize that Dazai has been telling him all along.

In the throes of Corruption by BlowingYourMind (Teen and Up Audiences, 7k) Dazai’s ability ‘No longer human’ ironically made Chuuya human. It stripped him of the god that set his insides to flame and wreaked havoc. Corruption was terrible to Chuuya but Dazai’s touch never was. Or Five times Dazai helps Chuuya through the throes of Corruption.

hide the truth by writingfromtheshadows (Not Rated, 24k) When Chuuya wakes up in the middle of an ongoing fight without any memory of how he got there or what happened to him, he ends up turning to someone saved as 'bandage-waster' in his phone. Somehow, it just feels like the right decision.

Dream a little dream of me by BlowingYourMind (Teen and Up Audiences, 9k) "What would you like to dream of, Chuuya?" Dazai asked, and his partner shifted in the bed before settling down. "I dunno idiot, you pick." Dazai hummed, "I believe I can arrange that." Chuuya's eyelashes fluttered against Dazai's palm as Dazai continued to speak, voice turning into a whisper as he spoke late into the night. Or Chuuya can't dream, and Dazai has a soloution that quickly turns into a routine between the two of them.

Multichapter fics (all complete)

in the mirror, i bloom by ephemeralis (Teen and Up Audiences, 12k, 2/2) It twists him, turns him, curls in his chest like something alive, something he knows but can’t dare to name. Chuuya curses the red-black petals that fall from his lips, these nearly rotten things that tear him apart from the inside out. Part of him wants to rip his own traitorous heart out, through a ribcage shattered by feelings he can’t contain. Anger is easy, a thing he’s learned to control. This— whatever the hell this is— is not. Or at least it’s easier to feel as though this is beyond his own control, because Chuuya is not in love. (It feels like a lie even to himself.) After he's hit by a strange ability, Chuuya is forced to consider truths he'd much rather keep hidden- but not everything is as simple it seems.

[sidenote: this was the first bsd fic i ever read and HOOOOLLY CRAP what a beautiful way to join the fandom. i've reread this fic several times since. stunning.]

where your loyalties lie by writingfromtheshadows (Explicit, 163k, 20/20) Loyalty is the foundation of the yakuza code, something that was drilled into Chuuya at an early age. However, his lessons did not cover how to manage a political marriage with his organization's oldest rival.

Inseparable by milwritsecausewhynot (Teen and Up Audiences, 107k, 21/21) Best friends is too simple a term to squash the entire dynamic of Dazai Osamu and Nakahara Chuuya within. Sure, they’ve known each other since they were children, and they’re each other’s #1 on their best friend lists on Snapchat, and Chuuya’s been seen one too many times in his hoodies. People have also noticed how Dazai’s main muse for his volunteer hobby of polaroid photographer is the redhead himself. But the pranks they pull on each other isn’t much of a ‘best friend’ thing to do. Especially when one of the pranks get pulled so far, That Chuuya is forbidden from seeing Dazai ever again. And though he sees no good coming from such a forced separation, the one thing that can enhance their futures together is propelled forward at a faster speed than either of them could have ever imagined: Coming to terms with their unusual feelings for each other.

Do I Get My Worthless Reward Yet? by World_Ender22 (Teen and Up Audiences, 40k, 10/10) Chuuya has always been certain of two things: he is going to die young, and it will be Corruption that kills him. So when the Boss orders him to use his Corrupted form without an out, he is neither surprised nor distressed. He simply does what he's told. When Dazai learns that the whole thing is a ploy to make him rejoin the Mafia, he plans to beat Mori at his own game... starting with convincing Chuuya to join the Armed Detective Agency. / Soukoku

When I Awake by wildflowertea @wildflowerteas (Mature, 235k, 23/23) Dazai Osamu has been in a coma for exactly one year, seven months, and twenty-two days. But Death still refuses to take him. Trapped in the space between worlds, and unable to die, Dazai waits, killing what precious time he may have left and hoping—praying—that his family will pull the plug and move on. He doesn't expect someone to move into his old apartment instead. Nakahara Chuuya, two-time Grammy awards winner, and freshly unemployed pessimist, has never believed in fate—much less the supernatural. But the lively—if a bit annoying—ghost of his apartment's previous tenant, might just change everything.

hopelessly devoted by soukocacola (Explicit, 188k, 18/18) "Get your grades up." Oda tells him. "Then we'll talk." Well, Dazai thinks. If he's going to be miserable, the least he can do is make Chuuya miserable, too. Maybe then Chuuya will ditch him and Dazai can fail out of college with no regrets.

His Prized Experiment by fauxtales @fauxfroot (Mature, 94k, 18/18) "As terrifying as it could be, there was something just so freeing in using Corruption. It is, after all, his strongest state. No one can harm him when he uses Corruption; he is all but invincible. There are days when he lets himself dream. There is the part of him wondering if that’s just the god or his instincts trying to convince him to unleash pure chaos and destruction on the world, but that thought is easy enough to push away. He has no control in that state after all." As a teenager, Chuuya is subjected to experiments at Mori's hand in an attempt to find a way to control Corruption. Now, years later, Mori has decided it's time to revisit the experiments. Dazai is having none of it. But can they really leave their entire life behind?

death offers no absolution by Zairielon (Mature, 62k, 10/10) After so many years in the Port Mafia, Chuuya thought he couldn't be phased by anything - that he had carried out the worst orders that would ever be given to him. Then he sees things he never saw before. He sees horror, cruelty, needless suffering. He sees death in every step he takes. Chuuya is only human, too. Eventually, he breaks. OR, Chuuya leaves the Port Mafia and attempts to escape his bloodstained past.

from a to o, i love you so by anticide @anticidic (Explicit, 22k, 3/3) Here they were dancing a dangerous tango and crossing lines and blurring boundaries that neither Fukuzawa nor Mori would take kindly to. Dazai was supposed to have gotten over Chuuya, not melted in his embrace and bound them together for an eternity. (Or: Dazai and Chuuya's unconventional relationship sparks a radical change within Dazai when he wakes up one day under the weather and feeling very, very off.)

My Body is Your Body (I Won't Tell Anybody) by thereweregiants (Explicit, 26k, 2/2) Thanks to a rogue ability user, Dazai and Chuuya find themselves switching bodies. ...yeah, there's no way this ends well.

Mission - Entrancing Armed Detective Agency by cocktailjjrs (Teen and Up Audiences, 105k, 12/12) “Charming? Have you finally started dreaming now?” Dazai turned to face his longtime partner again “Say what you want, asshole, but people like me better anyway” Chuuya ignored the jab at his lack of dreams, only shrugging in response. “I can bet anything in this world that you can’t be liked by everyone. Your efforts will be fruitless by the end of the day” “Wanna bet?” Chuuya smirked “You’re on!” Dazai returned the smirk “I’ll tell you who your target will be” . . . In which, Dazai and Chuuya are upto their old shenanigans and make a bet. As a result - Bonds are formed, secrets are revealed, money is spent, devious plans are concatenated; someone gets drugged, someone gets punched, someone gets a wakeup slap. And Chuuya's 'brute' image is at imminent risk. All of this - to with the bet!

Prey to Your Instincts by skylorr (Mature, 98k, 8/8) He was a beta. He was normal. Barely any scent, no cycles, no mating instincts. Just plain old normal. At least, that’s what he thought. He thought he was normal. But instead, Dazai is currently curled up on his single mattress in the shipping container that he calls home as he sweats profusely and struggles through cramps, pains, and the desire to nest. His mattress has a single thin blanket, which apparently does not satisfy the omega instincts trying to claw their way out of his mind. He was so close, too; days away from his 17th birthday, the birthday that would have officially made him a beta. Hope is a killer disease.

[sidenote: there is also a sequel to this fic that i recommend just as much! it's still a WIP <3]

Illustrations of Lying by writingfromtheshadows (Mature, 49k, 20/20) It is more difficult, perhaps, to bear with fortitude the little daily trails of life, than great calamities, because we summon up all our spiritual and moral strength to resist the latter... Upon faced with the culmination of Mori's plan, Dazai does not go to Odasaku's side. Instead, he relieves Mori of his duties.

i'll bleed out for you by StarshipDancer @neonganymede (Mature, 75k, 7/7) What a shitty way to die.... Less than forty-eight hours ago, they’d been impaled together, and Chuuya had feared that the broken metal pole had pinned him in place against a corpse. Now, he worried that a corpse sat next to him, nothing more than a poorly-crafted imitation of his ex-partner. ... And what an even shittier situation to be stuck in. Or, A mission goes wrong, and Soukoku die together. Except, they don't, but now they're stuck in a safe house pretending that they did. And if Chuuya wants to find out what went wrong with Dazai's plan, he'll first have to find a way around the wall of silence that his former partner has built to keep him out.

Cigarette Game by chowderpuff (Teen and Up Audiences, 9k, 2/2) Chuuya has a crush on Dazai. Dazai knows this, and he thinks it’s a prime opportunity to mess with his partner a little. After all, why not? Chuuya’s reactions to his flirting are priceless, a new little bonus feature to the game between them, and Dazai actually starts to find it more entertaining than outright arguing. It’s all harmless fun until Dazai realizes that he has feelings too. Then it's decidedly not.

[ author's tumblrs are tagged when i could find them! if you know one who wasn't tagged or if you're an author and would like to be untagged, let me know! ]

#29 fics total jfc ksdhgkshdgkhsdgkh #so yep i definitely could do more of these and i probably will <3 but not for a good minute cus this took me like 2 hours #i love spreading the love and sharing my fave fics and there are sooo many and i didn't want to make this much longer #but anyway!!!#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #ficrec #fic rec list #fic rec #skk #soukoku #dazai x chuuya #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #shh ac

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russett-pots · 2 years ago

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how about teaching sex with minju as your caring and nurturing senior, where you are shy and awkward but minju sweetly encourages you. minju guides you to cum all over her tummy and abs, and then she teaches you to pleasure her and make her cum, and then she gives you the ultimate lesson: for you to cum inside her. then minju teaches you to admire all the cum you released on her body, and your juices leaking out of her

Careful Noona

Kim Minju

Tags: Raw, breeding. caring Minju Sunbae

Words: 2.9k+ (2,992 so close to being 3k)

Sorry for the long wait. I have some existential crisis going when it comes to this blog)

You look down at your test paper and sigh.

Another low one

You studied hard for the test, trying to memorize every equation on the board. Been practicing all the problem sets. Yet on test day, you forgot everything. Everything the anger boils in you. Why can’t you get a higher grade? During the pandemic when everything is online, things are easier. Well since you can look at your notes during the test. Things were much simpler back then but now you have face-to-face class and you failed the test, failed it hard.

You shuffle your feet out the door. Your other classmates are busy talking inside about their passing scores. You are very jealous of them. But you put up your chin and say to yourself.

You’re going to do better…

Or at least that’s what you hope.

“How did you do?” Someone appears in front of you.

“Fine.. well actually I don’t want to talk about it?” You mumble.

It is your friend Minju. Well, kind of…You really met her since she was delayed. It isn’t because she failed a class. It is because she went on a leave of absence. From what she told you she did, she was very productive. She was in an internship for a sought-after company and maybe they are looking to hire her after when she graduates. But then you are just out there trying to survive college, hoping you’ll graduate one day.

“Jaesung-ah. Put that smile upside down. You can do better next time.”

“Well…” You show your score to Minju. Your heart is beating as you show her your test results.

“Oh…you really need to study. Wanna do some study sesh?”

“Well at this point. I’m willing to do anything.” You stand up and head out of the room. You turn back at Minju. “Noona, want some lunch?”

“Sure!” Minju replies excitedly.

You walk out of the college building. “What do you want?” Minju curiously asks.

“Chicken?”

“You thinking of what I’m thinking?”

“Well, you know where my favorite place is.”

“Come here. Let me buy you lunch.” Minju clings onto your arm and drags you with her.

She brings you to your favorite chicken place to cheer you up. Your favorite is spicy bbq and hers is snowy chicken.

“Which one are you going to get?” You ask Minju.

“Let me treat you. Let’s get the half-pack and share. You want kimchi rice or regular rice.”

“Regular is fine.” You mumble.

“Well suits you. I’m going to have the kimchi rice.” Minju almost shouts and turns around to the counter.

“Fine. If it’s okay with you. I’ll get the kimchi rice.”

“Anything to drink?”

“I’ll just stick with my water.” You pull out your jug.

“Okay. Just reserve a seat for us.”

You go up the stairs to the dining area. There are a lot of people. It is already rush hour what do you expect? You start to think you are going to get taken out. But then in the corner, there is a group of people about to leave. You quickly swoop over and steal the table before anyone else can.

You sit down and wait patiently for Minju and the food. Then you take out your phone to scroll thru Instagram. The first thing you notice is Minju’s photos. She is the first one on your feed. One thing you have noticed is that she is in her bikini. She may have been a bit conservative when it comes to what she wears to school but when she gets out and about she is wild. Her swimsuit leaves little to the imagination. She is such a cute and jolly girl when you meet her but when she is out parting she is a totally different person.

Down there agrees with what you see. The very skimpy clothes already make your cock harden. Even for a bit. It already makes you a bit horny. But that thought is interrupted as she is your friend even if you had a small crush on her. It isn’t much but you wouldn’t mind dating such a beauty like Minju.

“Ya!”

Your mind gets interrupted.

“Food’s here,” Minju announces to you. “I got our favorites half and half. Half spicy bbq and half snow chicken.”

“Thanks, Minju.”

“No problem. Just relax a bit. Forget about things. Okay?”

“Okay…it’s just my score—“

“Shush!”Minju places her finger on your lips. She grabs her chopsticks, pick-up one of the pieces of chicken, and stuffs it in your face.

“Food? Is good?”

You nod your head as you cannot say anything. Minju smiles as you affirm her. You make a thumbs up and smile as you can taste the deliciousness of the food.

Minju chuckles with your cheeks stuffed with food. She takes a bite of a piece with a scoop of rice.

You enjoy the food. It helps you forget about what happened a while ago. Finally what you like is blocking what was your old score.

You eat a bite of chicken with some rice. A perfect combination of simple food.

“Feeling better?” Minju asks.

“Yeah, I guess.” Then you blush.

“Wanna talk about it? Wait are you blushing?” She notices you.

“No. No. No! It’s just hot in here.”

Minju smirks. “Well if you want some help with studying then you can just hit me up.”

Your cheeks blush again, even harder this time. You put your hand on your hot cheek and smile. “Sure. Sure.”

Weeks later.

“Jaesung-ah. The test is next week. Wanna study together?” Minju taps your shoulder after class.

“Sure. I’m kind of more confident now. But anything would help.”

“Later at my place?”

“Oh? Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”

“Nah— my roommate isn’t going to be at home tonight. So it will just be the two of us.”

“No problems then.”

“Yippie. Anyway got to go. See ya tonight?” Minju starts to run away.

“Okay.” You wave at her.

Uhhhh dammit. She is so hot.

This is so wrong. I shouldn’t do this.

Is this my chance?

You quickly head home to change, wearing something nice, and put on some cologne. This is your chance to impress her. Well time to impress her with more than a friend.

But you are conflicted. All of a sudden you got this urge. You had a crush for a while but now you have this chance out of the blue. You never thought to yourself that you were going to Minju’s dorm alone.

You try to go up to her dorm with your school material, some books and your notes, and a couple of energy drinks to keep you awake. There is a keypad at the entrance. You press the button on Minju’s apartment.

“Who is it?” Minju’s voice comes out of the speaker.

“It’s me.”

As soon as you say that, the door opens. You step into the building and then ride the elevator to the tenth floor. Down the hall to the twenty-ninth room, you see Minju’s door. You knock on it. Outcomes Minju, she is wearing an oversized shirt all the way down to her upper thighs and you assume she is wearing very short shorts underneath.

“Jaesung-ah. Come in.” She leads you inside her one-bedroom apartment. “Leave your stuff on the table. We can get back to that later. Want something to eat first? I have some ramyeon.”

“Sure that sounds good.”

She quickly goes to her small kitchen and prepares the pots and water and boils the water first.

“How’s the trip was it tricky to find my place?”

“No. Not really.”

“Good.” She dunks the noodles in the water and is shortly followed by the seasoning packet. “Please feel free to sit wherever you want.”

You walk first around her apartment, checking it out then the view. Being up in a big building comes with a nice view then you go back to the dining room and sit at the table. Minju comes over with the pot and a couple of pieces of silverware. She sets it down and sits with you.

“So…” She looks at you for a second then prepares a bowl for you.

“Thanks.” You smile as you take your bowl from her.

She prepares a bowl for herself.

“Argh!” The ramyeon is hot. You burnt your tongue while at it. It is even spicier than what you are normally accustomed to.

Minju just sits there and laughs. After seeing you struggle for a bit, she gets up and prepares a glass of water. She hands it over to you.

You take a sip of the water to extinguish the heat that is in your mouth. It is both because it is hot in terms of temperature and taste. You haven’t gotten the heat tolerance that others have, But you still try to eat spicy food with others some have been more successful than others like Minju’s favorite fried chicken place. She always gets the spiciest flavor. She would always try to feed you some but you have to refuse since you do not want to burn your tongue for the millionth time when she asks you to eat some.

“You done with the noodles?” You ask Minju. “Don’t we have to you know?”

“Oh yeah. What subject do you want to study first?”

“Statics.”

“Okay, then where’s your book?” Minju asks you.

You take out the book and lay it next to the table.

“What topic are you struggling with right now?”

“Trusses really, both with method of joints and sections.”

Minju then dives into how to solve using both methods of joints and sections. She was able to give you the desperate help that you need. You may have been busy looking at Minju’s luscious thighs but when you do pay attention you still can get the topic, surprisingly.

You get dazing off by how Minju is your crush and you wisht that she is your girlfriend.

“Jaesung. Jaesung-ah.” Minju tries to snap you out of your trance.

You can get back to reality and look at Minju.

But she stands up and goes to the kitchen.

“Jaesung-ah, do you like me?”

“Noona, what do you mean?”

“I could tell you have a crush on me.”

“Me? Have a crush on you?!” You deny things.

She looks at you in doubt. The face that says she knows even that you are lying.

“Noona….I just….I—”

“Jaesung-ah.” Minju steps closer. One foot goes after the other. Her long legs touch yours. You stay still as Minju sits on your lap and wraps her arms around your neck. “Just tell me you like me.”

“Noona…I…I li—li—like yo…you.”

“Oh, my Jaesung. I like you too.” Minju leans in for a kiss. It touches your lips. The sweet taste of her plump and soft lips is exciting. Minju pulls back.

“Is this your first kiss?”

“Yes…”

“Then I’m happy I’m your first.”

You lean foreheads. “It would have been you.”

“So I’m assuming you haven’t done…it?”

“It? Oh, sex? Ummmm.”

Minju chuckles. “It isn’t something to be ashamed of. We all had our first time.” She touches your cheek with her hand. “You have a condom?”

“Condom? I don’t have a condom. Why would I have a condom?” You question her and yourself.

“Raw?” Minju thinks to herself then shrugs her shoulders. “Sure.” She goes back returning and kisses you. Her hand gets all over you. Your eyes roll back and your mind wanders off.

Minju’s touch is already getting you aroused. Her hand gets up your shirt. It also goes inside your pants. You are already half hard, now with her hand in your pants, pumping your length. You can feel some pre-cum already leaking.

“Come on Jaesung-ah. Let me make you feel good.” Minju whispers into your ear. The sound tickles your ear canals. She licks your ear lobes and gives a quick nibble. She then undresses you, freeing your cock from its cage.

Minju looks down and chuckles for a bit.

“Don’t laugh! Is it small?”

“No. No. It isn’t.” Minju observes it. She inspects it by stroking it gently, then gives a quick lick. Her hand fondles your balls. Her tongue swirls around your tip. Her eyes are fixated on it. She is memorized at your length.

Minju stands up from squatting on the floor near your crotch.

“Are we done?”

Minju nods a no and removes her oversized shirt. Out comes the perkiest pair of tits you have ever seen. They seem to be perfect. Each one is a handful and one that is suckable.

She gets back down on your crotch and starts sucking on your cock. Slowly and gently at first. Her tongue plays around, going around your shaft. Each taste bud is dragging around your cock. While this, her left hand is playing with your balls. A breath of air can be felt as she is down there at your nether regions.

Your eyes roll back as you can feel your cock being pleasured. You let out moans as you could feel your cock being played with. Your hand strokes her head as she strokes your cock with her right hand.

Then things intensify. Minju goes faster. Things went from slow to fast gently. Things become more and more pleasurable. You can hear the sound of gwak gwak on your cock. Minju takes as much cock as she wants. Your length is getting swallowed whole as she plays with you.

You look down at her. Her eyes look up to check if you are enjoying this and you are. When she sees you looking down she gets up again and grabs the hem of her short shorts.

She starts to remove them as she says. “You know as much as I like you I didn’t expect us to have sex on the first date.” Once her shorts and panties are gone, there you can see a bush on her crotch. “I didn’t shave as you can see.” She tosses her shorts aside and grabs your hand. “I hope that doesn’t change anything.

You nod no as she brings you to her bed. She jumps on the bed and reveals her pussy. “You know what to do?”

“I haven’t done this but I’ll try.”

You align your tip to her entrance. Your cock plays a bit by rubbing its bottom part with the lips. Then you go in. Minju shouts as you enter while you moan as you penetrate her. You have always masturbated on her picture but never have you expected you’ll actually be fucking her. You thrust in and out like a monster. You never experience such pleasure if your life.

You get in and out faster and faster. While this Minju pulls you closer to her and initials a kiss between the both of you. You thrust while her tongue enters your mouth.

You go back thrusting in and out. Thins go intense. The bed starts to shake. You can see that Minju’s breasts are jiggling.

Then suddenly, Minju turns you around. She is on top of you while you are at the bottom. She gives you a deep kiss before sitting up. She is on top of your cock. Then she goes forward, backward, and side to side. A gentle rolling motion. Her hands rest on your chest then her fingers start playing with your nipples.

This switch of pace catches you off guard. But at this rate, she is going to make you cum faster than you would think.

“Come on, Jaesong-ah. You wanna cum for me?”

“Yes, noona.”

“Then cum for me. Cum for me hard.” She goes down and whispers in your ear. “Where do you wanna cum?”

You ponder for a moment. “Where can I?”

“Anywhere you want.”

Your heartbeat rises. Your mind races around, pondering where is an acceptable place to cum. You would expect Minju to make you cum anywhere you want.

“I don’t know where.” You reply.

“You want me to choose.” Minju looks at you while she continues to ride you.

“Yes…” You worry.

She leans forward on your face. “Cum in my, Jaesung-ah. Okay? I’ll ride you until your cum, okay?”

You nod your head. Minju is now in control of the situation. She takes over. All of the motion is set by Minju.

She starts to move faster. Her body jumps up and down. She runs her pussy all over your length. Your cock starts to get lubricated by Minju’s juices. This allows her to move faster and faster. MInju starts to orgasm louder after each minute.

Her bedroom is starting to get filled with her loud moans. You start to groan as well. You breathe faster and faster as your wanted orgasm is getting closer.

Minju is pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Then you can feel it. Your stomach starts to tighten, your leg starts to feel weak.

“Noona! I’m going to cum.”

Minju’s eyes brighten. She runs faster and faster.

Then you shoot your cum. Ropes and ropes of cum run out of your cock. A surge of sticky white liquid exits your body. Minju slows down as you finish. But once she stops she gets off.

There you can see your semen leak out of her pussy.

“Don’t worry. I’m on the pill.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I won’t get pregnant.” Minju lays beside you.

“So you have been planning this?”

“Sure. Well if I would do anything like this it would be you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I like you Jaesung-ah. I told you that and it’s obvious that you like me. So, it’s perfect. Ain’t it?”

“I guess it is…”

Minju lays beside you and cuddles up against you. “But did you get my lesson with Statics?”

“Uhhhh…..”

“Aigoo, We’ll have to go thru that lesson again? I want you to pass.”

“Okay, I will. I will.”

“Nice. Goodnight Jaesung-ah.”

“Goodnight noona.”

#Kim Minju #minju smut #izone smut #kpop smut

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etoiile · 1 year ago

Text

"BE BRAVE"

starring chigiri hyoma!

synopsis: after being your roommate for a little over half a year, chigiri can say without a doubt that he's never met someone like you. you're sweet, funny, and just a great friend. but what happens when he wants to be more than that?

warning(s): not proofread but im p sure i didnt grammar correctly, mild swearing, gender neutral reader

notes: i want him your honor

"im back.." you mumbled, kicking off your shoes and practically throwing yourself onto the couch.

"well, dont you sound energetic." he joked as he turned off his phone and sat down next to you. "rough day?"

"ugh you cant even begin to imagine." you grumbled. "shit day. start talking. distract me."

"hmm..." he thought. "my day was pretty uneventful. i got let out early and just caught up on some stuff."

"who were you texting earlier? got any tea?" you questioned sleepily with a yawn. gossip sessions with chigiri were your absolute favorite. whenever he texted someone, there was usually some sort of news. plus, he gossiped like a girl and you were here for it. (sorry but chi is just so freaking canonically girlypop)

"nah. i wish, though. just talking to my older sister about some... stuff." he trailed off, racking his brain for a new subject.

"you hungry?" he asked, motioning towards the kitchen.

"yeah. will you carry me?" you asked tiredly, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. you were too tired to move on your own.

chigiri rolled his eyes at you, but still let you climb onto his back regardless.

as he carried you to the kitchen, he couldn't help the way his heart would leap out of his chest every time you left out a sleepy groan or would shift a little in his hold before nuzzling into his back. he couldn't help but imagine being here with you, in this apartment, though not as roommates or even friends, but lovers. he couldn't help how he could never be mad at you, despite what he'd say. he couldn't help how every time you did literally anything, he could feel himself falling deeper in love with you.

"well, think about it this way, chi." his sister had texted. "you've got two choices before you. confess or dont. correct?"

"yeah"

"WRONG. there's only one choice. by doing nothing, youre doing nothing but self torture. you'll always be thinking about how much you want to hold her but cant, and you'll have to watch her go on dates and even get ready for them. obvi, thats no fun. imo, just go for it, honestly. gotta be brave, yk?"

at the time, chigiri said something along the lines of, "maybe i will, maybe i wont. we'll see." before turning off his phone to greet you.

now, as he thinks about his feelings, he's never been more sure. he's never felt this way about anybody else before. its not like his past relationship where it was thrilling and exciting but exhausting. the way he feels with you is different. you feel safe. warm. comforting. you feel like a warm, sunny breeze after a cold rain. you feel like home. you feel like warmth. you feel like love.

he gently set you down at the kitchen counter before heading to the fridge.

"we dont have much food because SOMEBODY forgot to buy groceries." he teased. "we have fruit, eggs, bread, tobiko roe, rice, and instant ramen."

"yeah, yeah. anyways.." you then started batting your lashes at him like a maniac. "would you mind making me some ramen, my dear, sweet chichi?"

chigiri's heart leapt at the use of the word "my." he could feel his cheeks start to heat up and he quickly turned around.

"yeah, yeah, as you command." he rolled his eyes (for the 349348th time) and got to work.

"dont forget the eggs!"

"just be brave," his sister had said.

pfft. "just be brave?" give him a break! it just wasn't that simple. he couldn't risk the friendship most beloved to him. he just couldn't!

he watched as the seasoning gently bubbled with the noodles as he gently stirred the pot with a pair of wooden chopsticks, humming along to a tune he'd heard on your playlist absentmindedly.

"CHIGIRI?!" you suddenly yelped, clearly taken aback.

"what? is something wrong?" he asked calmly but concerned, praying that you weren't hurt as he set down the chopsticks and ran to you.

his cheeks were met by your palms as you squished his face together. "you're humming "cruel summer" by taylor swift! ive done it! youre a swiftie!" you let go as you squealed and leaped for joy, jumping about.

"chigiri's a swiftie! chichi is a swiftie!"

he chuckled as he watched your antics when suddenly, you crashed into him as you jumped.

you looked up from his chest and were met with his gorgeous pink orbs. it stunned you for a moment. they were so captivating, like they were gently chorusing a beautiful melody. you felt yourself sinking into them when suddenly, you realized the position you were in.

there was maybe an inch or two separating your lips from his. flustered, you quickly drew back, though you didnt exactly want to.

"sorry! um, my bad. i was just thinking! about how your eyes? uh... about how taylor swift has... uh... actually, what am i saying I WAS ACTUALLY-" you stammered as you tried to find an excuse for lingering much too long in his arms. staring into his beautiful eyes. on his chest. his muscular, toned, delicious... STOP.

suddenly, chigiri felt something. it wasn't embarrassment, it wasn't anxiety, it was... bravery.

gently gliding over to your flustered and still stammering figure, chigiri took your hands and looked you in the eye, freezing you.

"y/n, youre my one of my best friends." he said, his melodic voice gently wafting through the air. he then gently leaned down to your ear and in a low whisper, said:

"the thing is though, i dont want you like a best friend."

you were left frozen.

"a lyric from "dress." not bad, am i right?" he asked with a sly grin.

as the great taylor swift said, (in "its time to go") when the words of a sister come back in whisper, he realized that his sister was, as much as he hated to admit it, right. all he needed was to be brave.

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yurislotusgarden · 1 year ago

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Hii! could I request ranpo and chuuya with a fem s/o who makes cute bento boxes for their lunch at work? (I was curious on how this would go, feel free to add any details you want!)

My bento!

ʚїɞ Separately! Nakahara Chuuya, Ranpo Edogawa, Sigma x F!Reader

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ word count: 1764 (Chuuya - 537, Ranpo - 664, Sigma - 561)

ʚїɞ Have Sigma as an extra bcs my ass forgot it was meant to be Ranpo instead of him after I was done with Chuuya's part

ʚїɞ Tw’s: None! Just pure fluff, pet names are used (barely), reader’s gender is not specified that much

Nakahara Chuuya!

ཐིཋྀ He loves the bentos so much, well more like the fact that you take time to make them for him

ཐིཋྀ Tries to always eat them

ཐིཋྀ Once, when you started making them, he didn’t eat the food because he was so busy that day, and when he had a little free time, Chuuya decided it was a better idea to go on a stress smoke break (He tries to limit smoking to the minimum he can if you don’t like smoking/the fact that he does it. He knows it’s because you care about his health)

ཐིཋྀ It ended with you fussing over him eating almost nothing that day and he doesn’t like causing you stress or making you worry so he makes sure to eat those bentos😭

ཐིཋྀ He may be an executive but this man is not embarrassed at all to eat those bentos in front of people, no matter how colorful or cutesy the food looks

ཐིཋྀ Food is food, he’s not gonna not eat cause you to worry just because the bento is one that doesn’t look like someone like him would eat

///////////////

“Lad, may I ask where do you get those bentos from?”

It was a long time since Kouyou noticed Chuuya’s bentos, and she tried to ignore just how much she wanted to try one. The only reason why she didn’t is because she doesn’t know where he is getting them from.

The young woman looked at many shops in Yokohama and saw a few places with similar bentos, but it was easy to see that none of the stores were the ones where Chuuya kept getting his lunch from.

…She really wanted one for herself, especially with how obvious it was that they were delicious, kept quiet about it tho.

Chuuya turned towards the older woman, whom he came to see as an older sister over the years.

“They’re not bought from a shop.”

“You don’t buy them?”

“Not a single one of them. Actually,-”

Kouyou was confused. Where did he get a bento from every single day? She knows the younger of the two probably wouldn’t bother spending his free time making food for lunch definitely a day before, even if he did, it wouldn’t be so colorful or detailed. There were even rice balls decorated as bears and stuff, it obviously took time to make one. But if he wasn’t buying them, then the only other option that came to her mind was-

“- [Name] makes them for me.”

“She does?”

“Yeah, and she’s yet to make one I dislike.”

It all makes sense now to the red-haired woman. You have more free time most of the time compared to Chuuya, and you were probably aware of the eating habits he had before.

The fact that you take time, quite a lot it seems if Kouyou was to guess, the bentos are even detailed, in a very cute style if she was to say, made a smile appear on her face.

“Mhm, you wanna try?”

“How could I refuse such an offer?”

The food was even better than she thought. Kouyou made a mental note to ask you if you would have a problem with making two bentos from time to time.

Edogawa Ranpo!

ཐིཋྀ Another reason as to why he’s dating you -you give extra homemade sweets to the Bentos-

ཐིཋྀ He doesn’t even need to try to remember to eat it because he ends up eating it before lunch anyway -the reason behind you making more than one bento usually-

ཐིཋྀ He fucking boasts to everyone about the food😭

ཐིཋྀ “See what I have here? HAHA! Something you don’t and probably never will!” ← totally not Ranpo to anyone else -and totally not him to Dazai and Atsushi about the fact that they will probably never have homemade food like him-

ཐིཋྀ Don’t make the bentos with him in the kitchen unless you have prepared double the amount of food you plan to use. He uses any opportunity to snack on the not-ready-yet bentos

ཐིཋྀ BUT! He will share with you if he notices you’re hungry or just generally wanna eat it <3

///////////////

“C’mon give me just a little piece!”

“Nope! [Name] made it for me! Make your own if you want a bento at work, Yosano-san!”

“I can’t make such a bento Ranpo-san!”

“Not my problem!”

With a pout, the brunette turned his chair away, trying to eat his food in peace. It’s one of his favorite bentos! You put his favorites in this one! The only thing he doesn’t like in it is the veggies which Ranpo would ignore or throw out but he knows that he won’t get his favorite candy made by you anytime soon if he does (the others will snitch if he throws them out, especially Dazai and Yosano they did that the one and only time he did so. He learned a lesson from that after you didn’t cook his favorite like you said you would that morning)

Ranpo could practically feel the eye-roll done by Yosano. “It’s not like it’s the only bento you had today.” It’s true, he ate a similar one 2 hours earlier. “Doesn’t matter. It’s my bento either way.” A sigh came from the woman.

And right when one would think his problem was solved, another arrived.

“Ranpo-san! What an interesting bento you have there!”

“Go away Dazai. I’m not giving you a single piece of my food!”

“Oh c’mon! You can spare a little!”

“Nope! Especially not when it’s [Name]’s cooking!”

Seriously, can’t they leave him alone? He knows your cooking is good, everyone at the agency knows that! But he wishes that you’d never let Dazai taste your food. The bandaged man has horrible eating habits, you both know that, and yet he always tries to get his hands on Ranpo’s bentos. The audacity!

Ranpo could tell that Dazai's annoying mouth was about to open again before someone interrupted him.

"I can make bentos for you too if you like them so much, Dazai-san"

Isn't that his angel who came to visit him at his oh-so-tiring job? Lovely timing, if Ranpo was to say, but there was one problem.

Among ‘hello’s and ‘hi’s from others upon noticing you, gasps could be heard, from 2 men specifically.

"You would do that for me?!"

"Excuse me?!"

What is this?! There's no way that you’re gracing anyone else with the perfection that are your his bentos!

“Hm?” It’s easy to see for anyone in the room that you were confused.

“[Name]-chan, if you could be so nice, could I ask for a bento with cra-”

“No no no! Shut up Dazai! She’s not making you any bentos! In your dreams!”

In the end, while Ranpo and Dazai at first thought that you wouldn’t make the taller brunette a bento after your conversation at that moment, you indeed did as a surprise.

The best detective in the world didn’t like that but he allowed you to after bribing him and reminding him that if you can get Dazai to eat, you will, no matter if Ranpo will allow you to make a bento for him or not.

Dazai's happy scream the next day could probably be heard throughout the whole building.

Sigma!

ཐིཋྀ He didn’t think he’d be able to adore you more than he already does, and yet you found a way to make him do so

ཐིཋྀ He tries to eat the bentos every day but it isn’t that rare that he forgets about eating altogether when faced with a mountain of paperwork or problems in the casino

ཐིཋྀ He loves how they look and taste. He, at one point, will ask if you can teach him how to cook. Like not even necessarily a bento, just to learn since he doesn’t want the kitchen to end up in flames one day, he’s aware he sucks at cooking

ཐིཋྀ He probably would be a little embarrassed by eating it. Not because of how colorful or cutesy they are, but because of the looks he gets from people who see it.

ཐིཋྀ The stares aren’t criticizing or anything, others just don’t expect that their boss/the manager of the casino would eat food that looks like that

ཐིཋྀ Someone was probably jealous because he has homemade bentos like that and they have some store-bought sandwiches 💀

///////////////

“It’s mine actually. Sorry, I forgot to take this from here earlier.”

The man standing in front of the bar was shocked.

He’s been sitting there and drinking not too much for some time now. At one point he noticed the bartender taking out a bento from under the bar, the lid see-through enough to see the food inside. He has to say, the detail and overall look were very cute, it definitely took time to make it look so.

The man had thought that the bento was made by someone for the bartender (In his mind it was a fair thought as he didn’t think that one could buy a bento like that anywhere close to a place like this. Especially if you work there).

The slightly shorter man changed his thought upon noticing that the bartender didn’t touch the food he had taken out (later on the lunch break he took out something else to eat)

Around 2 hours after the lunch break, -the bento still untouched, he noticed- the man decided to finally ask, curiosity winning over after all the time spent at the bar seat.

“Excuse me, who is the owner of the bento? I couldn’t help but notice that it hasn’t been touched at all.”

And he really chose the worst time to ask that question didn’t he? Right as the person to whom the bento belonged to, came.

“I-It’s yours sir?”

“Yes, why?”

How is he supposed to answer? That he didn’t think that such a cute-looking bento -that if he could he would consider stealing, it looks delicious and definitely better than his sandwich- can belong to the ever so stoic and calm manager of the sky casino?

“No reason! Was just that curious, that’s all! after all, the bento was lying here for the past, almost, 3 hours by now.”

“Ah, understandable then”

The bi-colored-haired man turned to the bartender, who was already giving the box over to him.

“Thank you for keeping it here for me, Shuichi-kun”

“no problem, Sigma-san. [Name]-san also told me to tell you-”

Yeah, the man needs a break from the confusion and shock for the next week.

And Sigma? He’s just happy you leave the bentos somewhere he can take them from when you know he’s busy.

Notes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

Do not copy or translate my works on/to any site

#Can't believe I realized I'm writing a wrong character only after I was done #like completely #wtf #bsd x reader #bsd #bsd x y/n #bungo stray dogs #bsd x you #x reader #sigma x reader #chuuya bsd #bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader #ranpo x reader #ranpo bsd #bsd ranpo #ranpo bungou stray dogs

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