#they run even though they’re hurt and tired

[revelboo]

First part of my blokees shipment is in the country, u really are a master planner of propaganda 😂

I'll showcase what I scored if anything fun comes up

Nice! They’re just so little and cute

It Had To Be You Pt 11

TFO Megatron x Reader

• Venting softly as he notices your unfinished food, he grits his denta. This again? What exactly do you hope to accomplish by refusing to eat? Mass shifting, he bends to pick up the full tray and stalks your way, optics narrowing as you tense like you’re considering bolting. “Don’t you dare,” he growls and your eyes narrow in answer. Lunging to hook an arm around your middle as you scramble to your feet to run anyway. He’d almost swear you enjoy this game, struggling angrily against his grip as he sits heavily with you across his lap. “Stop acting like a sparkling.”

• “I’m not hungry,” you snap, trying to kick the tray out of his other hand as he pins you against him, a palm splayed against your belly, servos flexing on you. Fighting even though you know what’s coming. Feeling it buzz through you to lift the fine hair at the your nape when he snarls. You’re pretty sure he’s swearing at you in Cybertronian as he drops the tray with a clatter and pins you more firmly against his chassis, his chin resting on top of your head and all the fight just drains out of you as he holds you, his arms curling around you like a lover would. Your body and mind at odds with each other. One whispering that this is where you belong, the other screaming. “I’m not hungry,” you repeat, the words sounding sullen even to your own ears. You’re just so tired of hating him and needing him. It’s like you’re coming apart day by day fighting him and yourself.

• “You’ll eat anyway,” he growls, spark constricting as you just lay against him, hating that it’s like this. That you’re like this even as he understands why. Reaching to tug the tray closer, he picks up a strip of cooked meat and offers it to you, holding it an inch from your lips as you tense against him. “I’ll hold you down if I have to.” It’s a threat, but it’s sincere. You can find some other way to rebel against him besides trying to starve yourself. Sighing, you open up for him, lips brushing the tips of his servos as you take the bite to make him shudder. “Is being here so awful?” He doesn’t mean to ask, because your anger can only hurt him and he knows it. Is it so much to ask for you to feel anything for him? Any affection, not just physical need?

• “I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here.” It’s a lie and you know it. Even if he let you go, you’re not sure that you could make yourself walk away from him. That longing pulling at you, would stop you in your tracks. And even if you somehow forced yourself to keep going, to run? That warmth that’s him would fade away to just leave a hollow ache over time. Missing something you’d never even wanted to begin with. Trapped by something you don’t understand. The arm still curled around you tenses, but he doesn’t have an angry comeback this time, just silently offers you another bite of food. Venting against your neck as you let him feed you, hurting because all of this is wrong. The safety you feel in his arms, his fake concern, it’s all a lie to trap you.

Previous

[whosscruffylooking]

Open Arms Chapter One

steve harrington x fem!reader word count : 6k Rewrite/Character Insert of Stranger Things ~1984~ This chapter takes place during Season 2 Episodes 1-5

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Another day in Hawkins. Another day of high school. Another day stuck in the same small, sleepy town you’ve known for as long as you can remember. It feels like nothing ever changes here, like every day just blurs into the next, predictable and quiet.

Every day, you wake up wishing for some kind of miracle, something that could shake things up, make life a little less ordinary. Something that could turn your world… Upside Down.

“Y/N!�� your mom calls out from the kitchen, “Is Steve giving you a ride today?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Mom, seriously…when was the last time Steve drove me to school? He has a girlfriend to pick up now.”

Steve, your best friend since the first grade. To everyone else he was The Reigning King of Hawkins High. To you he was just the boy next door who reigns havoc on your life, makes everything a little more complicated whether you want it or not. 

Your mom hums thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time you found yourself a boyfriend.”

“I’m perfectly fine, thanks.”

She gives a little shrug. “I’m just saying, wouldn’t it be nice to be taken out on a date once in a while?”

“Mom,” you sigh, “please take your matchmaking somewhere else.”

She’s not wrong, though. You haven’t let yourself even think about dating anyone else since the last “almost” with Steve. Around a year ago, he’d done something reckless enough to mess up things with Nancy, and she seemed to be getting closer to Jonathan Byers. You had just gotten out of a relationship yourself. 

It happens every time: he messes things up with a girl, or you’re fresh out of a breakup, and suddenly, like clockwork, you’re back in each other’s lives, circling each other. It’s as if you’re both bound to this endless cycle of almosts—falling together just to fall apart again. You know the game by heart, and you’re tired of it, tired of the late nights that never lead to anything real, the unspoken words that hang heavy in the air between you both. But still, you can’t seem to let go.

Nothing ever actually happens. You just end up crashing at each other’s houses, watching movies till you both fall asleep, or driving out to Lover’s Lake to stargaze and rant about your trainwreck love lives. But you both know what it is—and what it isn’t. The truth is, you’re bound by a history no one else could touch. Growing up together, you made the stupid decision of being a lot of each other’s firsts, and you’ve always been the one person who truly gets him. It’s a bond that runs deeper than most things in your life, yet it never seems to go anywhere beyond these stolen moments. And maybe that’s why it hurts the most—knowing he’s always right there but never fully yours.

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At school, you overhear the girls in the hallway whispering about the new guy in town. Though “guy” isn’t the word they use—they’re calling him a real man, with a muscle car to match and actual muscles to back it up. You’ve never been the type to shy away from guys, and you’ve certainly never had any trouble attracting attention. Still, something about the way they talk about him piques your curiosity, though you’d never admit it.

You notice the once-empty locker beside yours is finally in use, a few things tossed inside. You wonder briefly who claimed it. That curiosity doesn’t last long.

“Excuse me, gorgeous, but I think that’s my locker.”

You turn to find the living, breathing embodiment of the girls’ descriptions. Tall, sharp-jawed, with piercing blue eyes, and that effortless, cocky grin. You don’t even have to ask if it’s him.

“Oh—my bad,” you say, stepping aside.

“And what’s your name?” he asks, his smile unwavering.

Who does he remind you of?

“Y/N…” You try to pinpoint it, that nagging sense of familiarity.

He tosses his keys into the locker, eyes still fixed on yours, something almost playful in his gaze.

Then it hits you.

“I’m—”

“Knight Rider?” you say slyly, a smirk playing at your lips. He blushes just a little, caught off guard, and you savor the small victory.

“Well played,” he says, taking your hand into his for a confident but gentle shake.

“That’s just the beginning,” you respond, shutting your locker with a quiet click, eager to keep the mystery between you two alive.

“I hope so. I’m Billy by the way,” he replies, his voice softer now, still slightly in awe of you. There’s something in his eyes—a challenge. And you can tell, he’s baited.

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At lunch, you find yourself walking through the crowded cafeteria, scanning the room for a familiar face. As luck would have it, you bump into Nancy and Steve near the food line.

“Hey,” Steve greets, his voice laced with a hint of curiosity. “What did you think of the new guy? Total douche, right?”

You catch the look on his face, a mix of hope and something else you can’t quite place. It’s clear he’s fishing for your opinion, eager for you to agree with him.

You shrug, trying to keep your tone casual, though you can’t hide the small smirk tugging at your lips. “I mean…” Your voice comes out just a bit higher than usual, betraying your uncertainty. “He’s like the entire cast of The Outsiders wrapped up in one package.” You leave it at that, the playful jab hanging in the air between you three.

Nancy chuckles, gripping her tray closely as she looks between you and Steve. You take the opportunity to point at her, nodding toward Steve. “Looks like your girl might agree with me too.”

Nancy gasps and bursts into laughter. “I don’t know, I guess. He’s not really my type though.”

You smirk, not missing a beat. “That’s so funny, because I’m pretty sure I saw a David Hasselhoff photo in your locker just last week?”

Steve’s face falls slightly, and you catch the brief flash of disappointment in his eyes. “Oh please,” he says, his tone a bit too defensive, “he is not David Hasselhoff.”

“Knight Rider,” Nancy interjects, her eyes darting between you and Steve. You both freeze, caught off guard.

“What?” You ask, happy she sees the resemblance too.

Nancy looks back and forth between you two, realization dawning on her. “He has the car, the curls, and the mus—muscle car.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing her. “You just said the car twice. Sure you didn’t mean another kind of muscle?”

Nancy giggles at your comment, but Steve pushes you playfully, though there’s a layer of something more in his touch—like he’s trying to keep things light but it doesn’t quite feel like it used to.

“Have I told you that I hate you?” Steve mutters under his breath, though it’s more playful than anything else.

You smile, your tone laced with the usual teasing. “All too often.”

But as you both lock eyes, something shifts. It’s not just a playful exchange anymore. The usual banter feels heavy now, the space between you both thick with unspoken words. Steve’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you wonder if he’s feeling the same distance creeping between you two that you’ve been trying so hard to ignore. You quickly look away, forcing the feeling down as Nancy continues to laugh, unaware of the sudden tension lingering.

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You’re walking down the hall, a few steps ahead of Steve, the sounds of lockers slamming and voices all around you fading as the tension between you both hangs in the air. Every time you glance over your shoulder, his gaze is already on you—lingering, just a bit too long.

You both fall into an uneasy silence. It’s not the comfortable quiet you used to share, but something heavier. Something unspoken.

You stop for a moment, unsure of what to say. “I’ll see you in class,” you murmur, turning to leave.

But Steve’s voice stops you. “Hey,” he calls softly, his hand brushing yours as he steps into your path. His touch is warm, too warm for something so casual. His fingers linger for a split second before he pulls away, but the moment still sits between you, unresolved.

You look up, meeting his eyes. His usual cocky confidence is gone, replaced by something more vulnerable. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for you to say something, anything to break the silence.

“Steve…” You don’t know what you’re going to say. You want to say something that makes it all feel normal again, but the words feel stuck in your throat.

He opens his mouth, hesitates, then shuts it again. “Never mind.” The smile he forces doesn’t reach his eyes again. It’s strained, tight. And suddenly, you can’t look at him anymore.

Turning quickly, you walk past him, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

From down the hall, Nancy watches the exchange, arms folded, leaning against the locker as she observes. There’s no jealousy in her gaze—she’s been there too. She knows the space between two people who care for each other but don’t know how to bridge it. She’s seen it with Jonathan, with the way they get tangled in unspoken words and moments that feel like too much, but too little at the same time. It’s just the way things go sometimes.

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*Flashback*

1 year ago

It’s a Friday afternoon, and the hallways of Hawkins High are quieter than usual. Most of the students have gone home, leaving the echoes of footsteps and lockers slamming shut. You and Steve are walking side by side, the familiar warmth of his presence at your side like it always has been—comforting, easy.

You laugh as Steve pulls an exaggerated face, trying to get you to laugh at his antics as he mimics one of the teachers. You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile spreading across your face.

“You’re such an idiot,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder.

He bumps you back, almost knocking you into the lockers. “You love me for it,” he smirks, and there’s a hint of something else in his gaze, something unspoken that lingers between you, like a question neither of you has the courage to ask.

You roll your eyes again, but there’s no denying the way your heart skips. “Yeah, maybe,” you say, trying to brush it off. But you both know that maybe means something more.

You reach the end of the hallway, your steps slowing as the moment stretches, neither of you wanting to be the first to turn back, to end this rare, quiet time between just the two of you.

He glances over at you, his steps slowing, his voice quieter when he speaks again. “Hey, so… Bryan still around?”

You stop walking, surprised by the question, but it’s Steve, and it’s always been easy with him. “No,” you reply, shaking your head. “He’s out of the picture.”

Steve’s expression softens, a slight smile playing on his lips as if the weight of something between you two has been lifted. “Good. He never really seemed like the right guy for you.”

Your breath catches slightly at the unexpected warmth in his words, but you don’t let it show. “Yeah, well… sometimes you don’t really see things until it’s too late.”

Steve nods, looking down for a moment as if he’s trying to decide something. He looks back up at you, his usual carefree grin returning. “Well, if you’re not busy tonight, you wanna come over to my place? We can grab some takeout, watch movies… you know, normal hangout stuff.”

There’s something in his invitation that feels different this time, but you brush it off. It’s Steve. He always invites you over. You’ve done it a million times before—movies, pizza, talking about everything and nothing. It’s what you do.

“Yeah,” you agree, “sounds good.”

Steve’s eyes flicker down to your lips, then back to your eyes, his expression shifting. You feel your stomach flutter, the air between you thickening as the playful banter dies down.

You find yourself leaning in, just a bit, and you see Steve’s breath catch, the tip of his nose almost brushing yours.

But before you can get any closer, a loud bang from down the hall makes both of you snap apart like you’ve been caught.

You both step back, instantly awkward, eyes darting everywhere except at each other. The spell breaks, but the tension still lingers, heavy in the air. You glance at Steve, and his expression is unreadable—like he’s trying to hide something, or maybe it’s you who’s hiding it.

You break the silence first, a half-laugh escaping your lips. “Well… that was close.”

Steve rubs the back of his neck, looking embarrassed but also relieved. “Yeah, totally. We’re just—uh, messing around, right?”

You nod, trying to brush it off, but your heart is racing, and you know he feels it too. “Right. Just messing around.”

But neither of you says anything more. You both head in opposite directions down the hallway, still feeling the echo of what almost happened, both of you wondering if the other is thinking about it too.

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At last, it’s the day of the party. You’ve spent longer than you’d like to admit getting ready, but you’re finally happy with your look. Blue bell-bottom jeans, a tight orange top with a center zip that falls just below the line of modesty—it’s bold, but you feel good in it. Confident, even.

You arrive at the party, a mix of excitement and nerves swirling inside you. The music pulses through the house, and people are scattered, laughing and talking, their faces blurry in the haze of a dimly lit room. As much as you try to act like you don’t care, the anxiety creeps in. Funny how someone so confident can still feel out of place in a crowd.

You push through, trying to find your core group, but as you weave through the bodies, there’s really only one person you’re looking for. Steve. The one person who has always had a way of making you feel like you belong.

On your way through the crowd, you bump into Jonathan Byers. Another one of your longtime friends. You’ve all grown up together in Hawkins, so you’ve seen each other through the years—some friendships stronger than others, but still, it’s hard to forget those familiar faces.

“Jonathan!” you call out with a smile, pulling him into a quick hug. “Loving the look, very you.” You nod at his usual, low-key style—flannel and jeans. He’s always been the quiet, thoughtful one in the group, and you just want him to feel good about his understated vibe.

“I like… your shirt,” he says, his words trailing off awkwardly.

Well, at least your shirt is doing what you intended it to. Maybe just not with the target audience.

“Looking for Nancy?” you ask, hoping he’ll pick up the conversation.

“Yeah,” Jonathan responds, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I don’t really associate with anyone else here.”

You put on a mock-offended face, “Ouch.”

He immediately backpedals, realizing how it sounded. “I mean, you were gone for a while. We kinda lost touch.” His gaze drops a little, clearly uncomfortable, referring to the time when your parents separated again, and you spent some months with your mom in California. It had been a rough time for you, especially being away from Steve. You’re still not sure how you survived that.

“Well, I’m back now,” you say, brushing off the past. “Come on, join me. I’m on a mission to find Steve and Nancy.”

Jonathan nods, grateful for the company. “Alright, lead the way.”

And there he is, leaning against the wall by the kitchen, laughing at something someone said, a bottle of beer loosely held in his hand. He’s effortlessly cool as usual, but there’s something different tonight. Maybe it’s the way his eyes flicker over to Nancy every now and then, or the tightness in his posture that betrays the casual air he’s trying to maintain.

Nancy stands next to him, arms crossed, her jaw clenched in that familiar way when she’s upset—though it’s hard to say if it’s the alcohol or something else that’s fueling her frustration tonight. She’s leaning a little too heavily on the counter, her face flushed, the words she’s muttering barely audible over the noise of the party.

Steve’s smile is gone now, replaced by a more serious expression. He’s trying to keep things light, but it’s clear she’s not having it. 

As you and Jonathan walk toward the kitchen, you spot Steve and Nancy in their little world, tucked away by the counter. You can hear the edge in Nancy’s voice, even from a distance, though you can’t make out the words. Jonathan follows your gaze, his brow furrowing. You can’t blame him for looking the way he does—he’s been around long enough to know the dance between Steve and Nancy.

“Is she okay?” you ask, your voice quiet, though it feels more like an automatic question than one you really expect an answer to. You’ve seen enough of this cycle to know the routine.

Jonathan glances over, shaking his head just slightly. “I don’t think so,” he says, a rare seriousness in his tone. “But you know Nancy. She’ll push through.”

You feel the knot in your stomach tighten as you watch Steve’s stance shift, his body leaning toward Nancy as if trying to reach her without crowding her, trying to give her space but also not let her slip too far away. There’s something fragile in the air, something more than just the tension between them. It’s like Steve’s holding on by a thread, and maybe Nancy is, too, but neither of them wants to admit it.

“You should probably go talk to them,” Jonathan says, glancing at you. He doesn’t know what to say either, but it’s obvious that Steve’s been trying to manage things on his own. You could step in—or let him handle it.

You glance at Jonathan again, silently debating what to do. Jonathan nudges you gently with his elbow. “You good?” he asks. You nod, taking a step forward, your voice hesitant but warm. “Hey, guys, what’s going on?” you ask, trying to break through the tension without adding to it.

Nancy shoots you a sharp look before turning away, but Steve doesn’t seem to mind. He’s got that defeated, yet resigned, look on his face as he exhales deeply. He’s trying to hide it, but the frustration is written all over him.

“Just the usual,” Steve says with a small, forced smile, looking at you.

Nancy, still with her arms crossed, shoots you a look that says more than her words do. It’s not that she’s mad at you; it’s just that she doesn’t want to be the center of attention right now. She’s not ready to have the conversation.

Jonathan stands by you, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to say something. You don’t know what the right thing is. The silence in the room is thick now.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” Nancy slurs, her words trailing off as she pushes past Steve, who’s still trying to calm her down.

“Please don’t,” Steve says, his voice low and frustrated, but he’s too late. He sighs and chases after her, leaving you standing alone for the moment.

Not long after, a voice you’re starting to recognize from the past few days calls out from behind you.

“So if I’m Knight Rider, then who does that make you?” Billy’s voice is smooth, cocky, and unmistakable. He’s standing just a few feet away now, that grin still plastered on his face.

You turn to meet his gaze, letting a playful smile tug at the corners of your lips. You raise an eyebrow, a silent challenge in your eyes. “You’ll have to learn more about me to find out.”

He steps a little closer, eyes narrowing with amusement. “When?”

The question hangs in the air, and for a split second, you feel that old rush of excitement—the thrill of the unknown. Remembering your mom’s less-than-subtle hints this morning, you decide to play along.

“How about Wednesday night? We can go see the new Terminator movie. You look like someone who appreciates a little Arnold Schwarzenegger,” you say, testing the waters, letting a hint of flirtation slip into your voice.

Billy doesn’t hesitate, that confident grin of his widening. “It’s a date. I’ll pick you up. And…I’ve been to the gym Arnold works out in.” 

You raise your hand to stop him, a slight smirk on your face. “Right…I’m sure you have. Also, I’ve seen how you drive your car. Maybe I’ll meet you there,” you tease, enjoying the playful banter.

He chuckles, stepping back, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. “I’ll go nice and slow just for you.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, the tension between you both shifting into something lighter, something you haven’t felt in a while. But as you look past him, your eyes flicker briefly to Steve, catching him trying to pry the solo cup out of Nancy’s hand. Just as the music halts, that red solo cup and the red mystery punch within it spills all over Nancy’s white shirt. 

Her face is in complete disbelief, she sways back and forth her reaction clearly slowed down by her alcohol intake.

“Screw you.” 

Jonathan follows her quickly into the bathroom. 

“You know,” Billy starts again, “Rumor has it that you and Harrington have quite the colorful history? Why is it that you two aren’t prom king and queen this year?” 

Something in Billy’s tone instantly makes you second-guess your plans for Wednesday. His fading smirk tells you he’s noticed the flash of disdain on your face.

“What does it matter if you’re the one taking me on a date Wednesday?” you say, your voice edged with a warning. You’re feeling oddly protective over you and Harrington’s history, a past that’s none of Billy’s business.

Billy raises an eyebrow, caught off guard but intrigued. “Fair enough,” he replies, but the cocky glint in his eyes lingers, as if he’s still sizing up the situation.

Shortly after, you spot Steve storming out of the bathroom alone, Nancy nowhere in sight. His expression is tense as he heads straight for the drink station, a familiar frustration in his stride. You catch a glimpse of Jonathan making his way toward Nancy, so you turn to Billy with a polite excuse and make your way over to Steve.

“Hey, you don’t need to be drinking any more right now,” you say, noticing that Steve has downed two cups of punch in the short walk it took to reach him.

“I’ve got a pretty damn good reason to,” he mutters, his jaw tight as he opens a beer.

“Steve, you don’t have to tell me what happened, but at least think about the fact that you still have to drive home,” you warn, trying to keep your tone light.

He shrugs, avoiding your eyes. “You can drive me.”

“I never volunteered for that,” you reply, crossing your arms.

For a moment, he looks at you, really looks at you, and you can tell he’s realizing that things are different. You’re not just there to pick up his pieces anymore. You have your own life to live tonight—a party to enjoy, and maybe even boys to dance with. The weight of another round of Steve-and-Nancy drama? That’s not something you’re willing to carry this time.

“You’re right,” Steve says, setting the beer down with a sigh. “I’ll just go sit out on the porch and sober up a bit. Then I’ll head out. And I wanna make sure Nancy gets home safe.”

You give his arm a quick squeeze, silently admiring that, even in the middle of an argument, he’s still looking out for her. That is… until his gaze drifts to the front door, where he sees Jonathan helping a barely-standing Nancy out to his car.

Crap.

“Go sit on the porch. I’ll be right there,” you say quickly, hinting you’ll handle it. You rush outside to catch up with Jonathan. “You know how this looks, right?”

Jonathan gives a solemn nod. “She asked me.”

Nancy lifts her head slightly, her words slurred and muddled. “I don’t want… Steve to take me home. Not Steve. I want to see Barb’s parents. Take me to Barb’s house.”

You pause, taken aback. “Barb’s parents? Why do you want to see Barb’s parents right now?”

Jonathan stiffens, worry flickering in his eyes. “Uh, I really think I should get her home now. Maybe check on Steve too.”

Without another word, they’re off, leaving you standing in the night with a sense of unease. You know Barbara Holland was Nancy’s best friend, missing since last year. But why would she bring that up now? And why with such urgency?

You find Steve out back, leaning against the porch railing, eyes glazed with frustration and a hint of sadness.

“Steve…why would Nancy want to see Barb’s parents tonight?”

He shakes his head slowly, the alcohol clearly loosening his grip on restraint. “God, I wish I could tell you everything right now. It would make things so much easier. You’re my best friend. I tell you everything. But for the past year, I’ve been keeping so many secrets from you.”

A pit forms in your stomach. “What do you mean, Steve?”

He looks at you, eyes haunted, and whispers, “If I told you, you’d die.”

You laugh nervously, trying to shake the unease settling over you. “C’mon, it can’t be that serious.”

“There’s stuff going on around here that you have no clue about.” He reaches up, gently brushing a stray hair from your face, his fingers lingering a second longer than they should. Your heart skips, half hoping this is just the alcohol, half hoping it’s not. He always does this, walks that fine line.

His voice cracks slightly as he murmurs, “I just want to keep you safe.”

In that moment, you realize it’s not just words—it’s a plea, and you can feel the weight of something dark lurking just beyond his gaze, something he desperately wants to shield you from. 

You give Steve a gentle pinch, trying to ground him. “I’m safe, Steve. I’m right here, see?”

But he only shakes his head, eyes dark with something close to dread. “Here is where it’s least safe. Those things… they’re out there.”

A chill runs down your spine. “What things, Steve?” You search his face, recognizing the unmistakable truth behind his words.

He just looks away, jaw clenched. Instinctively, your mind flashes back to last year, the disappearances of Will Byers and Barb. Then Nancy and Jonathan, vanishing for days without a word. Everyone assumed Jonathan had to hold things together while Joyce spiraled, refusing to believe her son was dead. There was even a funeral, and she still wouldn’t admit it. Then, against all logic, Will came back with no real explanation.

You remember Steve acting strangely after everything went down. He kept trying to make peace with Jonathan over the fight they got into outside the movie theater, but he dodged every question you asked about the night he went to Jonathan’s house, laughing nervously or changing the subject so fast it left you spinning. Then there was the night you found a bat in the trunk of his car—nails hammered into it like some kind of makeshift weapon. When you questioned him, he just shrugged it off, calling it a “guy thing,” and you let it go, though every instinct told you there was more to the story.

Whenever you pushed for answers, Steve would wave it off, teasing you about reading too many mysteries and spending too much time theorizing. But seeing the fear in his eyes now, the weight he’s carrying, it hits you like a punch: you were right to question everything. And he knows it, too.

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You drive Steve’s car back to his house, figuring you’ll pick up your mom’s in the morning. One night won’t matter.

Helping him up to his room, you can’t shake the strange coincidences piling up around Hawkins.

“I missed this,” he mumbles, settling onto his bed.

“What?”

“You… in my room,” he says softly, grabbing your hand. “Stay tonight. Don’t leave.”

“You have a girlfriend, Steve. I don’t stay over when you have a girlfriend.”

He sighs, eyes full of something almost desperate. “What kind of girlfriend says she isn’t really in love with you?”

You freeze. “I’m sorry—what?”

“She said we’re just… acting like we’re in love,” he says, voice rough with frustration and something else.

You can see it—the hurt he’s tried to bury, the way he’s tried so hard to be enough for someone. To finally feel wanted.

His arms slip around your waist, his head resting against your stomach, and you feel his shoulders shake. Silent tears he doesn’t want you to see.

“Hey, hey… She was drunk, okay? Everyone says stupid things when they’re drunk. Talk to her tomorrow. It’ll be fine.”

“She meant it,” he whispers, his voice breaking.

You gently push him back onto the bed, pulling the covers over him. “You’ve got a long day tomorrow, Steve. Get some rest, and we’ll figure out the Nancy thing together.”

You hate to leave him like this, but you know it’s the right thing to do. So, once again, you walk away, leaving your best friend alone with his heartbreak and the last traces of alcohol on his breath. Another turn in the endless cycle that is your friendship—always there for him, even as it pulls you back into the same, unbroken loop.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The next day, Billy and Steve square off on the basketball court, the air thick with tension. Billy’s been taunting him non-stop, poking at Steve’s so-called “King Steve” reputation like it’s a worn-out joke. But Steve keeps his cool, mostly.

Until Billy casually drops your name.

“So tell me, Harrington,” Billy sneers with a smirk, “what made you go for the Wheeler girl over Y/N?”

Steve feels the muscles in his jaw clench, but he doesn’t take the bait. He knows better than to react. But Billy’s not done. He moves closer, a low chuckle escaping as he continues, “I mean, the King and the Princess of Hawkins High—cute match and all. But damn, man, have you seen the hips on her? Perfect for holding onto. Word is you already took her for a test drive, too. So I gotta wonder… why didn’t you ever claim her? Or maybe you just weren’t man enough?”

Steve’s control snaps. He shoves Billy hard, fire in his eyes as he stands inches from him, fists clenched. “Say one more thing about her. I dare you.”

Billy laughs, clearly enjoying himself, but there’s an edge to Steve’s stance, a fierce protectiveness that makes even Billy pause. Steve glares, his voice low and dangerous. “Y/N’s worth more than someone like you will ever know. So keep her name out of your mouth, or you’ll regret it.”

Right on cue, Nancy’s soft voice cuts through the tension. “Steve?” She stands just a few feet away, looking pale and uneasy, clearly having seen the entire thing unfold.

Billy smirks, throwing a last taunt over his shoulder. “Good luck, Harrington.” He saunters off, leaving Steve standing there, fists still clenched, his heart pounding.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

“Y/N!” your mom calls from downstairs. “Steve is here!”

Steve coming through the front door? That’s unusual—he’s always climbed the vines up to your window. You quickly spray a bit of perfume, fix your hair, then catch yourself in the mirror. Why are you even putting in effort for him?

When you come down, your mom throws you an excited smile, her back to Steve so he can’t see. She’s still holding onto that hope she’s had since first grade that you and Steve would end up together.

And then there he is, standing in the entryway with a bouquet of sunflowers—your favorite. Your heart stumbles as you take in every inch of him. For a brief second, you let yourself imagine you’re the only girl he brings flowers to. But realistically, he’s probably just coming from Nancy’s or on his way there next.

He hands you the flowers, his gaze lingering. “Thank you for everything.”

“It’s no big deal,” you say, trying to steady your voice.

“Well, I should get going,” he says, and your heart sinks. That’s it? 

“But, uh, make sure to open your window. There’s a nice breeze out tonight,” he adds with a wink. You bite back a smile, catching on.

You say your goodbyes and dash up the stairs, ignoring your mom’s questions as Steve leaves. You open your window, sitting on your bed, waiting for him like you have a hundred times before. Somehow, after all these years, the excitement still feels brand new.

“Miss me?” He slips through the window, quietly so your mom doesn’t hear, and makes himself at home. He turns on your record player, the soft hum of music filling the room, then joins you on the bed.

He stares down at his hands. “I’m sorry for the position I put you in last night. It wasn’t fair, and you deserve better.”

You try to catch his gaze, but he’s clearly embarrassed. “That’s what best friends are for,” you say, hoping to ease his guilt.

You bite your tongue, unsure whether to bring up what he shared last night—but you’ve never hidden things from each other, and you don’t want to start now. “You told me about Nancy… how she said it felt like you were just acting in love.”

He sighs, defeated. “Yeah. I confronted her about it today. Asked if she could say she loved me, and she couldn’t.”

Your heart aches for him. “I’m sorry, Steve. Maybe she’s just… having a moment. A lot’s happened this year.”

The silence hangs between you for a moment, heavy with unsaid words.

“I’m gonna bring her flowers after this. I don’t think it’ll change anything, but she deserves an apology for everything I put her through,” he finally says, breaking the quiet. You smile, resting your hand on his knee. “I think that’s a good idea.”

He looks down at your hand on his knee, his fingers hovering for a moment before he covers it with his own. His expression softens, a hint of something he quickly tries to hide, but you can see it—a sadness mixed with a reluctant acceptance, like he knows exactly what all of this means.

He lets out a quiet sigh, staring at your intertwined hands. There’s a heaviness in his eyes. Like even if things with Nancy are ending, there’s something between you and him that’s never quite let go.

His fingers tighten around yours, just for a second, before he releases your hand and gives you a small, bittersweet smile.

“You should go,” you whisper. You don’t want him to. But he needs to. 

He reluctantly resigns himself.

“Can I come pick you up in an hour? Maybe we can go to the movies or something?”

You know you should say no, but you can’t. “If you and Nancy aren’t making out and making up within the next hour then yes, we can go to a movie.” 

He stares at you, and you can’t quite read him. You avert your gaze. 

“It’s so funny,” he speaks almost as if he can’t believe himself, “No matter what…or who…I always need you.” 

And with that he’s out the window and on his way to try and win back another woman.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

[fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma]

they won :)

[arklay]

once upon a time i liked a ship for what it was and then i saw how the fandom treated it and now i have visceral hatred towards it (harsh but not far off)

[libbyfandom]

Drunk Modern!Mizu with a Breeding Kink

(((Yup. I don't know what to title this short fic other than that. I let the demons win.)))

(((This turned out to have a bit of spice, a bit of fluff, a bit of my sense of humor. I will say it doesn't get smutty smutty but Mizu sure has a mouth on her. And she's determined.)))

You’re shooing Taigen and Akemi out of your apartment with a tipsy giggle at 2 am. Akemi turns and squeezes you in a warm hug. “Good night, doll! See you later!”

Taigen flashes you a peace sign before Akemi leads him, swaying and all, toward their Uber to take them away.

You watch them climb inside the car before closing the door and locking up for the night. You head into the kitchen, picking up the last of the beer bottles and tossing them in the trash.

You head into the living room where you last left Mizu, only to find her sprawled out on the floor with an arm thrown across her eyes. There’s a pink flush across the middle of her face.

“Too much whiskey, sweetheart?” you chuckle as you approach her.

“Fucking Taigen,” she mumbled, trying to angrily growl but it just sounds slurred and tired. “Fucking…drinking contest.”

You crawl over her, sitting on her hips. You do have to move carefully though, you’re just a wee bit unsteady from the amount of alcohol in your own system. “You could’ve just said no,” you hum.

Mizu remains silent. She’s probably telling herself she won’t grace your soft snark with an answer, but it’s actually cause she really doesn’t have a comeback for that.

Her arm lifts slightly higher, and she squints down at you. Her eyes drift to where you’re sitting atop her hips. Her legs shift under you.

She’s… really staring intensely at how you’re sitting on her.

You start to lift yourself up on your knees. “You good? Does it hurt?”

Mizu frowns as your weight leaves her. “No,” she says, and grabs your hips to pull you back down. “...It’s nothing.”

But you know that look. She gets it every time Taigen got under her skin about something.

“Nothing? Like a “just thinking” nothing or a “Taigen pissed in your metaphorical thinking cereal” nothing?”

Mizu’s nose scrunches up in disgust. “What?”

You press your hands to Mizu’s chest, bouncing a little for emphasis. “What. Did. He. Saaaaay?”

Your tone and actions were meant to be lighthearted, but something flashes in Mizu’s eyes when you bounce yourself on her hips. Her eyes flash back down to where you’re sitting. Her hands instinctively grab your hips to still your movement. The pink flush across her cheeks and nose seem to darken. “Fuck,” slips out from between her lips. She shakes her head. “S’ just being stupid and gross.”

You noted that little change in her voice. “Like what?”

Her thumbs run over the jut of your hips. “Some girl he hooked up with. Talking about how she had an IUD and let him cum inside.”

You sigh, “Jesus Christ, of course.”

“He’s gross.”

She keeps shifting her hips under you. “Are you sure you don’t need me to get up-?” You start lifting yourself again.

“Stop moving,” she says, and the flush on her cheeks doesn’t die down. She tries to look annoyed, but you can tell the minuscule differences in her expressions. That’s a pout more than a scowl.

You laugh breathlessly. “What’s got you so worked up?” You tap her totally not pouting lip.

She grunts, grumbling a little as her hands massage where they’re gripping your hips.

“Don’t be all huffy with me. Tell me,” you coax with a grin, your own tipsy flush complimenting your wide smile.

She rolls her head back against the carpet and is silent for a minute.

The amount of whiskey currently killing her liver is the only reason her inhibitions are loose enough to say it.

She mumbles something.

“Mizu-“

“I wanna do that.”

Your eyebrows raise into your hairline, lips parting with surprise. You need to clarify just in case you're misunderstanding. “You want to-?”

“I want to cum inside you.”

The raspiness of her voice is even grittier from the whiskey.

Holy shit.

Her irises are darker than normal, the bright blue having more the tint of stormy waters.

And whether it’s the liquid courage or Mizu’s determination to barrel through things to push through her fears, she keeps going.

Her hands are heavy as the slide up your sides. “I want to have something that I can slip inside you-“

Your heart is pounding harder in your chest from her words, her actions, the heat of her frustrated gaze. “You have several strap ons-“ you joke, but your voice is weak and airy.

“I want to feel you from the inside.” She makes a frustrated grunt, “I don’t want plastic. I want to feel you wrapped around something other than my fingers. I want to stretch you out-“

Her palms dig into your stomach. Her blue eyes flick up and meet yours, and you almost fall back away from her with how much unfiltered desire is in them. Her own breath is shallow, you can see how silently but rapidly her chest is rising and falling.

“I want there to be risk that I forget to pull out.”

Holy shIT-

“Mizu-MIZU-!”

Her hips bucked, throwing you higher up her waist with her strength. Your hands fly out to catch yourself, and your fingers hit her shoulders as she’s suddenly sitting up, face inches from yours. She’s supporting your weight in this position, hands and feet flat on the floor as you’re the unsteady one in so many ways. She looks irritated, like when she can’t bend something to her will no matter how much work she pours into it. But she also looks slightly mournful. Genuinely upset.

And very, VERY drunk.

She looks up at you with furrowed eyebrows. “I wanna see it dripping out.”

You gasp loudly as her teeth snap into your neck. It’s not a love bite, it’s possessive. It’s stinging.

But Mizu, being the complex and non one-note person she is, does let go and licks at the reddened skin in apology. “I want to leave myself behind. Inside you.” She nuzzles her nose below your ear, huffing.

Your brain is just on lag, taking several moments to catch up with each of her revealed desires. “And…” you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth. “And if you got me knocked up on accident?”

Her arms squeeze tightly around you, burying her face in your shoulder. She’s silent for a heart pounding moment, you can actually FEEL her heart pounding with yours.

Her lips drag along the skin behind your ear. Her voice is low, dark. “Wouldn’t be an accident.”

Someone needs to take whiskey away from this woman. Or give it to her more. You’ll decide if you survive this encounter.

“Mizu-“ you don’t even know how to finish that sentence. You’re just… you don’t even know. You think you hear a faint ringing in your ears.

Her left hand dig into your side, gripping the fabric of your shirt. “Would you keep it?” she asks so softly.

“I-“ your brain is still on that fucking LAG.

Her breathing is slow, shuddering against your ear. “I wouldn’t make you, if you didn’t want to-“ she sounds so pained to say it your heart squeezes. You actually forget for a moment that that’s never gonna be an issue for you two.

Her grip on your shirt relaxes, before curling the fabric between her fingers tighter, clinging to you. “I’d just… beg for you to think about it,” she makes a wounded sound.

You swallow again, throat clicking. You’re becoming aware of a heat low in your abdomen growing warmer and warmer.

She holds you tighter against her, and her hips start rhythmically rolling up against yours like she’s mimicking how far she’d push inside to get what she wants. She’d work so hard for it, putting in all her time and energy and her unwavering determination-

“It’s selfish,” she’s murmuring against your skin, warm lips having traveling down to your neck. “But I’m selfish. I want it. I want it so much. I want to know there’s a little us-“ one hand goes between your bodies, fingertips pressed up under your naval like she’s obsessed. Her voice is strained. “I want to know it’s inside you. They’re inside you. I want to know they’re safe and warm. You’d keep them so warm. You’re always warm-“

You have never, in your life, ever heard Mizu babbling like this.

SHE’S STILL ROLLING HER HIPS UNDER YOU.

You finally grab her face with both hands in a rare moment of clarity to still her, forcing her head up to look at you in this haze of body heat radiating from her, from you, radiating everywhere between your bodies.

“Baby.”

Her head lolls back, looking up at you and oh my god. She is just gone. Her red cheek flush has spread to her whole face. Her lips are wet and parted, breath now audibly heavy. Her eyes, her eyes, her gorgeous blue eyes are now a storm. A dark, hot storm.

“Let me put a baby in you, dove,” her voice is strangled, slurred worse than you’ve ever heard as her half lidded eyes gaze at you.

Jesus, she’s bringing out the rare pet nickname she’s so desperate.

And just when you think Mizu is done shocking your system with this new side of her, her expression crumbles into the saddest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Please?”

She’s pleading.

What the fuck was in her whiskey?!

“I’ll-I’ll take care of the two of you. Keep you safe. Just let me- just let me-“ she lifts her hips up under you again, as if trying to tempt you into it. She hiccups. “Just spread your legs and I’ll do all the work.”

With strength she should not have while she’s absolutely smashed, she lunges forward, shoving you to the carpet with your legs spread around her waist. Her hot breath fans over your face, tinted with whiskey. She wets her lips. “Have my baby. Say yes.” Her hips press down into yours again. She whispers your name.

You’re tempted to say yes, despite still being sober enough to remember the logistics of this. She makes a very persuasive case. And it’s not just cause she’s grinding into you like she’s warming up to do it.

"Say yes..."

Click!

You both slowly look up (you more tilting your head back) as the front door opens and Mizu’s roommate Ringo comes in. He freezes in the doorway, seeing Mizu crouched over you in a very interesting position with your legs still spread by her thighs.

She scowls at him. “You said you weren’t coming back tonight!” She sways over you.

Ringo blinks. “Mom has Bingo in the morning,” he says innocently. “… did something happen?”

“She’s pregnant,” Mizu hiccups, before passing out atop you without warning, shoving a strangled noise out of your chest as you yell for Ringo’s help.

“Oh? Congratulations!”

“….Wait…?”

“RINGO HELP!”

In the morning, Mizu drags herself into the living room looking like she was just brought back from the dead, face drained of color and eyes squinting at the light behind her tinted glasses.

“Hi baby,” you greet her softly, cautiously as you watch her head to the kitchen, aiming for the coffee pot.

“Hi,” she groans. “I’m never fucking doing a drinking contest with that bastard again.”

You nod, “That sounds good."

You pause, "Do you remember anything from last night?”

She shrugs as she passes you. “Barely.” She disappears into the kitchen.

“Oh,” you turn toward her retreating back, propping your chin in your hand as you lean against the back of the couch. You wait until she’s out of sight to oh so innocent call out “I wanted to ask about how you were begging to impregnate me.”

Several loud crashes in the kitchen.

[luveline]

JADEEEE i'd love to see an interaction between hotch and teacher!reader outside of school? maybe jack sees her first and step away from hotch for a moment to say hi, hotch gets scared when he realizes jack left but reader comes with him just a moment later because she's panicking too like 'why are you alone? where's your dad?' and jack takes her to him. is that ok??? i hope so! love you <3333

I love you ty for your request! —Hotch flirts with Jack’s favourite teacher, because he’s never as subtle as he should be. fem, 2k

Jack reads a couple of books a week now his dad is home more often. His mom used to read to him some because he loves them, but she preferred to tell her own on the fly. His dad isn’t as good a story teller, and when he does try the stories don’t end up very happy, so they read. Sometimes two or three books a night if they're short ones. 

With Jack’s library card they can borrow ten books. With his dad’s, another ten. Twenty altogether, enough to last the month if they’re careful or if dad gets called away a lot, which he usually does. 

“Can I look for Super Pup?” Jack asks his dad. 

Aaron sits on a chair a little too small for him in the kids section. “What?” he asks, looking up from the back of the large picture book Jack’s just handed him. 

“Super Pup?” 

“I’ll help, buddy.” Hotch looks like he’s going to stand, then hesitates. “In a second. Don’t go where I can’t see you, Jackers.” 

Hotch is tired. He didn’t come home until very late, but he’d woken Aunt Jess anyway and, when Jack woke, there his dad was sleeping in the beanbag by his bed. He’s sore all over now and exhausted from a restless night. Jack feels sorry, as much as he can for being six nearly seven, but he also knows that his dad doesn’t mind the hurting. It was nice to wake up together after a few days apart. 

And now he’s brought him to the library, and after that they’ll go for groceries. Jack should be quick. If they get home before dinner time his dad will ask him if he wants to nap together, which is the best. They just lay there in the big bed with the fan on and snooze until it’s too late to cook, so his dad breaks out the takeout menus, and promises he won’t do it again with a quick hug from behind. 

As though it makes him a terrible parent for feeding his kid. Jack can’t know how guilty it makes Hotch feel to do it, and Hotch doesn’t seem to notice how much Jack loves these days where his dad is exhausted and totally his. 

Jack runs around looking for Super Pup. Hotch’s phone beeps in his pocket, and he fights to keep his eyes open.

A ways away, you browse the fiction section in a crouch, knees somehow totally under your skirt, flicking aside spines of skinny books for something you can read at lunch time. Something that doesn’t require much attention, and could be read in short intervals. You used to demand a half hour to yourself when you first started teaching, but that was before the lonely kids started cropping up. Kids with no friends, or sad smiles, who want company and quiet alike. 

You reach for a pink-spined Japanese translation as a little hand pats your elbow. You’re so used to kids you say, “What’s up?” before you remember you aren’t at work. 

You turn in your crouch to look behind you. “Oh, hi, Jack! What are you doing here?” 

“Me and dad are looking for books.” 

You smile at him genuinely, happy to see your favourite student, even if you’re terrified on the inside at the prospect of his father. He’s the most gentlemanly man you’ve ever met. He’s arduous in how respectful he is, he’s understanding, and he’s tall, dark, and handsome. It is a chilling collection of traits. You stumble whenever you have to talk to him. 

But Jack is easy. You and Jack talk every day. “What sorts of books? Just for fun?” 

“I want to read Super Pup.” 

The kids love Super Pup and his magic bark. You stand promptly, suddenly much taller than Jack as you brush down your skirt. “Wait,” you say. Mr. Hotchner gets called away for work all the time, but he wouldn’t leave Jack alone, would he? “Where’s your dad? You’re not by yourself, are you?” 

Jack laughs. “No! I’m looking for Super Pup! Dad’s tired.” 

You can’t decipher exactly what those two things have to do with each other, but you can guess how panicked his dad will be to find Jack so far from the kid’s section. Fiction is the other side of the library. “How did you end up over here?” You offer your hand. “Should we go back and find your dad?” 

“I saw your skirt, Miss L/N. I like the flowers.”

He takes your hand, clumsy to your gentleness. “Thanks, honey. Let’s go find dad before he calls his scary friends and has your name on the news.” 

You get to the kids section slowly. Endearingly so, but nerve-wracking, too, because Mr. Hotchner can be intimidating. Jack likes holding your hand, you think, clinging to your fingers as he guides you across the library, past the staircase down to the first floor, and back to the kids section. 

“Jack?” Mr. Hotchner asks loudly, turned away from you both near the graphic novel selection. “Jack.” 

“Mr. Hotchner,” you say. 

“Dad!” 

He spins on his heel. His shoulders relax noticeably, but the stress in his gaze remains. 

“Jack, I said stay where I can see you,” he says, not half as scolding as he could be as Jack lets go of your hand and runs to his legs, where he stops. “Please, buddy. You gotta listen to me.” 

Jack turns between you and his dad with a smile, “But look, it’s Miss L/N.” 

“I can see,” he says softly. 

Mr. Hotchner leans down, taking Jack up into his arms with impressive ease, and begins the walk to you where you’ve stayed. 

“I hope he didn’t interrupt you,” he says. 

“Please,” you say, “he’s my favourite. Just–” You wince. “Don’t tell anybody at school I said that, Jack. Please.” 

“I think we can keep this secret,” Mr. Hotchner says. 

“He was just telling me that you’re looking for Super Pup. If you don’t find it, we have copies at the school library. And we can always order you one.” 

Mr. Hotchner gives you a small, and what you know to be rare, smile. “I don’t think he even looked.” 

“I did look!” Jack disagrees, though his disagreement barely has any attitude to it, a credit to his upbringing. 

“You clearly weren’t looking in the right place.” 

“I was too. How would you know, you were sleeping!” 

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Mr. Hotchner says to you. 

You tuck your hands behind your back. “It’s okay, Mr. Hotchner, I believe you. In my classroom we like to say we’re resting our eyes.” 

“Aaron,” he says, as he says whenever you speak to each other, and as you always forget to call him. Not a demand but a suggestion you’d swear to be bordering affectionate. 

You’ve been Jack’s teacher for two months this year, and almost the entire year previously. In the summer when they leave, you’ll find out if you’re moving up a grade with him, but until then, you’ve made the most of such a nice kid, and you aren’t shy to tell that to Aaron. You don’t mind that Jack spends his lunch time with you. He embodies all of the reasons that pushed you to become a teacher in the first place. 

And his father is a good reason to stay. He’s one of the only nice (hot) dads. 

You do worry often that he can read your expression. His lips have quirked into a bemused smile, what’s so funny? He’s terrifying. 

“Aaron,” you rush to say, and fill the silence you’ve made, “It’s nice to see you.” 

“It’s nice to see you, too. You’ll see me on Monday, so you’ll be sick of me by Tuesday.” 

You rock ever so gently on your heels. “You aren’t working.” 

“It’s Jack’s birthday.” 

You nod, pleased. “I know! I know, we already talked about what cupcakes he wants, didn’t we? Everybody’s gonna have rainbow sprinkle, and for a treat we’re going to watch a movie before lunch.” 

“Do you do that for every kid?” 

“I do.” 

“How do you afford it?” He lowers his gaze. “I just mean, it’s expensive to do that for every birthday.” 

“Luckily for me and unluckily for the kids, quite a few of them have birthdays outside of term time. Thirty students is three trays of ten, and that doesn’t usually break the bank, even if things get tight. But… I don’t know, I guess I just have to make room when it does. It’s special to feel special, and,” —you smile, exuberant and a little shy at once, clutching your elbow in your hand— “Jack always makes everybody else feel special. ” 

The boy in question turns into his fathers chest, pleased beyond words. 

Aaron gives you a long, long look. “Thank you,” he says. 

“Oh, you’re welcome.” 

You say goodbye to Aaron and Jack and wish them both a good weekend, which you spend wondering what the pressure of Aaron’s hand would be like on your shoulder, and if you should be ashamed of yourself for thinking about it at all. He seems like he’d give a good hug. You catch yourself picturing him opening a door and ban yourself from thinking of him at all. 

Monday morning, you stand at the door ushering your students inside, and you can’t help beaming when Jack and Aaron arrive. 

“Aw, Jack, where’s your birthday badge?” you ask, fall air nipping your nose. 

“He was feeling too shy,” Aaron says. He’s in casual dress again. Some men should be banned from half-zips, it’s inhumane. 

“You were?” You bend just a bit, hand in your pocket. “Well, I thought you might be, so I brought my badge from home. It’s super shiny, bud. What do you think?” 

You show Jack the badge, It’s My Birthday in silver against a rainbow backdrop. 

Maybe it was silly to bring, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t want to wear one, and maybe he should. He deserves for all his friends to give him some attention, and to have them fight over who gets to sit with him at lunch. 

“We have something for you,” Jack says. 

You stand straight. “You do?” 

Aaron hadn’t been expecting to be the one to give it to you, that much is obvious. He hesitates for a second before he passes you a small brown box, the top of which is made up of four leaves folded into a dome. You have an inkling of what it might me. 

“Thank you… Can I open it now?” you ask. 

“I think you should wait for lunch,” Aaron says. 

You raise your eyebrows but abide by his suggestion, murmuring another thank you as Aaron bends to give Jack a hug. “Have a good day. I’ll be here to pick you up, I promise,” he says.

It’s a great day. The kids are excited for cupcakes and overjoyed to get them before lunch. Not a crumb goes uneaten, and as they all sing for Jack with his borrowed badge, he’s actually happy for the attention. He doesn’t eat with you at lunch, which is a great thing even if you love his company. 

Alone, you fold back the leaves of your mysterious box and smile like an idiot when you confirm what’s inside. A cupcake slightly more sophisticated than rainbow sprinkle spreads icing across the brown carrier, and a business card leans against the other side. 

The front of the card is as you’d expected it to be spelling out Aaron’s contact details from work, and you combust thinking he wants you to call him, but it’s the back that you’d been meant to see. You read it as you fold down the leaves of the cupcake carrier, 

Thirty students, three trays of ten. What does that leave for you? —Aaron. 

Flirt, you think firmly, happily. He’s such a flirt. 

[moonstruckme]

pls hear me out 🙏🙏 vampire!james is recently turned and doesn’t feed cause he’s such a sweetheart he doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

reader notices how weak he is and finds out he hasn’t been feeding and basically offers herself to him and it’s just really comforting and cute

Babe I hear you !!! I hear you soooooo clear (the voices omg, I was so excited to write this). Thank you for requesting!

cw: blood mention

vampire!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.7k words

James never had a problem with eating animals before he became a vampire. You pointed this out to him, once, but he only said it’s different. You suppose it is. The chicken nuggets he used to devour came to him cooked, fried, and with sauces, utterly unrecognizable from what they’d once been. There’s no separating the live-ness from what James has to eat now. 

You spy on him over the top of your book. He’s sitting on the other end of the loveseat with your feet in his lap, massaging your arches through your thick socks while he watches a football match on the telly. His dusky skin had paled after he was turned a few weeks back, but he looks even paler than that now. If he were still human you’d think he was anemic. It’s four in the afternoon, and your ball-of-energy boyfriend looks as tired as if he’s ready for bed. 

“Jamie,” you say, and he squeezes your heel to indicate he’s listening, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can, lovely, yeah.” 

“Have you been feeding?” 

James stiffens at the term. “Mm, why do you ask?” 

It’s as close as he thinks he can get to a non-answer, and it’s an answer for you anyways. James can never stand to lie to you. It’s terribly endearing. 

You turn your foot to poke his abdomen. “I can hear your stomach growling.” 

His lips curve. He glances at you. “I’m not sure that’s how it works.” 

“Really? How does it work?” 

“I don’t actually have a clue.” James smiles, which was your aim. He’s been far too downcast for your liking, his new condition entirely to blame. 

“Well, you’re looking pale.” 

“I’ve been pale.” 

“Paler than pale.” You set your book on the side table, moving closer to him. You sit with your feet folded under you. “Also, you haven’t been going out to feed like you used to.” 

James finally looks a bit sheepish. You smile and cup his face in your hand. Though he knows you know, James has still been a tad secretive about the vampire business around you. He sneaks out after he thinks you’re asleep. You’ll hear the front door open and shut when he leaves and then again when he comes back, the kitchen tap running as he cleans himself up. You wish he’d just use the shower. You don’t mind him walking through your bedroom with blood and dirt on him if it means he gets to feel clean when he slips back into bed with you. 

You rub your thumb over his cheek. “What’s keeping you?” 

He sighs. His face weighs a bit heavier in your palm. You think this must be progress, and you repeat your ministrations to his cheek to encourage it. 

“Everything’s hibernating,” says James, a quiet shame underlying his tone. “The…things I used to feed from are gone, and I’m not left with a lot of choices.” 

You hum. “Well, you’ve gotta eat, Jamie.” 

He hesitates, and you give him your sternest look. 

“You do. What about the deer?” 

“They’re harder to catch. And…I…I just feel bad, you know?”

You nod. Take his hand and press a kiss to his palm. Your poor sweetheart. You know James hasn’t killed anything he’s fed from, but even scaring them and potentially hurting them for the time it takes him to feed rattles him terribly. He’s too good, good and kind down to his core, but you know he’s going to have to find some way to cope other than starving himself. 

“What about people?” 

James’ eyes round behind his glasses. “Wha—no, I—”

“I wouldn’t mind you using me.” 

He seems to falter for a moment. His thick brows draw together in stages, from disbelief to confusion and back again. “Angel,” he says, “I couldn’t do that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because, it’s—it would be—” 

“Or maybe we could try someone else. Someone bad, like a corrupt politician or one of those people who siphons money away from charities.” 

“No.” 

“Then we’re back to me.” You smile at him, one part teasing and two parts genuine. “James, I want to. I don’t like seeing you like this, and I really don’t think I’d mind it.” 

James looks like he’s still having trouble processing. “You don’t think you’d mind?” 

“I don’t,” you repeat patiently. “I’m sort of curious, actually. It could be fun.” 

He looks, to your surprise, like he might actually be considering it. He’s gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know if it’d be fun, angel.” 

“That’s okay,” you promise him. “I want to do it for you. You’re hungry, yeah?” You try to make your voice serene and persuasive, your hand coasting up and down his arm. “Let me help.” 

James looks you in your eyes. You hold his gaze. After a while, the fight seems to go out of him. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. 

“Oh, baby.” You kiss him on his cheek, your heart bulging. “You won’t. It’ll be fine. How do you want me? Hair up?” 

He shakes his head. “It’s good the way it is. I think, um, it might be easier if you were in my lap.” 

“Okay.” You grin, lifting your thigh over his so you’re straddling him. His hands settle on your hips. “Are you romancing me? Is this part of it?” 

James lifts the corners of his mouth, but you can see the trepidation lingering beneath his smile. You do your best to soothe it away with your hands on his shoulders. 

“I want to be gentle with you,” he says.

“I bet you say that to all your victims.” 

“Sweetheart…”

“Sorry, sorry.” You’re nervous. You kiss his nose in apology. 

“If I hurt you—if you don’t like it for any reason, I want you to squeeze my shoulder. Okay?” 

“Okay.” You nod, trying to look certain. “Does it usually hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” James admits. “With animals, they don’t usually…move much after I’ve bitten them. I’m not sure if it stuns them or what.” 

“I’ll report back,” you say seriously. You glance down at the couch cushions. “Will it be messy? Should we go to the bathroom or something?” 

“No, I’m—I’ve gotten better at it. We should be fine here.” 

You smile at him, your pride genuine. “Sounds good.” 

James is starting to look worried again, so you kiss him. On the lips, as sweet as you can muster, and imagine all your love pouring through it. Then, you pull your hair to one side and bear your neck. 

His pupils splay out.

“Remember to squeeze my shoulder.” He sounds hoarse. One of his hands slips up your back to steady you beneath your shoulder blades. 

“I will,” you vow. 

James looks dazed, almost reverent. He wets his lips, and when he opens his mouth you see his tongue skim over pointed teeth. Some prey animal’s instinct sends a shiver of fear through you. Your blood hums with anticipation. But just before James’ teeth skim your neck, he pauses. 

“Jamie.” It’s soft, a murmur, a plea. “It’s okay. Do whatever you want with me.” 

He makes a quiet sound, like a sigh or a whine, and closes the gap. 

At first, it’s only like he’s kissing you. He’s exceedingly sweet about it, lips opening warmly over your skin, his tongue pressing over your artery as though testing the waters. He splays his palm wide over your back in silent warning before his teeth sink into you. 

There’s a sting, but you were ready for it. You keep yourself from wincing, from doing anything that would make James move away, and after a second the pain dulls. Everything does, except for the extraordinary feel of James’ mouth on you. 

“Oh.” Your mouth opens of its own accord, head lolling further to the side to give him better access. You want more, more of this, more of him. Your brain fuzzes and your heart pounds, every nerve in your body narrowing its focus to where James is sucking at your neck, lapping you up. 

You wind your arms around his neck, wanting to be closer to him, and his palm coasts up your back comfortingly. You feel molten, spectacularly, transcendently languid, like you could press your fingertips to his shoulders and they’d melt right in. You don’t, not wanting him to misinterpret it as your signal and stop, but after a while James’ arms are the only thing keeping you from tipping sideways onto the couch, and he stops anyway. 

He finishes with a few chaste kisses, and you think giddily that you weren’t too far off about the romancing. 

“Y’okay, lovie?” he mumbles into your skin. 

You hum in reply. 

James presses one more sweet kiss to your neck, almost a thank-you. He seals the wound with his tongue. A giggle bubbles out of you, one shoulder coming up to ward him off. 

“Sorry,” you say to James’ surprised look. Your head is starting to clear. “That part tickled.” 

His grin splits his face, one part tentative and two parts relieved. “Yeah? Are you really okay?” 

“Super okay,” you promise him. You can’t help grinning. “You were right, it didn’t hurt. That was nice.”

James’ expression eases, some mix of relief and interest in his gaze. “Was it actually?” 

“Mhm. I would be your blood donor any time, really.” 

James scoffs, but he’s clearly elated. He strokes from your hip to your ribs with a big hand, trailing tender kisses up to your cheek. You’re thrilled to see how much more energy he already has. 

“I don’t know about that,” he says in between kisses. “I’d still rather not make you my victim if I can help it.” 

“I didn’t feel like a victim, if that helps.” Your words go mushy as he reaches your lips, but you keep talking, wanting to make your point. “I just mean, I wouldn’t mind doing it again. Maybe when you’re lacking in other options.” 

“Mm, maybe. What was it like?” 

“Like a really good kiss.” 

James backs up from you to give you a dubious look. “Better than the ones I give you normally?” 

You grin. “Maybe a little.” 

His eyebrows shoot up and his mouth drops open, curving on one side. “Oh, yeah? Bold claims.” 

“I don’t know if you can compete with whatever vampire magic that was, Jamie.”

“My kisses are very magical. It seems like I may have to remind you how good they really are, though.” 

You shrug coyly. “If you think you can top that, you’re welcome to try. I mean, you’re really only competing with your—”

James is on you before you can finish.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Satoru Gojo

Summary: Satoru struggles with his two babies.

Warnings: Pure Fluff

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

*I used the two babies from baby steps for this, but you don't have to read to enjoy the fluffy oneshot🥹

“C’mon, Seiji. Vegetables are so good. yummy.” Satoru is trying to bribe his almost-two-year-old into eating the rest of his food, alas, he doesn’t sound too convincing. He tasted the vegetables, they aren’t too good but you cooked them so he isn’t going to bash them. Seiji really doesn’t care about not hurting anybody’s feelings at this stage of his life, so even though his dearest mother made them, he refuses to eat them.

Satoru sighs defeatedly, putting the fork down. He guesses Seiji doesn’t have to eat vegetables every day to grow strong. He picks Seiji up from the high chair, putting him down on the ground to allow him to walk around and do whatever he likes to do. Lately Seiji loves to play with any piece of trash he finds, making Satoru realize that he’s wasted thousands of dollars on toys.

“Don’t be too loud! Don’t wake your sister up.” Satoru yells, knowing that Seiji really doesn’t care about that. The baby only has one thought in his mind and that’s to play with whatever he gets his hands on. 

Satoru really thought that handling two babies under two would be a breeze, he’s the strongest, he can accomplish just about anything… But his two kids tire him out. Saori cries so much that he anticipates in horror the moment that she wakes up. Seiji never stops moving, it’s nearly impossible to get him to stand still for a moment. He loves his babies more than anything, but he’s rightfully tired.

Satoru is being the best husband that he can be by taking care of his babies while you study and finish up your degree. But two tiny humans are slowly ending his life. Satoru follows Seiji around, deciding to just let him wander around the house because Seiji hates to be put in his playpen lately.

“Dada.” Seiji points up when he gets to the stairs, looking back at his father. Satoru shakes his head, picking up Seiji and taking him back to the living room so he can find something there that he can engross himself with. Seiji makes sure to let out a dramatic cry because he hates being carried and contradicted. He doesn’t want to go to the living room, he wants to go upstairs.

“Crying isn’t going to do anything, baby. You’re staying down here.” Satoru says as he carries Seiji away. Seiji makes sure to yell,

“Down! Down!” Which actually works on Satoru today because he doesn’t want Seiji to wake up the sleeping baby. When his tiny feet hit the ground, Seiji begins to run around which isn’t really an issue for Satoru since he only has to take two steps to catch up to Seiji.

It’s boring, really, but he prefers walking after his toddler better than trying to entertain both babies while they’re awake. Seiji doesn’t care for his parents' attention until Saori is awake; when she’s awake he wants to become the center of attention.

Satoru really thinks he’s safe, until he hears her cries from upstairs, and the loudest sigh leaves his lips. He picks Seiji up, making him kick his feet and cry, demanding that he’s put down. Luckily for him, his father listens to his wishes and puts him down. Unluckily for him, he’s put down in the playpen that lately feels like a prison. 

“No! Out!” Seiji demands, but Satoru doesn’t listen. He leaves Seiji there while he goes upstairs to pick up Saori from her crib.

When he gets there, he notices his baby girl is sitting up, waiting for him to finally pick her up. He coos, approaching the crib and picking her up, “Hi my sunshine. Did you sleep well?”

She doesn’t stop crying so easily though. He changes her diaper, and the crying gets worse. He tickles her tummy, laughing to himself, “Aren’t you a hungry girl? You ate one hour ago too.”

He guesses he can’t blame her, a bottle of milk wouldn’t be enough to hold him over either… But he guesses he’s four times her size and two decades older than her. He exits the room, getting more irritated by the second with the crying baby that’s in his arms. 

He begins to walk down the stairs, and that’s when he sees a little rascal holding to the railing and trying to walk upstairs. His eyes widen, his first thought being: how the hell did Seiji escape his playpen? Seiji finally looks up, seeing his father at the top of the stairs. He lets go of the railing, his hands going over his tiny mouth, his signature move for when he gets caught.

Satoru watches it happen in slow motion. Seiji’s tiny feet on the edge of the stair, he tips over and falls back from the stairs until he’s back on the first floor again. At least Seiji was only on the third stair up so it wasn’t a long fall– However, he cries his heart out as if he was at the very top.

“Seiji, how the hell did you even get out of the playpen?” Satoru is reasonably angry because he has two crying kids to soothe on his own. He doesn’t want to bother you while you study so it’s his problem, and only his. He doesn’t know which problem to tend to first. 

Satoru just knows one thing, and he hates thinking about it, but he wouldn’t be dealing with any of this if he had used a condom.

[deadsetobsessions]

“DIDJA SEE THAT, DANNY?!” Tim, a scrawny eleven year old now, excitedly smacked Danny’s arm.

“Ow. Yes, yes I did.”

“Oh, gosh, I have to tell Jazz about this!!” The kid waved his arms about wildly, grinning from ear to ear.

“Jaso- I mean, Robin, smiled at me! And said he liked my t-shirt!! Oh my god, he likes literature puns, he even laughed! And then he punched the bad guy in the face! Look! I even saved the tooth!”

“Okayyy, nope!” Danny plucked the tooth and tossed it, ignoring Tim’s betrayed face. “I’ll trade you that for this.”

Danny Held out a piece of paper with Robin’s and Batman’s sigil on it, from when he asked them to sign it after they “saved” the two brothers from the two-bit thugs trying to mug them.

“Oh. My. God. This is like the best day of my life!! I love you, Danny! You’re the best brother ever!! Oh my god! I have to get Nightwing’s signature!!!”

Danny felt a rush of warmth at Tim’s proclamation of affection. Ah, he should probably step in.

“Hey, wait, no, we’re not going to Blüdhaven for you to stalk another vigilante.”

“It’s not just any old vigilante-!” Tim ignored Danny’s dramatic clutching-pearls gesture of mock hurt. “It’s Nightwing. The original Robin! He gave me my first ever hug!”

Danny paused. God dammit.

“…Fine.”

“YESSSSSS!!!!”

——

Danny-

“I’m gonna be Robin whether you want me to or not!”

-is so damn tired.

“Tim. I’m literally a vigilante ghost. What makes you think I’d be stupid enough to argue with a kid who runs around Gotham at night to take pictures of other vigilantes?”

Tim deflated. “Oh. Honestly, I thought you’d put up more of a fight…”

Jazz laughed and ruffled Tim’s hair. “I definitely couldn’t stop Danny when he went out. He trusted me to support him and I trusted him to come to me if he was injured, though. Can you promise me that, Tim?”

“Yeah… okay, Jazz, I promise.” Tim promised, even if he was still pouty.

Danny chimed in.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m totally worried and I’m gonna hover like a mother hen when you go out, but again, I know how stubborn and crazy we vigilante types have to be.” Danny paused. “Do you want me to put up a token protest?”

Tim nodded, sulking. “Yes, please. I had a speech planned out.”

Jazz and Danny exchanged amused glances.

“Oh, okay, my bad, kiddo. Here, let’s start from the top.”

“Okay. Ahem,” Tim straightened his back, settling into his previous mulish expression once more. “I’m gonna be Robin whether you want me to or not!”

Danny placed an appropriately disapproving frown on his face. “No, you can’t! It’s dangerous! You could get hurt! You’re just a child!”

Tim launched into his speech. “But I can’t stay still and do nothing when people are getting hurt! Even…!”

They were gonna be here for a while. There was definitely something about Batman going on a spiral because Jason wouldn’t be able to walk again after the Joker got to him. Danny wondered if ectoplasm could help. He might offer, if it actually had a change of getting Tim out of the vigilante business.

But that’s for later, because they had time. Jazz was on Spring Break… and they’re still staying here for free, after all of these years.

“So, how are you going to convince Robin to let you be Robin?” Jazz asked Tim.

Tim froze. “I… hadn’t thought of that yet.”

“Well, you could always remind him of the fact that we saved him from the Joker. He seemed pretty ready to leave the Robin mantle, the last time I saw him as Phantom.”

“I don’t want to blackmail him into it!” Tim whined.

“It’ll just be a suggestion, Tim.” Jazz smiled patiently.

“Besides,” Danny continued, smirking mischievously at his adopted little brother. “If you were actually blackmailing him, you’d pull out the photos where he ate dirt.”

“I guess that’s true…” Tim mumbled. “I know! I’ll have to follow them to see how I can best approach him!”

"I think that's called stalking," Jazz deadpanned.

"Well, it's not any worse than what he's already done." Danny shrugged at his older sister. "Sure, kid. Why not? Do whatever you want."

"I was planning to!" Tim bounced off to grab his photography gear. Jazz stared off after him.

"Should we be encouraging that?"

"More like can we actually stop him?" Danny leaned back, lazily completing his GED assignments. Jazz sighed.

"Guess not. Make sure he doesn't get in trouble."

"Do you even know how hard that is, Jazz?" Danny complained, dodging the whack Jazz sent at the back of his head. She smirked at him.

"Womp, womp, Danny. How does karma taste today?"

Danny flipped her off as he put the last punctuation on the paper. He heard a clatter and groaned.

“I’m gonna go watch Tim stalk Batman for the night. Want anything from the store?”

Jazz hummed. “Get me the specialty strawberry ice cream, from that one place?”

“The one that’s definitely a front for Falcone’s money laundering??”

“Yeah. They make good strawberry ice cream.”

“Sure.”

Danny went ghost and flew straight through the walls to catch Tim sneaking out by the scruff of his collar.

“No. Bad Tim.”

“Awww, come on Danny!”

[vrystalius]

Sleepy…

How the hashira act when they’re tired?

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyu x fem!reader

(Reader has stretch marks on her thighs in Gyomei’s part)

Sanemi Shinazugawa

In the mornings…

Sanemi wakes up being grumpy and drained rather than rested from a good night’s sleep. His hair is messy and some stubble formed on his face over the night. Also, he doesn’t believe you when you say he snores in his sleep, even though you woke up from him snoring or grunting in his sleep multiple times. You sometimes even heard him mumble something about Genya and ohagi. Your name fell every now and then but you haven’t told him about that yet. He had a huge grin on his was while seemingly dreaming of you, and you didn’t want to hurt his pride even more.

Sanemi is slow in the mornings and needs you to drag him out of bed. If he has nothing to do but train today, so why can’t he just sleep until he needs to train? He’d hunch over the sink and slowly brush his teeth while having his eyes closer again. You once caught him falling asleep in that stance, snoring quietly. While Sanemi is finishing up in the bathroom at a snail’s pace, you take some time to cook up something nice for you two.

Heavy footsteps would stumble down the stairs and Sanemi would drag his heavy body over to you, leaning onto your back and nuzzling his face in your warm neck. He’d groan and squeeze your waist gently.

“You still feel so warm… ugh, I wanna go back to bed…”

In the evenings…

After showering, Sanemi doesn’t really have energy to do anything else after hunting demons all night. He can’t sleep without you though, so he’ll just lay in bed like a log and wait on you to join him. Sometimes, he’d even call out to you to hurry up and cuddle him already.

Once in bed, Sanemi’ll lay his head on your soft chest and close his eyes. His cheek is slightly squished and mouth slightly agape. He’d want you to play with his hair and run your fingers through his white locks. Sometimes, Sanemi would accidentally start drooling onto your skin or shirt, forgetting to swallow his spit. Your massage is just making him forget anything: his worries, fears, train of thought and to swallow his spit.

Of course, Sanemi would be incredibly embarrassed and deny enjoying your craved touch this much. Sometimes, he’d even roll off you and lay on his stomach, pretending that he’s perfectly fine to sleep on his own. You giggling at his flushed face doesn’t help either.

Sanemi does NOT need you to hold him so he can sleep properly and have nice dreams if you act that way!

“Scoot over, I wanna lay down. I don’t need your damn cuddles anymore. You’re just making fun of me, damnit!!”

Kyojuro Rengoku

In the mornings…

Kyojuro’s hair is incredibly messy everytime he wakes up. You can’t resist but to brush through it a couple of times while your husband slept, enjoying the moment of quiet intimacy.

His voice would be raspy and quieter in the mornings in comparison to throughout the day, his smiles smaller and sleepier, yet just as happy and real as usual. Kyojuro would be sleepy in the mornings but would start regaining his energy after having a nutritious breakfast. Usually, he’d make them himself.

Kyojuro would stand by the stove, dressed in either just his nightwear pants or a loose fitting robe. His movements are sluggish and slow, but he still never burnt himself on accident. Sometimes, you would even lean against his muscular back and complain about the tasks ahead of you while Kyojuro quietly listens and cooks breakfast.

“Mh, would you… *yawn*… mind handing me the eggs from over there?”

In the evenings…

Kyojuro still manages to muster up enough energy to keep his vibrant and loud personality, even right before bed. He’s incredibly tired and needs to recharge the whole night to have another successful day of training and slaying demons. The best way to recharge is by holding you close to his chest, letting your head rest on his soft pecks.

Slowly, Kyojuro would start to slip into a sleepier state. His eyes would be droopy and his smile more lovesick while his hand slowly brush over your features. You’re so perfect, do you know that? Sometimes, he might squeeze you a little too hard on accident. It something similar to cuteness aggression, just much more subconscious and softer.

Kyojuro would fall asleep with your imagine in mind and a sleepy smile on his face, his arms wrapped tightly around you, making sure you’re comfortable in his warm arms.

“Hm? Oh, sorry… did I hold you too tightly? Apologies, my love. I missed you the whole day and… forgive me?”

Gyomei Himejima

In the mornings…

Gyomei usually wakes up quite early to go pray, but you keep him in bed for a little longer. You get woken up by the weight on the bed shifting and mumble his name, gently grabbing his forearm and pulling him back onto the bed. He cannot help but obey your wish and lay back down with you. Gyomei is still tired when you pull his head against your chest, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

Tears start falling down his cheeks and onto your shirt as you run your fingers through his messy, short hair. A small smile rested on his face.

His voice is incredibly deep and his chest vibrates against yours as he murmurs quiet prayers to finish his morning routine. Gyomei doesn’t get sleepy very often, but when he does, it’s only in your arms and by your touch.

“You’re a blessing, my pearl…”

In the evenings…

After his endurance training, slaying demons and attending an hashira meeting, even Gyomei gets tired. He would lay right beside you, resting his head on your stomach. His eyes would be closed and arms wrapped around your waist and plush thighs, rubbing gently up and down, feeling your warm skin and stretch marks.

Gyomei would place gentle kisses on your skin and savour your scent. You are absolutely beautiful to him, he doesn’t even need his eyes to see that. While you massage his scalp with your fingers, it feels like the exhaustion is finally catching up to him. With a final sigh, Gyomei finally slipped into something similar to a comatose. Once asleep, only the sound of the cries of a crow can wake him up.

“My love, may I rest with you a little longer? I still haven’t recovered from my last training session… you have a healing effect on me.”

Giyu Tomioka

In the mornings…

He is comparable to a disoriented, deflated balloon. Not that Giyu is bouncing and being happy during the day, it’s just that he’s even more depressed in the mornings. But, on the bright side, Giyu is able to handle your affections better while sleepy. Normally, he’d stiffen up and shortcircuit. But while he’s being tired, you can cup his cheeks and kiss him all over, he’ll just respond with a small whine or groan.

Giyu might become a cuddlebug when you two are in bed and have nothing to do. He’d bury his face in your neck and savour your warmth while he can. Sometimes, he’d bury his face in your even warmer cleavage, falling right back into sleep.

“Mhhrrm… hmm? What did you say?… mhh… didn’t hear..”

In the evenings…

Believe it or not, he becomes even quieter in the evenings. Giyu will silently stare at you, begging at you to just hold him and cradle him to sleep with his eyes. He’d hover around you with eyebags under his eyes, always standing near you until you offer to cuddle him.

His eyebags, glossy eyes and messy hair look him look like a lost puppy, so it was a matter of time until you offered to cuddle in bed. Your soft skin under his calloused hands never felt any nicer.

Giyu would be out in a matter of minutes and fall asleep in an awkward position. One arm would be wrapped around your waist while the other was angled on his side.

“Agh, my shoulder hurts. Did I fall asleep in a weird way?”

💠

I thought of this last night. I have another similar idea about sleepy hairplay and I’m thinking about either writing that idea for the Upper Moons or the hashira, either way, thank you for reading! As mentioned before, I’ll post some asks on the weekend <3

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

[lovebugism]

❛ if you die, i'll kill you. ❜“i cant live without you” “don’t die on me, we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet” “i lied i never hated you”

eddie x reader enemies to lovers 🥹🥹

pls enjoy this absolute heartache of a fic :D — you and eddie hate each other until he almost dies (angst, enemies to lovers, cw for mentions of gore, 1.1k)

“Wanna make out?” Eddie had asked you, some hours ago now, when you first arrived at the Upside Down version of Skull Rock. You’d just narrowly survived a gang of demobats, and the stale air smelled distinctly of copper pennies. He managed a smug smile anyway. “I mean, we might as well. Looks like we’re gonna die out here, anyway.”

You scoffed and rolled your tired eyes. The annoyance you felt for him then momentarily distracted you from the fear swirling in the pit of your stomach. “I’d rather,” you’d quipped.

You feel a little like you’ve prophesized something now.

Eddie bleeds out in your arms with a hundred little bites on his stomach that were supposed to be yours. He’d distracted the circling demobats when you twisted your ankle, too hurt to run away. And now he’s dying. And it’s all your goddamn fault.

You sit with him while Dustin rushes into the Creel House, in search of help from the older crew. You watch him attentively over your shoulder until he disappears behind the rotted front door. When you turn back to Eddie, you find his eyes have fluttered shut.

“Eddie—” you call for him, clearing your throat when it comes out garbled. “Eddie! Hey!”

“Hm…” he hums tiredly in response, eyes still shut.

You sigh with the subtle relief that he’s not dead. The breath catches in your chest. You try to fight away the panic attack clawing behind your ribcage, even though it makes everything around you seem more and more distant. You try to stay as present as you can despite the horrors swimming all around you — for Eddie The Freak Munson.

“You have to stay awake,” you tell him, voice thick with emotion. “Open your eyes.”

“I’m just… I feel a little tired right now,” he mumbles, slurring slightly. 

Your chest wrenches. He’s getting paler and paler by the minute. The tourniquet you made from the bottom half of your shirt is now soaked with deep red blood. Panic burns a wildfire in your chest because you’ve done everything you could think to do. 

You can’t lose him. That’s all you’re telling yourself now. You can’t lose him, you can’t lose him, you can’t lose him.

“I don’t care. Keep your eyes open, alright?”  Your heart wrenches again, with something short of hope this time, when Eddie’s eyes flutter open. They’re glassy and dilated, but the deep chocolate of them hasn’t changed. You muster a small smile. “There you go, Eds. There you go— Now, just keep talking to me, okay? Keep talking.”

“I’m tired,” he mutters under his breath, too weak to do anything more.

Your face screws together as you choke back a sob. You swallow down every instinct to cry. You’ll cry when this is over, you tell yourself, when Eddie’s safe and back in Hawkins.

“I know, Eddie. I know,” you babble through stinging tears. “But you gotta— you gotta keep talking, alright? It’ll help you stay awake. And I need you to… I need you to stay awake for me, okay?”

He nods. At least, you think he’s nodding, because the movement is terribly faint. 

His eyes fall shut again. You feel the loss of his melted chocolate gaze like a stab in the chest. Your hand grips his jaw, a little less than gentle.

“Eddie,” you bite through gritted teeth.

“Mm…”

“If you die, I swear to god, I will fucking kill you.”

The familiarity of your aggression reminds him of home. He opens his eyes and cracks a small, barely-there smile. Blood glistens on his mouth. “I thought you hated me?” he slurs in an inaudible mumble.

“I do,” you tell him without thinking twice, laughing through the sob in your throat. “But I’ll love the shit outta you if we make it out of here together.”

Together, you say, because either both of you make it out or neither of you do. 

His grin widens softly, chapped and lopsided. “Metal,” he murmurs.

A whimper sounds in your throat when his eyes flutter shut again. “Eddie…”

“‘M sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers, breathing sharply through his nose. 

It’s getting harder and harder for him to breathe. You can tell by the harsh rise and fall of his chest. There’s little oxygen getting to his brain, accompanied by the weeping bites on his stomach— where the fuck is Dustin Henderson?

“I don’t know if I…. If I’m gonna make it outta here, babe…”

Your chest tightens. He only ever called you babe to piss you off. You wonder if he’s still being the annoying asshole you knew back home or if the term of endearment is too engrained in his head.

“Don’t say that.”

“If I don’t—”

“Eddie.”

“If I don’t make it out,” he repeats, sterner this time. He drags a sharp breath in and opens his eyes, just barely. “I want you to know that I never… I never hated you… ‘M just a liar… And a total fucking coward…”

“You can make it up to me when we get back home, okay? You just gotta stay awake.”

His lip quirks into a faint, crooked smile. “I’ve been dyin’ to kiss you since ninth grade… Did you know that?”

“I know,” you nod with an emotional laugh.

“I did make it kinda obvious, didn’t I?”

“You can kiss me when you get better. I swear.”

Eddie nods. You feel him grow heavier and heavier in your arms. His smug smile starts to fade, and you panic. “Eddie? Eddie, don’t— don’t die on me, okay? Please. We haven’t— We haven’t gotten to the good part yet, asshole. You have to stay awake.”

You shift him in your arms, trying to sit him up more when he slumps. He does little to fight you. He doesn’t have the strength to anymore.

“‘M sorry, babe,” you hear him whisper.

“No— No, don’t— Don’t fucking say that,” you scold bitterly, less angry at him and more at the rest of the world. It should’ve been you lying here, after all, not him. You’d trade places in a heartbeat if you could. “You can’t die, you asshole! How am I supposed to— fucking— keep going without you annoying the living shit outta me?”

“Henderson’ll annoy you for the both of us,” he manages to joke as life spills from the weeping wounds on his stomach.

“Fuck that. It’s not the same— I need you, Eddie. I need you, okay? I can’t— I can’t fucking live without you,” you cry over his pale, bloodied body.

You hear yelling and a set of rushed footsteps. “Eddie!” Dustin calls as he dashes down the decrepit porch steps of the old home — with Steve, Nancy, and Robin following close behind.

The sight of them makes you sigh. Your chest starts to sparkle with a hope you’d thought you lost — damn near aching when Eddie’s glassy eyes flutter open once more. 

The fucker grins weakly up at you. “I knew you had a crush on me, babe.”

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

All of your Time | Yandere Hybrid SatoSugu

The thing about introverts is that they need to recharge

They need time by themselves to be able to handle more interaction

They greatly value their lonesome 

Whether to enjoy their imagination without distraction or to put themselves nose-deep in their field of interest

They have a safe space – a time or place meant to belong to them and only them

It’s why you didn’t go out on the unplanned drinking escapade when your boss and his partner offered

“No, thank you I have something to do tonight.”

Unbeknownst to you, you smashed their hearts into a tiny million pieces with that polite sentence

Though it wouldn’t be the first time

The only time they could get you to agree was when they made plans with many of your friends at a significantly later date

They decided to be nice about getting your affection so why was this so hard

Why was it taking so long to get any of your free time

“Sugu! I’m tired of waiting! Why can’t we just take them now!?”

“We both decided to be patient with them…you’ve already said you didn’t want them to hate you. Right?”

“...Yeah…”

“So we’ll be taking the long way…for now.”

He says that but their patience is running thin

And like a starving pack of wolves, they need something

“Oh yeah (Y/n) kind of really needs their alone time.”

They decide to do some digging as to why this keeps happening

by they I mean Suguru eventually gets an answer from your friend

“They make plans with themselves all the time. Honestly, we’re just lucky the days we do hang out don’t fall on the dates they’ve already picked out.”

Why must their darling be oh so fickle?

They decide to go to their other plan 

One they’ve crafted after many trips with you home where they stayed 3 meters behind and you didn’t know they were there

Passing by an ally you always do stopping at a familiar sound

“Oh my! Two cute friendly kitties in one day? I must be dreaming!”

You aren’t and when you return home you’ve got two fluffy cats that refuse to leave your side

Finally the perfect turnaround of seeing you composed and restrained at work

Then seeing you fawn and coddle them when they transform into cats in your home

Suguru and Satoru had gained their wealth through several means

Privilege, hard work, physical prowess, and agility that made them a force to be reckoned with in the underworld

Suddenly their ability to transform into their ‘lesser forms’ comes in handy when they feel the need to have more of your time

This time when you cancel going out with them they’re not too hurt

Knowing you're already running back home to be with them

It’s the perfect little plan that lets them have see so much more of you:

“Awww my little Nightsky~your like my little guardian! Even when I’m in the bath you watch after me, thank you!”

The black, purple-eyed cat purred in contentment as you let your fingers massage the cat’s head. Readjusting your robe you slipped into your slippers and made your way to your bed. On your way, you lightly rubbed the cheek of your white cat who was sat on his cat tree aggressively flicking his tail. 

You cooed,” Don’t be jealous Cream, it’s just that you get a little crazy whenever I let you in while I’m taking a bath.”

The cat meowed indignantly. Chuckling to yourself you grabbed your phone from your nightstand. Plopping on your bed you started scrolling through unanswered messages sent to you. In your peripheral you watched the cats mew at one another before beginning to playfully wrestle.

“Be careful on the cat tree, you two.”

They seemed to ignore you subsequently rolling off the perch and onto the floor. Having seen them do this exact action before you didn’t bother looking away as you read the messages from your friend in your department. Your lips pursed as the string of messages ended with a voice note.

“Hey, those two are still asking about you. Why don’t you give them a chance? Maybe they just want to be your friends?”

Sighing you prepped yourself to make your own voice note, unaware of both your cats’ attention solely directed towards you.

“If they do want that–and I highly doubt that–don’t they feel off? Like did you see how that grumpy old man gets so mousy when they’re around? I just don’t think I’d want to associate with that.”

After ending and sending your voice note, you hold your phone as it pings with messages from your friend. Holding in a giggle you tap back your response. Conveniently Cream and Nightsky are at your side rubbing their bodies and tails in front of your face as they both sprawl out on your forearms.

“Guys!”

You scold them but you have no plans to move them instead continuing to text your friend. Occasionally kissing your cat’s heads you continue to inform them–your friend—of even more dirt you’d found on your overly-friendly employers. It lightly amuses you how it looks like your cats are reading the texts as well though you're sure it’s your fingers quickly moving that they’re so entranced by.

A ping goes off and you quickly shoot up to throw on some clothes. The cats look curiously as you crazily hop around before snatching your keys. You smiled at your approaching cats,” Okay boys! Our delivery gal got caught at the gate. So I’m going to go get food be my good boys!”

Blowing kisses, you disappear with a slam and locking of the door.

Your footsteps disappear down the hallway. 

And your apartment is silent. 

For a little while.

“Geez are we really that off-putting?”

Standing and looking longingly at the door is the pouting and naked, Gojo Satoru. An owner of the company (Y/n) is currently employed at and the only white-haired man who was rubbing his face into the intimate threads of their robe.

Suguru Geto, also stark naked and the CEO of that company was sighing and holding the bridge of his nose, “ Perhaps we really won’t be able to convince them otherwise.”

“Why don’t we just take them now? Burn the condo and sweep ‘em off their feet?”

“Because I know you know they’d hate that.”

Satoru lifted his head with a sadistic smirk and shrugged his shoulders,” So? They’ll get over it!”

Suguru put a disappointed hand over his face if only to hide the smile that tickled his lips. “They’re not like me…or you…we have to be gentle. Too much shock and we’ll ruin them forever.”

Satoru whined, abandoning the robe he snagged to join Suguru on the couch. Posturing himself right above his husband, “C’mmmooonnn! They’re strong enough, they can take it!”

The ravenette wasn’t swayed, teasingly turning his head as he rested he his chin on his hand. “No ‘Toru too high a risk.”

“Then why don’t we take another approach, Satoru lightly turned Suguru’s head towards him flashing his award-winning smile,” How about we work a different angle.”

Suguru’s brow quirked in intrigue.

“One where we happened to be their perfectly timed saviors.”

“Do you really think that’d work?”

“I say we try it! Otherwise, I’m back to Plan: A!”

Suguru couldn’t help but laugh bringing the man down to nuzzle his own nose. Planting a kiss on his lips, he opened wider as Satoru dove in. Pulling away after a minute Suguru cutely mimicked his cat form as he batted his eyes,” Am I forgiven for me and (Y/n)’s time in the bath?”

Satoru sucked his teeth. “You almost made me forget you slimy snake! How dare you?!”

Suguru shrugged with a smirk on his face, sending a scolding look when Gojo growled and angrily clutched at his hair. The tension was released when they both let out boisterous laughter. 

The apartment wasn’t silent anymore.

And you’d returned from getting takeout a while ago.

“What the actual f–!”

[narizaki]

video  calls  &  sick  days  ―  s. kiyoomi

tags   manager!reader,   gn!reader,   fluff,   sickfic,   post-timeskip

notes   wc is 1.5k,   thanks for 2 hunnid enjoy :p

over the few months you’ve been sakusa’s manager, you’ve ingrained daily video calls into your schedule. 

it wasn’t hard to tell that sakusa thought calls were inconvenient, to say the very least. the slight tick of his eye and the clench of his jaw were difficult to miss, even if he bit his tongue in the name of professionalism. you understood, really. no one would want to be disrupted early in the morning, especially when they’re someone who has a carefully crafted routine like sakusa — which is why you insisted on aligning these calls with his schedule, instead of deciding for him. it seemed to satisfy the spiker enough, seeing that he appeared much less tense almost immediately after. 

however, you’re starting to regret not bringing it upon yourself to dictate a time — especially when the back of your eyes are burning and it’s hard to breathe because it’s six in the morning and you’re sick.

“good morning, sakusa,” you groggily greet. you internally cringe at your voice, scratchy and making your throat hurt. you’ve opted to have your camera off just this once — you prefer to keep it on, as it makes these exchanges a little more humane, but you think your appearance is far too unfortunate for someone else to see right now. your hand runs through your hair, and you wince when your fingers get caught in a knot. 

sakusa’s camera is on, however, and the sound of pots clinking against one another fills the air around you. when he re-enters the frame, he’s focused on the meal he’s making, only mumbling a short greeting back. 

you take a swig of water and clear your throat, hoping that it helps with the ache, before beginning with sakusa’s schedule for today.

“let’s begin,” you start, “you’re free until 1 this afternoon, where you have a promotional shoot with hinata, bokuto, and miya. it should last until 3 or 4, depending on how long they take to prepare the four of you.” your words are curt and straightforward, and you hope that sakusa doesn’t notice. typically, you’d attempt small talk with him, but you’re currently trying to savor the last of your voice. 

“knowing miya, he’ll probably manage to drag it until 6 in the evening,” the spiker grumbles, and you can’t help the raspy (and tired) laugh that leaves you. a cough follows soon after, and if sakusa wasn’t able to tell that you were sick before, he definitely can now.

you watch as his eyes flit to his phone, a questioning look on his face. they roam around the screen for a moment, and you nervously wait for his reaction.

“are you sick?” sakusa bluntly asks. his eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s stopped stirring whatever he’s preparing on the stove. despite the fact he can’t even see you, you abashedly look away from your screen.

you’re tempted to deny it, but you know it’d be a futile attempt anyway. so, you relent, sighing out an affirmation. “yes, i am. i won’t be present at the shoot today, but you can expect the other three managers to be there. if you need anything, you can call me.” 

“no, i’ll be fine, but you shouldn’t be doing anything if you’re sick.” sakusa replies, turning away from his phone to move his food onto a plate. selfishly, you allow your eyes to rack down the wide expanse of his back, appreciating the way his compression shirt hugs his figure. it becomes clear that you were staring for too long, though, when sakusa turns back around, plate in hand and waiting for your response.

you have it in you to feel the slightest bit embarrassed, even if he can’t see you. 

“sorry,” you sheepishly murmur, “i can assure you that i’ll be okay, sakusa. i’ll be working from home today.”

“again,” he says, voice a tad harder than it was before, “you shouldn’t be doing anything if you’re sick. even if you’re working from home. is that everything i have on my schedule for today?” 

you’re not sure if sakusa’s being so insistent out of genuine worry for your health, or if he’s concerned that you’ll get him sick if you come to work in your state. “sakusa, i promise you that i’ll be okay in a day or two. and even then, i’ll make sure to wear a mask,” you say, assuming sakusa’s worried for his health. “moving on, though, i believe that’s all on your schedule for today. tomorrow you have your shoot with calvin klein, but i’ll remind you tomorrow morning. you have some pr, too. i believe a brand sent you pickled plums, which are your favorite, if i remember correctly?” 

you watch as sakusa shakes his head, sighing through his nose. “i’m not worried about me. i know that you wouldn’t get me sick. but if you keep on working instead of resting, you’re going to get worse, and you’ll be out for longer.” 

you’re beginning to become slightly irritated — a mix of tiredness, sickness, and sakusa’s nagging (even if it comes from a good place) beginning to annoy you. regardless, you try to pay no attention to it. once you’re done with this phone call, you’ll rest for another hour or two before doing whatever work you can from home. 

“i’m glad that you’re not worried about yourself, but as i said earlier, i’m sure i’ll be fine. i can take care of myself, sakusa,” you curtly reply, hoping that the spiker leaves the topic alone. 

thankfully, it seems like he does, because he relents and asks you to give him the pickled plums later on in the week. a few minutes later you’re greeting sakusa goodbye and hanging up, slouching into your mattress and performing a futile attempt at staving off the ache in your temples. 

you wake once again hours later to the incessant sound of your doorbell ringing. it’s certainly at least mid-morning, considering the way sunlight is filtering into your room, making your eyes ache. 

you stumble over to the door, paying no mind to your appearance and throwing the door open. to your surprise, sakusa is standing in your doorway, impatiently waiting for you to let him in, a plastic bag in hand.

“sakusa?” you gape. if you were being completely honest, he was the person you were least expecting to see right now — especially because you’re sick. he’s staring at you incredulously, like it’s not insane for him, out of all people, to willingly be around someone else while they’re ill. 

“you’re sick, right? i have soup and medicine,” he grumbles, “are you going to let me in or not?” 

you blink, before barely coming to your senses enough to open the door for him to step through. he does so immediately, taking long strides towards your dinner table to set the food down. then, he turns to you, and you have to resist the urge to curl into yourself. your head is pounding, you can hardly breathe through your nose, and you’re sure you look absolutely terrible right now. fuck professionalism, i guess, you sarcastically think. you’re not sure if you’ll ever allow yourself to live this moment down, even if you spend hours trying to forget about it.

“you didn’t…have to do this, sakusa,” you murmur, still somewhat in shock. and it seems that he’s just full of surprises today, because sakusa laughs, and you’re as surprised as you are annoyed because he’s laughing at you. 

“you’re my manager, i can’t have you dying on me,” he nonchalantly replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “now get back to bed. i’ll prepare the soup for you and get you some medicine.” 

you’re tempted to cuss at him, but decide that your entire body is far too weak to stay standing anymore, so you listen and make your way towards your room. sakusa doesn’t take very long, coming back with the items he promised and a damp towel — where’d he even find that?

and you think you’ve never seen sakusa so gentle before, placing the towel onto your forehead and handing you the warm soup. you eat it all in one go, not having realized how hungry you truly are, and graciously take the medicine sakusa offers you once you’re done. 

“...thank you, sakusa, you didn’t have to do this,” you say, feeling rather guilty that he took it upon himself to take care of you. 

sakusa only scoffs in reply. “you basically decide my entire life. everything would be thrown off-course if you weren’t able to work for even a week.” 

his response makes you laugh weakly, and you promise him that you’ll be back and better soon. 

“i have to go now,” sakusa says, glancing at his phone. you nod, remembering about the photoshoot you reminded him of earlier. 

he awkwardly stands still, before his hand comes to rest on top of your head in a strange head-pat. sakusa’s face is slightly flushed pink, an obvious show that he’s flustered.

“feel better soon,” he mumbles, and you thank him with a smile.

(sakusa was ten minutes late to his photoshoot. when asked why by his teammates, they gave him teasing looks when he said he dropped a few items off by his sick manager’s house.)

(he thinks he may hate his team.)

[izurou]

“kats, you’re worse than i thought.”

this is the third weekend in a row that katsuki has gotten stuck with an overnight patrol—a gruelling twelve hours that starts friday evening at seven, and ends the following morning, at seven.

but, it’s just past five am—the sun is desperately trying to rise somewhere off in the distance, and you’re sitting beside your boyfriend, who is face down in bed—a little out of it, and in a lot of pain.

“how bad?” he mumbles, referring to his back—the spot that clearly took the brunt of whatever, or whoever it was that cut his night short.

you don’t ask for details. it doesn’t matter how he got here, just that he is here—that he would come back home after presumably being relieved of his duties by another hero from the agency, choosing to skip proper medical care altogether.

he’s earned himself a scolding for that little stunt, but it’ll have to wait. for now, your job is simple—do what you can to take his mind off of the ache pulsing up his spine.

“like, borderline slut, i would say.”

do whatever you can, to take his mind off of it.

“huh?” he cranes his neck to look at you, wincing as he moves, and through the dull orange hue of the candle sitting on your bedside table, you see his brows furrow, and his nose scrunch up.

he hit his head too hard, he must’ve.

“i’m serious, baby. you have one, two, three,” you start gently placing your finger over various spots on his back—stifling a laugh when you catch him staring at you, dumbfounded. “nine, ten, eleven.”

he tries to peer over his shoulder, but is quickly humbled by the persistent throb radiating from just above the waistband of his boxers.

“fuck,” he mutters, shoving his face back into his pillow with a groan. carefully, you run your fingers through his hair, and he turns his head to the side—peering up at you through tired eyes. “eleven?”

“eleven! and that’s just on your back,” you smile, and he knows you a little too well—he recognizes the glint of mischief behind your eyes too easily.

“the hell are you talking about?” he asks.

“look, you have one,” you pause and place your finger on his forearm, right next to a pigmented little circle—a beauty mark. “here, too.”

his gaze shifts back and forth between you and where you’re pointing, but he just can’t seem to connect his own dots.

“they’re places where your lover used to kiss you most often,” you explain as you lay down beside him. “you know, in all your past lives.”

oh, and because he has eleven on his back, he’s teetering on the edge of promiscuity? that has to be one of the single most ridiculous things he’s ever heard—and he spent three years at ua with kirishima and kaminari. but, it’s coming from you—so he finds it endearing all the same.

what a sweet way of seeing things, how very you.

“you made that up,” he mumbles, eyes fluttering shut momentarily as sleep threatens to swallow him whole.

“did not,” you insist, “i mean, look at izuku.”

katsuki simply snorts in response before shuffling around—bearing the intense pain as he rolls onto his back and motions for you to snuggle into him, because it’d hurt more to not have you close.

at least, that’s what he’d say if he was a romantic—someone who’s beauty mark numbers are in the single digits.

“how many lovers do you think he’s had?” you hum, running a hand across katsuki’s chest in a soothing motion.

“none.”

“oh? two hundred you say?”

he sighs this time, muttering a shaddup under his breath as he allows his eyes to close once more. he’d like to leave it at that and drift off into dream world, but you follow up with a sentence that makes his heart flutter.

“don’t worry kats, none of them were me,” you laugh, like music to his ears—his favourite song. he can’t help the boyish grin that creeps onto his lips, and he thanks his lucky stars that you aren’t looking.

though your words make him wonder, if you were ever his in a past life—maybe you’ve always been his. yeah, he likes the sound of that, even if it is the single most ridiculous thought he’s ever had—it’s you, so he’ll think of it forever.

“good,” he says—feeling your weight shift a little, and when he opens his eyes, you’re there.

you’re close, inches away from his face, and you get even closer—pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, one that seemingly numbs him from the inside out, taking away his pain for that brief moment.

and as you both settle back down—snug in each other’s arms, he thinks he can finally fall victim to his drowsiness.

but you have one last burning question.

“baby, do i have permission to count izuku’s?”

“not even in your next fuckin’ life.”

[yorshie]

hi sweetheart!

how do you think the turtles would feel with a really petite reader? I mean, we are all small for them, but what if the reader is below average even by human standards like 5.0 f. t? will it bring something animalistic in them?

(I want to hear that reader will be carried on their hands 👏constantly👏 and treated like doll, I crave for that kind of comfort ty and sorry for my poor english 😭✋)

Whelp. I wanna start this by saying nonnie I’m so sorry, I plugged that height into a comparison generator with my head canons heights and I’m a little cursed by the image so someone else has to see it.

Like. Damn. I’d run from Donnie. Straight up yeeerrrrm like *thats a runner* probably run from raph too like. Yikes. Tiddie height to him is terrifying.

Literally everyone but Mikey is terrified that they’ll accidentally bump you and break something. They all get onto Mikey even more for swinging you around or grabbing you to toss up into the air.

Raph carries you anytime he can get away with it. In his mind, your legs are so short, they must get so tired, he’s really doing you a favor. Hope you don’t get too mad over being carried like the short stack you are, because he absolutely cannot get it through his thick skull that you would rather hurt your neck craning to look up at him than be carried

Leo so badly wants to teach you self defense, but he finds it so comical when you try to hit him while only coming up to his pec that he struggles to breathe. Yes he knows this is serious yes he’s trying but the poor turtle is also dying inside cut him some slack and maybe squish his cheeks when he dramatically leans over to talk to you.

Donnie sometimes feels like he should sit down when talking to you. He definitely has a spot in his lab that is your spot so he knows where you are at all times so he doesn’t accidentally hit you with his shell.

Cuddling them is super easy now at least. Normally they don’t even strain to lift someone but with you it’s more like they forget they’re holding you. They get hyper aware of where you are exactly in relation to them when it comes to turtle piles or relaxing no the couch though. It only took one almost squishing accident to bring them all on the same page of no rough housing when you’re around.

Mikey sometimes puts you on his shoulders while running around the lair, or scoops you up in his arms while doing parkour stunts just to get you to squeal in surprised delight/terror. It drives Leo up the wall.

They are all four hella protective, to the point that if you don’t catch on and tell them to stop, they’ll shadow you every time you head to/from the lair, if they can’t convince you to let one of them give you a lift.

If you told them you could “take care of yourself” I’m sorry but they are bro dudes they would straight up laugh like maybe Donnie would be self aware enough to try and hide it at first but if the other three break he’s gonna giggle too.

At the end of the day I just imagine it getting obnoxious like I’m pretty sure I’d kick them in the knees repeatedly, but as long as you like being treated like you’re fine china you’ll be heaven lol.

[iheartmapi]

Vicious

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: After Spain’s match against Germany, Alexia injuries her knee. Having to take a health break from playing irritates her, Y/n tries to cheer her girlfriend up to no avail, they fight and Alexia leaves…she’s gone for a long time so you go looking for her.

Angst with happy ending.

TW: crude language, degrading language about oneself, ACL injury

Word count: 1,691

The sun was setting slowly behind the city landscape, the warm tones slowly turning into various shades of violet and dark blue almost reminded you of the way Alexia’s mood drastically changed after her ACL injury.

You stood in the kitchen of your shared house, occasionally looking behind you to see your moody girlfriend sitting on the couch in the living room, her injured leg perched up on a small stool, you were making some tea, the electric kettle buzzing, two cups were on the counter, for Alexia’s tea you had went with a blend of chamomile and lavender, it was advertised as “calming” and that’s one thing she definitely wanted right now.

As the kettle got done with heating the water up you swiftly poured it into the cups. You carefully put them on the coffee table and finally sat down next to your girlfriend. The silence went on for maybe like two minutes..during the few past days it felt as if you were walking on eggshells around her, you turned your head to look at her and smiled even though she wasn’t even glancing in your direction, only looking into emptiness with her brows furrowed and arms crossed almost like a small child that didn’t get its candy. “Hey, don’t worry so much I’m sure you’ll heal quickly, why don’t you drink some tea-“ You were about to finish your sentence but Alexia opted to cut it short “I don’t want tea right now” Well that was rude…but you shouldn’t be so hard on her, after all you knew how difficult dealing with this injury was for her, so you kept on trying, trying to cheer her up. “Oh…well how about we see what they’re playing on the TV? We can always watch some show or movie or anything really-“ Alexia sat up straighter, irritation clear in her eyes “Can you quit it with the tea and TV? Or better, just quit trying to cheer me up, it’s annoying” she barked at you, “Alright, Jesus…sorry for wanting to be nice” you answered calmly but it was evident that you were offended and perhaps getting annoyed with how unapproachable she was being lately.

“”Nice”? For fucks sake Y/n! Do you see my leg? I’m useless, and I’m supposed to be a ball of sunshine just because you want it?!” She waved her hands around like a maniac “But why would I expect you to get it” she scoffed, you turned to look at her again your eyes narrowing “Seriously? Am I some subtype then or something?“ Alexia looked away, running away from your gaze that was demanding an explanation “I didn’t say that” she answered more quietly now “You kind of did though” you argued, “Oh my god can’t I just live in peace for one goddamn minute?! Here you go again, making a problem out of nothing, it’s like this every time something isn’t in tip top shape…it’s tiring Y/n, I swear you’re so difficult for no reason” that kind of hurt, you were appalled by her outburst “It’s not my fault, don’t you think it’s hard for me as well? Especially when-“ You bit your tongue before you could finish that sentence, maybe it was true and you were really making a problem out of nothing..but you had your emotions too, and Alexia shouldn’t be expecting you to be fine every time she gets enraged like this.

“Especially when what?” She repeated your words, her tone sharp, you took a breath not wanting to answer that, “Especially when what Y/n!” She said once again, this time nearly yelling, “Especially when you’re such a vicious bitch everytime you’re mad!” Quietness fell upon the both of you, before Alexia suddenly got up from the couch, slowly though as to not make her leg worse..but even for her it was clear how hasty she was trying to be with her moves.

“Where are you going?” Your eyes were trying to run after her, she waddled towards the front door “Doesn’t matter” she fumed, you didn’t follow her at first, but as you heard the sound of jingling keys you stood up as well and rushed to the front door, surely Alexia was leaving.

“Alexia?” Confusion crossed your face, and then worry and regret for your earlier words “Alexia come on! I’m sorry I didn’t mean it!” She didn’t answer your pleas, and just left…you sighed as the door closed.

She was a grown woman, you couldn’t just stop her from leaving the house if she wanted to..you sulked onto the carpet beneath you, hands covering your face, why the hell did you say that? You were definitely too rough on her..but at the same time what were you supposed to do? There was nothing you could do now, you were just going to wait for her to come back home, after all she couldn’t be out for too long, especially with a leg like that.

So here you were now, sipping on your tea as you sat and welled in your own sadness, eyes glancing at the empty cup on the coffee table that was supposed to be Alexia’s..It’s been probably three hours now, and there were no signs of life from Alexia, you picked up your phone; the lack of messages or missed calls from your girlfriend was no surprise to you, you picked your best friends number, Mapi, you had to talk to someone when there was no one in this empty house filled with bitter tension.

“¡Hola, tía!” Mapi’s voice echoed from the other side, “Hey” you answered, a small smile on your face, which was heard in your tone but the overwhelming sadness took it over, Mapi could easily recognise that, “Is everything alright? You sound very down in the dumps” you weren’t sure how to answer, eventually you just sighed and told Mapi about what happened earlier with Alexia.

“And then…she just left the house, it’s been three hours I’m starting to worry, I mean- what if she like fell down and hurt herself even more or something?” You said “You know how she can be, I’m sure she’s fine, she can’t stay mad at you forever Y’know?…especially not you” Mapi said with her cheery voice “I have to go and look for her” you answered seriously “Have you seen her? Do you know where she can be?” You then added, looking for any kind of answer for someone in reasonable humour “Nah…sorry, just be careful ok?” The girl attested “Yeah..I promise I’ll be” the two of you said your goodbye’s and you hanged up..you grouched, trying to think of ANY place Alexia could be right now.

Then one thought came rushing to you like an arrow, what about a specific football pitch she always went to after lost matches? You figured; if she was gone for so long, and you didn’t know where she was then it wouldn’t hurt to drive there and see for yourself.

You literally bolted to your car, and just drove…fifteen minutes passed and you arrived at the spot, the football pitch was set in the outskirts of the town, here it was quiet for a change, the sky was now dark since so much time has passed…as you looked around the place you could understand why this place brought a sense of comfort to Alexia.

Through the tall fence you noticed a figure sulking on one of the benches, as you entered the pitch, it became apparent to you that it was Alexia..thank god you thought first, at least you knew she was safe.

You sauntered over to the bench, the melancholy, regret and anger all mixed together into one confusing combination hanging in the air.

The two of you didn’t say anything for now, instead you just sat yourself next to her on the bench, once again Alexia’s gaze was far and blurry she was just simply staring nowhere. “Alexia…” you kept it quiet not wanting to cause any more arguments today. Finally, your girlfriend looked at you with something else than annoyance and silent resentment.

“Please, let’s go back home” you asked half-whispering, her chest rose as she took a deep breath, it’s like she wanted to but didn’t at the same time, maybe going straight to the point wasn’t the first option, there we’re definitely some things the two of you needed to say to each other. “I’m sorry…I know it’s hard, I know how useless you must feel right now..I really just wanted to make you happy, I hate seeing you like that..that- that I’m just willing to try anything to make it better” you started, Alexia turned to you at once her eyes almost glassy “I’m..I’m sorry too Y/n I just don’t know what came over me..I guess the irritation took over me, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you” she answered “I don’t know why I did that, but I just…I don’t know, it’s my whole life, and now with this stupid knee I’m just stuck home, and I just feel like I’ve got no other purpose” she almost teared up, you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her into an embrace “Alexia…you know that’s not true” you whispered “Injuries happen, you’ll get back to playing in no time I’m sure” you added, a quiet sob was heard, it was unlike her to be so vulnerable…but you appreciated that she was able to show that side of herself with you.

Pulling away, you placed a kiss on her temple, “You’re right, let’s go back home” she said wiping the traces left behind by some tears with her sleeve.

You got up and offered her your arm, she took it and the two of you slowly made your way towards the exit of the pitch.

“I’m sorry I called you a vicious bitch”

“No, don’t apologize, you were right then…I guess I was a bit of a bitch” she smiled

“I’m sorry for calling you annoying” she then added more seriously

“You were being honest then too” you grinned as well and the two of you chuckled.

“I guess we’re a good match together”

(Thanks to @kshvue099)