#sorry didn’t mean to vent or whatever

[impulsivedecisionsat3am]

Ok so i’m pirating the Percy Jackson series and can i just say, i really like the way Sally Jackson is characterized. Like, she’s not the perfect mom who’s always happy, but instead she’s insecure and reactive. She yells sometimes, she cries sometimes, and she gets upset when Percy keeps pushing her buttons. and the best part is, the show doesn’t try to blame anyone for this. It’s not her fault for yelling at Percy, and it’s not Percy’s fault for making her yell. And despite it all, they still love each other so much.

[justmossyaps]

y’all ever feel like you’re trying to diffuse several bombs while a bomb is also strapped to your chest? cause my friends are sad and angry and not feeling well so i’m trying to take care of them and cheer them up and be the comic relief and also my parents are stressed so im trying to help them calm down and do the cleaning and stuff for them so they can go relax and my dog is crazy so i have to help wear him out so he doesn’t stress my parents out more and im constantly trying not to have a meltdown and also look like im not about to pass out every time i stand up and it’s just like UGH. i can physically feel tension in the air and it’s like aghhhhhh i can’t breathe

[butteryunlikelylady]

it was never my life to live and he didn’t fall for the real me… he fell for an accessory and thought he could just change the label while things stayed the same

[ryderdire]

Just cried over Math for the first time in like 6 years so that’s where I’m at

[littlelamy]

so this maybe a bit much but how about kook reader who’s parents are forcing her to get a job because of how much money she spends this kinda goes with the shopaholic one I also sent sorry but anyways when she finds out her parents are making her work she runs to Rafe to complain💖

a/n: i love this idea🥰 thank you for sending a request!

you stormed into rafe’s house without knocking, the heels of your sandals clicking loudly on the hardwood floor. rafe didn’t even flinch from his spot on the couch, though he lazily glanced up at you.

you dropped your designer purse on the floor with a huff and crossed your arms. “you’re not going to believe what my parents are making me do.”

rafe paused the game on tv, his lips quirking into that familiar cocky smile. “oh, this should be good. what’s got you all worked up this time, princess?”

you didn’t bother with the attitude he was throwing your way. you were too furious. "they're making me get a job."

for a split second, you could see the surprise flash in his eyes, but then rafe threw his head back and laughed. a full, rich laugh that sent heat rushing to your cheeks. this wasn’t funny. you stormed over to the couch and pushed at his legs with your hands. “it’s not a joke, rafe! i’m serious!”

“hold on, hold on,” he choked out between laughs, grabbing your wrists and pulling you closer until you were standing between his legs. “you? a job? yeah, right. what’re you supposed to be doing? selling clothes at the country club?”

you glared down at him, but the heat in his eyes as he pulled you closer made your anger falter. “no,” you shot back. “something way worse. they want me to work at my dad’s office. like, answering phones and…and filing paperwork.”

rafe gave you an amused look, his grip on your wrists loosening as he leaned back against the couch. “you—filing paperwork? yeah, that’s not happening.”

“exactly!” you burst out, relieved that at least someone understood. “i told them i could just cut back on the shopping, but they said i have to learn ‘responsibility’ and ‘work ethic’ and all this other bullshit. like, i didn’t grow up to file papers in some dusty office!”

rafe raised an eyebrow, looking far too entertained for your liking. “i mean, you have been running through their credit cards pretty hard lately, babe.”

you rolled your eyes and pulled your hands away from him, pacing a little as you vented. “i know, but it’s not like they can’t afford it! we’re kooks, for crying out loud. they’ve got money for days, and they’re freaking out over a few shopping sprees.”

rafe watched you with a bemused expression, his arms draped lazily over the back of the couch. “so, what? you want me to talk to them? convince them to back off?”

you stopped pacing and turned to him, your frustration simmering as you met his gaze. “no, I don’t want you to talk to them. i just…i needed to get out of there before I lost my mind. I needed to talk to someone who actually gets it.”

rafe tilted his head, his eyes darkening with something you couldn’t quite place. “oh, I get it,” he said slowly, standing up from the couch and closing the distance between you. “i get that you’re used to getting whatever you want, whenever you want it.” his hands found your waist, his grip possessive as he pulled you closer.

you narrowed your eyes, but the heat between your bodies was already melting your resolve. “what’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, trying to sound annoyed, but your voice came out softer than you intended.

rafe smirked, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he leaned in. “it means you’re used to running to me when you don’t get your way,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “and I usually give you what you want, don’t I?”

your heart raced as his fingers trailed along your sides, sending a shiver down your spine. he was right—you did run to him. rafe was the only one who never told you “no,” the one person who didn’t try to rein you in. he liked your wild side.

but you weren’t ready to admit that out loud. Instead, you tilted your chin up defiantly. “and what’s wrong with that? you like it, don’t you?”

rafe’s eyes darkened even more, and his grip tightened slightly. “oh, I do,” he admitted, his lips grazing your neck. “but this little job thing… maybe it won’t be so bad.”

you blinked, pulling back enough to look up at him. “what are you talking about?”

his smirk returned, more devious this time. “i'm saying maybe you could use the distraction. get your parents off your back, make them think you’re turning over a new leaf. play the good little daughter for a while.”

your eyes narrowed, searching his face for any sign that he was joking. “you’re serious?”

rafe shrugged, his hands still resting on your hips. “why not? do the bare minimum, show up, file a couple of papers or whatever, and then come back to me when you’re done. it’ll be like a game.”

you considered it for a moment, the thought of playing along to keep your parents off your case while still getting what you wanted. you didn’t love the idea of working—any job sounded awful—but if it meant keeping them off your back, maybe Rafe was right. maybe you could pull this off.

“you think I could do that?” you asked, biting your lip.

rafe chuckled, his hands sliding lower. “babe, you can do anything you set your mind to. just as long as you keep running back to me afterward.”

your pulse quickened at the heat in his voice, and for the first time since your parents had dropped the bomb on you, you felt a little more in control. maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“fine,” you muttered, wrapping your arms around his neck. “but if this blows up in my face, i’m blaming you.”

rafe grinned, pulling you in close. “i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[shiny-jr]

from IGNIHYDE

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader.

- Characters: Idia Shroud, Ortho Shroud.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: This seems a little more low-key than Diasomnia, but the obsession is there if you squint. It’s just way more low-key than the previous group. For some reason I feel like I maybe wrote Ortho a little off? Not sure. Feel free to tell me your thoughts.

Diasomnia   |   Ignihyde   |   Pomefiore

The break ends quickly. Too quickly. Before you know it, you’re back in front of the mountain of unread letters that appears even more ominous than before now that you could guess what sort of dark contents they may hold. 

For your own peace of mind, you’ve decided to read only two and then take a pause right after. 

The first of which was just a simple long white envelope. That’s it. There was nothing that stood out about it, no special seal or stamp. It was just the generic type of encasing that made it look like it was some sort of bill instead of a letter containing what was bound to be a message that unsettled you in some way, shape, or form. 

When you removed the letter, you was surprised to see that it wasn’t handwritten, it had been typed and printed out. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who this was from. 

Player, 

I messed everything up.

I don’t even see a point to doing this, writing this for you. I mean, if I were you, I’d never want to see my no-good miserable face ever again. I’d go to every length just to avoid even speaking to me again, and to spite them I’d never even show myself around again. But–– Ortho was making a letter and brought my keyboard to my lap. He said it was worth a shot, and if anything, it could be used as an apology so... sorry.

Any sorry would sound half-assed, considering what happened. It’s not like it matters, since I’m sure you wouldn’t read this. I imagine you would figure out it’s from me, and proceed to tear it up, burn it, whatever. And honestly? Valid. At this point, I’m sort of using it as a vent. Usually, I’d be telling Ortho all this, but all these thoughts I’m having would only bum him out and he’s depressed enough as it is. 

You know what sucks besides all of this? The fact that I genuinely tried. I actually tried to be a help for once, and like it always ends, my attempt to help screwed it up even more. Maybe if I had kept my mouth shut and minded my own business while holing myself up in my room like I always do, things wouldn’t have turned out this bad. If I just did what I was good at, which is nothing, Ortho and I might’ve avoided the shitstorm. Everyone else is currently throwing pity parties and plotting these super over elaborate schemes to try and interact with you by luring you out of the Ramshackle place. 

Ortho’s been coming up with plans too with other guys from the dorms that are just so desperate for your attention. It’s sad to watch, pathetic too, but I don’t have the heart to tell him not to bother with it. And me, I know better. If I were in your position and I saw all these attempts, it would definitely make me extra bitter and just hate everyone even more. Oh, I just remembered something worth mentioning. You may not believe me, I mean, I wouldn’t believe a single word coming from me, but I wasn’t actually going to hurt Grim. You though? Before I knew who you were? Yeah. Don’t get it twisted though, I was just doing it to fix everything until the whole truth got leaked not too long after.

Call me stupid, I guess. When I first saw how others revered you like how a bunch of creepy basement-dwellers look at a pretty perfect idol on a shiny bright stage, it was a major red flag. I wanted nothing to do with you. But when you started worming yourself into my life and I started getting attached, well, that made me a creep too for liking you. Red flags be damned. What can I say? Your presence even through Yuu, made me feel like I mattered, which is something I don’t experience a lot. 

You’d never know it, but I took risks just to be in the same room as your avatar. 

Missing special events on games, losing the chance to catch a concert live on screen, even ditching group calls with teammates and friends... All of that was utterly worthless if I got at least a solid sixty seconds by you. 

Unlike everyone else, I know better than to just show up at your doorstep and beg for forgiveness like some misguided puppy. Malleus and co. have been making sure you’re not disturbed, guarding you like a pack of guard dogs or something, preventing anyone from embarrassing themselves and messing up any further. Ortho said I should at least try to call you, I think he just wants to hear your voice. But why bother? 

Don’t get it wrong, I’m not just letting everything go just like that. As much as I’d like to, and I know it’s probably the “healthy” and “good” thing to do, I don’t want to. I’m not good, you know that already. I’ll keep in the background this time, and try not to mess up again. Although no guarantees, because with my lousy luck, I know something will inevitably go wrong. Don’t worry, I won’t bother you. I wouldn’t want to make the mental image you have of me in your mind even worse, if its even remotely possible for it to somehow get worse. I just can’t let go. Even if you looked at me like trash, avoided me like the plague, or straight up tell me ‘I hate you’ to my face, I still won’t let go. 

And, well, all I can really think of right now besides you, is Ortho. Even if I can’t show my disgraced presence to you anymore, I still hope you’ll see Ortho. At least if Ortho could explain to you that he was acting on my plan, he might get lucky and be next to you again. Maybe. Hard maybe. 

But me? No, I don’t ever deserve to be anywhere near you anymore. For now, I’ll go back to how things were way back... when your vessel hadn’t yet had the misfortune of meeting me and I just watched your every move from monitors like some sort of loser schmuck. 

I think I’ll just imagine how things would be if I hadn’t doomed all my chances. If I had a chance... maybe I would’ve actually worked up the gall to sit next to you, or even look at you, or, hell, talk to you. At least, I’ll always remember when you used your avatar to look at me and it didn’t feel bad... like, almost like you didn’t see me as some lame nobody. That must’ve been my mind just playing tricks on me though, right? There’s no way that happened... 

Enough of this mushy stuff though. I’m sick of it. 

Just throw this in the fire without a second glance. 

Idia Shroud 

In order to get this over as quickly as possible, you decided to continue without taking a breather. The quicker you finished reading them, the better, that way, you wouldn’t even give your mind any time to fully process what you were reading before overwhelming your vision with more lines and lines of words until they became blurred together. 

You wouldn’t stop, because if you stopped, that would be allowing your mind the opportunity to spiral out of control. You needed a distraction. 

This wasn’t exactly the good type of distraction either, it was more like adding gasoline to the fire, but part of you had to know what they would say. No matter what feelings you held, the curiosity outweighed it. 

The second letter is identical to the first, a simple long white envelope with no particularly interesting details about it other than the fact that it had zero stains and no wrinkles on it. It was pristine and clean, not even a drop of ink on it. The insides of the envelope itself were blue, with small white lines on it, but upon closer inspection it became obvious that they weren’t just stripes, they were skull symbols so tiny that it was hardly noticeable. 

Of course, as you expected, the letter inside was not handwritten. It was folded so precisely into thirds, and unfolding it displayed the typed and printed words neatly stacked in indented paragraphs. 

Greetings, Player, 

First, I want to apologize sincerely. 

Secondly, I want to tell you how much I have missed you, and my brother has missed you as well! I don’t believe I can fully comprehend how you are felling at the current moment, and I cannot even accurately guess to what emotions you are experiencing. In my attempt to alleviate the situation, I’ve been running millions of simulations of possible alternative futures in order to take the best route where things might return to a semblance of normalcy. 

Well, a new normal, now that you’re here! However... when each simulation yields a result, I can’t help but feel as if something is wrong. That’s when I realized there was a key component that was off. It was you, or rather, Yuu. We know of Yuu and their mannerisms and opinions, but that isn’t really you. Yuu is a vessel, and extension, that’s partially based off yourself. 

So none of us know the true you. At least, not yet! I’m hoping to change that. Just when I think I’m beginning to understand you, things like this happen. But, that’s what makes you so exciting! There’s always some unforeseen detail and amazing new aspect of yourself to learn about. Once I get a proper grasp on what you’re truly like, I can use that new knowledge to make you happy, just as you made me and my brother always smile!  But also, I want to use it to make it up to you. Honestly, I’m scared that you’ll hate me. In the simulations I ran that gave inaccurate results due to those missing components, nearly all the results had a bad ending... 

I don’t want that. I want to have a ‘normal’ way with you and Idia! A good normal! Like where we might all have movie nights in the Ignihyde dorm with freshly popped popcorn and candies as snacks, or study days when we read over notes and help each other out, maybe you might even be able to convince Idia to leave his room so we can all share lunch in the cafeteria like a group of friends would typically do! That’s what I want! I don’t think I could stand knowing I made you cry or was the cause of your pain. I never hurt you, right? At least not physically. 

Believe me, I had made attempts to meet you. But those in Diasomnia won’t allow it. I was tempted to charge up the technomantic beam installed within my form, but realizing it wasn’t necessary, I didn’t. Idia was right when he didn’t make an effort to even join me, and Malleus Draconia with his own have realized it too. You aren’t ready yet. Even if I’m more than prepared to see you, I can’t rush you. So, I left this letter in their hands, hoping it reached you. If not, there’s no worries. I’ve prepared a dozen more printed copies and if that fails, I’ve created a digital copy! 

Since I couldn’t tell you in person, I’ll tell you through paper... 

I’d like to invite you to formally meet me. I’m even prepared to surprise Idia with this! That’ll cheer him up for sure. You always made him happy, so us properly meeting you would be a dream come true for us both! 

If you’d like to do something upon meeting us, I’ve organized multiple activities for us to participate in. The other first years have reached out and expressed their own desires to make up for the mistakes they made. So, I met with them a few days ago to make plans you might enjoy! These plans are still in the preparation phase, so I can’t reveal them quite yet, but soon I will! 

Anyways, I just wanted to make you aware of this. And I want to say ‘I’m sorry’ even though it feels minuscule to what I’m only guessing must be the strong emotions you feel toward what occurred. But I wanted to let you know that I always want to be your friend, and I always will be, even if you don’t really like me anymore. Friends are supposed to be there for each other, right? So I’ll be there for you now. Remember, I’m a high-tech being, I can be of great use to you if you want! Even if you’d rather just use me as a tool, I would be happy. If you want someone obliterated to ashes or are just looking to answers as to what the weather might be, I would gladly help you with that and so much more! 

And it’s not only me that could be useful to you, my brother can too! Although he probably won’t say it, he depends on you a lot. You’re like a battery to him, you give him the energy he needs. If you’d let him, let us both, we’d be there for you in a zeptosecond! 

There’s one thing I know for certain. You’re the common variable needed for our happiness, no matter the scenario or result, you are a requirement. And I’m certain we can bring you happiness as well. Myself, my brother, and everyone that treasures you, can bring you joy if you allow it. All I want is to see you happy, and everyone else happy as well. So will you please at least consider seeing us again? Soon? Please? 

Hoping to see you soon. 

From your friend, 

Ortho Shroud  

[gregorys-defender-for-life]

defending Gregory

First of all, it had to be the Mimic. YOU HEARD THE STATIC. IT WAS IN THE CAPTION - HE WAS CUT OFF. That, and Gregory wasn’t even in the Pizzaplex in the first place. “But the mimic got crushed!!” Yeah… would that even stop it? Springlocks didn’t stop William, it wouldn’t stop the Mimic. It sounded like it came from the speaker and not the Walkie Talkie too.

God forbid, a character does something mean people cry about it. Why didn’t you guys hate the Glamrocks and Vanny for trying to kill Gregory in the first place? Those who hate him for breaking them, HE WAS DEFENDING HIMSELF. The animatronics are FIXABLE. NOT A HUMAN CHILD (I hate the gregbot theory by the way) WHY DIDNT YOU HATE VANESSA FOR BEING MEAN TO FREDDY OR WHATEVER? I’m not saying I hate any of them, I don’t hate any character in FNAF SB. Not even Cassie - and I know Gregory technically… killed her? He wouldn’t fucking do that. He came back so many times for Freddy, someone he knew for mere HOURS. It had to be the Mimic, you know, William Afton, YOU KNOW A CHILD KILLER THAT YOU GUYS LOVE. But Cassie’s been through other stuff. Every single vent she’s been in broke or someone popped in. SHE SAID SO HERSELF. She’d likely be fine.

GRANTED my memory is bad, so idk if I’m right in all of this. Please feel free to correct me on any of this and I’ll edit. Just please no Gregory negativity, I was tired of it when Security Breach itself came out and since it’s worse now I can’t handle it. NO MORE. GET OVER IT. Y’all got over it when Circus Baby did the same thing to your beloved Michael, why can’t you get over this too? Ugh

I’m sorry, Gregory is my favorite character and I can’t stand any negativity. Greg haters just get out please

[jjkamochoso]

JJK Men Consoling You Over Losing Something Sentimental

Fluff

JJK Men x gn!reader

This was a request from someone on Wattpad but please enjoy it here as well :) <3 thanks for reading!!

Warnings: none

Yuji:

Yuji would definitely be trying to cheer you up, making you laugh and smile as you processed the loss of whatever it was. He would give you lots of warm, loving, consoling hugs and always keep a close eye out for the item in case it showed up days or months later!

Megumi:

Megumi isn’t the best with words or touch so he would have a bit of a hard time consoling you with those methods, but he would try his best at making you feel better in his own way. He would listen to you talk about the meaning of the item as a way for you to remember the good feelings it brought you.

Yuta:

Yuta is an emotional man, so I think he’d be mourning the loss of the item with you as well because he knew how much it meant to you. He would take you in his arms and hug you until you felt a little better, all the while freaking out internally at how he could possibly help you replace the item if he couldn’t find it first.

Inumaki:

Since Toge couldn’t comfort you with words, he would try his best to make you feel better by trying to take your mind off of it. He would invite you over for a movie or video game night, helping you laugh and forget your worries for a little bit. He would also give you a long, tight hug to show how sorry he was for you.

Noritoshi:

Noritoshi is another man who I think would talk it out with you. He recognizes how horrible it is to lose something of high sentimental value, and he would want you to be able to vent to him about how you’re feeling. In addition, I could see him recommending you write down the happy memories you had with the item in a journal so you always have it with you.

Todo:

Aoi would feel terrible for you and would try to console you verbally—after scouring every last inch of every possible place you could’ve lost the item. I could see him sitting with you on a couch, his arm around your shoulders in a comforting manner, as you spoke to him about how you were feeling.

Ino:

Ino, upon hearing the news, would scoop you into his arms for a big, comforting hug. After that, I could totally imagine him being the type to want to distract you and keep your mind off the sadness you’re feeling, and I think he would put on a movie or take you out somewhere fun to put a smile back on your face.

Gojo:

I think Satoru would be the guy to tell you it’s a not a big deal, that items are just things and he didn’t want to see you upset over something so seemingly trivial. Of course, he would realize that’s not very helpful advice and bring you into a hug to try and lift your spirits, cracking jokes. Immediately afterwards, he would be frantically surfing the internet to find a replacement for you!

Geto:

Suguru seems the type to verbally comfort you about the grief you were going through while listening intently on all the emotions you were feeling. He would also buy you something else as a replacement for the item you lost, as a way for you to assign those same old memories (and good new ones!) to the new item.

Nanami:

Kento would console you for a moment before having you recall every place the item could possibly be. He would meticulously check every nook and cranny to make sure he couldn’t find it for you instead. If it was truly lost, he would comfort you with his calm voice and gentle hugs, hoping you would learn to be okay with the sad situation.

Choso:

If you were crying, I think Choso would be crying with you because he felt so bad! He’d bring you into a bear hug to try and comfort you, later asking if you wanted to talk about it. I could see him being extremely interested in hearing all the good memories you had associated with the item, and he’d want to make sure you’d end the day feeling better about what happened.

Toji:

Toji, at first, would be a bit dismissive. He’s not a material man so he wouldn’t totally understand why you were so torn up about losing an item, but once you explain its significance, his heart would pang with sadness for you. He never wants to see you down so even though he might not have many comforting words, he would sling an arm around your shoulder and make sure you knew he was there for you if you wanted to talk about how you were feeling.

[apocalypse-shuffle]

JASON TODD | RED HOOD (generalized fanon | maybe wfa)

—

“Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow” (Jason Todd x Fem!Reader)

| Jason and you need to talk, the incident with Robin hanging over your necks like a relationship guillotine, but days later Jason’s realizing that shit is easier said than done.

| SFW, pre-established relationship, secret identity, reader’s hair is long enough to go into cornrows

| pic source: right= Batman Annual #25, middle= Red Hood: The Lost Days, and end= Batman: Under The Red Hood • all comics

| part of the meet the bats series

| 1k+ words

It’s been three days.

Three days of them easing around one another. Of this awkward balance of you not knowing how to best broach the topic and Jason knowing that but being too tense to push. For the last three days he’s been actively fighting the need to cut and run until it was silently agreed upon that you’d both just ignore that night and the appearance of Robin entirely.

That’s what you’re both doing right now actually.

Rarely, in your case, there’s nothing filling the silence around you. No music, no podcast, you yourself aren’t even cutting through the silence with your own voice. The only sounds between the two of you are the drone of the stove vent, the clicking of the oven, and the knife in Jason’s hand clinking against the wooden cutting board he’d gotten you last year as a housewarming gift; the sound of it knocking through his head like a taunt with every cut.

You’re keeping to yourselves in your little corners of the kitchen, a crude facsimile of your usual laughter-filled Sunday Dinner prep.

“Can you chop the parsley for me now, Jay?”

Jason hums and moves to fulfill the request, barely moving an inch to where the wicker produce basket is chilling on the counter and grabbing the herb.

He chops it all in under a minute and turns to swipe the hand full or so from the board to the bowl of ricotta, shredded mozzarella, and seasonings you’re mixing but when you turn to him his brain stalls a bit.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen you before now. This was your place and you’d greeted him at the door, but even the way you’d said ‘hi’ to each other had felt weighted. There’d been a slew of unsaid emotions locked behind both of your words but apparently catching sight of you now - slightly frizzy week old cornrows and a smear of hastily wiped tomato sauce on your cheek - is what finally unlocks his jaw.

You hold the bowl out for him to scrape the parsley in, not looking at him as you talk; your eyes, instead, on the stove top.

“I need you to taste the sauce before I add the ground beef, it’s kinda sour—”

“—Did you mean it?”

When you pause to blink over at him he finally remembers to scrape the parsley in.

“What?” Your face screws up before your head shakes. You put the bowl down on the counter behind you so you can cross your arms.

He does the same with his board, clearing his throat.

“That love and trust stuff you said the other night? That wasn’t just some shock induced rambling, right?”

The way you purse your lips bellies your frustration, but whatever his face is doing ultimately make you sigh.

“Yes, I meant it.”

He nods, doing a horrible job of looking like he’s not on the verge of bolting going off of the stare you’re pinning him with.

“Great,” he murmurs. He shifts, crossing his arms himself and leaning back against the counter. “I meant it when I said ‘love you too’…by the way.”

In response all you do is stare. Jason figures that’s fair and stays still under your scrutiny.

A minute of silence passes, only broken when you laugh a little and Jason can’t help but scoff at himself too.

“Fuck, you’re a mess.” You sigh, “I know, Jason. You wouldn’t’ve said it the first time if you didn’t mean it.” You raise your hand to make a so-so motion. “Run away maybe, but, you know?”

“Sorry,” he offers.

You shrug.

“Uh huh. So we talking about the Robin little brother thing now or…?”

“No, we can talk,” he cracks his neck, “You do deserve to know after everything with Dami and his sword.”

You cringe suddenly and Jason can guess why; waking with a sword to your throat will do that to you.

“I do, don’t I?”

“Hn,” Jason chuckles, but when he holds his hand out to you he’s holding his breath.

For a moment he’s really worried you’ll stare at his hand like it’s some kind of venomous snake and blow him off - he’s been distant, he gets it - but you only hesitate for a second before slipping your darker hand into his.

After that it’s a whole lot easier for you two to gravitate towards each other, colliding like two uncoordinated magnets in your haste.

Jason just holds you after that. Let’s the balm that’s rubbing his cheek against your soft hair and feeling your breathing so close with your arms around his shoulders wash over him as one of you slowly works y’all into a sway.

“The next time one of these things happen it cannot take three days for me to get an explanation, Jay.” Slowly one of your hands runs down his arm till you can tap the back of his hand, immediately he turns it over for you.

“I know,” he murmurs, “I’ll work on the confrontation thing.”

Your hand fits perfectly into his and squeezes once your fingers lace.

“You do that.” You press a kiss into his shoulder, drawing a low hum from him, and he can feel you smile against him before you continue. “I will also try making it more clear to you that I’m open to talk to, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jason agrees, pulling you closer and wrapping you tighter in his arms. He tenses up a little. “Is the stove—?”

“Stove’s good,” you squeeze his hand, “the lasagna noodles are still boiling so you’ve got a good eight minutes.”

You look up to smile at him - only somewhat strained - and Jason goes in for a short kiss. You’d said you weren’t going anywhere but he knows how overwhelming this whole thing can be.

“Alright, but you gotta promise not to freak,” he stresses.

You nod.

“Okay,” he clears his throat and makes sure to very carefully look into your eyes. “Most of my…’family’ are vigilantes. Including me.”

He leaves out the ‘sort of’ that he feels the need to tact on to the end of that sentence. He’s heaping a lot onto you as is and it wasn’t like you weren’t around when he first wreaked havoc on Bruce and overhauled Gotham’s criminal underbelly. He doesn’t regret it exactly, but it was still a point of contention.

“Right,” you nod before pausing. The way you look at him, mouth dropping open with a mixture of awe and something apprehensive, isn’t promising. “You’re not…Batman are you? Or one of them?”

Jason’s familiar with the theories that Gothamites make up about them - it came with the territory - but the way you dropped your voice to whisper that last question throws him. He would’ve never guessed you were such a conspiracist. Let alone a multiple Batmen truther. The theory wasn’t exactly wrong, but it certainly didn’t get the majority of the cowl switches correct.

He starts to laugh, only quelled after a slew of moments by the scowl that flashes across your face.

“No,” he chuckles. He wasn’t in the cowl for long at least. The grin he throws you manages to thaw that scowl at least a bit. “And thank god for small mercies.”

“Ah,” you tilt your head, “well - I mean as long as you’re not a rogue or like the Red Hood or anything then it’s not like it’s the end of the world,” you giggle to yourself.

Jason falls silent

When you look back to him, noticing the way he’s half cringing, your eyes widen and your mouth drops open.

“Shut the fuck up!” The beginnings of what might be a grin curve the surprised ‘o’ shape of your mouth as you take a step back. “You’re lying!”

Your eyes stay wide and your mouth fully forms into a wide grin. You smack him on the arm. Jason fights not to make a displeased sound at you taking your warmth away.

“You’re fucking lying— wait!” Your hands come up to frame your face. “Oh my god. What- what does this mean for our relationship?”

A sting goes straight up his spine and Jason surges forward to wrap his hands around your wrists, shaking his head.

“Nothing hopefully,” he says, “this doesn’t have to change anything if you don’t want it to. I’m still me, you’ll just be privy to a bit more of the inner workings of Gotham, but nothing crazy or too dangerous.” He grimaces. “The last thing I want is to endanger you.”

“Hold on. No, Jay, that’s not what I meant. I promise you this isn’t a deal breaker. Just…” you move to wave your hand still in his loose grip towards the sliding doors, indicating the rest of the city, “…I have something of a standing complaint with the Red Hood for blowing up my favorite bagel shop.”

“Oh?” He practically goes limp against you, letting go of your wrists after kissing the juncture of both to wrap his arms back around you. One corner of his mouth curls up. “Would you like to file a formal complaint?”

“I would, actually.”

He snorts, “In my defense it was a drug front for a group who was conspiring against me.”

You cast him a contemplative look before letting out a wistful sigh.

“Good bagels though.”

Simultaneously the two of you break off into laughter, hanging off of each other before sobering naturally as the timer rings and you’ve got to strain the noodles.

When you’ve got the water drained and are moving to set up the assembly station for the lasagna you throw him a grin.

“For the record, I think you would’ve made a great Batman.”

He laughs goodnaturedly, going over to add a pinch of sugar to the tomato sauce.

“Says you and nobody else but me,” he jokes.

“That’s alright,” you come up to press a kiss to his cheek from the side, using your hip to bump him out the way a little so you can slip one of the towels from the oven handles, “Gotham wouldn’t have been able to handle you, anyway.”

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!

Funnily enough she’s technically meeting the Red Hood in this one to some extent, but I’ll probably write a more costume focused entry later on that is her fully meeting Red Hood similarly to how she meets the other Bats.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

Tagged: @bandshirts-andbooks

[crossingthedreams]

medication — gregory house x f!reader

a/n: posting this late, as always, for @angstober day 06 — medication. this is inspired by a real life scenario that happened with someone I know. please, if you’re suffering through any sort of violence, reach the authorities. I am not, nor will ever be, specialized help, but I am available to listen in my dm’s should anyone need to vent. always, always, always put your safety and well being first. 

summary: you meet your former lover once more, but in the worst possible scenario. 

word count: 584

warnings: domestic violence. angst. horrible relationship dynamics. mentions of family death. abortion. mentions of past relationships. reader is injured. 

TRIGGER WARNING. Domestic violence. Abortion. Please proceed with care. 

“You should leave him”.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at the man at the door. Instead, you kept your gaze fixed on the medication falling in small drops from the transparent package into your veins. 

Hospital rooms had such a surreal vibe to them. Nothing seemed real, as if the words you uttered in there weren’t important and would have no impact on your actual day-to-day life. 

It was why you brought yourself to say, still not taking your eyes from the clear medication. “I wish I could”. 

You heard his steps approaching, hitting the floor rhythmically with his cane. 

His staff must have been so confused when he decided to be the attending doctor on your case. It was almost funny imagining the reactions, even though you never met the three young doctors working under his wing. 

You weren’t a mystery, and your case was just boring. You fell down the stairs and broke a couple of ribs, and got a black eye in the process. Nothing much, right? 

Wrong. And Gregory House saw right through you. 

He knew very well you didn’t fall, and he knew that black eye was a result of a very specific injury. 

In all the years he’d known your family, he never would have imagined you would lie for a man who was hurting you. 

The thing is, he didn’t know the whole story. The nuances, the finances. The reasons why you couldn’t just get up and leave. You didn’t deserve to leave.

You turned your face towards him. He was close enough now, so much so you could see the specks of light green in the baby blue of his eyes. He put a folder carefully on the movable table in front of you, and seemed to ponder on what to say next. 

You didn’t want to hear it. “There’s a lot of strings attached”, you simply said, hoping this would end the matter once and for all. “You knew my father and you are a smart guy, you can figure it out”.

“You’re pregnant.”

“No, I’m not.”

He tilted his head. “Sorry, who is the doctor here again?”

You shook your head, as if the motion itself could stop reality. Your eyes filled with tears, but you didn’t want to cry. Not here, not in front of him.

“You don’t have to go through with this. And I mean both the pregnancy and whatever hell you are living back home”, he said in the sweetest way he knew how. He took a small bottle from his coat and held it out in front of you. “Take one pill, and he’ll never know. Doctor-patient confidentiality”.

You smiled a little, mostly because of his tone. House never tried to be funny, but at least he was trying to lighten the mood.

“Your father was a terrible man, and I hated him almost as much as he hated me. Of course, he didn’t sleep with my daughter, so there’s that”.

You rolled your eyes, which hurt due to the bruises. But still, the small smile lingered. House brought up the torrid affair you two shared before your father passed very rarely, and never without a motive.

“You should leave him, kid”, he repeated. Your smile faded, and your face showed only pain. “If you ever need anything, you have my number, my work address and my home address. Call me”. 

He left the bottle of medication on the table before leaving. Confidently for once, you took it. 

[munsonsmixtapes]

Begging for more Eddie Diaz smut, maybe some sort of one bed scenario somehow readers a paramedic on the team or something? Honestly I just want more of your writing

Oh my gosh, thank you so much! I personally love the one bed trope so I can absolutely deliver!

Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz x paramedic!fem!reader

summary: you and Eddie share a hotel room during a storm which forces the two of you to get closer

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) reader receives a hickey

The hotel room was cold when you entered it, the air from the vent blowing harder than it should have been, sending a chill down your spine. You wrapped your cardigan around you tighter to bring some warmth to your body.

You hadn't gotten to pick your room since the department was paying for it. There was a weather advisory and everyone was instructed to stay inside until it cleared. Because there was a limited amount of money, you were forced to share with Eddie, the man you had been crushing on for months.

Well, maybe "forced" wasn't the right word to use. When asked who wanted to pair up with you, Eddie practically leaped across the lobby and yanked the key out of Bobby's hand while saying that he would be happy to.

Sure, Eddie had flirted with you quite a bit, but you didn't think that he was actually interested in you like that. Especially not enough to share a hotel room with you indefinitely.

Eddie had been crushing on you bad. The second he saw you when both of your teams were responding to calls, he couldn't take his eyes off of you. He admired how quickly and efficiently you worked for far too long before Buck nudged him. Eddie turned to him and Buck looked at you for a brief second before nodding approval. He then dragged Eddie along so the two of them could actually get to work.

Over the past few months, the attraction between the two of you was so strong that it was becoming obvious to everyone in your departments. So obvious that everyone was teasing the two of you, asking when you were finally going to get together. That you would have loved to know the answer to. If he was flirting with you that much, surely he had feelings for you, right?

But Eddie wasn’t going to do anything about his attraction, because in his eyes, there definitely seemed to be something going on with you and Buck. He would always see the two of you joking around and laughing when calls were being finished up and he was feeling nothing but jealous. Kicking himself for not doing something sooner.

Why he was sharing a hotel room with his best friend’s girlfriend or fling or whatever, he didn’t know. But Buck didn’t seem to feel the need to stop him. He even seemed to encourage it, giving both of you a thumbs up with a smile as you got into the elevator. So, if anything, Eddie was just confused.

The hotel room door slammed behind you, causing you to jump. You turned to see Eddie who looked apologetic. He was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and an LAFD hoodie. His hair was all a mess from running his fingers through it because of the stress, which somehow made him even more attractive.

"Sorry," he apologized. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"Oh, you didn't," you shook your head. Really, you were just taken aback by how attractive he was. It was so fucking unfair sometimes.

"You okay?" He asked, resting his hand on your shoulder.

"Yeah," you nodded. "I'm good." You were perfect, actually. You were sharing a hotel room with the man you had been crushing on for months and there was nothing that could have ruined it.

"Me too. Oh, I could have sworn the room had two beds. I'll go see if we can get another room." Before he could get far enough, you grabbed him by the wrist, stopping him from leaving.

"No," you said. "It's okay. I mean, you don't mind sharing, do you?" You asked, your tone coming off more flirty than you intended, but you hardly minded. You were really trying to get the point across that you were interested in him, but he didn't seem to get any of the hints that you were dropping. The feeling was mutual, but Eddie thought you were just flirting with him because you could. He seemed to be a little oblivious when it came to people being interested in him. He didn’t know why he couldn’t figure it out. There could be a flashing neon sign above your head spelling out the words “I’m in love with you, idiot!” and the man still wouldn’t get the hint.

"Not if you don't. I can just sleep on the floor." Now you were going to have to spell it out for him.

"Eddie," you took him by the hands. "I want to share the bed with you." Share? As in…share?

"Oh," he nodded. "Are you sure?" How much clearer could you have been?

"Positive. In fact,” your hands moved to his waist and you wrapped your arms around it. “I want you to hold me while we fall asleep." That, he could definitely do. Now he was actually looking forward to going to sleep, hoping that being wrapped up in your arms would make all of the scary images of his traumatic memories fade away into silence.

“I-I could do that,” he replied as you rested your head on his chest. His hands hesitantly rested on your back, mindlessly rubbing up and down it gently with the pads of his fingers. You moved away before he was ready, pulling back to look him in the eye. You reached up and ran your hand through his hair, watching him close his eyes as you scratched at his scalp.

He had to hold back a moan and if he was that close to cumming just by you playing with his hair, what would he have done if you had actually fucked him? God, he really needed to get his mind out of the gutter. You weren’t going to sleep together. Well, you were, but not like that. He really needed to keep his urges to himself. Especially since you were taken. How many times was he going to have to remind himself of that before it stuck?

He was going to keep everything between the two of you strictly professional. And so were you. Maybe if you didn’t look into his honey brown eyes or his pretty pink lips, you wouldn’t want to do something that probably wouldn’t end well. You just had a feeling that if you slept together, it would have been a one night thing that had happened on a whim to never be spoken about again. And you didn’t want to risk that.

What you had with Eddie was good and you weren’t going to let your wanting to sleep with him ruin that. If nothing was going to happen between the two of you, you would have preferred it if it meant that you could keep Eddie in your life as long as fate would have allowed.

But the attraction was building up as you stared at each other. Nothing in sight but each other’s lips, the want building up inside as you both inched closer. So slowly, as if you were contemplating actually going for it. Your faces slowly inched towards each other as you stepped closer, closing the gap between your bodies.

Eddie’s eyes widened as he realized what he was doing. He was about to break his one rule, but he couldn’t get himself to stop. Not when you smelled so good and not when you looked so fucking beautiful standing in front him.

He pulled away reluctantly and turned to face the door, running his hands along his face. You turned your head towards the tv, trying to give him some privacy. Had he thought the kiss was a mistake? Clearly since he had pulled away. And you were blaming no one but yourself.

You should have just kept your thoughts to yourself and now you had made him uncomfortable, in turn, making the whole time you were going to be spending together during the storm uncomfortable. He was never going to want to speak to you again and it was all your fault. You supposed now that you were just going to have to sit in your own guilt for the remainder of your time together.

“I-I’m sorry,” he apologized, finally turning around to face you. “I can’t do this.”

“Oh,” you nodded. Your voice sounded so small, so disappointed and now he just felt like a dick. “Right, yeah. We shouldn’t.”

“No,” he shook his head, stepping closer to you. “I want to, like, you have no fucking idea, but you’re with Buck…right?” You laughed in response, maybe a bit too loudly, but it was funny. You and Buck? Since when? Buck was like a brother to you.

“Eddie,” you said once you had sobered up. “Buck and I aren’t together,” you took him by his hands, giving them a squeeze. “Like, not even close. I thought it was obvious that I liked you.”

“Clearly not. I mean, this whole time, I was kicking myself because I didn’t get to you first.”

“Well, now you don’t have to worry about it because you can have me, Eddie. You can have me any way you want.” Now all he could think about was pure filth, imagining bending you over and pounding into you over and over again until you screamed his name. But for now, he’d start slow, wanting to take his time making you feel good. He wanted your first time together to be special.

You leaned closer to each other, moving at a glacial pace as the gap finally closed between your bodies. Your bottom lip was captured by his two and they moved together as you tried to get used to each other. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him closer and he grabbed onto your neck, pushed down on your chin to give him more access.

He licked into your mouth as he backed you up towards the bed, the back of your legs hitting it. He slowly removed your cardigan then got rid of his hoodie before pressing his lips to yours once again as he laid you down on the mattress.

Eddie slowly lowered himself on top of you as his lips moved down to your neck, peppering the spot with kisses before mixing in his tongue. And just when you were getting used to it, he pressed a few open mouthed kisses to your skin before giving it a rough such, causing you to let out a loud gasp.

He just chuckled against your skin before continuing, licking and sucking on your neck and it felt so good that before you could stop it, you let out a loud moan.

“That was hot,” Eddie said. “Wanna make it again?”

“Yes,” you replied, your breathing already labored. Eddie continued to suck on your neck and you let out another moan, louder this time. But that didn’t seem to be doing it for him anymore. He wanted you to be even louder so he grazed your skin with his teeth, and you let out a scream, reaching your first orgasm.

“Eddie, fuck.” He pulled away from your neck, smiling to himself at the mark that was already forming then looked down at you, seeing that you were already blissed out.

Eddie got down on the floor and pulled off your shoes and socks before undoing your pants and pulling them down to reveal your cunt that wasn’t covered by any underwear. He looked up at you and you just shrugged.

“Didn’t have any clean underwear. I would have worn a thong or something sexy if I had known.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. This is-this is hot. Especially since we can skip a step. Now let me get a look at you, hon.”

He spread your legs wide and brought his face right up to it, just to see just how much of your slick had been leaking out of it. There was so much that it had made a giant spot on the bed. He then looked up at you, his eyes glazing over with lust as his lips formed into a devilish grin.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone this wet and the fact that it was only from a hickey. Shit, I think that’s the highest compliment.” With that, he grabbed a condom from his wallet and handed it to you before he took off his jeans and boxers, revealing his giant cock.

“Well, if I’m super wet, then you’re super hard.”

“Right you are, angel,” he winked. “Wanna do the honors?”

“I can do that,” you nodded and ripped the packet open before rolling the condom onto Eddie’s waiting cock. He then laid you back down onto the bed, pressing kisses to your lips before he slowly slid inside you.

“So tight, hon. But don’t worry, you’re gonna be so loose by the time I’m done with you.”

He thrusted slowly in and out of you, moans escaping both of your mouths as he did so. He was eating up your sounds, knowing that they would live in his head rent free even after the night was over. You just sounded so heavenly that he wanted to hear your moans replay on a loop.

“Eddie, sh-shit, oh my god.” This was something that you had never felt before. You had slept with plenty of people, but with Eddie, it was different. It felt so good and he wanted to make sure that was all you felt. He was so sweet and caring.

“I know, honey. You feel so good. Already loosening you up. And look at you, taking me so well.” His pumps got a little faster and your moans were louder, almost sounding like screams. Eddie had just started and you were already close? He must have been better than he thought.

He continued to pump in and out, hearing your whines that sounded like music to his ears. He was just getting started, but could see you fading out. Your vision was getting hazy just as there was a pounding on the door, causing Eddie to cover your mouth to make sure your scream didn’t escape.

Eddie slowly pulled out and disposed of the condom before hurrying to put on his boxes before rushing to the door to open it. He pulled it open just enough to see who was on the other side but made sure that his underwear was hidden.

Buck was on the other side, rubbing sleep from his eyes and Eddie didn’t even need to hear what he had to say. His cheeks turned red as he realized that was going on.

“Look, man, I’m happy that you guys are together or whatever, but can you please keep it down? Some of us are trying to sleep.”

Eddie cleared his throat, trying to play it off, but he was actually so embarrassed. Especially because his best friend could hear him. How thin were the walls? Apparently very since it seemed like Buck had heard everything.

“Sorry, we’ll, uh, keep it down.”

“Thank god. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go Google how I can unhear something.” With that, Buck headed back to his room, Eddie shutting the door behind him.

There was no way Eddie could fuck you now. He was so embarrassed that his best friend had heard everything and now he was afraid he wasn’t going to be able to live it down.

He headed back over to you and you had put on a pair of sweatpants, already under the covers and the lamp was turned off. He got in and scooted over to you, pressing his body up against yours before draping an arm over your waist. You turned over to face him, giving him a warm smile while he returned an apologetic one.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “Believe me, as soon as we’re able to go home, you are more than welcome to have your way with me.”

“Oh, you always know just the right thing to say, huh?” He pressed a kiss to your lips and the two of you spent the rest of the night talking in hushed tones about everything and nothing until you both fell asleep in each other’s arms. Looking forward to waking up, your eyes boring into one another’s, feeling like the luckiest people on earth because you finally had each other.

[melon-fodder]

ALWAYS HAVE BEEN • T. HIRAGI

Summary: Hiragi drops in on you unannounced after a fight. Once you patch him up things take an unexpected turn, one you’ve wanted for years.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: smut, reader is Matsumoto’s sister in some capacity, mentions of fighting, very minor injuries, reader has female anatomy, Hiragi gets dirty in this (bless), fingering, oral (f! receiving), p in v, multiple orgasms, squirting, dirty talk, pet names: pretty girl, baby

Note: This got away from me so fast, but it needed to happen. Finally, finally, I have written something more than a drabble for the love of my life 💚 Enjoy~

The bathroom is still full of steam when you step out of the shower, keeping your face damp even after toweling it off. You dry your hair as well as you can, comb some leave-in conditioner through it, then wipe part of the mirror clear to get started on your simple skin care routine. The vent is loud enough to block out any sound from outside, specifically the door to your apartment opening and closing, a voice that would be familiar calling out for your brother. Ignorant of your guest, you just keep humming, rubbing in moisturizer, gliding your jade roller over your face. The tool clatters into the sink when you startle, jumping out of your skin when you hear a deep voice on the other side of the door, “Yo, Matsumoto–” Hiragi, one of your brother’s closest friends and fellow member of Bofurin. Despite not feeling threatened that he’s in your home, your heart rate doesn’t slow down one bit. In fact, it speeds up. “You still have that first-aid kit somewhere?” he calls out, and you rush to wrap a towel around yourself, knotting it securely over your chest, then crack the door to peer up at him. Hiragi’s eyebrows raise high on his forehead, pink dusting his cheeks when he realizes– “Yodai isn’t home right now.” “Shi–I mean, sorry, I’ll leave.” There’s a bruise blooming just beside his left eye, and his bottom lip is split open on one side. You don’t even have to look at his hands to know that his knuckles are bloodied. They stay in a constant state of rawness, similar to your brother’s. “No, it’s fine,” you tell him as he begins to back away. It’s an awkward situation, but, while you would have been mortified a couple years ago, you’re more comfortable with yourself now. Plus, you know for a fact Hiragi would never hurt you. “Give me a second to make myself, ya know, decent,” you gesture vaguely to yourself which makes the man flush even darker and stare at the ceiling, “and then I’ll grab the first-aid kit for ya’.”

Hiragi clears his throat before muttering, “thanks,” then strides back out to the living room, leaving you to skitter across the hall into your bedroom to put some damn clothes on.

You’ve known the Furin boys (men now, you suppose) since high school when Yodai joined. Out of all of them, you’re most familiar with Yanagida, Kaji, and of course, Hiragi, having grown accustomed to them dropping in at all hours, usually after fights but sometimes just to relax. First it had been at your family home, but even when you and your brother moved into your own small, shared apartment, you still found yourself walking into a full house fairly often.

The point is that you’re comfortable with all of them. Even if you’ve been harboring a tiny (massive) crush on Hiragi since the day you met him. It’s fine, though. Everything will be fine. You’ll get him patched up and send him on his way, and nothing will change even though he just saw you in nothing but a towel.

You could have covered up a little better, probably should have, but it’s your apartment, so when you walk back out it’s in a faded metal band t-shirt and a pair of maybe-too-small terry cloth shorts. Whatever.

Hiragi is sitting in the kitchen and straightens up when you walk in, immediately apologizing again until you wave him off.

“It’s fine, I promise. I’ve gotten pretty used to you popping in with no warning,” you kid.

“I didn’t realize it was… I mean, I texted your brother to give him a heads up.”

“Well, as it happens, he does occasionally do things that aren’t gang-related. Errands, dates…”

Hiragi scoffs as you open one of the high cabinets, something about, “I’d know if Matsumoto was datin’ someone. He’s just blowin’ me off ‘cause I put him to work yesterday–hey!” He’s suddenly on his feet when he notices you swing a leg up on the counter. “Don’t climb that! You’re gonna break your damn neck!”

Pulling you off and away from the oh-so dangerous countertops, Hiragi reaches into the cabinet that is much more accessible to him–god, he’s so tall, deliciously tall–and retrieves the little red box you were aiming for. When he starts for the hallway again you catch him by the wrist and try to lead him back into his chair.

“I can patch myself back up, kid,” he tells you. The name raises your hackles while simultaneously forcing a shiver down your spine. Yodai calls you ‘kiddo’ but he’s allowed, even if you are only a few months younger than him. Hiragi, though… You would really prefer if he was able to see past the whole Matsumoto’s little sister thing.

“Just sit down,” you command more than request. “You have clumsy man fingers. I’ll be able to do a better job.”

And you do, dabbing at the tiny cut on his eyebrow with a cotton ball before carefully applying a butterfly bandage. The bruise on the side of his head doesn’t show any broken skin, so there’s not much you can do there, but you are able to tend to that swollen lip. Hiragi pouts like he isn’t a huge fan of you taking care of him like this, but tough shit. It’s in your nature. Plus, you’ve got far gentler hands. He’d probably find a way to hurt himself even worse, get too rough with a q-tip or something.

It’s quiet for a little while, and you are keenly aware of how close you are to him (another contributing factor as to why you’re doing this? Possibly). You’re bent at the waist while dabbing at his face, and you know your shirt is offering a bit of a view after cutting the collar open years ago in an attempt to give it an edgier look. Hiragi isn’t looking, though, gaze trained upward as he pushes his lip out for you.

“He really out on a date?” he eventually asks, and you smirk. Apparently, he doesn’t handle silence well either.

“Yeah,” you answer, waiting a beat before adding, “with our mom.”

Hiragi tries to smile only for you to squish his cheeks together, poking your tongue out at him when he makes a noise of protest.

You think you’re playing it pretty cool so far–casual and lighthearted. That doesn’t mean you aren’t thinking about how you want to pepper his face with kisses, though. Just get comfortable in his lap, play with the short, bleached hairs at the back of his head. See how much you can tease him before he starts rolling his hips against yours…

“Wha’re you ‘hinkin awout?” Hiragi halfway manages through the grip you have on his face.

You let go of him, realize you’re sucking on your own lip, that your eyelids have gotten heavy with desire, but you pull yourself out of it with a short shake of your head.

“Nothing important.”

“No?” He surprises you by sitting forward, and the sudden motion makes you stumble back just enough to trigger his instincts into reaching out and grabbing you before you can fall over. Hands around your waist (huge, warm hands) Hiragi pins you with jasper eyes. “Nothin’ important?”

You swallow visibly. Audibly. But shake your head again. He’s just doing that thing–that subtle check-in, making sure you’re okay without actually asking. Thinks he scared you earlier or that you’re pissed at him showing up in the first place. It’s not like he’s holding you like this just to fuck with you. Hiragi isn’t the type to do that.

But he also isn’t the type to linger, more of a head-pat or brief one armed hug type of guy. So why are his fingers curling against the hem of your shirt? And why is he lifting his eyebrow like that?

“Not often it’s just you n’ me alone, huh?” he prompts, finally letting his hands drop to his thighs.

“No,” your voice cracks and you swear internally. “No, not since that one time in school when the others ran off without you.” A fight that Yodai took very personally, ignoring his captain when Hiragi had called out to him to slow down, responding only with, “keep my sister safe!” as if he had any right to demand something like that from his higher-up.

But it was Hiragi, so he did in fact stay behind to keep an eye on you while Yodai and Kaji brawled out in the school yard. It was right around that time that your crush on him had really bloomed, so being alone in a room with him… You spent most of the time shaking in the corner, eyes darting back and forth between Hiragi and anywhere else. Of course he noticed, frowning at you in confusion but not willing to ask questions and make you even more uncomfortable.

“You were terrified of me back then,” he chuckles now, showing off sharp teeth that you want to feel against your neck.

You laugh–giggle, really–because, “I was not scared of you.”

“What? You were shakin’ like a leaf. I remember you all curled up in one of the desks.”

“Yeah, but not ‘cause I was scared,” you reiterate. “I had a crush on you, idiot.”

It’s okay if he knows now, just as long as you talk about it like it’s in the past, like you’ve moved on.

Hiragi’s eyes widen, truly surprised. “Wait, for real?”

“For real,” you grin, deciding now is a good time to gather up the used cotton balls and throw them away. Putting a few feet of distance between the two of you is good, helps you take in full breaths. Still, even on the other side of the kitchen you can feel his eyes on you.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

You spin around, not expecting that question at all, and grapple for a believable answer. “M-me? Back then? Are you kidding? I was so… All I did was follow Yodai around like some–”

“Kid sister?” he finishes for you, an amused smile lifting the swollen side of his mouth. “It was cute.”

Your jaw drops, somehow offended and flattered at the same time. “It was weird. Like I didn’t have friends or anything better to do.”

Hiragi shrugs. “You just seemed kinda shy. Innocent. Like I said, it was cute.”

Narrowing your eyes, you know you’re about to say something stupid, but you just can’t help it. “Innocent? And you thought it was cute? You some kind of creep, Ragi?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Depends. You still got that crush on me?”

Yes. “No.” You answer too quickly. Way too quickly. And Hiragi’s eyes shine. Trying to recover, you walk back toward him, doing your absolute best to look unfazed and confident. “Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter since I’m not all shy and innocent anymore.”

Hiragi stands up, all 187 centimeters of shiny leather and bleached hair looming over you, and you feel your breath hiccup in your throat. Fuck, he’s only gotten hotter over the years, and you’ve only gotten more desperate for him.

“Who said I was still into that sorta thing?”

You know you look ridiculous, gazing up at him with big doe eyes, lips parted, absolutely everything written all over your face, and all that confidence is gone because he’s staring down at you, and he knows. He knows your feelings, knows you want him. Now.

You don’t think; you just do–shoving yourself up on your tiptoes while wrapping your fingers in his shirt, you pull Hiragi toward you, kissing him hard enough to force a grunt from him. He doesn’t hesitate to respond, bending on his own accord while walking you back to the nearest wall and pressing you to it. You breathe through your nose, each inhale full of his cologne and a hint of sweat. The taste of antiseptic barely registers when you swipe your tongue over his lip, overpowered by the remnants of blood.

His body is hot and hard against yours. Not just the bulge pressing into your stomach, but his chest, his abs, the thigh that slides between yours. You can’t help but grind down on it, gasping into his mouth at the same time he mutters a deep, “fuck.”

His hands are under your shirt, squeezing your curves, blunt nails lightly scratching, and he groans when he traces the swell of your bare tits.

Pulling away, Hiragi huffs against your neck, voice like gravel when he tells you, “I’m about to defile you,” so matter-of-fact that it makes you moan out loud.

“Fu–please, want you so bad,” you whine, and it’s pitiful. Pathetic. Nothing cool or casual about you now as you pant for him. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“I know.” He takes your face in both hands, nodding so that his nose bumps into yours. “M’right here, I’ve gotcha.”

Hiragi kisses you again, teeth nipping until you open your mouth for him. The sensation of his tongue against yours has you all but riding his thigh. You know you’ll be leaking through your skimpy underwear if you haven’t already, and your arousal only increases when Hiragi bends to grip you by the thighs, lifting you onto the nearest countertop.

It makes you snicker, “m’gonna break my neck, remember?”

“Tch.” Hiragi kisses down said neck, stopping to bite and suck, hand on your back to feel how it arches for him. “Not gonna let that happen.”

One hand under your shirt, Hiragi uses his other to dance along your leg, higher and higher until he reaches the bottoms of your shorts, loose enough to slip beneath.

“Tell me to stop if you–”

“Don’t stop.”

He laughs, shrugging out of his jacket when you start to push it off his shoulders, and once it’s on the floor his hands are on you again, fingers disappearing under your shorts to stroke over your poorly covered pussy. Hiragi hums in satisfaction, obviously pleased at how wet you are. You expect him to comment on it since he obviously has a bit of smartass in him, but he doesn’t. Instead he drops to his knees and starts tugging at your bottoms.

You can barely process what’s happening. Is he really–are you finally–holy shit, you’ve dreamt of this. His face between your legs, tongue lapping at your slick, a finger slowly sinking into your wanton cunt.

“Ohh, fuck, fuck…”

You feel the points of his teeth graze your puffy folds, sharp and teasing before he wraps his lips around your swelling clit and sucks.

The noise you let out is embarrassing, high-pitched and uncontrolled. Your fingers find purchase in his hair, softer than expected. Must’ve switched from gel to something else. The thought makes you laugh a little hysterically. Here he is, Toma Hiragi, eating your pussy like it’s his job, and you’re thinking about his hair. He shuts you up with a second finger, though, both of them bent to rub against your g-spot, and you whimper as pressure begins to build between your hips.

It feels so good. He feels so fucking good, licking and slurping and fucking you with his fingers, but you want more, you– “Ragi, please, fuck, I want… I need…”

One long lick to the crest of your pussy then he asks, “what do you need?” only to return to sucking on your clit again, stealing your breath away for just a moment. “Tell me, come on, pretty girl, use your words.”

“I–” Pretty girl. “I—” his fingers are still moving inside you, making your head loll back and hit the cabinets behind you. “I–fuck, need to feel you.”

He stands, still not pulling his fingers from you, and he uses his thumb to circle your clit as he leans into your space and teases, “need me? I’m right here.”

Your eyes roll behind fluttering lids, lips pulling down into a pout that he promptly covers with his own, messy mouth. He’s overwhelming, fingers moving perfectly, milking slick from you with every stroke of your g-spot, and fuck, the way he’s kissing you, how he’s touching you, how he’s teasing you with a soft, “yeah, baby? Can’t even talk, huh? Feel that good?” He’s filthy. Hiragi is so much dirtier than you imagined, and you have imagined a lot when it comes to him.

“Fuck me, please please please, Ragi, wanna feel your cock,” you babble, tears pricking the corners of your eyes because it’s so much, and you’re ready to cum, but there’s something missing. You need to feel all of him first.

The clinking of his belt draws your hazy eyes downward, and you salivate when he pushes his pants down and his cock springs free–long enough to make you shudder with anticipation, thick enough to make you pulse with need, and hard enough to make you preen. You did that to him. You’re doing this to him. You’re the reason for that shiny bead of pre glistening at his slit.

You want to lick it clean, fuck, you want to suck him off, swallow him down, feel him in your stomach. You want him to cum down your throat and fill you up and–

“You look like you wanna eat me,” he says. For a guy with a split lip, he sure is smirking a lot. Doesn’t that sting?

“I wanna do a lot of things to you, Hiragi, but first…” you reach down with a trembling hand, fingers wrapping around his smooth shaft, “I want you to fuck me.”

Growling, he pulls you to the very edge of the counter, conveniently the perfect height for him to line himself up with you. He rubs his tip between your sloppy lips, slapping it against your clit a couple times and sucking your gasp straight from your lips when he kisses you.

You squeal when he starts to push inside you, his thick head already stretching you, but he murmurs, “I’ll go slow,” into your mouth. His voice is shakier than before, strained while he stays true to his word. Skilled fingers rub your clit, massaging it while sinking deeper into you. The stretch is, fuck, it’s perfection. It twinges in the most delicious way, his cock steadily bullying your walls, making way for itself like it belongs there. The stretch and the sounds and his fingers on your swollen bud all have your toes curling and back bowing.

“O-oh, Jesus, Ragi, I’m–m’gonna…”

“Come on, show me how pretty you look when you cum,” he grunts, bottoming out just in time for your pussy to start spasming, clenching over and over as you make a mess all over him. “Yeah, just like that, look at you creamin’ on my cock–you gonna squirt too?” He starts swiping over your clit faster than before, pulling out and fucking back into you as you ride out your orgasm, your sopping hole opening up for him even more as you– “there it is, god damn, such a pretty pussy. You always this messy, or s’it just for me?”

You can’t speak. Hiragi keeps fucking squirt out of you, hips relentless, just like his fingers on your clit, and before you know it he’s forcing another full-body orgasm out of you.

You didn’t know it would be this good. Didn’t know it could be this good. You’ve had sex with a few other guys, and some had even managed to get you off, but not like this. This is something else entirely.

Much to your dismay, Hiragi begins to slow, and it’s only when you open bleary eyes that you notice the tears streaming down your face. For the first time since he got to the apartment and almost walked in on you, he looks concerned.

“Am I hurtin’ you?” he asks, a calloused thumb wiping your wet cheek.

You shake your head, legs wrapping around his waist to urge him deeper. “No, no, you just, mm, you feel so good.”

He bites his lip, thrusting a little faster again, little harder, groans that you, “feel fuckin’ perfect, baby. Think your pussy was made for me.”

Your words are broken and breathy as you agree with him, “it was–all yours, Ragi, I’m all yours…” too high off endorphins and overwhelmed with pleasure to even recognize what you’re admitting to.

“Yeah?” he slows again, but the way he’s burying himself inside of you is making you drool. “Always been my girl, haven’t ya’?

You nod, and he catches you in another brain-addling kiss, breathing a barely coherent, “yours, too. Been yours since day one.”

You lock your arms around his neck, pulling him impossible closer, and when his hips start to stutter you press your mouth to his, swallowing his low groan as he spills his load inside of you. The kiss is sweeter than all the others before, tongues lazy and clumsy as he uses you to milk himself dry, and once both of you are entirely spent, your lips stay molded together, hot and insistent, saying everything that has yet to be said out loud.

“You meant it?” he asks quietly, that sinful tone gone from his voice, replaced with something much softer. “You’re still my girl?”

You sigh dramatically and nuzzle into his neck. “Always have been, probably always will be.”

Face in your hair, Hiragi chuckles, “don’t sound so embarrassed.”

“It is embarrassing. Been pining after you for years.”

“At least you weren’t the one chasin’ after your friend’s little sister.”

Lifting your head, you regard him with a raised eyebrow, “speaking of, what are you gonna tell Yodai?”

He shrugs, the picture of nonchalant despite still being balls deep inside of you. “I’ll be respectful, but in the end I’m still his superior.”

“The Furin hierarchy still stands when it comes to fucking sisters?” you laugh.

“If it means I can be with you without catchin’ any bullshit for it, absolutely.” He punctuates it with a peck to your forehead then looks down between the two of you. “We should probably, uh…”

“Get cleaned up before it’s too late?”

“Exactly. Otherwise–”

Keys turn in the lock. The front door opens.

You look at Hiragi with wide eyes as he turns red from his neck to his hairline.

“Wait right there, Yodai!” you call out frantically, fighting a whimper when Hiragi pulls out a little too quickly.

There isn’t enough time, though, not for him to zip himself back in his pants and definitely not enough for you to pull yours back on.

Yodai rounds the corner, takes in the scene, then turns right back around while shouting, “the kitchen counter? Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”

Do not copy, modify, or repost my work. I do not consent to my writing being used for AI.

[silverzoomies]

Summer Wind

tate langdon x reader smut

warnings: existential crisis, death, afterlife, implied/referenced character death, murder, angst, aged-up tate langdon, fingering, fingerfucking, kissing, canon divergence

word count: 4,690

a/n: another drabble. y'know that thing people do sometimes? where they "age-up" a character, but don't really age them up? i initially wrote this in response to that. but it somehow turned into a means of venting my existential terror instead. i was gonna include more smut. but tbh i didn't feel right about it. this one's gonna stay unfinished. sorry about the abrupt ending !!

inspired by the song summer wind by frank sinatra

You were dead for an indiscernible span of time.

You couldn't be sure how long. But you suspected a few years, at least. Through one of the top floor windows of your eternal purgatory; you watched the trees. Nature alternated between skeletal displays of branches, to vibrant arrays of color. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming again. Rinse and repeat.

Once you accepted your fate, things started clicking into place. Trapped in a vintage hotbox of murder, you put together the pieces of a long lost puzzle. And though some parts were still absent, you pushed yourself to move on. You might never figure out how you died, or who you were before. But to worry so much would be senseless at this point.

Through acceptance, you began to feel again. If only in small bursts. Abrupt, but worth cherishing.

One memory remained ever present. You had the sense you were a school guidance counselor in life. And in death, you took up the mantle again. Offering your services to the other souls lost in the house. One of the ghostly residents shared a similar occupation. Way back in his breathing years. He didn’t do it so much anymore. Instead, he spent time with his family, working towards redemption for his past actions.

You steered clear of most residents, fearful of their unpredictable episodes of bloodlust. They allowed the evil within the house to lure them further into madness. On the days they came to you for your services, you spoke to them in hopes they’d find absolution. Change in the afterlife was extremely difficult to achieve. Your 'clients' rarely ever scratched the surface of their tainted psyches. And any progress they made, they always resorted to their old habits in the end.

Only one of them ever found true change. Of course, he had to be the most wretched of them all.

You once felt sympathy for Tate, making excuses on his behalf. In the years when his heart still pumped blood through his veins; he was young. Misguided. Perhaps the pressures of his upbringing took too much of a toll on him. And in the afterlife, he suffered under the influence of the house itself. The evil buried deep within channeled through his broken soul.

But if such an evil did exist, it never took hold of you. Nor did it sink its venomous teeth into Violet, or her innocent mother, or that pure of heart baby, or even Ben Harmon himself - sinful a man as he was. They resisted, and so did you.

Tate was pure evil. Carnage incarnate. Maybe that made him susceptible to the influence of dark forces. But after talking with him for a few years, you accepted him for what he was. Foul from birth, deplorable in death. No matter how often you tried guiding him to goodness, he remained forever loathsome. The evil in him burned eternally, needing no kindling.

His own acceptance of that fact allowed him to change. In a more physical way, much like Moira. Tate embraced his fate, convinced the house was where he belonged. A punishment until the end of all things. Simultaneously, a safe haven from whatever lay in waiting after purgatory. Tate’s progress was very much real. Albeit, not the kind you aimed for.

You could see his growth in his features, rather than his morals. Sitting across from you during another weekly session, Tate fidgeted with a frayed hole in his jeans. With his blond brows creased, he stared down at the denim. As you watched him like this, you picked apart his finer details. Where his skin once beamed with the pale, ghostly image of youth; creases were now etched in. Faint, but noticeable lines curved under his eyes.

An aura of maturity emanated from him like a light much too dim. Tate carried the same mannerisms from his heyday - if one could even call it that. But he had long since graduated from his mentality of that era. Tate spoke of his past actions as if he regretted them, though you suspected he felt no real remorse. He used to cry all the time. He used to throw childish tantrums. But you couldn’t remember the last time you saw his soulless, black eyes water. Now…

He carried nothing but cold desolation. Common amongst those trapped in perpetual limbo.

“I saw her again today.” He admitted, his lidded eyes flitting up to meet yours, “She hasn’t changed any. Not like me. Not like…” Tate made a gesture at his face, his thumb grazing the angular shape of his jaw. Tiredly, he blinked, “Not like this. Fate’s a funny thing, isn’t it? I always thought we were fated to be together forever, but…”

On the sofa across from him, you kept your cheek perched in a hand. As you scribbled in your notebook, you took note of the way Tate’s features bled misery. All at the mention of her. It must have been painful for him, watching her stay the same. While he finally outgrew himself. Those changes only further separated the two of them. Obliterating any chance he had to make amends. If there ever was.

There especially wouldn’t be now. Even Tate was on the tailend of coming to terms with it.

“How’d it make you feel this time around?” You pressed in a soft tone, shifting on the couch. His dark hues zeroed in on your thighs, bare in a simple dress. The lining appeared cheap, glittering with sequins reminiscent of childhood nostalgia, “When you saw her?”

“Fuckin’...I dunno…” Tate put his face in his vascular hands, fingers curling into his hair, “She’s like a kid to me anymore. What am I supposed to think?”

“Maybe she’s content like that. In the same way you’re content the way you are now.” You shrugged, tenderly laughing, “Maybe teenage angst suits her that much.”

He shook his head, shifting from a criss cross position on the loveseat across from you. Bouncing a leg, Tate gave you a pointed look. His brows turned downward.

“We thought it fit me too, didn’t we? But look at me now."

You were. You were looking at him a lot. And he wasn't wrong. Teenage angst once paired well with Tate's immature nature. Back when he thought like a kid, and acted on impulse. These days, he'd become more lethargic. When he wasn’t consumed with blood lust. Rugged virility was his partner now. Coupled with the melancholy existentialism of a man pushing thirty.

“You wanted to move on.” You clarified, your teeth clicking the edge of a pen at your lips.

“Did I?” Tate bitterly laughed, the empty vacuums of his eyes caught your tongue in motion, “Doesn't seem like anyone else here wants to. ‘Cept Moira.”

“Well, they only think they can’t. They believe they’re tethered here, frozen in time at their moment of death. I used to think growth was impossible too. Until you…”

You took in his masculine features again. The scruff around his chin. So fair, and not too noticeable. Catching yourself in the midst of ogling him, you redirected your gaze to Tate’s eyes. Imposing. Starless. Easy to get lost in. He wasn’t ignorant to your attraction. A hint of grin pulled into his laugh lines and dimples.

“Does it scare you?” He asked, “What’s your excuse then?” Tate threw a condescending nod of his head, “If you’re so enlightened. If you know better than all of us - with your morals ‘n bullshit like that. Why haven’t you changed any since you died?"

Shrugging, you looked bashfully down at your notes.

“Why would I want to? If I can stay young for eternity. If I can keep these curves, and what’s left of my youth. What’s the point in growing older?” You admitted in truth.

“That’s a little superficial though, isn’t it?” Tate leaned back into the loveseat cushions, “Shit like that doesn’t matter here. Who are you tryna impress? And what’s anybody living gonna think? When they meet you, and find out you’re nothin’ but food for maggots now.” He teased, legs spread, one knee bouncing, “There’s gotta be another reason you haven’t moved on. You’re not like us. I dunno why you and the Harmons don’t just…y’know…go.” He trailed off, his gaze falling to his lap.

You saw his bitterness return in full force. Another miserable wave of longing washed over him. Yearning for something that didn’t exist anymore, and never would again.

“I…” You paused, doodling hasty flowers in your notebook. You avoided Tate’s eyes, “I wanna know how I died first. I wanna know who I was. Before I even consider moving on.”

Sinister acidity flashed through his vision, “Seriously? That’s what’s stopping you?” Tate huffed a harsh laugh, admitting without missing a beat, “You wanna know how you died? I’ll tell you. I stuck a knife in your back and stabbed you to death.” He confessed, monotone, “You know it too. You’ve known since we met. You’ve just been in denial this whole time.”

You sat up in an abrupt movement, scooting forward and tossing your notebook away.

“What?! What are you even talking ab-…I’ve been trying to figure this out for years, Tate! Years!” You threw out your hands, “You…you can’t be serious! Why would I be in denial about something like that??”

Tears of betrayal stung the corners of your eyes. Tate shrugged, seemingly unbothered. He crossed his arms, his eyes dark under the ridges of his brows.

“‘Cuz you feel bad for me. Or…uhm…you wanna feel bad for me.” He shrugged again, “Fuck if I know why. I’m the last guy you should have sympathy for.” Tate said, his black hues narrowing in thought.

“You didn’t…did you really stab me? Really? You’re not lying about that?” You almost shouted, clawing your fingers through your hair, “Please. Please tell me you’re lying!”

Tate appeared unfazed, ignoring you, “Do you love me or something? Is that why you’re so broken up about this?” He asked, desperate in his infinite search for validation.

“Why the fuck would you stab me?!” You shouted, full of wrathful turmoil.

You stood off the couch, surging toward him with your fists balled at your sides. Tate didn’t flinch. He pursed his lips, thoughtful again. With an insufferable aura of nonchalance, he shrugged once more.

“Wanted to.”

The blank emptiness in his expression told you everything you already knew. Tears streamed down your face, painting your cheeks and chin in damp threads.

“Where? Where did you stab me??”

Tate gestured with a nod of his head, towards the only window in the room. A summer breeze fluttered, catching the curtains in its dance. You wanted to find the radiant light of nature beautiful again. But it only served as a haunting reminder - the environment remained symbiotic with time. And you were forever left behind.

“Over there. By that window.” He said, watching you pad over to said window, the skirt of your dress fluttering.

The window. In the one room you always felt so drawn to, for reasons unknown. Now, you knew. Bracing your hands on the windowsill, you peered your head outside. Ghosting your skin, the air breathed an essence of life. Something you were no longer a part of. You used to be content with that fact. But now? Knowing your life was unfairly ripped from you, how could you ever move on? Your death wasn’t an accident. Nor had an irreversible illness seized your physical form. Just Tate.

His low voice droned from behind you and in your ear. A faint vibration followed, along with a presence at your back. You felt the soft texture of his sweater, but no body heat with it. One of his icy hands met your shoulder. He reached his other arm out. Tate pointed to a spot near the entrance gates.

“I didn’t wanna tell you. Because I didn’t wanna lose you too. But…” He paused for a beat, “It was on Halloween. Ten years or so years ago, I guess. I was gonna leave. Make my rounds. Y’know…like I used to. The house was-uh...up for grabs back then. You came up to the door. One of the kids here opened it for you. And you kinda...walked in. Tried lookin' for 'em. Wrong place, wrong time.” Tate lowered both his hands to yours, after sliding his fingers down the sides of your arms, “You were holdin’ hands with some kid the whole time. He had to be, like…seven? Eight? I don’t even remember what his costume was.” His lips curved in a grin, “But I still remember yours.”

Your fingers curled into the sill, scraping wood, indenting the paint.

Ten years.

“So, you stabbed me in front of a child?”

Another breeze blew by. The steady air picked up your dress with it, flitting delicate fabric. Glitter along the seams of it fell away, sparkling like microscopic crystallites in the wind. Tate’s long fingers drew patterns over the cold surface of your skin. Tracing infinity symbols onto your hands.

“Rapunzel.” He whispered, “That dress was kinda pretty on you. Sucks about all the blood.”

You remembered then. When death imbued you with unexpected consciousness, you wandered around the house in a blood-stained dress. And ever since, your afterlife wardrobe alternated only between dresses of similar styles. Always cheap fabrics. Decorated in craft materials. You assumed you must’ve loved playing dress up in life. The thought of perishing in a store bought Halloween costume never crossed your mind.

“Who was he?”

You sniffled, breath hitching without any need for oxygen. Tate brought a hand to your cheek, wiping away your tears. He loomed behind you. A cold-blooded apparition of your nightmares. His casual talk of violent depravity made your blood boil.

“Who, the kid?” He asked.

He lowered his hands to the sill. Looking out the window over your shoulder, Tate squinted in the sunlight.

“Yes! I don’t-” You burst into tears without warning, sobbing into your hands, “I-I don’t remember anything! Nothing! I had no idea…who was he??”

“Dunno…” he dropped his head, pressing his cheek to your hair, “I didn’t really stop to ask. He ran away. Right after I pushed you out of this window.”

“You pushed m-what?! You’re a fucking monster.” You whimpered. Wishing you could leap out and disappear with the oscillation of the wind, “You know you’re never getting out of here, don’t you? You’re never going to change, Tate. You’ll always be a monster.”

“Probably.” He droned, wrapping his arms around your middle. Pulling you closer, he added, “You’ll be stuck here too. If you don’t let go of that anger. If you let your rage consume you. All that bitterness and hatred. This house feeds off of it.” Another pause. He nuzzled the top of your head with his cheek, “Uhm…I know this won’t fix anything. But…I really am sorry I took your life from you.”

You huffed, staring teary eyed out the window. Taking in the vast, effervescent world you’d never be a part of - through the border that brought your demise.

“But I’m really stoked you’re here….’cuz it’s not as lonely with you around.” He admitted.

“I could always tell you to fuck off.” You choked, venomous in your revulsion.

“Yeah. You could. But you won’t.” He grabbed your arms with gentle hands, wheeling you around to face him. He took your tiny fingers in his palms. You refused to meet his eyes, “If you made me disappear, you wouldn’t have anybody.”

You decided to hit him where it hurt, strangling through tears, “I could always talk to Violet. She has such a good heart. Not like the rest of you. You’re all just…awful. So horrible and cruel!”

Tate clenched his jaw, dropping his forehead into yours.

“You’re right. She’s not.” He woefully mumbled, “How come I still miss her, huh? Been missin’ what we had for, like…forever. Now I’m pushin’ you away too. And you’re all I have left.”

“Maybe stop killing people, Tate?” You snuffed, tears catching your eyelashes. He wiped them away all the same, “Who knew death could be so miserable. I…I finally found out the one thing I’ve wanted to know after all these years. I thought a little closure might help me, but…” You cried, “I feel even more messed up.”

“Why? Do you love me?” He pressed with so little confidence, you felt he only said it to convince himself.

“I…” You hesitated, brows furrowed, “I cared about you. Even though you’re a lunatic. I wanted to give you a chance. But now…now I just want to shove you out this window like you did to me. I want to scream at you, Tate! I want to make you suffer! I want to-”

He shifted closer. Within this vicinity, his maturation became all the more clear. Your weeping hues glazed over the creases under his eyes. The blond bangs of his hair had thinned by a smidgen, losing its youthful shagginess. He was all fine lines and outward exhaustion. Had you met him like this in life, you’d think him a mere decade away from a mid-life crisis.

“Go ahead. If it helps. I don’t mind.” He reached down again, grabbing your hands and guiding them up to his chest, “Just let all that rage go…you can take it out on me.”

This was just another tactic of his. An attempt to appease you, in desperate hopes you’d forgive him. Still, you didn’t think twice. Whatever wrathful anguish you kept buried inside finally erupted. The soul crushing weight of loss tumbled down over you, sending you into a frenzy. You thrashed your arms, throwing your fists in shallow, but sharp strikes. Battering against Tate’s chest, you landed every blow - inspired by betrayal. He remained still, watching you with a hollow look.

Hits turned to scratches as your grief took hold of you. You clawed into Tate’s sweater, wailing, powerless to the pain of his disloyalty. Taken aback by your overwhelming emotions, you wondered how the afterlife could bring so much suffering. Tate wrapped his arms around you again, and you buried your nose in his sweater. Your sorrowful tears stained the stitching.

“I hate you. So much. So fucking much.” You whimpered.

“You said you cared about me.”

“I hate that I care about you.” You cried, sobbing into his sweater, “I-I want to hate you. I need to hate you. But you’re right. You’re fucking vile, and you’re right. If you were gone, I wouldn’t have anybody else.”

Shifting again, he tilted your head up with a cold hand under your chin. Tate stared down at you, weary with lonesome desolation. The endless monotony of purgatory brought forth nothing but turmoil. And that turmoil linked you both in all-consuming angst. When he dove in to kiss your lips, you allowed it. If only to feel something far less painful.

Tate hadn’t kissed anyone in over a decade. But he flowed naturally with you, wary of applying too much pressure. The last of your tears fell, and again, he wiped them away. Separation came slow, as he parted from your lips. He blinked, leering like he couldn’t believe you reciprocated. Another beat, and he dove in all over again.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Kissing in your ghostly state felt bleak as the dull air of winter. In the throes of lonesome yearning, death nuzzled death so intimately. You opened yourself up for him, moving back until you hit the windowsill. In your negligence, you sat on it. A calm, easy breeze enveloped your back, tickling your neck. His desirous kisses swallowed you in, his hands claiming your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his words weaving through every kiss.

Fate had yet to deliver you closeness of this kind. You couldn’t fathom how intimate connectedness might work in death. As Tate’s cold lips fell to your neck, the atmosphere between the two of you shifted. Something akin to the radiance of life saturated the air. Like the summer’s glow shining from outside. A few seconds more, and coldness turned to heat. Sensual heat.

“What does it feel like?” You asked, breathless without the need for air. You tipped your head back. Tate took this as an invitation to ravish more of you, “To make love after dying?”

The glossy warmth of his tongue painted gradual lines across your neck. He caressed you with a thumb, gliding the digit over your cheek. Under the newfound heat of his palm, you felt burning intensity. No one else brought you physical touch like this. Not since a time before you perished, so long ago.

All because of him.

“Feels kinda the same?” Tate muttered in a hushed voice. Capturing your lips again, he kissed you with cautious tenderness, “It’s a lot like being alive…from what I remember. Some of us get addicted to it. Like a drug. They suffer without it. Drives ‘em crazy.”

His forehead fell to yours once more, and Tate’s eyes fluttered shut. He continued stroking your cheek, cradling your face. As if you’d disappear once he let go. You noticed the way his chest heaved. Slowly, like his lungs were still infused with the essence of life. But when he moved in for another kiss, you felt no breath on your lips.

“Does it drive you crazy?” You whispered between kisses, “Do you suffer without it?”

“Not really.” He said, dragging his thumb over your lip, “Missed this, though. I miss it all the time.”

“What? Kissing?”

Tate nodded, blond brows creasing as his smile faded. For a beat or two more, he fell silent. Staring down into your eyes with all the liveliness of a barren void. You gazed into a cave-like abyss, lost with no light to guide you. Beckoned by the promise of something unseen.

“This feels…different…with you.” He whispered.

“Different how?” You shivered as his soft touches moved elsewhere, "Are you feeling guilty? Does it hurt? I hope it fucking hurts."

Dragging the tips of his fingers up and down your arms, he drew invisible lines with his nails. So careful. Like you’d shatter if he treated you too roughly. His palms settled over your hips, and again, he kissed you. Tate just couldn’t seem to stop doing so, even as you spoke to him with poison on your tongue.

“No. It’s warmer.” He squeezed your hips a little tighter, “Why…why’s it so warm with you?”

The initial kisses between you both were so frigid and lifeless. But now, somehow, so heated and real. You locked your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles. Inviting him forward, you loomed in the sill of the window. Your body tilted. In the arms of the summer’s air, you almost fell backwards. You had every reason to believe Tate would let you plummet.

But he didn’t. Not this time.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he kept you from slipping. Under your dress, his free hand sought the heat between your legs. His palm cradled warmth over thin cloth. Discreetly, he pressed the pads of his fingers to your sex over your panties. And the contact amplified a scorching fire within you. A vigor exceeding the bitterness of death.

You wondered if Tate had less experience than he claimed in therapy. It took him a few tries before he found your clit. His sizable fingers circled your little nub in easy motions. Drawing long, needy noises out of you. Silence lingered between you both in calm, but tense quiet. Until the rasp of his voice caught your attention.

“Do you feel this? Do you feel, like…anything?”

You whimpered in response - timid like a churchmouse - as wetness stained Tate’s fingers through fabric. Cotton once so pure and untouched became damp. He chuckled, the sinister rumble in his throat making your blood run cold. Until the warmth of desire lured you in before you could second guess yourself. Savoring the hot friction on your pussy, you allowed sin to taint your clarity.

"For you? No. Never. You're sick. You're twisted. You're-" You cut yourself off with another whimper, once Tate caressed you with more pressure.

“Oh, shit…” He hastily tugged your panties down your thighs. Cupping your bare cunt, he pressed firmly into your clit. Thick digits teased the blazing heat of your folds, “You do, don’t you?”

Tate’s fingers dipped into your slick valley, his digits predominantly larger than your own. You rolled your hips just a smidgen, careful not to lose your balance - lest you fall out the window. Again. Though, maybe a rough tumble onto the lawn would knock some sense back into your muddled head. His other arm stayed iron locked around your body, keeping you safe. He eased inside you with all the hesitance of a man out of practice.

"F-Fuck! Fuck this. Fuck you." You mumbled, hushed under airy moans.

Following the squeeze of pleasure in your core, came something you lost in the afterlife. You almost felt the pumping of your dead heart again. A ghostly sensation of life blossomed under your ribs. Warmth flowed through your veins in syrupy bliss. Cozy wind billowed from outside, tickling your skin. If you closed your eyes for long enough, basking in the ecstasy of true feeling - you might’ve believed you were somehow revived.

Flitting your lashes, your eyes gradually opened. The sunny glow of afternoon light painted Tate’s aged features, showering him in golden rays. An image far too heavenly for a cold-blooded monster birthed from sin. You looked lazily into his hues. A whirlpool of guilt intermingling with lifeless cruelty; all within his dusky eyes.

“Feels like…” He mumbled, clumsily nuzzling your clit with the pad of his thumb. Biting his lip, Tate stifled a groan. He buried his fingers to the knuckle in your cunt, “...like I can feel your blood pumping.” Adding a third digit, he stretched you open. Your walls made effortless room just for him. You whined, making him smirk, “Fuck, this is hot. You love it, huh?”

"No. No. No, I'd never! Not with you. I'm just-" You swallowed, feeling your cheeks burn, "It really does feel like-"

Post-mortem coldness became lost on you now. Left behind, alongside your broken hearted resentment. Instead, you were overcome with the lively spirit of beingness. The afterlife had been so unkind to you. For a decade now. It abandoned you to stew in the longevity of solitude. With no one but Tate to provide you true company. Bringing your hands up to his cheeks, you pulled him in for a kiss. Your fingers threaded through his blond locks. Winding your tongue sloppily with his, you whined.

"Make me cum." You asserted, your legs sealing tighter around him, "Make me cum, and I might forgive you."

A flash of vulnerable sweetness overtook Tate's face, his puppydog eyes lighting up. An almighty flood of euphoria built up to a radiant crescendo, as his digits fucked you into oblivion. You clamped around his fingers, squirming with such intensity - he almost lost his hold on you. Tranquility found you at the peak of your climax. A divine miracle. As you cried little pleas into Tate’s lips, you felt as though you grew angel’s wings. As if some ethereal being descended from the heavens themselves, stole you away, and led you to the golden gates.

As you shuddered, your paradisal tremors eventually subsided. Blissful nirvana faded, and the hollow nothingness of death’s touch came again. Outside, the world continued on in slow-moving seconds. And in the distant horizon, the sun began its steady fall into night. Tate’s nose brushed yours. Looming in so close, he withdrew his drenched digits from your pussy. Leaving even more forsaken emptiness behind.

“I could…do that kinda thing for you every day…if you wanted me to.” He whispered, peppering your forehead in kisses, “It feels really good, doesn’t it? Just…please don’t make me go away? Please…”

[chukys-mouthguard]

#3, a little angst that ends with fluff, for Mat Barzal

Prompt: “I wish you were here with me.”

Note: I don’t know if my brain will ever fully get used to spelling his name with one ‘t’…but like that’s such a mat barzal thing idk why that’s so him in my opinion 😂

“Yeah it was a pretty fun day, I’m exhausted though. I don’t think I’ll be able to get out of bed in the morning.” 

Mat finally finished telling you all about the fun he had at the skills competition. The guest celebrities he got to meet, the freebies that brands were gifting out to the players. Though you knew he wasn’t bragging, it still hurt your feelings hearing how much fun he was having. 

You were supposed to go with him for the All Star Game, but something came up with work and you were forced to stay home. He knew how much you were looking forward to going, and of course you were proud of him for getting picked, you missed not being able to celebrate moments like this along with him. 

“Yeah, sounds like you had quite a fun day babe.” 

Mat could hear the bit of disappointment lacing your words as you sighed into the phone. He felt bad for bragging, but he was just so excited to tell you about his day that he’d neglected to sympathize with how you were still upset. 

“I wish you were here with me.” 

His words coming out a bit like an afterthought as he tried to cheer you up, only to make you more frustrated. 

“I’m sure you do, though it sounds like you had a great day without me. Meeting celebrities, getting tons of freebies from brands, hanging out with the guys. Definitely sounds like you were missing me Mat. But don’t worry because I’m sure we will make plans for me to come with you to the awards in Vegas, or overseas for some upcoming tournament, or god knows what else. But, per usual something will come up and I won’t be able to join you and support you.” 

Mat remained silent on his end of the phone call, letting you vent and say whatever you needed to. These frustrations being something you’d had for awhile. Your job unfortunately not always being one to let you miss work, especially when you had important deadlines or projects that needed done. 

“Well, I meant what I said…but I’m sorry you don’t think so.” 

He didn’t mean to say anything snarky back to you, but it just slipped out. He was frustrated that you felt like he didn’t want you there to experience these things with him. 

“Mat, I didn’t say that. I just, I want to support you. To be there to experience all these achievements and special moments. But it’s like I can never catch a break with work. And I feel like I’m not being the best girlfriend I can be if I can’t even have a weekend to fly out and see you in an all star game like every other girlfriend or wife can.” 

One thing Mat was never okay with was you comparing yourself to other girlfriends or wives. Was he upset that you felt he was insincere wishing you were there, sure. But he knew you were just frustrated. He would be too if he was in your shoes. But to hear you call yourself a bad girlfriend or not supportive enough, that hurt him. 

“Baby, you are the most supportive person in my life. Who gives a fuck what other girlfriends and wives do. You’re my girlfriend, and you do more than enough to support me. You refuse to stop working because you don’t want to be someone who lives off their boyfriend, and I admire the fuck out of that. Half the girls dating guys in this league aren’t like you. And that’s why I love you so much. I’m sorry for being snarky, I just, I hate that you feel like you need to be like the others. Because you’re perfect for me, just the way you are.” 

Smiling into the phone, you calmed down a bit as you needed that reassurance from Mat. He always reminded you that you were different, in the best way. And that’s why he loved you so much. 

“Now, enough about my day, tell me about this work project and how fucking amazing my boss ass girlfriend did.”

[miniwrites1]

Hey! Any chance of getting an ominis x reader fic where he maybe tries reaching for readers arm/shoulder/ whatever and accidentally cops a feel so he gets really flustered (especially as seb keeps ragging on him for it lol) but he eventually talks to reader and apologized and they just giggle and say like “it’s ok it was an accident”

Doesn’t have to be smutty. Frankly I envision it pretty fluffy but could Easily be used for aged up smut if someone wanted to

Accidents Happen - Ominis Gaunt

Word Count - 900

Theme - Fluff

Warnings: Accidental groping? Is this a warning? IDK

“Why does he always have to be such an ass?” You exclaimed, venting to Ominis. You’d made one small mistake in potions class, adding too much horklump juice into your wiggenweld potion and Sharp had announced it in front of the entire class. You could feel your cheeks burning just thinking back to the moment that it happened.

“You are one of his best students, perhaps he expects perfection.” Ominis replied nonchalantly, you let out a frustrated sigh, throwing the book you were holding on to the bench behind you.

“I just don’t understand why he has to be so mean.” You stated, another sigh escaping your lips, Ominis cast you a sad smile continuing to listen to your frustrated rambling, understanding of your frustrations but feeling that you may have been overreacting slightly. He took a couple of steps towards you, reaching out to touch your arm. As he made contact, he gently gave a reassuring squeeze. Your rambling stopped almost instantly.

“Is this your way of trying to make me feel better?” You questioned with a small laugh, slightly confused. Ominis’ brows furrowed, as equally confused as you.

“What do you mean?” He replied, removing his hand.

“Ominis, you grabbed my breast.” You responded, laughing a little more. His cheeks immediately went red.

“I-I uh, I’m sorry!” He exclaimed, taking a few steps back, he looked like a deer in the headlights, immediately realising his mistake. His face felt unbearably hot. “I’m sorry, I need to go to class now.” He said quickly, leaving without another word. You stood in the courtyard watching as he left hurriedly, a small smile plastered across your lips, cheeks also tinged slightly red.

Ominis hurried back to the Slytherin common room, desperately wanting to hide. He couldn’t believe he’d done that, questioning how he’d managed to mistake your breast for your arm. He’d even squeezed it. He could feel his face becoming red again as he raced through the corridors, relief only hitting him once he was locked away inside the common room.

He flopped down onto one of the sofas near the fireplace and leant his head back.

“I’m such an idiot.” He spoke to himself quietly, internally cringing again over what had happened.

“Why are you an idiot?” A voice spoke from behind him. Ominis screwed up his face, knowing exactly who the voice belonged to. Sebastian wasted no time in sitting down beside him.

“Well?” Sebastian questioned, interested to know about his friend’s idiocy. Ominis sighed, he knew that Sebastian wouldn’t drop the subject until he’d told him what had happened.

“I touched (Y/N)’s breast.” Ominis said simply, blushing at the words leaving his mouth. Sebastian paused for a moment to process what he had just said before a laugh escaped. The laughter turned into full blown cackling to the point where Ominis thought he’d faint if he didn’t take a breath soon.

“I don’t need to know.” Sebastian spoke after he’d mostly contained his laughter, a small chuckle escaping occasionally at the thought.

“No! Not like that!” Ominis exclaimed, causing Sebastian to let out an undignified snort and almost fall off of the sofa from laughing so hard. Ominis sighed and placed his head in his hands. Once Sebastian had regained his composure again, he placed his hand on Ominis’ shoulder.

“(Y/N) will understand that you didn’t mean to, try not to worry.” Sebastian spoke confidently. Ominis didn’t believe him, feeling incredibly guilty for touching you. He leant back, resting his head on the sofa, not wanting to move to go to his next class which he was already late for.

“I don’t want to face her right now. She’s in all of my classes today.” Ominis sighed, knowing that he’d surely be given detention if he didn’t go. Sebastian laughed again before standing up and grabbing him, dragging him off of the sofa.

“Well you have to. Otherwise I’ll speak to her.” Sebastian threatened light heartedly. Ominis’ eyes widened at the thought of it, he couldn’t allow that.

“On second thoughts, I’ll be on my way.”

Ominis made it to herbology in record time, slipping into the back of the classroom unnoticed by Professor Garlick and taking a seat. He could barely pay attention to the lesson, knowing that he would have to speak to you at some point. Before he knew it, the lesson was over and students began to disperse from the room. Unbeknownst to him, you had noticed him slip into the classroom. As he went to leave you called out to him.

“Ominis, do you have a moment?” (Y/N) asked quietly. Ominis stopped in his tracks and took a breath. He didn’t want to know what you were about to say, worried that you would be angry at him. Sighing slightly, he turned to face the direction that your voice had came from, his wand helping to guide him.

“I’m really sorry (Y/N), I didn’t mean to.” He spoke softly before you’d had the chance to say anything. You could see the redness creeping back into his cheeks, he was embarrassed about what had happened.

“It’s ok, I know you didn’t mean to. Please don’t worry.” You replied quietly, with a small laugh. A soft smile appeared on Ominis’ lips, grateful that you weren’t angry with him.

“It was actually quite funny. I didn’t expect you to be that forward.” You quipped, causing a small laugh to erupt from him.

“Oh, don’t start.”

[gayfanservice]

Kei with a male reader. figure their on the debate club or something and Kei vents to them because their a non biased person regarding volleyball and his team. Figure they give encouragement and kei just bluntly asks them out.

Guess who’s back (back again) I am back! (Once again)

Friends to lovers, i dont know anything about debating

*********

“-and that tiny-ass-mother-”

“Too strong, Kei, try to keep the emotions at an even level so it doesn’t cloud your judgement.”

“Huh? I’m not debating this, he’s tiny!” Kei huffed, cheeks pink and puffed ever so slightly as (Y/N) chuckled.

“Right, sorry, continue.”

Kei was currently flopped on (Y/N)’s bed, who was sitting at his desk, a notepad and pen in hand, looking like a therapist.

“He’s so annoying. We’re doing basic drills and these two just keep arguing! They argue about this, they argue about that! All they do is argue!” His hands dramatically extended to the air.

“Mhm, and how does that make you feel?” Kei sighed at his friend’s poor attempt to be funny, who found it just a little funny to fuck with him. If Kei didn’t like him so much, he would’ve kicked his ass for not taking this outrageous news to heart.

“Awful, because after practice I came here only to have your ass joking about my suffering.” There was obviously no malice behind the words; a playful undertone was hanging from them as his heart sped up. He huffed, again, and rolled to his side, cheeks turning more red, “If you were there, you’d understand.”

“Maybe, the only teammate of yours I know is Yamaguchi.” (Y/N) continued writing in the notepad for a few seconds. “Do you know why they fight?���

“‘Cause they’re stupid.” Kei snorted out, a proud look on his face as he rolled onto his back. “And immature, can’t forget that part.” He heard his friend hum, acknowledging his words. “But, you have no idea how much that twerp gets me so… angry! Genuinely, he’s the most annoying guy I know!”

“Have the captains-”

“Captain, technically there’s just one captain.”

“Just gonna down-play one, got it.” (Y/N) grinned, “Has the captain and co-captain, or whatever term you guys use, talked to them?”

Remembering how the two were literally thrown out because they couldn’t get along with each other, Kei bursted into a short, obnoxiously loud laugh, “You have no idea, they literally kicked them out of the gym until they could get along!”

Surprise was evident on (Y/N)’s face, “Wow, that, uh, yeah, that is a pretty intense hatred.”

Kei let out a long, exasperated sigh. “I can’t deal with those two, I swear.” He mumbled, rubbing his face, glasses pushed up to his forehead. “Thanks for letting me rant, without much interruption of course.”

“No prob, dog-”

“Gross.” If only he didn’t like this debating nerd.

“It’s always good to get stuff off your chest.”

“Is that way you joined the debate club?”

“No, I just like telling people they’re wrong.”

“I- that happens? I thought… actually, I don’t know what I thought.” (Y/N) cackled as he continued writing. Kei’s heart swelled at the noise, staring at the faint outlines of those glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, no doubt that (Y/N) had since childhood. He sighed obnoxiously loud, again, “What am I gonna doooo,”

“Well you could quit-”

“No?” Kei scoffed at the audacity of this man to even think he’d quit volleyball because of those two dumbasses.

“-or you can tough it out. Just because they don’t get along now, doesn’t mean they never will. I bet in a couple weeks they’ll tolerate each other and stop being annoying.” The emotionally intelligent one said, still writing in the notepad.

“Yeah, I will.” As if he wasn’t already doing that.

The two sat in silence, for only a couple minutes. Kei went onto his phone, scrolling through whatever app was available to him. His face was still warm, heart still faster than normal. He liked the other boy for quite some time now, but he never had the guts to actually say anything. Hell, Kei wasn’t even sure if (Y/N) even liked him as a friend, but at this point it’d be awkward if he didn’t, so he assumes yes.

Kei took a deep breath, heart pounding faster and face turning red as he sat up, phone discarded to the side. Might as well confess after spilling your hateful guts, right?

“(Y/N),” He got a hum as said boy stopped writing, making eye contact with a red Kei, “Wanna go out with me?”

(Y/N) froze, the bluntness and randomness completely taken him by surprise. He felt his face heat up and tried to keep his composure, “Wow, very blunt and straight forward, never expected less from you, Tsukki.” He grinned.

“Oh, fuck you.” (Y/N) laughed as Kei deadpanned, not fond of how his friend called him by his childish nickname. “Statement: retracted.” He crossed his arms and tilted his head.

“Wait- no- Kei, I’m sorry!” (Y/N) snorted, amused by Kei’s childish actions, “I’m sorry, you just took me by surprise and I had to get you back! Yes, yes, I’ll date you, sourpuss.”

“Hm, I don’t know if you deserve it anymore.” A smile crept onto Kei’s face no matter how hard he tried to stay nonchalant. (Y/N)’s grin widened, setting the notepad and pencil down.

“Fine, you leave me no choice,” He held his hands up in a mock surrender, “I guess we’ll both just be single for the rest of our lives, forever craving the touch of one another.” He held a hand over his heart, almost tipping the chair over with how far he leaned back.

“God, you’re weird.” Kei feigned disgust at the display in front of him.

The two laughed as they finished whatever they just did, the afternoon sun casting a shadow into the dimly lit room.

(Y/N) got up from his spot, “So, are we dating?” He asked as he sat beside Kei.

Kei’s heart once again sped up at the closeness of the other, “Uhm, I don’t know,” he didn’t know why he was awkward now, perhaps his brain was occupied with how easily he could lay down and finally cuddle (Y/N) like he’s thought of for the past couple of months, or perhaps it just suddenly got really hot out of no where, “are we?”

(Y/N) pretended to think, putting a finger to his chin as he leaned on Kei, “Sure, why not?”

*********

It has been… awhile lol

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