#this is 2.3k words of tooth-rotting fluff

[vagabond-umlaut]

you kiss the back of my legs and i want to cry

only the sun has come this close, only the sun

gojo satoru x wife!reader; tooth-rotting domestic fluff; gojo LOVERBOY™️ satoru; you aren't any better than him [but less poetic abt the predicament]; tw: pregnancy, 1 tiny mention of throwing up; satoru calls you 'cookie'; and he redefines the word besotted here; his thoughts are also a little yandere-ish but tht's cute, methinks; 2.3k wc; i just wish satoru was real and in my arms rn T-T

belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be read as a stand-alone fic if you wanna

the fic title and summary don't rly hv a very strong connection to the fic plot— except the fact they fit both satoru's & reader's characters in this series to a tee ^_^

fic title and summary from 'gps' by shauna barbosa // header frm pinterest // divider by @/benkeibear // jjk isn't mine

you are clingy.

always have been, in fact, now that gojo thinks about it. long before the two of you were married. long before you were engaged. quite a long time before the two of you were anything apart from friends at best, acquaintances at worst.

yet now, as he feels a pair of arms squeeze tighter around his middle, not really still very much squeezing the air out of him— your husband reckons you've grown loads clingier now—

and he loves you for this. loving you even more when he feels kisses being pressed into the space between his shoulder blades.

soft lips, a tad chapped. not without the shy grazing of your teeth.

just how he likes it.

very much how he adores you.

affection, settled deeper than should be feasible into the hollow of his chest, flutters a little when you nuzzle into his back; that pleased little hum of yours quick to follow it. smiling, gojo turns his head a touch to catch a glimpse of you. it takes a beat before you remove your face to lock eyes with him, before returning your face to his back.

he huffs a chuckle, sounding incredibly fond all the same. his feelings for you can never be suppressed anyway. time has proved this to him enough number of times.

he runs a finger down the length of your arm, relishing how it leaves a line of goosebumps in its wake—

"you wanna tell me something, cookie?" your husband finally asks.

your reply doesn't come immediately. and when it does, it is nothing more than a noncommittal noise. too spoiled. too stubborn. a bit too satisfied as well, the emotion further expressed when you nuzzle his back yet again.

gojo's smile grows bigger. his cheeks hurt a little.

he thinks he can live forever with this kind of pain, not even a sigh of complaint ever leaving him.

"aha—" he exclaims loudly, still soft enough to keep the quiet of this sweet bubble you've pulled you both into, "so it's just my irresistible charm that's making you so clingy tonight, hm?"

another beat passes.

and just when he thinks he might have to do with another one of your indistinct sounds for an answer, you speak. to be more precise, whine and grumble, everything so sweet in your adorable voice.

"it's not me being clingy, 'toru— it's the baby— the baby is making me so clingy. making me feel as if i can't live even for one second without squishing you like thisss!!!"

the first reaction your tightening grasp brings out is the wind getting knocked out of his lungs— the second reaction being all that oxygen, nitrogen and carbon dioxide being replaced by a feeling so fierce and so tender— the strongest thinks his knees would have buckled under its weight had he not been lying down but standing—

not that he really minds that, though.

for you, he's always on his knees. whether you ask it of him or not. the only light in this world he is willing to bow his eyes before.

it takes him not too much effort but gojo makes a point of struggling whilst he shifts in your hold. and grins when he finally comes face-to-face with you, drinking in the way your brows are puckered and lips a little parted in an incredulous expression.

his grin simmers down however, when his six eyes notice the spark in your tummy. so tiny. so blinding. so priceless— to him and you both— he knows this, surer than he is of the scars on his palms.

thumbing the hem of your t-shirt, he hums, dragging his eyes back to be drowned in yours, "how many weeks along are you, wifey?"

"satoru," you start, voice turning sharper and just as skeptical as your face was, still is— only to be shushed by a finger to your lips. the man addressed feels his heart skip a beat at your confused big scowl— it's got to be a crime to be as cute as you— really!!!

he pinches your cheek lightly.

"it isn't like i don't remember that, cookie. i just wanted you to say it— c'mon, tell me quickly!" he presses, noting then utilising the moment your face begins to lose its cynical hue over his words.

the scowl lingers there however, twisting your delectably pretty lips—

"nine weeks," you say, hooking a leg over his waist to pull him closer. can he be any closer to you, though? your answer is always a yes, he knows you well enough to know this.

"thirty-one weeks more before we meet our baby."

it's not exactly thirty-one weeks; it's thirty weeks and five days before either of you can meet the baby, but gojo decides not to point out the error. you always hate it when he points out your tiny errors and make a point of snarking about it every time he opens his mouth to speak a word next— the man is wary not to upset his wife, yes, thank you very much.

he offers a sage "hm" in response, one he observes you accept slowly. the scowl lifts itself into a curve so fond— gojo thinks once before he vaults his next query your way. not wanting to see that smile vanish in front of him—

the ask won't cause anything so. but he can never be too sure. he has read too many books and articles to not grasp how fragile pregnancy hormones can make one be.

he tucks a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear.

fingers tarrying there when he sees you lean into his touch— not akin a moth to a bright flame, no. he can never hurt you. not even for once in his wildest dreams—

but how the north pole of a magnet hurries towards the south pole of another magnet. so different in their nature, a perfect pair of opposite crafted by the nature— maybe that's why nothing can ever stop them from rushing to each other once they're proximated, the lines of their mutual attraction existing even when thousands of miles apart.

just like you and him.

contrasting, complementing, completing each other every instant, in every facet of life.

he lets his fingers dance through the tangles in your hair, unravelling the knots in there. that pleased little hum of yours reaches him once again.

stowing the sound away, later to be placed on a pedestal in an ornate glass case as the most valuable praise ever given to him for his effort, he runs a gentle hand, nails scratching your scalp carefully.

"and at nine weeks old, just how big might our baby be?"

"i think there is a chart comparing our baby's size to fruits..." syllables unhurried and a pinch mumbled, you press your heel to draw him in a little more. "i did not really read that too attentively— oh. but. yeah!" a grin forms on your features, sleepy still twinkling in excitement.

"shoko sent me a link to this website earlier today— any ideas, 'toru, what it might be about?"

gojo does have an idea. he has a very, very good idea.

but he chooses not to say that aloud. you look so extremely adorable when you are being this excited. he would hate nothing more than to see your amped up self getting interrupted by him.

he shakes his head. your grin brightens. eyes crinkling with a glint, he can tell even without looking, is knowing.

the tips of your fingers caress his bare back, softer than a breath. "it's about when our baby forms which organs— our baby's eyes are being formed now!!! isn't that too cute, 'toru?"

"it is, cookie," he hums without any hesitation, six eyes activating one more time to zero in on that teeny-tiny spark. then deactivating when he looks back up to your sleepy eyes. a terribly tickled, equally wicked glimmer creeps into his grin. "so our baby is just like a tiny ball of cells with two big blue eyes, huh? they must look so scary, heh— ouch!"

your pinch did not really pain him, but gojo does his best to mimic an awfully wounded puppy, sogging wet from the rain and waiting at the doorstep with his moving blue eyes— it takes less than three seconds before you let go of your glare with a sigh.

you massaging the sore spot on his arm, your husband watches you give yet another sigh.

"first of all, there's no guarantee our baby will have your eye color and not mine, 'toru," you explain, pinning him under your drowsy stare, "it is very difficult to predict that for sure— and secondly: i'll punch you if you ever call our baby scary— sure, they don't really look like a human in this moment, but they'll slowly get there in forty weeks— as per the website, their face, hands and feet are forming in the ninth—"

"okay, alright!! i get your point, my insanely smart, insanely beautiful, insanely sexy wife," gojo cuts in, smiling while warning bells chime in his head at the faintest gloss in your eyes—

but maybe they weren't noisy enough. that is why he doesn't bite his tongue, rather continuing, "but you weren't actually blaming our poor human-ey baby for your clinginess, were you? it's not like they have a telepathic communication set up with you— hell, maybe they haven't even started forming their brain!"

"the baby's brain starts forming by the fifth week, satoru," your quiet reply reaches him exactly when he gets his last giggle out. the moist sheen in your eyes grows more prominent.

and his insides begin to twist—

one-third helpless. two-thirds contrite.

you don't stop talking, tone lower than he has heard you use in nearly forever, "and you better not comment on my bond with our baby— i'll punch you twice if you—"

"i wasn't doing that and i promise to never make you feel that way, my cutie-pie cookie," gojo interrupts, voice far gentler than earlier, just as low as yours, "but feel free to throw me out the house if i ever do that, even accidentally. okay?"

you're not okay.

you never are, when it comes to you being actually harsh to him, even when he's the one asking you to be— shakespeare once called love to be blind— your husband doesn't think you're blind, however. it is your well-contemplated decision to see his mistakes and see each of them as excusable, perfectly pardonable, no matter how silly or serious the world might regard them to be—

you make a noise. somewhat annoyed. unhappy too, yeah. before you push your face into the crook of his neck, nose nuzzling into the flesh there.

you would have bitten him by now. but he reckons you might be a bit too tired for all that. you couldn't even finish your dinner before facing the urge to throw up tonight, yet again.

feeling sorry, almost, gojo resumes his ministrations to your hair, half because you need to fall asleep now; the hands on the clock are close to striking midnight. the other half because he just loves playing with your hair— only to still when you suddenly pull your head back.

brows furrowed as you peer at him, eyes big and earnest.

"you don't really mind when i hug you like this, do you, 'toru?"

"no, cookie!! of course not!!" the man wastes not even a breath before he rushes to explain— because seriously, what!??

sure, he wasn't the first one to fall between you two. but ever since he did fall, he has never not expressed how every second away from you, every fraction of an instant away from you, causes him pain.

and yeah, he might have been a tad too dramatic whilst doing so, but you've always been so good at reading him— then why on earth can't you read him now? why don't you read, he loves it when you seek him out, he loves you more than anyone and anything else??

"good," your satisfied little chirp gives him a light shove away from his frantic thoughts. something tells him he should be put on alert by the way your lips curve into a smug smile next.

but gojo finds himself uncaring. just immensely relieved as he trails his fingers from the back of your head to your chin. thumb reaching out to brush the corner of your infectious smile. you continue.

"but even if you did mind, sorry not sorry— you were the one who put the ring on my finger, so you have to deal with everything i'm, mister!! no refunds nor complaints can be filed here, gojo-san~"

and neither refunds nor complaints he wishes to file, satoru muses to himself as he cups your cheek in one hand. bending down to steal the taste of your beam, your tease, your love for him on his tongue—

not when he has received the world in exchange for letting go of that poor splintered mess of a heart, he used to call his, but is now yours.

and will always stay yours—

"hey 'toru— what will you do if i chomp on your fingers right now, like really hard? will you yell? or will you be the freak that you're and enjoy it, huh?"

gojo pauses.

and wonders.

is there any binding vow one can make to secure oneself to another in every lifetime, for all eternity?

he hopes there is.

your husband really, seriously hopes there is—

'cause no way in heaven, earth or hell, does gojo satoru want to let go of you— and he will not let go of you.

this idea was ROTTING in my brain for ages, but wht gave me the spark– the boost to write this was the wonderful sukuna fic written by ari @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat ❤️❤️❤️ i seriously love u & ur writings sm, babes 🥹🥹 everyone pls go check their masterlist out. it's studded w diamonds and pearls 😌😌🥰

and this is also for my sweet & sour bestie mimi @avatarofstars 🤭🤭— u 🤝 me in being clingy af towards our fictional hubbies 😂😂🥰

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

[lovebugism]

hi bug! can I please request the dialogue prompt “Hold up, she said what?” with steve and shy!reader? maybe she is robin’s friend and robin tells steve something reader said (maybe that she thinks steve is cute or nice or something of the sort), and it leads to a cute conversation between the two?

ty for requesting angel!! — steve finds out the cute girl at the record store likes him and decides to bring her ice cream as a proclamation of love (shy!fem!reader, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, 2.3k)

blurbcember ⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄

“Wait, wait, wait,” Steve interjects suddenly, a metal scoop in his hand and a wild look in his eye. “She said what?”

Robin fumbles with the metal tub of Peppermint-Chip ice cream she’s refilling. It clangs when she drops it into place with haphazard care. The shop goes unusually silent without her rambling to fill the dead air. Holly, Jolly Christmas crackles quietly from the broken speakers overhead.

The girl blinks at him with a wide ocean gaze. Her rogue-tinted mouth falls softly agape. She knows she’s said the wrong thing, but she can’t remember what.

“...Huh?”

“What’d you just say?”

Her doe eyes flit to the left for a moment. It takes her a second or more to recall the words she’d only just said. She does this thing sometimes where she rambles on and on about nothing, and Steve was the first person in the whole world to let her. So it’s way too easy for her to tell him a billion things at once and forget about all of them a second later.

“That the music store just got new cassettes in?” Robin answers, her gritty voice a few octaves higher than usual.

Steve nods slow and with a crooked grin that pulls at the corners of his mouth. He rests his elbow on the glass case above the ice cream and eggs her on. “After that?”

“…That you and the pretty new girl that works there have the same taste in music?”

“Before that.”

“That she said she wanted to show you the new tapes,” she says, wincing with the realization that she had, in fact, said the wrong thing. A secret she swore not to tell has just spilled from her lips without her even knowing it.

“And?” Steve lilts with a wider, rosier smile.

“Because she likes you…” Robin confesses (or rather, re-confesses) with her teeth gritted.

Even though Steve had heard her perfectly the first time, hearing it the second makes his heart skip a beat. The pulsing organ lurches into his throat. He almost forgets how to breathe.

“She likes me?” he repeats, mostly whispering, with an incredulous gape of shock. His bushy brows raise until his forehead wrinkles. His eyes go wide until the honey of them starts to glimmer.

Despite her best friend’s lovesick disposition, Robin’s freckled face hardens. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” she rumbles like a storm cloud, knocking her shoulder against his when she walks by him.

“Why?” Steve retorts like a child, following behind her just the same. 

He nearly bumps into her when she stops short at the deep freezer. She returns the cloth mits she carried the ice cream in with after spending her whole break organizing the case by color. Steve could never even be bothered to put the damn things back where they belonged in the first place.

“Because I swore to her I wouldn’t,” Robin agonizes, then whips around to face him again. Her features are twisted like a hurt puppy as she pleads. “Don’t tell her I said anything either, okay? She’ll hate me.”

Steve wasn’t planning on it. Not because he thought it might make you hate her, though. He’s not entirely sure you’re capable of that. 

He’s only known you for a few months — ever since the leaves started changing color and people traded their ice cream cones for cool music at the new record store. He spent half that time admiring you across the landing, but you’ve never been anything but gentle with him. You were soft, with a soul of sunshine. 

He didn’t know it was possible to be made of sunlight until he met you.

“Well, did you tell her I liked her back?” he presses, hoping Robin might’ve done some of the hard work for him.

Her face screws up like she’s tasted something sour. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I promised you I wouldn’t.”

Steve shoots her a deadpanned look.

Robin caves. 

“It’s not like I meant to tell you she liked you just now, okay? It just came out!” she explains, gesturing wildly with her hands. “Maybe next time I stick my foot in my mouth around the new girl, I’ll tell her that you’re obsessed with her, and the two of you can finally start dating instead of making sex eyes at each other all the time.”

He wouldn’t put that past her. Robin the Mastermind, Robin the Blabbermouth, Robin the Matchmaker. But his fluttering heart is pumping with too much adrenaline now. He feels like he could move mountains with the knowledge of your affections — knowing that all his own big, fuzzy, suffocating feelings have been reciprocated all this time.

If he doesn’t talk to you now, he’s scared he’ll never work up this kind of courage again.

“No. Screw that,” he concludes with a shake of his head. He’s in King Steve mode now — feeling half as suave as he used to back when the whole town was falling at his feet — chest puffed and ego reeling. “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

Robin watches, dumbfounded, as he dumps a scoop of their best-selling ice cream into a paper bowl. Another tub she’ll have to refill. Steve ducks under the counter door and heads for the exit. “Wait— what am I supposed to do?” the girl shouts across the empty store.

Now out in the bustling Starcourt mall and taking short strides towards the music store, Steve spins on his heel to face her. He shrugs and readjusts the sailor’s cap on his head. “Wait for me to get back.”

—————

You’ve been banished to the back of the store.

Not exactly. But that’s what it feels like.

You got a bit too overwhelmed working the front counter, and since Eddie’s crazy soft on you, he let you put up all the Christmas decorations he’d been putting off instead. It’s a win-win situation, really. 

You’re stringing up sparkling tinsel over the rows of records when a deep blue sailor’s uniform catches your eye. Looking over your shoulder, you find Steve in all his glorysauntering towards you. He’s wearing shorts even though it’s basically winter now in Indiana. He’s beaming at you like sunshine anyway.

Beneath the amber glow of the dimly lit store, he looks borderline angelic. Almost unfairly ethereal.

“What’s that?” you wonder with a smile you don’t even know is there, nodding to the Scoops Ahoy brandedcup in his hand. 

You can almost smell the syrup-cinnamon concoction of the ice cream he holds in his palm. Or maybe that’s just Steve, and the sugary sweetness is radiating from his pores after working in a confectionary shop during the holidays.

He looks at you even sweeter.

“New flavor,” he answers vaguely, smirking as he leans against the metal shelves. He stumbles slightly when it rocks beneath his weight. “Oops. Sorry. It’s, uh— It’s pancake chunks with maple syrup swirl. I call it Wake and Bake.” 

A giggle tumbles from your lips when he hands it to you. “Eddie’s gonna love that,” you murmur.

“Well, it’s actually called Breakfast in Bed, but— I don’t know— I thought my idea was better.”

“Way better,” you concur with a nod and a pretty smile.

Steve watches with attentive honey eyes as you spoon a bite into your mouth. He feels a bit like it’ll be his fault if you hate it. His irrational need to impress you always makes him feel hopelessly inadequate. 

“Woah,” you hum without your mouth still a little full. The cream melts softly on your tongue, tasting of a sweet and early morning. “This is really good.”

His brows raise, and his eyes widen. “Yeah?” he wonders. Your words wash over him like a compliment for a reason he can’t name. It feels good to make you feel good.

“Mhmm. I might have to come by after work and buy the rest of it, actually,” you joke with a curt shrug. It’s a feeble confession — your way of telling him that you want to see him more because you could never say the real thing out loud.

Your heart sinks when Steve shakes his head. Then swells when he smiles.

“No way,” he scoffs, lips curling into a lopsided grin. “I’m not gonna let you pay for it— that’s crazy.”

“You can’t keep giving me free ice cream, Steve—”

“What my manager doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he lilts lowly and with a cool shrug that makes you melt. He goes very distinctly soft when he looks at you, all scruffy-faced and sweet-eyed. 

It’s suffocatingly beautiful. You crack under the pressure of it. 

“Well, uh— Thanks for the— ice cream,” you stammer and motion the bowl back to him. Thanks for stopping by and keeping me company, but you’re too pretty and I’m not sure how much longer I can take it, you don’t say.

“You don’t want the rest?” he asks with pinched brows.

“I just… should probably get back to work, you know?”

“Eddie doesn’t let you take breaks?”

“No, he does,” you answer quickly, shifting your weight on your feet. It becomes virtually impossible to meet his gaze. “Just not with…”

Steve’s brows raise when you trail off. “Not with me?” he finishes with a laugh.

“Well, not with the… pretty-boy-ice-cream-slinger in the sailor’s uniform,” you correct, then quickly follow. “His words. Not mine.”

In all honesty, Steve couldn’t care less about what Eddie Munson has to say about him. If Hawkins’s local freak is the only thing standing between him and the pretty girl at the music store, he’s down to break a couple of dumb rules.

He takes a small step towards you. His pink smirk widens. You swear your heart stops when he looks at you with it. “You don’t think I’m pretty?” he teases with a twinkle in his squinted eye.

Suddenly, there’s a frog in your throat and you’re fourteen all over again. You’re flustered and drowning and totally unsure of yourself. “I didn’t say that,” you mutter, gaze flittering and smile wavering.

Steve goes to rest his elbow on the shelf again, then remembers its unsteadiness and decides against it. His arm rests awkwardly in the air for half a moment before he crosses both of them over his chest. 

“Well, I mean, you didn’t not say it, so…”

You squint up at him, busying your clammy hands with the melting ice cream in your palm. You know what he’s fishing for. Your pride urges you to stay silent even though your heart sings the sweetest songs for him. 

“You know you’re pretty, Steve,” you murmur matter of factly.

“But do you think I’m pretty?”

Your thundering heart lurches into your throat when Steve takes another small step closer. He smells like wintertime — like Christmas and nostalgia and boy. You don’t trust your voice to answer him verbally, so you nod, slow and sheepish.

“Good,” he hums with a beam he couldn’t hide if he tried. “‘Cause I think you’re pretty, too.”

Your chest gets all sparkly at his admission — the affirmation that all your girlish feelings are being reciprocated by a boy you never dreamed you could have. You don’t feel hardly deserving of the fondness dripping from his features, but you pray he never stops looking at you with it.

You grow warm with the irrational hope that he might kiss you. You think he might actually kiss you until your boss’s voice pierces the golden bubble of puppy love the both of you are basking in.

“How’s the decorating going?” Eddie announces himself, appearing suddenly between the two aisles.

Robin idles at his side. She’s in the feminine version of Steve’s sailor outfit — with silver chains around her neck and bandaids on her knees. Effortlessly endearing and totally unaware of it all.

You push Steve away from you without thinking, all but shoving the softening ice cream into his chest. Some of it smears white against the scarlet tie around his chest. “Sorry!” you exclaim in your moment of fleeting panic, then turn to Eddie with the same apologetic wince. “Sorry…” you repeat quieter.

“Robin?” Steve gapes at the sight of his best friend — apparently the second thing standing in his way, right beside the freak. “What the hell are you doing here— did you tattle on me? What are you, four?”

“I got lonely,” the brunette answers plainly. “And I knew you were around here somewhere, so I asked Eddie where you were—” She waves a pale hand your way, fingers painted with chipping maroon polish.  “—And now I’m here.”

Eddie grins wide and tilts his wild head to his shoulder. “Yeah. Can’t believe you’re trying to taint my one good employee, Steven.”

“I’m not tainting anybody, Munson,” he bites back like a bickering brother, then screws up his face and turns to Robin. “Wait. If you’re here, who’s manning the counter?”

Her freckled face falls like a child caught in a fib. Her deep blue eyes widen when she blinks at him. In a mousier voice, she confesses, “Dustin came by… And I told him he could eat all the ice cream he wanted as long as he made sure no one stole anything.”

The four of you fall silent. The soft rock of Christmas Wrapping plays weakly from the radio at the front of the store. Eddie breaks first. ‘Cause he can’t ever be serious about anything. 

The boyish sound of his laughter sends a giggle sputtering from your lips. The pretty noise makes Steve smile despite his baffled disbelief.

He turns to you with a dumbfounded grin. “You’re still stopping by after work, right?”

“Yeah,” you answer softly, nodding as your smiling face grows hot.

Eddie scoffs when Steve walks by him. “If you still have a job by then.”

[satoruxx]

SWEET SNACKS.

✧ PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader | 2.3k words

✧ SUMMARY: tooth rotting fluff, meet cute, battles with inanimate objects, reader's got exams bc i have exams, satoru's whipped af (as usual), sorry i love writing him as a simp, reader is also whipped bc this is gojo satoru, bonding over snacks !!

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: if you saw me tryna post this yesterday no you didn’t. this was supposed to be a quick drabble oops. but it's finals week so i'm offering this piece of fluff to maintain sanity and gush over the meet cute i will never have. if y’all are also dealing with finals, i'm wishing you the best !!

satoru strolls down the bustling streets with a quiet hum, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets to keep them away from the bite of the cold breeze. his boots crunch against the thin layer of melting ice that has formed overnight, now warming under the cold afternoon sun that coyly hides behind gray clouds.

honestly, he wasn't the biggest fan of weather like this, and he wouldn't have stepped out on any other day. but one meeting with the higher ups had his mood souring, and shoko had suggested he take a walk, maybe grab something to eat.

he knew better than to argue with her, especially since she could somehow read him better than most people could—scary.

so here he was, trudging down the streets of tokyo with his hat pulled over his ears, cheeks pink from the frosty air as it dances across his skin. despite the weather, satoru thinks there's something oddly peaceful about the city, the quiet chatter and sounds of boots scuffing against pavement as he turns a corner to head to the nearby vending machines he's frequented so many times.

the peace is broken by an annoyed grunt, and satoru looks up.

"are you serious?" another irritated groan. "of all the days…"

he takes in the scene with interest.

even with all the anger that he's not quite understanding, he thinks you're so undeniably pretty—puffy jacket hugging your body and the warm scarf resting around your neck. your brows are furrowed, exasperation tugging your features into expressions that shouldn't look so endearing.

you groan again, slamming your curled fist against the glass of the vending machine—frustration ticks at your brow.

and why wouldn't it?

nothing was going your way today. it had already started off badly, the atmosphere filled with gloom that made it impossible to want to leave bed. but you had to force yourself to miserably extract your body from the warm cocoon of blankets and pillows that urged you back with a siren's call—a promise of comfort that looked all too enticing.

and then, when you finally did manage to drag yourself to the library to sit down and study, nothing was sticking. you read through paragraphs over and over until your head was spinning, dizzy with information that wouldn't absorb, and that fact is nothing if not disheartening. the impending quickness with which your final exams were approaching made you feel even sicker, so you decided to take a twenty minute break to grab a drink from the nearby vending machines.

but of course, even that couldn't just work out.

satoru watches you stand in front of the machine with a glare, before you're shoving your weight against it, huffing as it remains in place and hoping that at least one of your efforts will prove to be fruitful. he's talking before he can help himself.

"hey, you need some help?"

you turn to face the owner of the voice, finding cerulean eyes behind black shades that so directly contrast the white of his snowy hair. he's tall—abnormally so as he peers down at you with curiosity and a bit of mirth.

you think you've never seen a man so handsome in your life.

then you remember he's asked you a question, and you attempt to swallow down the unnecessary nerves that have taken root in the pit of your stomach. "oh, my uh…my drink got stuck," you reply somewhat lamely, cheeks heating up under his gaze as you think about how utterly ridiculous you must've looked to passersby.

satoru's eyes travel from your face to the machine, noticing the way your drink of choice is stuck in a frozen free fall against the glass and the rack. he sighs in exasperation. "tried hitting it?" he asks, walking closer to stand next to you and take a closer look, even though he knows the answer already.

you're not sure what it is, but this man exudes a certain energy—confidence that leaks through his very skin. it makes you feel like you have no right to be standing this close to him, but all he does is smile at you patiently, waiting for an answer.

so you nod, brows ticking again as the dull throbbing in your fist reminds you of how you had lost the battle with the greedy machine. "yeah, i've been hitting it for the last ten minutes. didn't budge," you sigh, checking your phone to see that there are only a little over five minutes remaining for your quick break. "what a waste of time and money."

satoru watches you shrug helplessly, smiling up at him. "oh well—"

he takes two long strides until he stands right in front of the machine, grips the edges, and shakes it hard.

satoru can feel you gape at him, at the unfiltered display of strength, and the unbothered expression on his face that tells you it didn't faze him. you hadn't been able to move the machine even an inch.

his powerful movements earn you a tell tale thunk, and your heart leaps in excitement as he bends down to push his hand through the slot and pull out your drink. he returns to his full height, an easy smile on his face as he turns around and hands it to you.

"thank you." your voice comes out breathless, a weird kind of excitement thrumming through your veins because it feels like you aren't supposed to know this man.

satoru's smile stretches further when your fingers graze his, taking the drink and popping it open eagerly. he watches you take a sip, oddly pleased with himself at the sheer joy on your face. he doesn't quite understand why this drink looks like it's made your day, but he doesn't ask because you look so sweet drinking it.

"how did you do that anyway?" you ask after you drink a little, curiosity so obvious in your tone. "i tried so hard to move it and it didn't budge at all."

satoru smothers a smile, fighting back the urge to say something stupid. instead he grins, cheeks warming a little under your eager stare. "guess i'm just strong."

you make a face, raising a brow with a playfully disbelieving expression as you cross your arms—to which satoru just laughs. "what's your name?" he asks.

you purse your lips, hiding a smile as you tuck your nose behind your scarf. you give him your name, almost shyly, and satoru tests it on his tongue. he decides he likes the flow, cocking his head as he replies with his own.

"satoru."

for once, the pressure of his last name doesn't permeate the air, and he's all too grateful for it. he turns around to approach the machine again, and he can feel your somewhat confused gaze on his back.

you watch as he stands there for a good minute, his back to you as he ponders the choices in the vending machine like they'll lead to life or death. then he shoves in a bill and clicks a few buttons, and within a couple of seconds, you hear the thud of two things falling.

he remains facing away from you for a few more seconds and then turns around, and you see that he's bought a chocolate bar and the same drink that you have in your hands. you raise a brow.

"well you did almost just lose your life trying to fight a vending machine for it," he says, shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly. "figured it'd be good to try."

you sputter over your words, embarrassment crawling up your neck, but satoru laughs good-naturedly. his eyes shine with mirth as his shoulders relax. "i'm kidding." he stresses, smiling into the collar of his jacket. "but it does look good so…"

he opens the drink and takes a sip, eyes squeezing shut dramatically as he hums at the sweet flavors washing over his tongue. you suddenly feel like getting revenge for his unfiltered teasing.

"well?" you hum cheekily, taking a sip of your own and raising a playful brow. "taste good?"

satoru laughs—a full, pristine sound that makes him throw his head back. "yeah," he agrees easily, feeling oddly fond of the way your voice curls around your words. "it's sweet, i like it. you've got great taste."

somehow the words of this man you've met not five minutes ago cause the muscles of your heart to trip over themselves. you watch him peel open the candy bar, a brand that's unfamiliar to you.

"what'd you get?" you ask, unsure of where the confidence to speak up is coming from. a man like satoru—so unflinchingly ethereal—would normally have your lips zipping and throat muted.

he holds up the bar with a grin. "my favorite."

there's a pause, followed by your sheepish smile, and satoru gapes at you, cerulean widening so clearly behind a backdrop of white. he takes in your innocently confused expression and his ribcage shakes with thuds. "what, you've never tried it?!"

before you can even shake your head no, he's breaking off a piece and handing it to you.

"no, oh my goodness, it's yours—"

"take it." he pushes his hand closer to you, eyes staring imploringly, and you sigh, reaching up to take the piece from between his fingers. a graze of skin—he's warm.

"thank you." you slip the piece past your lips, not at all surprised by its sweetness and yet a little taken aback by its underlying comfort—a rush of warmth.

"good." you're nodding, smiling between chews as satoru's stomach flips. "really good."

he chuckles, all too triumphant for something so menial. "told ya."

you laugh, a quiet subdued sound that satoru wishes he could hear more of. "thanks for getting my drink out," you say. "i really needed it today."

"oh yeah?" he finds himself asking. "how come?"

you sigh, smile dropping as a bit of fatigue makes itself comfortable on your face. "ah well, i've got final exams this week. i've been studying like crazy. nothing's really sticking, and the closer i get to the exams, the more annoyed and stressed i get."

satoru hums, not envying you for a minute.

"so it kinda felt like a kick in the butt from the universe when the drink decided to not just…"

he laughs again, taking another piece of chocolate and chewing on it soundlessly. "i gotcha."

you grin, curling your fingers around each other to diffuse some warmth back into them. "yeah."

there's a silence that follows—not uncomfortable, not unwelcome. you take quiet sips of your drink, and satoru breaks off little pieces of the chocolate bar to chew on. his eyes linger on you, watching the way your lips curl around the bottle, the way your fingers rub against each other, the way the cold has settled into your nose and cheeks and made a home amongst your skin.

when you look up at him, he looks away, throat oddly parched. his fingers flex.

"here, the rest is for you," he says, pushing the half finished candy bar into your hands.

you shake your head immediately. "no way! you paid for it! besides isn't this your favorite snack?"

satoru shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets with a grin that looks too happy. "you liked it, didn't you?"

you nod, slowly, like you're confused at what he's getting at. "well then, enjoy the rest of it. i buy them all the time—i don't mind sharing this one."

you can't help the soft smile that graces your lips, looking up at him with an odd sense of gratitude and surprise—touched that someone could be so casually kind.

"then thank you," you laugh quietly, eyes fluttering against the gust of cool wind that tickles your skin. "i'll enjoy it."

satoru grins, uncharacteristically pleased—he won't ever admit it, but he's glad shoko told him to take a walk. he'll have to thank her when he gets back.

he clears his throat, offering you a small wave as he turns on his heel to head back to the school. "well then, see you around. good luck with your studies, yeah?"

you smile with a gentle nod, oddly rejuvenated after seeing bright blue eyes and snowy hair. "thank you."

and then he's disappeared into the crowds. you laugh to yourself quietly, looking down at your drink and the half-eaten candy bar nestled between your fingers. a part of you feels strangely forlorn, wishing that you had the guts or confidence to talk to him a little longer—ask a little more.

but you've never been good at that, so even just this small happiness you'll take in stride. you grin to yourself, shoving the drink into your bag and slinging it over your shoulders.

you begin walking back to the library, fingers breaking off pieces of the chocolate and savoring the sweetness on your tongue. somehow you didn't expect a man with such an imposing presence to enjoy simple sweet things like this, but that just makes you all the more fond of him.

by the time you've reached the entrance of the library, you're shoving the last piece of chocolate into your mouth, sighing as the doors of reality swing open once more. the meager slice of giddiness that enveloped your very being dissolves, and all the reminders of what's left to do come back to suffocate you.

you bite back a groan, about to throw the empty wrapper in the trash when something catches your eye. you double-take, peering down at it with wide eyes and rapidly heating skin. there are a set of numbers scrawled there, along with a haphazardly written message:

in case you need someone to fight another vending machine for you -satoru <3

[repulsiveliquidation]

Fore!

Leah Williamson x Reader [Tooth-rotting, diabetes-causing sweet af fluff]

Leah meets the hottest golfer she’s ever seen.

word count : 2.3k, there will be more parts coming soon!

Based off of true events, I do play college-level golf and I thought it would be fun to incorporate that into a story!

“Come on Leah, our tee time is at ten fifty!” yelled Jacob from the living room. They had planned on playing some golf today, but Leah couldn’t pick an outfit out and was becoming frustrated. “Give me a minute you arse! We won’t be late!”

Finally deciding on something to wear, they headed to the Abbey Hill Golf Club (a/n this is a real course in Milton Keynes!) where they were just in time for their tee time. “What was it you were saying about not being late, sis?” Jacob quipped, earning a hard smack on the upside of his head for his mocking tone. “Shut it before I shove this club up somewhere you don’t want.” “Alright, alright, I’ll bring the cart around.” He answered with a laugh, walking over to the golf carts searching for the one with the number 6 on it.

“Just you then, Y/N/N? Right, you’re gonna have to pair up with those two then. The course is pretty full today, that’ll speed up play.”

“Right, thanks so much Greg!”

“You’re welcome, kid. I’ll give you a tenner if you beat your own course record!”

“I’ll hold you to that, Gregory!”

“Hello, I’m Y/N. Greg paired us up today, I hope that’s okay!”

Someone taps Leah’s shoulder and she swears time stopped. Standing before her is the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. She had the most beautiful smile and was dressed in the cutest golf outfit. She looked professional, like she knew what she was doing, not like herself.

“Um, are you alright?”

“What? Oh fuck, yes. Um, what did you say?”

You giggle at her flustered answer. “Fuck,” thought Leah, “I think that’s the cutest sound in the world.”

“I’m Y/N. Greg wanted us to play together since the tee times are full, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh no, not at all! My brother and I just came out to have a little fun but we’re not that good so I hope we don’t slow you down. You look like you play golf a lot. That’s a really cute shirt you have on, perfectly paired with those trousers. I really like your shoes too, mine are really beat up.” “I love you.”

You giggled again, amused by her rambling. “Don’t worry about it! I just came out to have a little fun but I did bet Greg ten pounds if I could beat the course record today so you’ll need to be witnesses.”

“Course record? Just how good are you?”

“I’ve played my fair share of golf. Between secondary school and college, I’d say I’m alright.”

If Leah had a ring, she’d be on one knee proposing to this girl right now. Jacob finally pulls up with the cart and starts to lock the bags to the back. Leah, in a split-second decision to abandon her precious baby brother, tells him he can have his own cart and that she’ll share with you.

“If that alright with you, of course.”

“Not at all; what’s your name again?”

“Shit, where are my manners? I’m Leah, that’s my brother Jacob. Jacob this is Y/N.”

“Hello Y/N, Greg set us up eh?”

“Yeah, I won’t be too much trouble!”

“You’re alright, just beat my sister and let her take you out, we’ll have a fantastic day.”

“Jacob, I swear–”

“See you two on the first tee!”

A deep blush creeps up Leah’s neck as she rummages in her bag for something she isn’t looking for. You smile fondly at the woman, finding her obvious nervousness extremely attractive; her brother’s request more of a hope than a dream now.

You hop into the driver’s seat, looking back at her still rummaging but now with added grumbling. “You ready, Leah?” you ask with an amused voice, her head popping up as she stood straight and smiled, walking to the passenger side and sat in the cart. You headed to the first tee, the course looking beautiful this time of year.

Jacob stood on the first tee with a cheeky smirk on his face, driver in hand. You park right behind him and get out, grabbing your glove and driver before walking up to him. Leah copies you, following quickly behind you.

“Leah normally plays the reds but I knew you’d come up here to the men’s tees.”

“The women’s tees are too short for me, I like a little challenge anyway.”

Leah, under the guise of stretching, listening intently to your conversation with her brother. It made her stomach do flips and fill with butterflies as you spoke so elegantly about golf. She knew it was the same way she did about football but there was something so hot about the way you spoke that made her heart want to jump out of her chest.

“Would you like to start us off, Jacob?”

“Yes! Then my sister can show off her swing to impress you before you undoubtedly bomb in perfectly down the fairway to show her how it’s done.”

Leah swears she nearly committed first degree murder right then and there. You let out a comical laugh, clutching your stomach as you watch Leah come over and smack her brother hard. He does eventually play his first shot, which isn’t bad, and it’s now Leah’s turn.

“Good luck!” you tell her, smiling softly. She blushes, setting up her shot way too much to the left out of nervousness.

“Leah, too much left darling. Come over a little.” You say nonchalantly, giving her a thumbs up when she corrects herself. Her brain has short-circuited, the pet name you used making her last two braincells abandon her. She manages a shot, ball going only about 50 meters before coming to a stop. You clap nonetheless, telling her it was a good shot. She blushes even harder when you give her a high five, walking over to the tee box to play your shot. Just as Jacob predicted, you hit a drive straight down the middle, flying way past both their balls.

“Wow, that was impressive.” “I love you.”

“Perfect, that was my intention. Come on, let’s get to yours.” You tell her, taking her hand and walking back to the cart. You get in and make your way to her ball. Her face held an expression of pure shock, staring at you with her perfect blue eyes. You could only smile shyly, your boldness was a surprise to everyone in the cart.

“You’ve got 215 meters, Leah.” You tell her as you approach her ball, pulling out your rangefinder and shooting the distance for her. You sat back into the cart and let her hit her ball. You knew she wasn’t going to get there with one shot but you always tried to make anyone you played with enjoy the sport regardless of their talent level so they didn't feel intimidated. Having been surrounded by coaches who made you resent golf while playing in college, you made it your mission to have people enjoy the sport; for golf to be a hobby and not a chore.

“Thanks, what should I play?” she asks, wanting your expert opinion she convinced herself; truthfully she just wanted to hear you talk about golf. “Well, how far does your 5 wood go?” “120 meters if I don’t waffle it.” “Ha! Wonderful, use that.” “I love you.”

She does, in fact, waffle it. But she laughs it off and tries again. This time she does hit it good and it lands beside the green. “Yes Leah, that was great!” you give her another high five and see Jacob already by your ball.

“100 perfect meters. You hit that drive a long way down here.”

“Thanks Jacob, this is one of my longest ones on this hole I think.”

“Which club do you want?” Leah asks, wanting to return the favor. “Pitching wedge please.” you tell her, grabbing it from her and playing your shot. It flies past the hole a little, leaving you with 15 feet for birdie. You smile and wave a little as they impressively clap. Jacob catches the lovesick glint in his sisters eyes as she watches you like you're the only person in the world.

“You��re a goner, aren’t ya?”

“Hook, line and sinker Jacob.” “I love you.”

The three of you spend the next 4 hours playing the most fun round you’ve had in a while. Leah ends up playing a 102, Jacob was better with a 95 and you won ten pounds from Greg after posting a course record of 63.

She was a little sad that the round was over, packing her bag much slower than was necessary. She didn’t see that you were doing the same. Jacob said goodbye and left, winking at her and teasing her. She shoved him and smiled happily, nervous about not wanting the day to end. You had just about plucked up the courage to ask her out when you stood and there she was, almost as surprised as you were.

“Uh, fuck. I was j-just wondering if you would w-want a drink or something.”

“Depends, would that mean that it’s a date?”

“Only if you wanted it to be.”

“I would love nothing more. Well, you eventually but, we’ll see.”

//

“You’re WHO?!”

“You saying you didn’t recognize me?”

“I hate that I have a feeling you’re more amused than offended that I don’t know THE Leah Williamson.”

“It’s honestly refreshing.”

You laugh as arrive at your car. You wordlessly grab both golf bags and pack them into your boot. You close it and smile at her standing there, hands shoved into her pockets as she rocked on the balls of her feet.

“How about a little lunch? I know a pretty good café I think you’d like.” She nervously suggests, somewhat scared that you would say no.

“I’d love that, Leah. Quit being so nervous, I don’t bite.”

//

“Could I do the cranberry and chicken wrap please? Maybe an iced latte to go with that too, please.”

“Make that two. I’ll pay.”

“Leah, I couldn’t let you do that.”

“It’s a date remember? I asked, I pay.”

“What a gentlewoman, you are. Makes a girl weak in the knees, you know.”

“I’ll catch you doll, don’t worry.”

Leah doesn’t think she’s ever been able to talk to anyone the same way she could with you. You were the perfect listener; attentive and engaged. You also spoke so eloquently and had the best jokes she’s ever heard. It’s not till the café owner comes over at 7PM to let you both know that they were closing did you realize the time.

You both walk hand in hand down the streets of late-night Milton Keynes. Leah insists on getting ice cream, beating you again at handing over money to pay. You both settle on a bench at a nearby park and enjoy the cold dessert. Your hands don’t leave each other’s, her thumb softly brushing over your knuckles.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, Y/N. I don’t think I would be able to sleep tonight if I didn’t tell you.” She blurts out suddenly and it sends a dark blush up your cheeks. “I love you.”

“I lied.”

“What?”

“I lied, of course I knew who you were. How could anyone not? I was fangirling so hard but I had to keep my cool so I didn’t scare you. I’m sorry.”

“That’s the best lie anyone has ever told me.”

You continued to eat your ice cream, sitting closer to her as your laced fingers sat in your lap. Ice cream cones now finished you both just enjoyed the cool Milton Keynes night.

“Are you from here?” Leah asks as she mindlessly plays with your fingers. “Yeah, but we moved around a lot as kids because of my dad’s job. I moved back here for secondary school but went to the US for college.”

“A great friend of mine studied in the US while playing sports too.”

“Alessia? I’ve met her, she signed my jersey one time.”

“Signed–which game did you come to?!”

“I was at the Euro’s last year. Loved watching the final, I had a sore throat for a week from all the shouting. I had just come back from graduating so I thought I’d enjoy a little soccer.”

“It’s football, love.”

You laugh and lean your head on her shoulder as she takes the opportunity to slip her arm around your shoulder. You don’t protest, leaning into her. She smiles wide, grabbing your hand to hold with her other. It was past 11PM, both of you walking to your car begrudgingly at the reality of a perfect date coming to a close. You get in and suddenly have a burst of confidence. You lean in and to your surprise, she does too. Your lips meet and it's like fireworks. Her lips mold to yours perfectly, tongues swiping and tangling like a practiced tango. You pull away first, hand cupping her beautiful face and stroking her cheekbone.

“I don’t want it to end.”

“Then don’t let it.”

“Stay the night?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: i hate this title but i LOVE this fic! i had so much fun writing it, obviously inspired by the tik tok trend lol. also when i started this fic last week, the cookies were different but then this week actually did include banana cream pie so i had to change them 😂 and then had to do a little rewrite obviously. but yeah, go check out the isles q&a on their favorite desserts bc they’re all adorable

tw: tooth rotting fluff, extremely minor insinuation of a daddy kink

word count: 2.3k

summary: you take advantage of mat’s sweet tooth to trick him into doing a tik tok video with you

“Hey,” you call out for Mat from your perch on the couch, one foot wedged in between the couch cushions and your phone resting on your thigh. You can hear him rummaging around in the fridge and the noise stops temporarily.

“Hey,” he calls back, “what’s going on?” The rummaging noises start up again and you grin to yourself. If he’s hungry, your little plan will work perfectly.

You crunch up into a sitting position and drape your arms over the back of the couch, watching Mat as he moves things around in the fridge, looking for something to eat. “Do you want to go to Chip City with me?” You ask. “I want to make like one of those TikToks, you know where they rate the cookies of the week?”

Mat’s nodding and closing the fridge before you even finish speaking. “Oh, hell fucking yes,” he grins, skirting around the kitchen island and stopping behind the couch. You reach out and tug at the belt loops on his jeans, laughing. “You know I’m always down for cookies.”

“I know,” you tease, unfolding from the couch and getting to your feet. “That’s why I suggested it. I can always count on you to validate my sugar cravings.”

He smiles his crooked little smile and readjusts his hat, the new Stay GOALd collaboration with Ralph Macchio, raking his hand through his hair before settling the hat on backwards. Your stomach flips a little at how good he looks. “Babe, we need to stop talking and start driving,” he says, totally seriously.

“Chill, Cookie Monster,” you follow him to the front door, stepping into your ratty Forces. The leather is more grey than white now and creased beyond belief, but they’re comfortable and you can slide them on and off without having to do the laces. “I doubt they’re going to run out of cookies in the ten minutes it takes to get there.”

“Never know,” Mat shrugs, tossing your car keys at you. You barely catch them, fumbling a little before your fingers hook on the beaded keychain. “Your car’s behind mine, you drive?”

You wrinkle your nose, when Mat’s home you’d rather be the passenger princess, but you also hate it when he readjusts your seat to fit his longer legs. “Fine,” you mumble, locking the door behind him, “but that’s the last bit of driving I’m doing all weekend.”

He swoops in to press a kiss to your forehead, “your wish is my command, Princess Squeaks.”

With a delighted smile, you hop into the driver’s seat of your car, turning it on while Mat buckles up in the passenger seat. He leans back in the seat, the brim of his backwards cap hitting against the headrest and popping the front of the hat off his head. “Damn,” he mutters, quickly fixing it and sitting forward. “So, wait, if you make one of those videos, what are the chances we get a Chip City influencer deal? Are we looking at free cookies for life?”

“Um, no,” you wince when you take a turn a little too quickly, clipping the curb. Hoping Mat will ignore that, you continue quickly, “I don’t think free cookies for life is a thing? Maybe some like coupons or extra point perks? Honestly, it’ll probably be nothing other than a comment and a like.”

“For life will be a really short period if you keep driving like a blind lunatic,” Mat teases you, laughing loudly when you lift your hand from the steering wheel to flip him off.

“You’re the one who told me to drive,” you counter.

Mat snags your hand out of the air and laces his fingers with yours, settling the back of his hand on the center console. “That’s only because I forgot what an insane driver you are,” he laughs, dramatically letting his body bounce forward and back in the seat when you come to a sharp stop at a red light.

You roll your eyes and make a point of driving exactly the speed limit and taking turns super carefully until you pull into the parking lot. When he hops out of the car, Mat wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close to his side. You snuggle up, wrapping your arm around his waist, car keys jangling in your hand as you walk. “Babe, you can drive like Vin Diesel all you want when I’m not in the car,” he says as you walk up the sidewalk to Chip City. “Lou might consider it a breach of my contract if you drive like that when I’m in the passenger seat.”

“Breach of contract!?” You yelp, pinching his side while he lets loose one of his contagiously loud laughs. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“But you love me,” Mat states matter-of-factly, breaking contact with you to pull open the door and hold it for you. You hum happily, immediately hit with the delicious scent of baked cookies. Behind you, Mat lets out a quiet groan and you laugh at his dramatics. “Jesus, it always smells so good in here,” he falls into line behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“If I worked here, I’d be three hundred pounds from sampling cookies every day,” you comment, turning to the mirror on the wall and lining up your face with the milk moustache decal for a selfie. You nudge Mat into place next to you and he crinkles his whole face up into a cheesy grin just for you. You snap the picture and shuffle forward as the person at the register leaves, moving the line up. Mat shuffles behind you, stepping on the heels of your sneakers and mumbling apologies.

While you wait, you look at the merch on the walls, joking with Mat that you’re going to get him the cookie shaped backpack for him to put his stuff in on game days. Before he can retort, you’re at the case and the worker is asking you how many cookies you want.

“Um, let’s do six?” You say, voice ticking up in a question for Mat. He nods, barely listening to you as he squints at the cookies. They’ll be gone in two days.

“Definitely need the cookies and cream,s’mores and oh, fuck yes, banana cream pie,” he points at each cookie as he names the flavor. “Babe?”

“I’ll do the specialty ones,” you say, “dark chocolate peanut butter, white chocolate macadamia, and brookie, please.”

“I love bananan cream pie cookie week,” Mat comments dreamily, looking like Pepe Le Pew when the cartoon skunk’s eyes turn into hearts when he spots the female skunk. He grins at you when you stick your finger in your mouth, fake gagging.

“Ugh, disgusting,” you shake your head. “Your love for banana cream pie is your biggest red flag.”

The woman behind the counter boxes everything up and you tap in your phone number to get rewards points before stepping to the side so Mat can pay. He smirks at you, tapping his card against the reader, and quietly, so no one else can hear, murmurs, “say ‘thank you, daddy.’”

A laugh startles out of your chest and you shake your head, cheeks flushing hot. “No, nope. I’m not saying that, Mathew.” Your fingers tremble a little around the box of cookies.

Mat’s hand is huge and warm on your lower back as he guides you out of the store, the sudden cool air a relief to your cheeks. He chuckles and flexes his fingers against your back. “Worth a shot,” he teases. “One day I’m gonna get you to say it.”

“It won’t be of my own accord,” you wrinkle your nose at him, stomach flipping a little bit. You refuse to analyze the excitement building low in your stomach and instead march determinedly back to your car. You had a plan for today and it didn’t involve Mat being called ‘daddy’ in a public place. Or any place. Or ever.

“We’ll see,” Mat jokes, pulling open the door for you to hop in and then going around the front of the car to get in on the passenger side. You drop the cookie box on his lap and he immediately picks at the tape holding it shut with his thumbnail, ready to snag a bite.

“Wait for me to get set up!” You chastise him, flicking his fingers away from the box with one hand and pulling up TikTok with the other.

Mat keeps picking at the tape, “no one’s gonna notice, I’ll just break it in half.” He finally manages to get the tape off and pops the lid open, dramatically inhaling the scent of the cookies. “Oh, fuck yes. Babe, what a good idea.”

You grin at him and make sure your phone is set in the holder attached to your windshield so both you and Mat are in the shot. “I literally only have good ideas,” you pull the box of cookies back into your lap, ignoring Mat’s protests. “Ready?”

He nods and you reach forward to start the recording. “Hi guys!” You chirp into the camera. “Happy Saturday, Mat has a rare day off so I decided to rope him into my fun. Say hi, Mat.”

Mat looks up from his phone and parrots, “hi, Mat,” with a shit eating grin on his face.

“He’s the worst,” you roll your eyes affectionately and hold up the cookie box so it’s in frame. “Anyway, I wanted to do something different than the usual Crumbl cookie sampling, and since Chip City is in our town, I figured this was the best thing. I invited Mat, because, well, I’m not sure if you know this but my husband has the biggest sweet tooth.”

You fight to keep your face in a neutral expression, but can’t help the corner of your mouth ticking up when you see Mat’s eyebrows lift nearly into his hairline on screen. His own mouth tips down in a slight, curious frown, but he doesn’t say anything.

So you continue, “it’s not anything like my mother-in-law’s peach cobbler, but Mat will kill a chocolate chip cookie in record time.” You shift in your seat, turning to face him, and keep your gaze locked on a point in the middle of his forehead, because if you look him in the eye, you’ll crack up. “Which do you want to try first, babe? Wait, let me guess, banana cream pie?”

There’s amusement in his tone when he holds out his hand and says, “oh for sure. Hand it over!”

He squints at you and you avoid his gaze when you pass over the cookie. Pretending to think, you look down at the box, “I’m going to try the dark chocolate peanut butter first, I think. Unlike my husband,” you smile at the camera, holding up the cookie while you break it in half to show the melted peanut butter swirls on the inside, “I like my desserts a little less sweet. Lemon bars, carrot cake, cheesecake, that kind of thing. Last week was lemon berry, which is a top three cookie for me.”

You can see Mat jolt in surprise again on screen, his head swinging to look at you. His eyes are wide and his lips are fighting a laugh.

“Yeah,” Mat smirks at the camera, breaking his own cookie in half and taking a huge bite. He chews and swallows before continuing, “the wifey is pretty picky on her desserts.”

Mat’s words sink in and you do a double take, jaw falling open a little. Mat’s grin turns shit eating and he takes another huge bite of his cookie while you blink stupidly at him. “What-?” You frown, ignoring the way your heart is pounding and your stomach is clenching with the echo of Mat saying ‘wifey’ in your ear.

He licks a spot of whipped cream off the side of his thumb and your core throbs.

“Uno reverse, Squeaks,” Mat laughs. “Do you think you’re the only one with Tik Tok?”

“Oooh,” you scrunch your face up at him, “you knew what I was up to?” He nods and your hand shoots out to push at his shoulder.

“Hey!” He yelps, chuckling. “I figured it out when you referred to Mom as your mother-in-law.”

You put your cookie back in the box and tap the record button on your phone, ending the video. “I honestly thought you’d have a better reaction,” you laugh a little, pulling your left foot up onto the seat and turning completely so you’re facing Mat. You shift the box too, so it’s on top of the center console.

Mat talks as he swaps out his banana cream pie for a piece of the s’mores, a string of marshmallow connecting the broken piece from the rest in the box, “why? Not a secret that I’m gonna wife you up in the future. I like hearing you call me your husband.”

He says it so casually, so easily, that it shocks you a little. When you first met Mat, you had thought dating him would be a fun time, but you’d never imagined that you’d be here - with him talking about marriage as if it’s a foregone conclusion.

“Well,” you murmur, feeling warm and content, “for the record, I liked hearing you call me wifey. So I guess we’re even.”

Mat looks up at you, hazel eyes lit up and glowing where the sun hits his face. He looks even more edible than the cookies. “You called me husband twice, don’t think we’re even just yet…” he drags out the pause with a sly smile on his face and you think he may use the w-word again, but he just lets the silence linger, the possibility hanging in the air.

[fadingdaggerr]

hello! i was wondering if you could write a melissa/reader fic where r unknowingly makes mel very nervous/blush, and after a while melissa starts to become very protective of r until melissa is a big blushing mess and just needs to have her girl 🫶 or whatever u want to take from this, big fan of your work!! mwah 🧛🏻‍♀️🦇

amaranthine

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above <3 | 2.3k

includes: literally just fluff, tooth rotting fluff, soft!melissa, established but new relationship, light making out

note: sol posting two fics in a month? what is this? no but seriously i got an inspo boost since abbott is back in like 2 weeks so i was rewatching and “get the cameras outta my face before i give you colonoscopy with it” is still top 3 melissa lines (from attack ad)

“You really ate that and have the gall, the gumption to call it food?” Barbara says, baffled by the story you told her as you both were making your coffee. Somehow on the walk in, the conversation had gone from the muffin you got on your way to work, to the topic of childhood lunches.

You laugh, “listen, bologna and ketchup was the only consistent thing I ate until, like, middle school.”

“And you enjoyed that?” she says with a shocked face and what you guess is minor disgust from her downturned lips. You nod in response with a little mhm and Barbara’s hand comes up to hide your face from her line of sight, turning away so as to not laugh right at you. She’s nothing if not polite. Her reaction only makes you laugh more.

You both sober up as you hear the door opening, and there’s equal gratefulness for it being Melissa that enters the room. Your eyes flick over her quickly, taking in her pink top you don’t think you’ve seen before and black leather pants that you’ve certainly never forgotten her wearing. Her eyeliner is perfect, but it doesn’t hide the darker circles under her eyes, the folders in her bag telling you stayed up late to grade assignments.

Barbara greets her while you silently step away to the cabinet, grabbing an orange mug out. You know exactly how she takes her coffee, at least how she takes the bitter lounge coffee, with a sugar and a hefty pour of milk, only the one percent though. Just as she finishes unpacking her stuff and sits down to keep talking with Barb, you return to your spot across from her.

Her eyes move to you, watching you test the coffee with a small sip off the edge. You think a moment before pushing the mug over to her, a tiny smile crossing your lips. She raises a brow, taking a small sip of her own to test it. “It’s perfect, hon, thank you,” she says, just a little ruffled that you pay attention enough to get her coffee right and that she’d never gotten her coffee to taste this good.

“Anything for you,” is your earnest response. With the smile still on your lips, you send a wink her way before your attention is stolen by more people filtering into the room. As you chat over your shoulder with Gregory, Melissa faces her lap, desperate to get rid of the blush that painted her cheeks at the ease of your attention and words.

She decides to stay a little quieter, listening to the conversation Barbara is having with Janine, sipping on her coffee that she was holding close to her chest. There’s a prickly feeling on the side of her face, and when she turns she finds your eyes on her. They flick from her eyes to her shirt, scanning her the sleeves and stitching, and she has to pretend she didn’t notice the barely lingering look at her chest.

“New shirt?” you ask when your eyes meet hers.

She takes in a deep breath, “yeah, just got it yesterday. D’ya not like it or something?”

“What? No, Mel,” you said, “you look beautiful. As always.”

There’s not enough time for her to hide before her cheeks are an even brighter shade of pink than her shirt, eyes blinking rapidly. Melissa prays that Barbara didn't just hear you say those words, let alone see her reaction to them. Whatever this was between you two, it’s new and fragile and not fully defined, and you both agreed you don’t want to let anyone in just yet.

—☽—

Melissa has become attuned to you. She knows when you’re around well before she sees you, always able to sense your presence. If it was because she was always looking for you, she’d never admit it.

With soft steps knowing it’s a quiet time in her room, you approach her classroom as a stop on your way to the lounge for popcorn. Stopping in her doorway, she immediately turns and looks at you. Eyes widening at the immediate attention, you give her a little wave.

“Alright little eagles, I’m gonna be in the hall. Youse better stay on your best behavior,” she says as she stands up from the desk, making an ‘I’m-watching-you’ motion. Joining you in the hall with a little smile on her face, she leans against the wall.

“You didn’t have to leave your class,” you say as you match her position, leaning into her space just a little.

Her smile grows a bit, “then why’d you stop by?”

“Just wanted to see you, that’s all. But getting you to talk to you is definitely a bonus,” you answer, the grin on your face stretching as you look at her while you speak.

That wasn’t the answer she was expecting, not that she really knew what she thought you’d say. Licking her lips, she ducks her head and shakes it, but only for a second. Looking back up at you, she manages to say, “you just came to stare at me then?”

“I prefer the word ‘admire,’ but same-difference.”

“Yeah, right,” she says with a little scoff, trying hard to keep from allowing the heat to creep up her neck.

You mock her a little scoff with a smirk as you push off the wall, about to start back on your journey. “Whatever you say, gorgeous,” you say before turning away. Your turn stutters as you come back around, fingers raising to her necklace to fix the chain so the clip was at the back of her neck. You mumble a barely audible there we go before you turn around and continue on your way.

Melissa is frozen in place for a moment, hand raising to her neck, tracing the spot your hand ran against. A thankful thought passed her mind that the hall was empty, not even a doc camera around. She was not above threatening them to delete the footage or smashing the camera that caught her flustered and dazed from your affection.

—☽—

At lunch, she has to refrain from looking at you, knowing that if she even dared to, that her cheeks would be as red as the firetrucks she adores. Thinking instead that she didn’t want to talk at the moment, you were conversing with Jacob about a movie he watched over the weekend and was dying to share it with someone. Admittedly, Melissa was half listening, really only to hear your voice.

There was a slight snicker from the couches, a sort of snicker that peaked Melissa’s attention. She sees Mr. Morton and another eighth-grade teacher peering at yours and Jacob’s direction, clearly listening to your conversation and finding it humorous. Focusing her ears, she hears mumbles of lame as hell and great, another freak. Her brows furrow and fists clench, Barbara quickly notices her friend’s change in mood and gives her a questioning gaze that Melissa ignores.

“Aye,” Melissa pipes up, the whole room goes silent. Her eyes stay on Morton and what’s-her-face as she menacingly says, “watch your mouth or I watch it for you. Got it?” The only response either one gives her is a fast nod before averting their eyes, frozen in place from fear. 

When Melissa’s glare finally leaves them, everyone else’s eyes drop to avoid being next, except for yours and Barbara’s.

“What was that for?” Barbara speaks quietly so only the three of you at the table can hear.

“Nothing, Barb. Just didn’t like what they were saying is all,” she answers, purposefully keeping her eyes off both of you.

Your hand goes to her arm in an attempt to comfort her a bit, thumb caressing her skin, “what were they saying?”

Melissa desperately tries to ignore her rapid heart, “it was nothing, hon. Don’t worry about it.” Unable to resist a little bit of extra contact, she pats your hand reassuringly. Neither of you notice Barbara’s eyebrows fly up in surprise at the outward affection you both displayed.

When lunch ended, Barbara went back to her classroom to do her lesson on the changing seasons, and you and Melissa both had prep periods while your students went off to recess and their extra activities. Taking the extra time you rarely got to have together during the work day, you spent the majority of the hour grading next to each other. Little smiles and checking in made you both ditch the grading altogether, just enjoying each other's company.

“If I invited you over for dinner tonight, what would you say to that?” she asks with a coy smile.

“I’d say I’d love to have dinner with you,” you reply with a tad of shyness, playing with the rings on her hand you were holding in your lap. 

“Six work for you?”

“I’ll be there, on the dot.”

Your phone buzzes on the table next to you, making you flinch at the sudden intrusion. She heard you mumble shit under your breath, before you stand and hurriedly collect your things. Double checking that you had everything, you let out a deep breath. 

Without much thought, you lean down and press a soft kiss to her cheek, “I’ll see you later.” Before she can  respond you’re rushing out of the room to get your kids from art class.

Melissa’s head drops to her desk and grumbles, “gonna be the death of me, that one.”

—☽—

In her kitchen, you’d found that your favorite spot was sitting on the counter next to her. She let you ‘help’ by letting you add the seasonings, but wouldn’t let you near much else. You were content to look at her while she worked in her element, an ease and happiness in her movements that you delight in.

With just having to wait for the vegetables to cook down a bit, she turns to you and leans in close, arm brushing your thigh. You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile, and raise your hand to brush hair out of her face. Your hand slides from behind her ear to cup her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek.

“You’re so pretty, you know?”

She doesn’t respond. Instead she leans into you, her hands moving from the counter to your thighs. Pink lips brush against yours, a silent question. This was all she’s been wanting since you two snuck away Friday as everyone left school, where she left you breathless in your empty classroom. The answer she gets is your lips pressing into her, soft and slow, savoring the taste of her. Melissa barely holds back a whine at the feeling of your lips on hers, she never thought she could miss a feeling so much, but a weekend apart from you had her craving your touch. Your tongue traces against her bottom lip, begging for entry, and she’s quick to grant it.

Unlike her, you don’t hold in a groan at the feeling of her mouth on yours. Your hands travel into her hair, lightly tugging her closer. The sensation has her hands gripping your thighs, using them to pull you into her. You feel a certain desperation in her kiss that allows you to take the lead easily, sucking her bottom lip between your teeth and biting gently before kissing her softer to make it better. Your legs wrap around her as you slow your lips, wanting her close as possible.

As you pull away, she pushes back in to catch your lips again for just a second. Her hands on your thighs are making it incredibly hard for you to focus on your already struggling breathing. There’s a muted moan from her as your fingers scratch her scalp, pulling gently as her soft hair.

“You’re trouble, you know?” she murmurs breathlessly, mirroring your previous question.

You smile as you rest your head against the cupboard behind you, still holding her face as you ask, “how so?”

“All you’re staring and flirting, you know exactly what I’m talking about,” she responds like it’s obvious.

“Again, I was admiring, not staring. And when was I flirting?” Your tone and the look on your face makes the redhead realize that you truly weren’t aware of the effect you were having on her. 

Her hands slide up to your waist, your shirt raising just enough for her pinkies to brush your skin. The goosebumps that develop under her touch makes her heart skip a beat, loving that she had a similar effect on you. When she doesn’t answer you right away, you angle her face to bring her attention back to you, silently asking your question again with your eyes.

Melissa sighs, “saying you’d do ‘anything’ for me, calling me beautiful and pretty. You’re a flirt.” 

“Those are just all true, not really flirting. I would do anything for you and you are very beautiful and very pretty,” you say, smiling. The heat in her cheeks spread to your hands, the warmth spreading to your heart. She tries to duck away but you’re faster, pulling her closer just barely to press a soft kiss to the corner of her lips.

She wants to respond, but no words form under your gaze. Your eyes avert from hers and she finds hers following where yours go. Suddenly the simmering of the vegetables in the pot reaches her ears, reminding her that there was a world outside your eyes and lips. Your hands drop from her face, letting her go to check on the food you can’t touch. She just squeezes your hips before letting go.

You’ll still be there when she gets back.

feedback appreciated as always <3

title means something that is ‘undying or everlasting’

[roguishcat]

A welcome distraction

Summary: Astarion was not nice. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning. But perhaps, given the right incentive, he could be persuaded to be nice to the one person who he felt deserved it most.

Tags: Fluff, tooth-rotting fluff

Pairing: Astarion x female Tav

One-shot, 2.3k words

Set in the beggining of Act II.

Astarion stretched out languidly on Tav’s bedroll, watching her as she looked through their magic trinkets to decide which ones they could do without. Ever since Gale came to her, confessing everything, telling her of his folly, Tav has taken extra care to set aside an item or two that the wizard could consume.

Now, if this was done out of sense of self-preservation, that would be completely understandable. It would be quite unfortunate for that orb in his chest to get so volatile it would just explode at random. Such a waste that would be. The world would lose its most beautiful creature! And just as he was starting to enjoy his freedom! And he supposed the wizard had his uses too.

Astarion blinked slowly and sighed. As nice as it was to have no one try to murder them for a change, he was getting bored. And his favourite source of entertainment seemed to have no time on her hands for him.

And that just wouldn’t do.

He moved closer to Tav and lifted his hand to rest on her head, running his fingers through her hair and then lower down to caress the exposed skin of her neck. Astarion knew that he was distracting her, that was the whole point of the gentle, feather-light touches that made goosebumps rise on her exposed arms. And when that garnered no reaction, Astarion lifted himself up to press his chest against her back, snaking his arms around her middle.

“Darling,” he said smoothly, kissing her shoulder, making a move to lift her shirt enough with insistent hands to expose skin and trace slow patterns just above her hipbones, “don’t you think it’s time for a break?”

“As nice as that sounds, I still have to go through all the scrolls and potions.”

“Nice? I can’t promise anything that uninspired,” he scoffed. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning.

“Something wicked, however,” he drawled, his lips almost touching Tav’s ear “that I could definitely provide.”

“Well, as delicious as that sounds, I’m not moving until I get this done. But perhaps you could help?”

“Tsk, you are no fun,” he pouted, lifting a necklace with the tip of his finger. “What’s this one supposed to do?”

“Let me just check… Misty Step.”

“Keeping it,” he would have squirreled it away earlier, but a part of him felt a sick sort of dread at taking something without waiting for permission first. It was almost like a reflex more than anything. Not to take without permission, lest he be punished.

“If you want,” Tav shrugged with a smile. “Put it into your pile, it’s that one.”

Astarion inwardly preened when he noted it was one of the bigger piles. He spied a bow and two rings perched on top of a set of armour. He supposed getting nice new things was worth an hour of boredom.

It was still a novel concept. Having things of his own. Being given what he needed or simply wanted with no strings attached. And it wasn’t just him that got such treatment. Tav tried her best to make sure that everyone was taken care of to the best of her ability.

Astarion would probably never admit it unless faced with decapitation, but Tav has really started to grow on him. The pleasant manner in which she carried herself, the ferocious way in which she fought, the unwavering loyalty to those she considered friends.

That was yet another novel concept, having friends.

 “Darling, I can’t help but notice that you didn’t choose anything for yourself.”

“I don’t need anything right now.”

That was a lie. Her armour breathed its last when they went up against the goblins to protect the Grove. She could definitely use a new pair of boots too.

“As sweet as you are for thinking of others before yourself, I would rather you not become a pincushion next time we are ambushed. Here,” he picked a set of armour at random, “take this.”

“And Shadowheart will have to do without, I suppose?” she raised an eyebrow.

“She’s a cleric. She can heal herself,” Astarion gave a nonchalant shrug. He didn’t care much about what happened to Shadowheart.

Tav laughed, making something warm and pleasant bloom in his chest. He hated how much he enjoyed hearing her laugh.

“Well, this armour is a bit too heavy for me anyway,” she put the armour back and added a couple of scrolls that Shadowheart could make use of. “Maybe I will pick something up next time we need to sell stuff.”

She was right. They did amass quite a collection of useless nick knacks when they looted the abandoned houses in the Blighted Village. And lugging all the bits and bobs that Tav insisted on taking with them was getting rather tedious. Not that he carried much personally. However, he imagined if Lae’zel caught onto him having the lightest load, the gith would personally make sure that his pack would be stuffed to capacity.

Except when they went to sell the items, she once again did not buy anything for herself. Astarion could not understand her ridiculous altruism! Not that he cared that much, but still. Tav dying would most definitely throw a wrench in his plans. Therefore, with that in mind only, he bought Tav new armour, bow and boots.

Strange. The first time he spent money in years, and it wasn’t even on buying something for himself!

The next day, Tav woke up to find that someone had been to her tent. And that mysterious someone left her gifts. Brows furrowing, she picked up a pair of boots. They were clearly enchanted and probably not something they could afford at the moment. And that begged the question, who would splurge so much and not even give it to her personally?

She admired the armour and ran her fingers over the leather. As she shifted it slightly sideways to have a better look at the clasps, something sparkled in a stray ray of light that got in through the slight opening in the tent flap.

Tav noticed the necklace perched on top of the pile.

“Misty Step,” she murmured, a small smile tugging on her lips as her fingers ghosted over the rest of the gifts.

Changing and making herself somewhat presentable, she walked out of her tent and towards Astarion’s, greeting Gale as he prepared their breakfast. To their delight, the group recently stumbled upon a cellar filled with boxes upon boxes of food. Gale was especially pleased at having the opportunity to prepare proper meals for a change rather than have two or three odd ingredients to work with.

When Tav opened the flap of Astarion’s tent and walked in, the elf was already up and apparently deeply engrossed in his book, not even bothering to look up to greet her. Tav waited a beat, but Astarion pointedly refused to acknowledge her. Which Tav knew he had to be doing on purpose, because there was no way that he couldn’t hear her breathing and the staccato of her heartbeat as she grew more nervous by the minute.

Crouching by him, she put her hand on top of the page.

“Darling, as much as I enjoy your presence in my tent, you are distracting me from my reading.”

“I see. Good book?”

“It is. Absolutely riveting.”

She decided not to comment on the fact that he had already read this book twice, as they didn’t come across any new reading material that was of interest to Astarion.

“Help me put this on?” she smiled and handed him the necklace, holding her hair up and leaving her neck exposed, making Astarion’s mouth water.

“Tsk, can’t manage without me, darling?” he teased, but put his book aside.

“I can. But I’d much rather you did it.”

Gently, he slid the jewellery in its place, letting his fingers linger on her skin a touch longer than necessary and making Tav sigh contently.

“Thank you,” she pecked his cheek. “Thank you for looking after me.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. But perhaps come nightfall,” he leaned closer and all but purred, “I could look after you in a-”

“Astarion,” Tav put her fingers on his lips, “thank you.”

“Oh, please! You thought it was me? Darling! Giving you a necklace? Out of all mundane, unimaginative things to gift!”

Astarion inwardly kicked himself. What was he thinking, trading her smile for a blunt comment like that? It wasn’t the way he usually operated. It was counterintuitive, it was stupid. He was supposed to be furthering her attraction to him, so what in the hells was he doing by telling her that the gifts came from another?

“Mmhh, of course it couldn’t have been you,” Tav agreed easily, laying a tender kiss on the underside of his jaw and then another just below his ear, “so sorry for the misunderstanding.”

“I -I argh,” he shuddered as blunt teeth nibbled on his earlobe, “apology accepted.”

“So… who do you propose I should thank then?” Tav breathed against his cheek and then looked him in the eyes.

“Excuse me?” Astarion frowned as she moved away.

“Well, if it wasn’t you that left the armour, the necklace-

“And boots!” he interjected quickly.

“Ah yes, thank you for reminding me,” she nodded, running her hands down his arms to take his cool hands into her own. “Who should I be thanking instead of you, hm?”

“I know! It was probably Shadowheart,” she said with an air of someone having an eureka moment.

“Shadowheart?!”

“No, it couldn’t have been her,” she mused, letting go of his hand to tap a finger on her lips as she pretended to think hard. “Shadowheart didn’t come with us to the vendor. Must be Wyll then, he did comment on my boots being worse for wear.”

“Wyll just spent half the journey flirting with Lae’zel!” Astarion spat with distaste, sounding rather like a scandalised virgin gossiping about a debutante with a questionable reputation.

“True, true. Well, that leaves Gale. Unless it was the only other person who came with me yesterday…”

Astarion swallowed and pouted but didn’t say anything.

“How silly of me to assume it was you. I’ll let you get back to your reading. Off I go to give Gale a proper thank you.”

Tav rose and let go of his hand, making Astarion panic a little. Like hells Gale would be the one getting recognition for the nice thing that he did!

Rising quickly, Astarion grabbed Tav’s waist. She squealed when he spun her round roughly, pressing her body to his.

“You are not going anywhere, you cheeky pup,” he whispered against her neck, his cool breath making Tav shiver involuntarily and grasp onto his shirt.

“And since you insist on thanking me, I will graciously accept your gratitude.”

He was a benevolent creature, after all. And since Tav was in the mood to shower him with affection, he supposed he could allow it.

“Thank you,” she kissed his cheek.

“Thank you,” his forehead, just under an errant curl that fell over his eyes as he tilted his head forward.

“Thank you,” she pressed her lips to his, making Astarion groan as he deepened the kiss, one hand steadying Tav whilst the other travelled lower. He nibbled on her swollen, pouty lower lip, enjoying the delicious mewling sound she made and then-

“Breakfast is ready!” Gale’s voice rang jarringly loud from somewhere outside the tent, startling Tav. She withdrew with a sigh, looking more than a little disappointed at having to leave. Ever the dutiful leader, ready to start her day and selflessly brush aside her own wants and needs.

Astarion was having none of that.

“Where do you think you are going, hm?”

“Um, well..” Tav began, but found herself to be quite mesmerised with the heated, predatory look he was giving her.

“I haven’t had my breakfast yet, and I am feeling simply ravenous.”

He pulled the collar of her shirt aside, admiring the way the necklace rested against her skin and then his eyes travelled lower down still as Astarion mused about whether he was being too traditional by drinking from her neck when there were such tantalising, mouthwatering choices to be made.

“May I?” he murmured, trailing his nose against her collarbone, then lower and lower still, brushing against the necklace that rose and fell with her breaths. Astarion felt Tav’s fingers gently thread through his curls, skimming along his ears in a way that had him suppressing a moan.

“Yes.”

She always said yes. And recently rather than thinking her a fool for it, Astarion felt… something else. He couldn’t explain what it was that he felt even if he tried. But Tav was becoming more than a means to an end. More than a target. More than a night that was better to forget.

Weeks later, he would find that she was the light that illuminated the darkest recesses of his mind and soul. The warmth that welcomed and comforted him, preventing him from retreating into himself when he was hit with the horror of what he had done in his years of slavery. She would come to be the only person that he truly cared about. But he didn’t know that yet.

As he drank, Astarion decided that perhaps he would allow himself to enjoy whatever this was. Not overthink it. For now, he would let himself linger on the precipice of making the discovery of what exactly Tav was to him without worrying of what would happen once he fell.

For now, he would let himself enjoy not having to worry about what tomorrow would bring. For now, she would be his most welcome distraction.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale, @clazberryk, @anukulee, @preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299, @fleetstreet78,

@starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9

[pulisicsgirl]

favorite t-shirt - christian pulisic

summary: after an afternoon spent together, the rain forces Christian and Y/N into a startlingly domestic evening, and he’s not quite sure how to handle himself

pairing: Christian Pulisic x reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings/tags: established relationship, new relationship, Christian being the nervous little introvert that he is, tooth-rotting fluff

requested: no

song inspo: “Favorite T-Shirt” by Jake Scott

notes: happy fic-versary!!! Exactly one year ago today, I posted my first fic on this account so I wanted to do just a little something for it. I haven’t written for Christian in a bit but I figure it was only right to go back to my roots with a lilte fluffy piece for him to celebrate the occasion!! ☺️ This is an idea I’ve had for quite some time, so I hope I did it justice! Feedback is always appreciated!! Also, I don’t know what kind of car Christian has, but for the sake of the fic, please pretend it’s some sort of SUV

“You ready?” Christian, looked over at you, eyebrows drawn upward in anticipation of your answer. He leaned slightly into the center console of his car, leaning closer to you as a grin of child-like glee washes over his features. The little crinkles by his eyes made your heart flutter in your chest.

You only nodded in return, lips pursed as you tried (in vain) to hold back your smile. You rested your hand on the handle of the car door, watching as Christian did the same, not breaking eye contact with you as he did so.

“Three…” he began counting, and your heart leapt at the silliness of it all.

“Two..” he continued, and you wiggled in your seat as you prepared yourself to jump out of the car.

“One! Make a run for it!” he shouted, flinging the car door open and leaping from his seat. You followed suit, stepping out into the torrential downpour of rain. It was the kind of rain that made it difficult to see anything more than 20 feet in front of you, and you felt the fabric of your shirt become soaked immediately as the raindrops hit it.

You giggled at the fact that, rather than sprinting to the front door to preserve his own clothes, Christian was waiting for you as you rounded the front of the car, his hand outstretched for you to take. You quickly did so, and the two of you ran up the winding sidewalk toward the front door of his home.

However, you hadn’t accounted for the rain-slicked concrete, and as the two of you rounded the sharp corner, your shoe slid, losing traction and sent you flying to the ground. Thankfully, your momentum carried you into the grass, your landing soft as you hit the ground.

A hearty laugh broke from your lips, the kind that shook your whole body. You only found humor in the fall, no longer able to hold in the glee that seemed to be filling up your entire body after the perfect day you’d had.

Though Christian’s mind had filled with worry as soon as he felt your hand slip from his, he was relieved as he saw you laughing from your spot in the grass.

Ever the sensible one, Christian slipped your phone from your pocket (since you had decided to leave everything else in the car to save it from the rain) and tossed it, along with his phone, wallet, and keys under the shelter of the front porch and ran back out to help you to your feet.

When you had calmed your laughter, you opened your eyes, looking above you to see Christian standing over your body. He had a foot on either side of you as he stared down at you incredulously, an amused smile on his face. He held his hand out for you to take, helping you to your feet.

As you stood before him, Christian pulls your hands, that were still in his, up and over his shoulders so that you would wrap them around his neck. He dropped his arms to wrap them around your waist, pulling your body fully into his as the rain continued to pour around you.

The two of you couldn’t stop smiling as you just stood there, soaked, a bit cold, and taking each other in. You admired his features, and he only seemed more beautiful with the raindrops falling down his cheeks. You reached a hand up to the top of his head, running your fingers through his curls that had grown more prominent as the rain wetted them.

You couldn’t help yourself from cradling his jaw in both of your hands, pulling his face toward you as you connected your lips in a gentle kiss, feeling the cold raindrops splashing on your cheeks as you pressed yourself even closer to him.

Kissing him felt like a breath of fresh air.

The kiss was only broken a shiver ran its way up your spine, the cold rain chilling your bones.

Christian grinned down at you. “Come on,” he spoke, kissing both of your cheeks, your nose, and then your forehead before grabbing your hand. “Let’s get inside.”

The two of you ran to his front door, seeking the warmth of the indoors, and you stumbled quickly to his bathroom. You pulled two towels out of a cabinet, handing one to him as you both attempted to soak up some of the water that had seeped into your clothes.

As you were attempting to squeeze the water out of your hair, Christian mumbled something about getting a change of clothes and left the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

The day had been nothing short of perfect. Christian had let you know the week prior that he had a day off and wanted to take you on a picnic— nothing extravagant, just the two of you, in a scenic area he had discovered not long after moving to Milan, spending time together and getting to catch up. Your relationship with him was fairly new, and Christian jumped at every opportunity he had to just spend some quiet time with you, talking and getting to know you better.

The whole plan had been perfect— that is, until it started sprinkling when you were about 15 minutes from your destination. Christian sighed, swearing up and down that he had double- and triple-checked the forecast for rain. Your reassurance to him that it would probably pass quickly proved to be false when, as Christian parked the car, the rain had only increased in its intensity.

Christian’s sigh of disappointment was unmistakable— his shoulders were slumped as he mumbled an apology for “driving you all the way out here for nothing” and he reached his hand up to the gear shift to drive away.

But you had stopped him with a hand on his bicep, instead crawling over the seats into his trunk. The sound of the rain grew significantly louder when you pulled the handle and opened the door to the trunk, gesturing for Christian to join you as you laid out the blankets that he had packed for the two of you

The next few hours were spent feeding each other bits of the food he had packed, talking about everything from your family, to his transfer over the summer and how he was adjusting, to the ideas you had recently had for new decorations in your apartment. The sound of rain and occasional thunder accompanied your conversation in the background the entire time. It was truly the perfect afternoon with him.

It all left a funny feeling of warmth in your chest, despite the cold, wet clothes you were peeling off of your body now. When you had stripped down to only your underwear, you heard a knock on the door of the bathroom.

You opened it, peeking around the side of the door so that your half-naked body was still shielded from sight, and found Christian standing there in only a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips. He had clearly run the towel through his hair, the ends sticking up on various directions. Your tummy couldn’t help but flutter at the sight of him.

He held his hands up to you, holding a neatly folded stack of clothes and quietly muttered “these are for you.”

You took them from him, noting the plaid fabric resting on top of the stack.

“I didn’t have anything else, so I figured you could wear a pair of my boxers until your clothes are dry.”

You felt the heat rise to your face, knowing your cheeks sported the same pink blush that Christian’s currently did.

“Thank you.”

“Um, you can just.. toss your clothes in the washer with mine if you want. I’ll be down in the kitchen.”

With a nod, you retreated back into the bathroom, heart fluttering at how nervous you clearly made him.

You peeled the rest of your clothes from your body, replacing them with the items Christian had left for you. The fabric smelled faintly of him, and you had lost yourself for a moment, with the t-shirt bunched up in your hands, pressed to your nose, as you inhaled the intoxicating scent. It smelled like home.

Minutes later, after tossing your rain-drenched clothes in the washer and starting the load, you found yourself wandering down the hallways of Christian’s home, admiring the picture of his friends and family that lined the walls as you passed.

When you finally entered the kitchen, you found Christian leaning with his back against the countertop, staring at something on his phone screen. He had put on a t-shirt as well, you noticed, and couldn’t help self-indulgently thinking that you would have liked it much better if he hadn’t.

He perked up, looking at you when he heard your soft footsteps entering the room and you watched as he went slightly slack-jawed at the sight of you.

In his mind, his thoughts were running wild. This was the first time Christian had ever seen you in his clothes, and he already knew he’d jump at the opportunity to have you wear them more often in the future. His tummy did a little flip at the sight of the waistband of his sweatpants that you had rolled up a few times so they wouldn’t cover your feet.

He decided in that moment that the one you were wearing would forever be his favorite t-shirt.

He did his best to pull himself together, but he knew immediately by the slight smirk on your face that you had clocked onto his reaction.

“I-I was, uh… I was thinking we could order food or something while we wait for our clothes to dry, and then I can take you home if you want,” he did his best to speak casually, but he couldn’t help the way his eyes kept scanning your body wearing his clothes.

He wasn’t sure what it was, whether it was some weird possessive side of him that was causing him to react this way, but he knew then and there was the most beautiful you had ever looked.

You just hummed a soft, “okay,” as you walked toward him, taking the phone from his hands and placing it on the counter before you tucked yourself under his chin. As he wrapped his arms around your torso, you titled your chin up, placing the softest of kisses at the base of his neck, and Christian prayed that you couldn’t feel the way his heart was pounding in his chest.

“O-Or if you don’t want me to take you home tonight, you’re welcome to stay here, too,” he added, speaking a bit hurriedly, because he didn’t want you to feel like he was kicking you out, either.

“Okay,” you repeated softly.

Okay you’ll stay, or okay you want me to take you home?

Christian couldn’t get his mind or his heart to settle as he overthought every little thing. Your relationship being fairly new, this was the most intimate and domestic scenario the two of you had found yourselves in so far, and he was terrified of overdoing it. Yet he had asked you to spend the night at his (for the first time ever) before he could even think twice about it.

You could practically feel the way his thoughts were running wild from the stiffness in his arms as he held you. So you did what Christian so often did for you when you were stressed.

You noticed weeks ago that, though Christian wasn’t huge on PDA, in the little private moments, he showed affection through touch a lot. Frequently, when you would express to him that you were nervous or stressed, he would seek out some form of skin-to-skin contact to help settle you—often it took the form of him slipping his hand under the hem of your shirt to trace small shapes and patters on the skin of your back.

So, as you felt his racing heart beneath your cheek, you slipped your fingers under his shirt, flattening your palms over his stomach, feeling the ridges of his muscles beneath your hands. Christian’s breath caught in his throat as you did this, causing his chest and stomach to shiver with the shaky breath.

Try as you might, you couldn’t hide the small giggle that escaped your lips, finding Christian’s nervousness incredibly endearing.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” you quirked an eyebrow at him, pressing another short kiss to his jaw to show him you were just playing.

That small gesture (along with your touch under his shirt) did wonders to settle his heart.

He had nothing to worry about, he knew that. It was just you and him, and nothing else in the world mattered at that moment.

He was only able to respond with a smile, tightening his arms around you a little more, keeping you pressed as close as possible. He repeated his actions from your embrace in the rain, kissing each cheek, your nose, and then your forehead before he dropped his head down to press his nose into yours.

You let out a soft hum as he gently brushed his lips over yours, leaving you longing for more. Unsatisfied with the barely-there touch, you kissed him firmly, holding his face to yours by the back of his neck, tugging lightly at the short hairs on his nape.

The kiss was broken by both of you grinning wide, unable to contain the joy you felt that seemed to be spilling over.

“I love you,” you whispered. It wasn’t the first time you had said it, but it still made Christian’s tummy flip all the same.

“I love you, too,” he whispered, just as softly.

And despite the rain that had seemingly ruined his plans for your date, Christian felt that the day couldn’t have been more perfect.

It was perfect because he had spent it with you. And that alone was enough.

“So, what was that you were saying about ordering food?” you broke the brief silence, and Christian couldn’t help but burst into a fit of laughter.

That’s my girl.

tag list: @landoslover @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @brasiliangp @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti @chilwellspulisic @captainpulisic

[joshym]

Prettiest in the Morning

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: Jake is worth being late to work for.

Word Count: 2.3k +

Warnings: smut, (18+ ONLY) sweet morning sex with Jake, unprotected p in v, a little cock warming, fluff fluff & more fluff. tooth-rotting sweetness.

a/n: this was born purely from this wonderful request. enjoy, my loves.

"Call out today, honey. They don't need you as bad as I do."

-☼-

The incessant screaming of your morning alarm penetrates your dream state as your eyes slowly begin to open. 

The sun's morning rays pay no mind to your blinds, peeking through them with a strength that makes it difficult for your eyes to adjust right away. 

Through a squint, you take a look at your clock to catch the time. 

6:45am

A drawn out sigh escapes your lips as you rub what’s left of your slumber from your eyes. 

You roll your tired body over to see your lovely Jake, his mouth parted sweetly and carrying the faintest of snores. He’s still fast asleep as he’s cozily wrapped in your fluffy duvet. You smile at his soft, sleepy features that beckon you to stay tangled up with him.

But, alas, you must leave him. You have to be at work by 8:00am, much to your disdain. 

You lean down to plant quiet kisses on your sleeping beauty. His eyelids, his nose, his lips– he stirs the slightest bit, a lethargic grin curling from the corners of his mouth. But his eyes stay shut, drawing him back into his deep rest.

You stretch your stiff limbs as you reluctantly pull yourself away from the warm covers. 

Why must your bed be the comfiest when it’s time to get out of it? A question for the ages, no doubt.

You try your best to be as quiet as possible so as to not wake him. Lifted on the very tips of your toes, you pad across the cold wooden floor to your closet. 

You shuffle through the threads set aside in a special section designated for your work clothes. You’re usually very meticulous in picking your daily work attire, but today, you just don’t have the interest for it. 

Your arms feel extra heavy as you reach them over your head to grab the first blouse and pair of slacks you see. Your oversized sleep shirt (one of Jakes, of course) rises up just enough that you feel the cold, morning air against the bare skin of your thong clad ass that sends a chill up your spine. Yet another cruel reminder of how badly you wish to be in the warm bed, with Jake's body heat radiating on you like your own personal space heater. 

You pull the garments from their hangers and tiptoe back to your room, stopping at your dresser as you set your clothes on the chair next to it. 

You pull your shirt off, hissing at the cold air that hits your nearly naked form. Goosebumps appear on every inch of your chilled skin; your nipples harden instantly from the brisk temperature of your room. Jake has an affinity for keeping the room cool. You don’t mind it as long as you're snuggled up next to him in your bed, but it’s rather unpleasant when you’re not soaking up his warm body. 

You can’t begin your day without moisturizing your skin. As cold as you are, you refuse to get dressed without lotioning up properly. 

You take the nearest bottle and begin lathering yourself up with the vanilla scented cream. You prop your leg up on the chair your clothes are waiting for you on, running the slick blam over your calf and all the way up to the top of your thigh. You put that leg down and as you begin to work on the next, you hear a deep breath coming from the direction of the bed behind you. 

You stall your movements, hoping you didn’t wake him.

But as you slowly turn your body around, you're met with his drowsy eyes fixed on you. His arms rest above his head and one bare leg sits atop the covers. Sprawled out beautifully and rather invitingly with a gorgeous smirk across his pink lips.

“Jake. I’m so sorry, baby. I tried not to wake you,” you softly mutter while you set the lotion bottle back on the dresser. “I hope you haven’t been awake long.” 

He turns on his side and props his head up with one arm, keeping his heavy eyes on you. “You shouldn’t be sorry, lovely. I’m getting the show of a lifetime.”

You giggle as you grab your slacks and begin putting them on. But as you step the first foot in, Jake quickly interrupts you. 

“No, no, don’t do that just yet. C’mere first.”

You can’t deny his pretty eyes, so you stop what you’re doing and walk over to him. He sits up to meet you, hands gently wrapping around your hips as you stand before him.

His face is so close; you feel each shallow breath against the exposed skin of your stomach, only intensifying the goosebumps already there from the cold. 

“You’re the prettiest in the morning, you know that?” His eyes are locked with yours as he leans in to connect his lips just above your belly button. “And you smell so good, my sweet vanilla cupcake.”

You want to melt into him, to render yourself completely under his heated touch against your cold body. 

You weave your fingers in his tangled locks while he continues to pepper the sweetest, laziest kisses against your tummy. 

But reality suddenly sets in. You look to the clock once more; 7:05am.

With traffic being the worst during the morning rush, you’ll have to leave in no less than twenty minutes if you want to be at work on time. Even then, that’s a stretch. 

“Baby, I have to get ready. I don’t want to be late,” you say through hitched breaths. 

He hums into your skin, the warm vibration sending a flash of arousal to your core as you're mentally cursing the fact that you have to put an end to this so you can finish getting ready.

But just as you begin to do so, he quickly pulls you closer to him as he falls back on the bed and drags you on top of him. 

You both get caught in a fit of giggles with the way he so perfectly calculated his movements so that your bodies would end up this way. 

“Jakey,” you say through a breathless laugh, “I have to get ready for work. I really don’t want to be late.”

He takes your face in his hands, pulling it close to his and deeply kissing your lips. You can’t help but deepen it even further. He knows your weaknesses, and kissing him is number one on your list. 

His velvety soft lips, the taste of his tongue, the way he nibbles ever so slightly on your lips— you find yourself craving his kisses more often than not. 

His fingertips gently glide over your shoulders, down your arched back, stopping at the rounded curve of your ass. He squeezes the flesh in his hands while you begin to grind yourself on his hardened cock beneath your now soaked core. 

He pulls his mouth away, leaving you chasing after him for more. 

His blown out irises meet yours, a sly smile splayed on his kiss-swollen mouth. 

“Just call out today, honey. They don’t need you as bad as I do.” 

Before you can oppose, he flips you both over so he’s now on top of you. 

“My sweet, beautiful girl. So pretty in the forenoon gleam,” he says, looking at you with eyes that say more words than his mouth ever could. A look that makes you feel as if you’re the only woman in his world. His fingers brush along the side of your cheek as you lean into his hand. “How could you ever make the grueling trek to work and depart from me?”

If you had it your way, you’d never leave him. Even for something as normal as going to your eight to five. 

No; if you could, you’d stay here. Just like this, for the rest of your conceivable days.

“I love you, my sexy poetic lover,” you tell him. “But if you want me to keep my job, I simply must make the grueling tre—“ 

He promptly cuts you off with another kiss, gentle and sugary. Taking his time to enjoy the taste of you, and you’re quite enjoying it yourself— so much so that the time feels mute. It’s stopped completely, as far as you’re concerned. 

He ruts his hips into your core, his hard cock rubbing against you, stealing your breath. 

His kiss becomes more fervent, more hungry. Like he’s utterly starved for you. 

You reciprocate right back. Your body craves his to be as connected with yours as humanly possible. 

He breaks away, hovering his lips just above yours. Close enough that they brush over yours ever so softly.

“Can I show you how much I love you?” he asks in a hushed whisper. He sounds desperate, like his need for you is as dire as if his entire life depended on it. 

You reach down between your bodies and tug his strained boxers down, then move your panties to the side, gasping at the crisp air of your room hitting your drenched center. 

“Please, baby,” you mutter, nearly breathless at your unbridled need for him. 

He smiles against your mouth while lining himself up with you, running his tip through your quivering folds. “That’s my pretty girl,” he says against your parted mouth. “Gonna take it slow and gentle, okay? Just wanna make you feel good, baby doll.”

He takes his time entering you, letting you feel every inch as he slowly glides all the way inside while you both sign in absolute relief. 

His hips move in long and drawn out strides, allowing his cock slowly pump in and out of you. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing heavily, whispering sweet nothings in the shell of your ear. 

He fills you so wonderfully and completely. The slightest bit of a sting present, but only in the most elating and erotic way. 

“You’re so warm, baby doll,” he says, his lips ghosting over your tingling skin. “So perfect and tight. My beautiful sweetheart with the most pretty pussy.” 

You wrap your legs tight around his back, keeping him as close to you as you can while his pace picks up just enough that your blissful end is just on the horizon. 

“Jake, baby. You feel s- so good inside me. Right where you belong,” you mumble through staggered breaths. 

You reach your hands to his sturdy shoulders, digging your nails in his damp skin. He whimpers in your ear, a sound you’ve come to realize is your absolute favorite. 

“Yeah— this is where I belong, baby doll. Tucked away inside, just like this.” He stills himself inside you, his twitching cock causing you to flutter as he rests against your sweet spot. “I feel you, honey. Squeezing me like that, you’re so close. Can you give it to me?” 

He lifts his thumb up to your mouth, and you instantly open up for him. He places it inside and you swirl your tongue around the pad just a little before he pulls it back out. 

His wet thumb slides slowly down your body. He lifts himself up just a bit to reach for your throbbing clit, toying with it in gentle circles as he begins pumping in and out of you at an agonizing pace. 

“Right there, baby, right there,” you muster in high pitched whines. 

He leans in to meet your lips once more, and that is all it takes for your body to succumb. 

You’re crashing hard into your wave of pleasure, your cunt pulses and throbs around him. Your back arches completely off the bed, your breathing labored and deep. 

“There you go, baby doll,” His voice is low, his words raspy and faltered. “Gonna paint you nice and pretty, okay love?”

He pulls himself out, stroking his cock covered in your slick. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes roll in the back of his head. 

He finishes all over your tummy. His warm cum feels like a blanket against your skin. His moans become almost uncontrolled, those beautiful noises that are prettier than any ballad. 

He falls against you, his heaving chest colliding gently with yours. 

“I love you, my perfect girl,” he whispers into your neck. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“I love you, Jakey.” 

You brush your fingers through his hair, taming his disheveled length. You breathe him in deeply to savor this beautiful morning with him. You wish it could be like this always, that nothing could ever come between the two of you. Not even a job. 

Shit. 

Your job. You completely forgot. 

You snap your head over to look at the clock, scared to be met with reality. 

7:49am

“Oh fuck!” you yell. “I’m late for work!”

You kiss the crown of his head before he moves off of you. You jump up to get cleaned up, realizing that no matter how quick you move, you’ll never make it on time. 

“Hey baby,” Jake says. “You know it’s Saturday, right?”

You stop dead in your tracks. There’s no way you forgot what day it was. 

You take your phone off the nightstand and turn the screen on to check. 

Sure enough, it’s fucking Saturday. Your day off. 

“Jake! Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask as you shamefully drop your head in your hand.

He giggles sweetly, forcing a smile to soften your irritated features. “Well, because now I know you’d rather be here with me than at your silly old job.”

You toss your phone back on the nightstand and lay back down next to him, playfully smacking his biceps.

“That’s a risky game, Jacob.” 

He chuckles he rolls you over on top of him. “I love you, baby doll.”

taglist:

@jakeyt @objectsinspvce @stayinginthesun @sinarainbows @stardustcordzz @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf  @iffypanic  @way-to-go-lad  @reesetrippingthelight  @jakesgrapejuice @sacredjake @notthedroidz @kiszkashousee @psychedelicsprinkles @jjwasneverhere @gvf-ficreads @stardustjake   @gretavanbear  @gvfmelbourne  @livkiszka@jaaakeeey @neptune2324 @jaketlove @myleftsock  @joshskittytickler @audgeppp @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @torniturntomyarrow @welllauragvf @writingcold @heckingfrick @itsafullmoon @audgeppp @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @gretasfallingsky @jazzyfigz @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @blacksoul-27 @sarafrusciante2 @heckingfrick  @citylight-delight @gretavansara

a/n: feel free to send me more requests! this was so fun. :')

if you'd like to be added to my taglists, let me know or fill out this form & i'll be sure to add you.🤍

as always, don't don't be afraid to let me know what you think! love you guys.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

It Was Smiling Down - A No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: Ryan Butcher I'd die for you. If Eric Kripke EVER does you dirty he will have to answer to me personally. Title from San Francisco by the Mowgli's.

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary/Warnings: A Ryan pov Chapter! Takes place between Chapter 26 and Chapter 27. Usual warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth-rotting fluff, slightly angst, pre-established relationship

Ryan Butcher doesn’t really trust people. As a whole, they haven’t proven themselves to be that trustworthy. They mostly lie to him, or hurt him, or yell at him things that haunt him when he can’t sleep. Things about how he hurts people, when he doesn’t mean to. 

He never means to hurt anyone. It makes him feel heavy and sad and sick, and then the sizzle of flesh or crunch of bones has to be added to his nightmares, along with all the other faces that he did something bad to. Mom said hurting people was bad, and that we should treat others with kindness.

Dad said it didn’t matter. Dad said that people were like toys for them—the stronger, the better, the gods—to play with. That if Ryan broke one or two spines, or smashed four or five people into buildings, or punched a dozen people’s faces into their bodies, it didn’t really matter. The toy box was infinite, so they’d find a replacement. Dad said that humans couldn’t stop reproducing like cockroaches, so killing a few, or a lot, was if anything a favor to the universe.

Ryan had told Her that once. Not what his Dad had said—the mention of Dad always made Her face look sad, and Ben’s face look angry—but that cockroaches reproduced a lot. She’d been visiting him and Ben during training—all of them sitting on the floor, Ryan cross legged and Her leaning against Ben’s body—and Ryan had said it for a reason he couldn’t now remember.

She’d paused, frowning at her sandwich, then looked up at Ryan with a soft, curious gaze. “Do they? I mean, all bugs reproduce quickly for survival purposes, but I don’t think cockroaches are that remarkable at it.”

“I, I don’t know.” Ryan had mumbled, his eyes dropping to the mat. He didn’t want Her to be disappointed in him, even if she’d never been before. “I just heard it somewhere, I guess.”

“Huh.” She’d shrugged, reaching over Ben’s body to grab one of his fries that he always told Ryan tasted like fucking Styrofoam, but still brought every time she ate lunch with them. “Maybe I’m wrong-“

“No.” Ryan’s head had shaken nervously, because if Ben had taught him anything it was that She was almost never wrong. “I, I must have gotten it mixed up, I don’t know what animal reproduces the most-“ 

“Seahorses.”

Ryan had looked back up to Her, to see her grinning at him. All teeth and a warm affection that made the twisting feeling in Ryan’s gut fade. “Seahorses?” 

She’d nodded, humming an affirmation. “Up to 2,000 babies at a time.” Then She’d twisted around to look at Ben, her face growing just a little brighter than it had been before as Ryan saw their eyes meet. “And the men give birth to them, Benjamin.”

Ben had scowled. “How the fuck is that my problem-“

She’d pouted at him, and Ryan had seen them do this a million times before. She poked him, and he poked back, and neither of them ever really meant it, and it would go and go until one of them—probably Ben, Ryan had seen Her talk circles around their whole weird little family all at once with breaking or faltering—gave in and shut the other up.

“Would you give birth to my seahorse babies, my love?”

“I’m not giving birth to fucking shit-“

“But would you-“

“No.” Ben had grunted, rolling his eyes. “Because men don’t give fucking birth-“

“Seahorse men do. Seahorse men get pregnant, and then give birth. Which is usually how that process goes, but in seahorse societies it’s considered masculine. The men give birth because they love their partners and don’t want them to be in pain-“

Ryan didn’t think that last part was true, but there was usually a point in these arguments where She started to tug at Ben’s shirt with a soft, teasing smile, and said words that didn’t need to be true, because they were almost always her winning blow. This hadn’t been any different, because She’d cut herself off with a small yelp as Ben pulled her further into his lap, leaning down to kiss her.

Ryan had found somewhere else to look for a few minutes. He’d gotten good at that, at reading when he had to pretend that his two trusted adults weren’t maybe seconds from having sex on the floor. They never did, and it didn’t really bother Ryan—they both smiled twice as much when they were done, and Ryan had seen a lot worse than the way they always seemed to be eating each other’s faces—but he still had to wait it out.

When it was preceded by one of their fake arguments, it usually lasted a little longer. The kissing would stop, and they’d just look at each for a minute or two until She turned back to Ryan and Ben’s arms locked around her stomach.

That was Ryan’s favorite part of this. How She’d keep talking to him with a wide, happy expression that Butcher had called Her ditzy fuckin Soldier Boy smile, and Ben would just look at Her.

Ryan really liked how Ben looked at Her. It was an expression of something soft and powerful that he’d only ever seen on Ben’s face, only ever directed at her. It was relaxed and adoring, but still solemn and firm in the only way Ben seemed to know how to be. Like She might be the only thing that Ben knew was real, and he wasn’t bothered by that at all.

It wasn’t like Dad had looked at Stormfront. That had been meaner. Like they were always in a fight—not one of Her and Ben’s play fights, which were more like a cat and a dog swatting at each other before the dog flopped over, and the cat climbed on top of it, but instead a violent, bloody war—and were trying to see who’d snap first. Dad had looked at Stormfront like he was waiting for her to stab him, but wasn’t sure she would.

Ben looked at Her like he’d handed her the knife to carve into his body, and She’d made a face and thrown it away. 

Ryan hadn’t really ever seen Butcher look at Mom, but he hoped it had been a little like that. It was what Mom had deserved, even if Butcher could be a cock fuck bitch with his head tonguing his own ass, in Ben’s words.

But Butcher was getting better. He’d apologized for saying Ryan had hurt Mom—he hadn’t meant to, he never meant to, and he still had nightmares where Mom’s guts were spilling out of her body, and she looked right through Ryan like he was a ghost—and mostly didn’t talk to Ryan about Dad anymore.

Nobody really liked to talk to Ryan about Dad. Ryan knew She would, if he asked, but he didn’t want to ask. He’d never forget what Butcher had shown him—about Mom and Dad and Her—or how, for the first two months Ryan had lived with everyone, She’d been gone because of Dad. Because of Ryan. 

Not your fucking fault, kid. She’d kill me if I let you blame yourself for your pussy fuck dad’s actions.

That was why Ryan talked to Ben about it. He didn’t coddle or lie or sweeten the truth, he just grunted words that—when Ben said them—always seemed to be the inherent truth. Dad wasn’t Ryan’s fault, and Ryan was getting stronger, and it was okay that Ryan got afraid because it he wasn’t a pathetic fucking dickless pussy about it.

Ryan asked Ben if it was okay to hurt people, and Ben told him if they fucking deserve it, but only if they deserve it, and Ryan decided that sounded right. And She said most people didn’t deserve to be hurt, and very few things were truly unforgivable, so Ryan could try to figure out what things were really wrong, and then hurt the people that really deserved it.

Dad deserved it. When Ryan wasn’t afraid of Dad, he was angry at him. 

“Do you get angry?” He’d mumbled over a breakfast in Her and Ben’s apartment, and She’d hummed, tilting her head.

“I do. We all do. Anger is our brains telling us that something is unfair, and a lot of this isn’t really fair. So yeah, I get angry.”

Ryan had nodded slowly, turning to Ben as he approached the table from the kitchen. “Ben, do you-“ 

“Course I fucking get angry.” Ben had dumped three large pancakes onto Ryan’s plate, then two larger ones onto Her’s, then a smaller one onto his own, and ignored Her glare as he dropped into his seat. “This whole goddamn thing-“

She’d cleared her throat, eyes narrowed at Ben. “Benjamin.”

“What-“

She’d given a pointed look to his plate, then back to him. “You need to eat as well.”

“I’ll be fine, Sunshine, you and the kid need more than I do-“

She’d cut one of Her pancakes in half, moving the bigger piece to Ben’s plate, and he’d scowled. They’d both been silent, glaring at each other for almost a minute, and then Ben had grunted. She’d leaned back into her chair with a smug grin, and everything had moved on.

Neither of them had been mad, though. Ryan had thought that glaring and frowning was only about hatred, but when She and Ben glowered at each other it seemed to be more of a standoff. An act or show or contest of affection that neither of them ever seemed to be upset about losing.

They were never really mad at each other at all. Ryan had seen them yell at and taunt and mock each other, but there always seemed to be something under it that sounded like I love you. I’m allowed to call you a dumb dumb or pain in the ass, because I love you and we both know I don’t mean it, because I’m “fighting” with you, but I’m also holding onto you like you’re a buoy in the storm.

Ryan wanted to love someone like that. He wanted someone to love him like that. Because Ben never seemed to really think she was mad at him, even when she called him a cunt or idiot or asshole. Ryan himself didn’t think she was ever really mad at Ben, because he’d watch Her hit Ben’s arm with a fake pout or glare, but she’d never flinch or cower away from him. She was always touching Ben, and she was never afraid of him. Ben had hurt people, Ben was just as dangerous as Ryan was, but She only touched and looked at him like he’d fallen from heaven for her to have. She always kept her hand in Ben’s, or her body in his arms, or their legs pressed together. And she always looked for him. And She always seemed to be happier when she was talking to and looking at Ben, with just his presence never failing to make her smile.

And Ben loved Her. It seemed like love in movies Ryan had watched with Mom, or that he’d read about in books he’d found tucked in corners of Butcher’s apartment. But real. Ryan didn’t think Ben was capable of being really, truly mad at Her, and she seemed to know it. Ben would roll his eyes at Her, and grumble that she was brat, or glare at her in a way that would be dangerous if it wasn’t at Her. Whenever Ben glared at Her it was so painfully fake Ryan wondered if Butcher had been lying when he’d told Ryan not to mention love around those two twats, they ain’t aware that they’re fuckin obsessed with each other yet after She’d returned, because Ben didn’t seem capable looking at Her with anything but love painted over his features.

They certainly knew now. Everyone knew, because every third sentence out of Ben’s mouth was another declaration of love for Her. Every single thing Ben did seemed to be something for Her. Ryan would eat dinner with them, and he’d see Ben pass Her a fistful of stolen chocolate under the table. He’d watch a movie with them, and She’d would be holding Ben’s arms against Her, and Ben would kiss her in the dark and snort at her jokes and get Her and Ryan snacks whenever either of them so much as mentioned the word hungry. He’d train with Ben, and ask a question about punching, and Ben would grumble about how She said you could punch people and be a pacifist, like Muhammad Ali, and she was always fucking right about that shit. And She was a genius. And a better person than every other fucking pussy on the planet, so they should both fucking listen to her. 

Ben carried Her in his arms wherever she let him, and She never stopped smiling at him, and Ryan had decided that if he ever loved someone—far in the future, when Dad was just a faint, reoccurring nightmare—he’d love them like Ben loved Her.

Ryan would never be like Homelander, because he’d never lock up or hurt people he loved. Ryan would be like Ben. And that felt easier, because Ben never demanded that Ryan follow in his steps. He was just there, and trustworthy, and Ryan wanted to be strong like him. He wanted to protect people and do things for them. He wanted to never speak or think of his Dad again, because really their family was Ben and Her, a stained hole that didn’t really matter and Ben wouldn’t let hurt them, and Ryan. It was Butcher forgiving Ryan, because he was trying, and She said the most important thing anyone could do was try to be better. 

He was really trying to be better. Ryan didn’t really trust people, but he trusted Her and Ben when they said that this wasn’t his fault. He believed them when they told him what he knew, that Ryan really didn’t mean to hurt people.

And Ryan hoped that, after Homelander was dead, he’d get to have a life where they kept smiling at each other—and him—and Ryan never was made to hurt someone again.

End Note: Catch Ben in his Dad era, coming to a No Love Lost chapter near you (in all seriousness I hope you guys liked the extra pov! An outside perspective on how down bad they both are was very fun to write)

If you like this story, reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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@manicjk @lordofthunderthr @artemys-ackles @brtodd

[yustea]

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Paring: bf Jisung x afab reader (gn pronouns)

Summary: After a long week of stress, work and quick fucks, Y/N and Han are desperate to let off some steam. However, when Y/N comes up with the idea of incorporating Viagra in their sex life, will they be able to handle it when that desperation escalates to drug-induced, animalistic fucking?

Genre: +18 content so MDNI, bf Jisung, slight crack, wild primal smut!, tooth-rotting fluff

Word Count: 2.3k+

Warnings: switch!sub-lean!Han, switch!Y/N, unsafe!use!of!viagra!, Y/N is a MENACE, protected sex (reader has an IUD)!, intoxicated!sex!, dazed!sex!, primal!thoughts(?)!, rough!manhandling!, biting!, marking!, hair!tugging!, pussy!eating!, mutual!masturbation!, rough!fingering!, messy!, cum!eating!, riding!, doggy!style!, creampie! (wrap it before you tap it), pet!names! (babe, baby!boy!, darling, my love, baby, pretty baby), mentions of shower!sex!, possession!, crying!

Please let me know if I’ve missed anything <33

WARNING: This use and representation of Viagra is INACCURATE and UNSAFE to take. Please DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME and always THOROUGHLY RESEARCH and CONSULT WITH HEALTH PROFESSIONALS before consuming ANY TYPE OF DRUG.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Han quizzed as he squinted at the fineprint upon the box, thoroughly underlining each section of text with a delicate finger. He glanced between the spoons, the scattered viagra pills decorating the countertop of the kitchen and you, who was dividing equal portions to two glasses. You swatted a hand, pooh-poohing his validated concern. “Babe, if I’m being honest, I could give less of a fuck right now,” you waltzed to the sink carrying the glasses and filling them up to equal levels. “It’s been ages since we’ve spiced up our sex life cause of work and other events,” you placed them on the counter, dropping two pills per cup and stirring them vigorously with a spoon. “And frankly,” you squatted down to watch them rapidly dissolve in the liquid, Han following suit. “I need a hard and rough fuck.”

A spluttered cough was sounded to your left, a smirk etching your lips as you glanced at the eruption of rouge gracing his flushed face. “Cat caught your tongue darling?” you battered your lashes, presenting him with your best seductive siren eyes. “Sh-shut up,” he choked out, playfully slapping your shoulder. You chuckled, returning your sight to the now foggy solution slowly swirling around in the glasses. “Yaayyyy, it’s done!!” you jumped up in glee, rapidly clapping your hands in excitement. Hurriedly, you passed a glass to Han, beaming at him with eagerness as he gingerly took the glass from your hand. He swallowed.

“What if something goes wrong?” Han gazed into your eyes, a frown forming as worry and unsurety splayed across his features. You cupped his cheek with a hand, gently caressing his smooth skin. “If it’s that much of an issue, we don’t have to do it,” you assured him. He leaned into your touch, a brief moment passing before he quickly shook his head. “Fuck it, we only live once,” he stated before winding your arm around his to create a love shot. A devilish grin unfurled from your lips as a mischievous glint illuminated your eyes. “That’s the spirit baby boy,” you winked at him. He rolled his eyes. “You’ll be the death of me.” A quiet chortle erupted from your mouth.

“Bottoms up my love,” you clinked glasses and with that you both downed the drinks, grimacing at the bitter after-taste. “That tasted like shit,” Han gagged, cutely wrinkling his nose as he set aside his glass. “Agreed,” your body shuddered in response to the disgusting flavour. A quiet silence enveloped the atmosphere, both of you lost in thought. “Well,” he voiced after a moment. “I guess we’ll see how long this’ll take.”

He drummed his fingers against the counter as you hummed in agreement, anticipation lacing your veins. “I think I’m going to have a shower,” you contemplated, leaning in to place a delicate peck to his cheek. You brushed against his ear. “Don’t miss me too much my love,” you murmured, gently nibbling the cartilage, teasingly pulling away before he could touch you. A frustrated smirk adorned his lips, his grip tightening against the kitchen bench. “You little tease,” he sighed as he shook his head, gaze trailing after you as you sauntered off to the bathroom, flashing him a final wink before locking the door behind you.

Not even ten minutes later cool water sprayed against your heated and tingly skin as thick globs of arousal dripped down your thighs. A primal fog of desperation clouded your logic and senses as you rapidly rubbed your clit. A loud mewl ripped from your throat in need. “J-jisung-,” you panted, now humping your hand in swift, erratic, pulsating motions. As if summoned, an urgent knock echoed the bathroom walls and a meek “B-babe?” was whimpered behind the locked door. You scrambled out of the shower, not bothering to dry off nor change. With jittery hands you unlocked the door and your world paused as your eyes feasted on the sight before you.

There, in the doorway, stood Han. You took in his bare form; gleaming sweat glistened against his rubicund complexion, strips of hair clung to his damp forehead, primaeval lust embellished his virile features as he shamelessly eyed your naked body. His chest expanded and contracted with each heave, his ligaments twitching in agitated desire. Your gaze slowly trailed his sculpted frame, admiring his lean physique and halting at the prize that stood tall and proud between his limbs. The bulbous tip was tinted in an angry crimsoned hue as dribbles of precum leaked from the slit, defining veins protruding from his long shaft. Your breath hitched as you encompassed in the view of his erected dick, your thighs clenching as lewd thoughts swam in your drug-induced mind. An audible gulp echoed as a treacle of arousal slid down your legs. You flickered your eyes back to his.

As if possessed, your mouths collided, inflicting a chaotic battle of tongues and teeth as your hands roamed each other's skin. With a bang, Han slammed the door shut, rattling the condiments on the counter and pinning you against the cool door as he continued to devour you. Choirs of breathy whines escaped your throats as desperation and impatience surged through your bodies. You harshly holstered your legs around his hips, forcing his thigh to wedge between your palpitating cunt. A jolted moan erupted from your lips at the contact, eyes rolling back as you broke the violent transit of kissing. Han dived for your exposed neck, littering bruising bites as his canines lightly pierced your skin. Your mouth gaped in a silent shriek as he continued his nimble ministrations, leaving a stream of red and warm-purple blotches in his wake as he pursued down, down, until he was level with your sopping pussy.

He inhaled deeply, basking in your alluring scent as a guttural groan resonated throughout his thorax. A carnal, possessive desire infatuated his being as he moistened his lips. “Mine,” he growled before licking rabid strips against your mound. A choked whine cascaded your vocals as he demolished your throbbing heat. You rutted your hips in sync with his beastly motions as your animalistic temperament consumed your entire consciousness. “Ji-Jisu-ng,” you gasped. He glanced up, his brown doe eyes glinting with need as his hand wandered between his legs, hissing in pleasure as he held his seeping cock. His grip on your waist tightened as he began to jack off, setting an undulated rapid pace. He thumbed his tip, earning a desperate mewl as more semen leaked from the angry slit. The vibrations of his vocals rippled against your clit, sprinkling your mind with a euphoric sensation. Your hips became hasty as you chanted his name like a mantra.

“Cl-cl-clos-e,” you breathly whined as your fingers intertwined in his sweaty locks, tugging and pulling at the roots, jolting a loud whimper from his mouth and spurring Han to fasten his motions. “M-me t-too,” he sighed, flinging his head back as he felt the surge of his impending release. He roughly pummelled two fingers into your wet heat, haphazardly scissoring you open, leaving you gaping and breathless. He began toying with your clit, mirroring his antics with the head of his shaft. You both elicited a loud moan at the stimulation, wildly humping your hips as you and Han chased your orgasms. “Go-nna c-cum!” you cried as you fell over the edge of tranquil bliss. Your juices squirted on Han’s hand and pleasure-ridden face, his own cum splattering against your quaking legs and the wooden door, painting it a creamy hue.

In an esurient daze, Han hungrily lapped at your sweet fluid, groaning as the taste flooded his searing tongue. You continued to rut against his mouth, gradually riding out your high. Deep, heavy, pants plagued the bathroom as both you and Han caught your breaths, the scents of your arousals pluming the air as need slowly began to itch at your veins once more. You felt a soft tap below your kneecap and peered down to see the quivering body of Han. Sat perched on his knees, eyes shimmering with a silent plea as his cock was still erected and vibrantly red as a meek whimper chorused his throat. “P-please,” he begged as water glistened his tear ducts. “N-need t-to f-uck you.” He snaked his arms around your waist before gently dragging you down, plonking you onto his cum coated lap, whining at the contact against his tingly skin.

Your limbs shook as you exhaustingly hoisted yourself above his pulsating shaft, drooling at the sight of his tip continuing to seep his semen. You wet your lips. “R-ready?” you horsley cooed. An eager nod was all you needed before you plunged his member deep into your slick chore. You both abruptly gasped, a lewd whine following suit at the sensation. You began to bounce, repeatedly pounding on his cock as the primal fog enveloped you with desire once more. Han’s jaw fell slack as his mouth gaped in silent, intoxicated bliss. Rugged pants reverberated across the confined space, your breaths mixing and intertwining with one another as you quickened your pace. You grazed your hand against his cheek, tilting his head as you pressed your lips against his, exchanging saliva in a sloppy, feverish kiss.

Han angled his face, devouring your mouth as he planted his heels against the smooth surface of the tiles and thrusted. Riveting bursts of pleasure raced throughout your bodies with each smack of your hips as he repeatedly struck your g-spot. Sparks flew in your vision, almost becoming palpable. His nails dug into your skin, embellishing them with crescent-shaped marks. Laboured whines and moans encircled the atmosphere as you teetered on the edge of utopia. “S-so c-clo-se!” Han panted, his pace now rabid in desperation to orgasm. “M-e t-too!” you cried as your wet heat clenched his twitching dick like a vise.

In a sudden lurch, Han flipped you onto your stomach, accidentally thumping the cabinetry in suit as a series of loud clatters tinkered against the counter, sink and ground. Without a care, Han continued to piston his hips into your sopping pussy, now in doggy-style. He gently raked his nails down your exposed nape to the curve of your ass, a lewd groan surging from his throat. “M-my p-pretty ba-by,” he whined as he ran his hand to the back of head and gave a firm tug on your damp hair. You gave a vehement mewl at the sensation, carving your palms with moon-like streaks. “C-cu-m-ming!” you squealed, clouded speckles blinding your vision as you came. Your juices plashed against his pulsating shaft as he gave a final cry before drowning your drenched cunt in his thick ropes of cum.

Filthy whimpers enveloped the room as Han continued to half-heartedly rut into your core. Your filled heat spasmed as overstimulation began to settle in your limbs as you gradually came down from your high, your sight becoming crystal. Once your breathing regulated a little, Han’s arms gave in and he collapsed on top of you, enveloping you in his embrace. He delicately brushed aside stray strands of your hair before placing a loving peck upon your forehead and slumping beside you. “Wow,” he wheezed after a moment’s pause, your chests heaving in exhaustion as you regained your bearings. With quaking limbs you sat up, gazing upon the tarnished bathroom as scatters of health-care and beauty products adorned the floor, some oozing liquid from its fractured encasement.

“We’ve fucked the bathroom,” you gruffly chuckled, wincing slightly as your throat felt like sandpaper. Han propped himself up and his eyes widened as a sheepish grin graced his flushed features. “My bad,” he grimaced before expelling in a coughing fit and laying back down on the cold tile as he closed his eyes and took deep, calming breaths. You glanced at him, a small smile gracing your lips before your eyes flitted to the cum-stained door, some of Han’s essence still dripping onto the tiled floor. “We should really clean that before it permanently discolours it,” you gestured to the ghastly evidence. Han merely hummed before you attempted to stand up, only to have your knees buckle and flop to the ground in exhaustion. A muffled laugh chorused from your side.

“Shut up,” you hissed. “This is your fault.” A small pout formed on your face as you softly slapped his arm in feign annoyance. Han only giggled more before he sat eye-level with you. “Sorry my love,” he grinned before pecking your pouty lips. He stood up with a groan, carefully dodging the fallen objects before returning with a damp towel and thoroughly wiped the edge of the door, chucking it in the bin afterward. “What about me?” you teasingly huffed, gesturing to your leaking pussy as a mixture of both your fluids trickled onto the floor. He playfully rolled his eyes, already retrieving another damp cloth before bending down and delicately wiping away the remnants of your cums. Your breath hitched at the cool touch, sucking on your lip to suppress any audible whimpers.

“You know,” you started after a pause as Han’s eyes flickered up to yours. “With how hard you fucked me, you probably broke my IUD in two.” A startled choking noise sounded from him as his skin ran a deeper crimson. You cackled at his response before cupping his rouged face in your hands, halting his motions as you caressed his warm cheeks. “My shy baby,” you cooed, planting a sweet kiss upon his lips. Your mouths moulded in sync as Han dropped the cloth and mirrored the kiss, sighing in contentment as he held you closer. You carefully broke the kiss, pulling back to admire his handsome features as he reclined into your palms. “I love you,” you whispered. A warm smile spread across his face as he leant in to peck your forehead. “I love you too,” he hummed, staring at you adoringly.

Suddenly, he stiffened. His face flushed a deeper crimson. You felt something prod your core. Han quickly glanced down. Then back at you. Your eyes widened. A bashful smirk adorned his face.

“Round two?”

A/N: Heyyyyy guys I'm backkkk!!! I've been working on this fic for a while now so I hope you all enjoyed it :)) ALSO WE REACHED 100 FOLLOWS!! I'm so happy!! I can't thank you guys enough for sticking around when I haven't been posting much, it really means a lot to me :)). Have a wonderful day/night and I hope to see y’all soon <33

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[honeyedmiller]

Love Me Tender | Joel Miller

pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader

warnings: mentions of anxiety and anxiety attacks, depression, dbf!Joel, love and tender care, tooth-rotting fluff, age gap (Joel is in his 40’s, reader is in their mid 20’s), no outbreak!Joel, Joel helps reader take a bath, implied sexual relations but no smut or anything is mentioned in detail at all, mentions of lack of eating / eating food, no use of y/n. some of the descriptions of depression and anxiety in here may be triggering, so please either proceed w/ caution or ignore this one shot entirely. I love u all so much!

word count: 2.3k

synopsis: after a terrible mental week, joel checks in on you and makes sure you’re taken care of.

based on an anon request.

-

Your dad had been on a work trip all week, leaving you to fend for yourself while you were home alone. Not that you couldn’t particularly do that; you were in your twenties after all.

It’s times like this that you wish he didn’t leave, though. Your mental health had taken a plummet. It started with an anxiety attack that came upon you because you were sure no one was going to hire you, a fresh college graduate, and you’d be a burden to your father for living at home this long.

Your dad was a loving man and never gave any implication that you living back at home would be any problem whatsoever. Your mind was just on constant overdrive and one thing led to another, digging yourself further into a black hole of your overwhelming emotions.

When you usually get into funks like this, you tend to take a walk during the day to let the sun dose you of natural serotonin, but you couldn’t even get yourself to get out of bed lately. You couldn’t shower, couldn’t really eat, and the anxiety attacks were constant. Your mind just kept telling you you’re not good enough, you never will be. Your thoughts snowballed and spiraled from there.

And so, you laid in bed curled into a fetal position as tears streamed down your face. You couldn’t even bring yourself to answer your phone that had been ringing on your bedside table, so you simply just ignored it. You’d check in with your dad every day to let him know you were okay, but today, you just forgot.

You heard the front door of your house open, and your fight or flight should’ve been kicking in, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Darlin’? It’s me, Joel.” You heard a voice call, and you relaxed just a little knowing it was just him. You didn’t answer him, but heard his heavy footsteps trudging up the stairs anyway.

You heard a soft knock on your bedroom door, and your muffled sobs are what made Joel come in. His heart shattered at the sight before him. He’s never seen you in such a state, and in this moment, wanted to do anything to help you.

“Oh, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” You felt the bed dip on the unoccupied side as Joel sat on it, reaching out to touch your arm gently.

You were so choked up that you couldn’t swallow your own sobs, and you shook your head as you tried to control your breathing.

“Talk to me, honey. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.” His voice is gentle as his body maneuvers itself behind you. He’s laying down now and he wraps an arm around you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“Mental health is shit.” You mumble, trying to calm yourself down. Joel’s touch alone seemed to relax you just a little, so maybe it was a good thing that he was there to check on you. Then you remembered how you haven’t showered for the past four days and how disarrayed your hair must’ve looked, and the bags under your eyes due to lack of sleep. Joel’s only ever seen you dolled up, or with minimal natural makeup on at the least.

You didn’t even want to begin what he thought of you now. He probably wouldn’t even want to touch you after this.

You shake the nasty thought away, finally letting your eyes meet his as he slightly hovers over you. His eyes are full of worry and sadness, because he’s truly never seen you with this pained look in your eyes.

“Why are you here, Joel?” You croak, sniffling abruptly.

“Your dad called me and said you hadn’t been answering your phone and asked me to check in on you. I also wanted to check in personally because you haven’t texted me all week, darlin’. I look forward to your sweet messages.” Joel coos, bringing his hand up to swipe his thumb across your tear-stained cheek.

“Oh.”

“Baby, c’mon. Sit up,” Joel helps you sit up, and you softly whine as you did so. Your head was throbbing from all of the crying you were doing. “Tell me what’s wrong, angel. Why’s it been bad?”

“‘M not good enough.” You managed to hiccup, burying your face in the sleeves of the oversized hoodie you wore.

Joel didn’t say anything at the moment, just let you ride out the waves of your emotions as he held you gently in his arms. After about ten minutes, you moved your sleeves away from your face and looked at him again. Joel tilted your chin up gently, smiling softly at you. He leaned down to kiss your forehead, letting his lips linger there for a second.

“You will always be good enough, darlin’.” He knows that his words may have not been super reassuring at the time, but you were grateful that he was trying.

“I’ve just been so stressed lately. Feels like I can’t do anything right in life right now. I’m a mess.” You mumble sadly, looking down at your knotted hands.

“Hey now, don’t say that. You’re doing amazing especially given the cards that you’ve been dealt. This is just a bump in the road, not a dead end.” Joel’s words warmed your heart a little, and you cracked the faintest smile.

“There’s that pretty smile I see wantin’ to shine through. C’mon baby. I know you don’t accept help from anyone and want to do everything on your own, but this doesn’t have to be one of those things. Please let me help you.”

You’d been so adamant about being independent and figuring everything out for yourself, but god, look where your stubbornness got you.

You nod your head slowly, and Joel helps you out of bed. He walks you to your bathroom and draws a warm bath. He helps you take off your sweater and your underwear, guiding you into the tub slowly. You hiss at your sore, achy body as you make contact with the nice warm water. You close your eyes for a second to relish in the feeling of warm comfort.

When you open your eyes again, Joel’s looking at you with concern. Not the usual lust-painted look he has when he sees you naked like this. This time, it was worry, heartbreak, maybe even love.

He tears his eyes away from your face before reaching for your shampoo bottle. He wets your hair then gently massages the shampoo into your scalp, and you close your eyes in a moment of pure bliss. You move your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around your legs.

You suddenly felt super vulnerable in front of Joel as your hazy, clouded mind of emotions started to slowly clear up.

Joel didn’t say anything if he noticed that you were beginning to close yourself off again. He just finished rinsing and washing your hair in silence. He then began to wash your body, gently dragging the sudsy washcloth over your skin. You shuddered at his touch. It was nice to feel it in a way that had no sexual intent.

Once he was done washing your body, he rinsed you off and helped you out of the tub. He wrapped a towel around your body and wrung out your hair. He got the brush from your bathroom counter and brushed your hair out for you, leaving a gentle kiss at the crown of your head when he was done.

He ushered you slowly out of the bathroom and back into your bedroom. Your eyes met his through the full body mirror you had, and he gave you a soft smile. He went through your dresser drawers to pull out a clean outfit for you, which was a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt. He gently grabbed the hem of the towel and looked down at you, silently asking for permission. You nodded slowly and he unwrapped the towel from your body.

Your eyes met his through your mirror once more, and he sighed. “You’re so beautiful, angel. I really hope you know that.” He kissed your bare shoulder. His words were sincere, and the look in his eyes told you that he really meant it. He helped you into your sweats and t-shirt, then brought you back to your bed.

“You need sleep, sweetheart. C’mon. I’ll be right here. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” Joel lays down with you, brushing his fingers through your damp hair.

Your eyes were heavy as you rested your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart lulling you to sleep.

When you woke up, you noticed the sun had gone down. Joel was still underneath you, but his steady breathing assured you he fell asleep himself. It was nice to wake up in his arms, to be comforted like this by a man who was as tough and brooding as Joel.

He had a soft spot for you, and it genuinely warmed your heart.

You shifted your tired eyes to look up at him. He looked so peaceful sleeping; like he didn’t have a problem in the world and the usual furrow in his brow had completely dissipated. He looked younger this way. More carefree.

He must’ve sensed a shift in movement, because his eyes fluttered open and he looked down at you.

“Hey, sweetheart. How do you feel?” He asks, bringing a hand to cup your jaw gently. You give him a soft smile, bringing your own hand up to caress the stubble on his chin. He watched you carefully, wondering what was going through your mind.

“‘M okay. Just got a headache is all.” You said.

“You need to eat, darlin’.”

You nodded in knowing, but the thought of eating seemed so exhausting. You just wanted to sleep. But, you know Joel would put up a fight and make you eat something, even if it was small.

“I know.”

“I can fix something up for you, or we can order your favorite takeout.” He offers, gently bringing his lips to your forehead once more. You’d never felt so much tenderness and care from the man, so the fact that he was being as gentle as he was almost astonished you. You knew he was capable of doing so, but the only person he ever showed this side to was Sarah.

“A peanut butter and jelly sandwich is fine.” You reason, hoping he’ll agree. It might’ve not been much, but at least it’s something, right?

“Okay sweetheart. Let me make that for you and I’ll be right back, alright?”

You nod and shift your body so he can maneuver himself from under you to go downstairs and fix you up the sandwich. You laid back on your bed, feeling slightly better. Joel really didn’t need to do all of this for you, yet here he was… taking care of you. The thought nearly made you cry again, but you swallowed the lump in your throat.

You fished your phone off of your nightstand to see three missed calls and five texts from your dad. You sighed and texted him back, letting him know that you were okay and everything was fine. Your dad knew about your battle with anxiety and depression and how it could be sometimes, so as any dad would, he worried.

You’d always reassure him everything was fine, but deep down he knew it wasn’t all fine. He knew there was stuff you didn’t want to talk about, and thankfully, he didn’t push.

Your phone shortly buzzing brought you from your thoughts, with a text from your dad that simply said ‘love you, kiddo’ with a red heart emoji. You hearted the message before locking your phone and setting it on your nightstand once again.

Joel came into your room seconds after with a paper plate that contained a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the crusts cut off and some pretzels on the side in one hand, and a glass of water in the other.

He hands you the plate as you sit up, and you quietly thank him. You ate slowly, and Joel watched you. You look up at him as you take a bite from your sandwich, and he clears his throat.

“You know, darlin’,” Joel toyed with his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, trying to gather his thoughts. “I may not know what you’re going through at the moment, but I can promise you I’ll always be there for you whenever you need me. Just say the word and I’m there.” Joel reassures, sitting on your bed once more.

“Thank you, Joel. I’m sorry you had to, uh, find me like this and… bathe me.” You look down at your plate, slowly swallowing the bite you were chewing.

“Don’t ever apologize, sweetheart. You needed to be taken care of. There’s nothing wrong with that. And there’s certainly nothing wrong with letting someone do so for you, okay?”

You find yourself leaning forward, touching your forehead with Joel’s. Your noses brush together for a second before he reaches up to cup your cheek and pull away from you. He’d love to kiss you, but he didn’t know if doing so in such a vulnerable time for you was really appropriate.

You felt his hesitancy, so you put your hand on the back of his neck to coax him closer to you, and your lips met his soft ones. It was a short and sweet kiss, something to say thank you a million times over. You weren’t very good with your words or sharing your emotions, so naturally, this was your way of doing so.

He smiled against your lips and kept you there for a second, just holding you and relishing in the sweet, loving, tender moment between you both.

And for that and the man that he is, you’ll be forever grateful for Joel.

tag list: @cool-iguana ily

[virgo-dream]

virgo-dream’s dreamling masterpost

In honour of @mr-sadman’s Dreaming Week 2024, I have compiled this masterpost of all my fics and fanart!

I highly recommend checking the Dreamling Week tag to see some of the amazing fanworks created by this fandom.

Happy Dreamling Week! ☁️✨

☁️ fanfiction ☁️

✨ one shots ✨

golden hour

rated G / 695 words / fluff

Hob had two favourite times during the day: dawn and dusk. Opposite in their purpose but equal in their beauty, dawn brought new life to restful spirits every morning, while dusk tucked them in gently every night. Hob loved the soft, lilac tones that shifted into golden, that faded into oranges, purples and deep blues, over and over again, marking the passage of never ending time.

Another thing he liked, dearly, was seeing Morpheus under the light of the golden hour.

metaphors

rated G / 2.5k words / idiots to lovers

the one where Dream is fucking dense and Hob is desperately in love.

the night of the storm

rated G / 2.6k+ words / hurt/comfort

across from the shadow figure sitting on his armchair, and offered the best smile he could muster. “…rough day? I feel like you’re not doing very well. Don’t ask me why.”

Are you not afraid, Hob Gadling?

or: Hob Gadling comes home to find the shadows need a shoulder to cry on.

freely given

rated G / 4k+ words / whump, hurt + comfort

Dream had no idea how he intended to help Hob. It was the right thing to do. He had stumbled into enough of Hob Gadling's nightmares to know for a fact that disease wasn't something he took lightly.

daisy chains

rated G / 589 words / tooth-rotting fluff, idiots in love

Hob tells him to use the door but doesn't mind when his friend just shows up uninvited because to Hob, Dream will always be welcome. Dream, on the other end, wants to know more about Hob, be a part of his life, even if it means spending more time in the Waking World. And then, like every good thing, the physicality starts small: a pat on the back, a hand on the shoulder.

or: they don't know it, but they're falling in love.

spring roll for your thoughts

rated G / 2.3k+ words / domestic fluff

Dream and Hob both need a moment to rest after a long day at work. They both find comfort eating reheated leftovers and daydreaming about the future.

the miracle of song

rated G / 1k+ words / christmas fic

Dream of The Endless has a long standing history with avoiding music since the loss of his only son, Orpheus. His relationship with Hob Gadling might make him change his mind.

A story about love, loss, bad karaoke and Christmas miracles.

one of their own

rated G / 3.6k+ words / queer themes, first kiss

Hob Gadling invites Dream to a meeting of the uni's queer clubs at the New Inn. Dream learns more about his own gender identity, and that he's very much in love with his best friend.

glitter glue and butterfly stickers

rated G / 1k+ words / dreamling parents, tooth-rotting fluff

Hob and Dream have been married for over 10 years and are raising a daughter together. After a long day working on his thesis, Hob receives a letter from his 7 year old daughter Lucy, detailing her thoughts on an article he’d written.

safety net: a bolt in the blue story

rated T / 3.1k words / fic of a fic, mutual pining (set in the universe of @valeriianz’s bolt in the blue)

Endless is in the middle of its first headline tour, and Dream has been doing his best to hold his own in the ever changing routine of touring. After one particularly intense concert, Dream finds himself extremely overwhelmed, and relies on the help of his trusted bass tech, Hob Gadling, to ground himself again. In the process, he finds that a few feelings have become impossible to ignore.

some mornings: a man of good fortune story

rated G / 1.1k+ words / domestic fluff, omegaverse (set in the universe of @softest-punk’s a man of good fortune)

Some mornings are easier than others, when one finds themselves in the state Dream is currently in. He remembers how mornings were when he was pregnant with Orpheus. As winter slowly approached their home by the sea, some mornings became harder than most for Hob.

A story of finding new purpose, switching roles and falling in love again and again. The moon is also there.

✨ multi-chapter ✨

when I wake up, there are only your eyes to greet mine (complete)

rated M / 14.2k+ words / victorian soldiers au

Five times Sergeant Robert Gadling woke up to Captain Morpheus Apeiron. One time Morpheus woke up to Hob.

A very unlucky battalion finds itself in the command of one Captain Morpheus Apeiron. He doesn't seem particularly worried with their survival, but mostly with ending the war as soon as possible. Sergeant Robert Gadling seems to be the only thing keeping all these young and inexperienced soldiers alive. After one particularly heated fight between them, Hob ends up discovering there is much more to his Captain than meets the eye, but is he seeing Morpheus as he truly is, or through the prism of his own desire?

may dream (incomplete)

rated M / 7.5k+ words posted / hurt/comfort

It's been 10 days since Dream of The Endless was rescued from Fawney Rig by one Hob Gadling, who takes it upon himself to see to Dream's recovery. While with Hob, Dream is provided with something he'd been missing even before his imprisonment: to be cared for.

☁️ fan art ☁️

he’s wearing the north face jacket

change or die magical girl

happy birthday dream sketch

thursday night at the drag bar

Halley’s Comet mini comic

come here often?

softest-punk’s witcher au fanart

avelera’s giving sanctuary fic cover

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

fearless - d. wagner

a/n: i know wagner wednesday was yesterday, but fuck it. everyone can leave me alone I AM IN LOVE WITH HIM!!!! notes/warnings: extremely suggestive relationship, no use of y/n, secret relationships, tooth rotting fluff at the end, childhood best friends to lovers, danny being jealous, cursing, like so many allusions to fucking, me writing this late at night, sam, josh and jake being extremely oblivious like just the epitome of "so close! that is a shape! <3" word count: 2.3k summary: daniel has been acting awfully weird lately. luckily, the kiszka brothers are on the case! pairing: danny wagner x gn! reader now playing: fearless (taylor's version) - taylor swift “run your hands through your hair/absentmindedly making me want you/and i don't know how it gets better than this/you take my hand and drag me head first, fearless"

Samuel Kiszka had met you way back in elementary school, back when you were kind of regarded as a freak. You were playing with a ladybug on the playground during recess, and he came over and asked what you were doing. When you explained, he became fascinated with the ladybug and declared you would be its parents. Then, a stray kickball had flew over, crushing your new baby bug. Some kid laughed at Sam when he started to cry, so you decided to punch that little fucker in the face.

You had been best friends ever since.

A year after that, he came to you and introduced you to a different kid he had met in his new class, the one right beside yours. His name was Daniel.

And since then, it’s always been the three of you, against everything.

You became awfully close with the Wagners and with the Kiszkas, going as far as to call them your family. You grew up in sort of a rough environment, but there was always a place for you on Daniel’s couch or Sammy’s floor.

You smoked your first blunt together, took your first shots together, and cried over breakups that didn’t even matter anymore.

You were a tech kid in high school with a certain knack for equipment and stage managing. Sam and Danny were just starting to get more serious about their music, so there was a time when you didn’t see each other that much. You were busy with whatever production your high school was putting on, and they had formed a band with Sam’s older brothers, Jake and Josh.

You knew it had been Jake’s dream for years, so besides their mother, you consider yourself the first Greta Van Fleet fan.

When their song, Highway Tune, went viral, you just knew it meant huge things for them. You could see it in Jake’s face, hear it in Josh’s voice. This was something bigger than any of you. So, you weren’t really shocked when they came to you and told you that they had a record deal and a few shows booked around the country.

You were only sad that you’d be stuck in Michigan while your best friends toured around the country, maybe even the world.

Then, Sammy told you a stipulation of their contract was that you would get to be on the set team, and with enough experience, you’d lead that team in all the equipment and stage management you could get your hands on.

And you jumped in with them, headfirst, fearless.

That was years ago, and you haven’t looked back since.

But then Sam started to notice something.

Daniel Wagner had been distracted. Never a good thing to be while on tour.

So, he came to you with the problem.

“I’m telling you, there is something up with Daniel!” He practically whined as you packed your bag to go to the next venue.

“Sammy, nothing is up with Daniel. There’s no way.”

“He doesn’t eat, he is always staring off into the distance, he’s always scribbling in his little notebook, he’s acting weird!”

“You guys are on tour, that’s stressful. Maybe he’s just like, at max stress.” You argue, checking that you have your lights and pyro cues for the next stop of the tour.

“Why aren’t you worried about this? You should be worried, he’s your best friend too!”

You stop what you’re doing and turn to face him.

“Maybe he’s fallen madly in love with someone.”

Sam actually laughs out loud at the thought.

“Good one!” He says with a goofy grin on his face. “We would know if he was in love, don’t you think?” He asks.

“Then I just don’t know, Sammy. Go argue with Jake and Josh about this, I have to go meet with the crew about the inventory for the road.” You say, and Sam just drops it to go do exactly that.

His brothers are on the tour bus when he gets there and luckily, Danny is running late. And he is sure to mention that.

“Seems like Daniel is late again... He’s been doing that a lot, huh?” He says, trying not to act too suspiciously.

Josh and Jake share this look, like they’re trying to figure out if Sam has a point or not. But Jake starts to really think about it, and you know what? Shockingly, their younger brother does in fact have a point.

“Now that you mention it, He is acting kind of weird.” He says softly, and Josh nods.

“I had to ask him for my earrings back the other day and when I got to his room, he looked like I caught him doing something he wasn’t supposed to. I thought he was in the middle of jerking off but now that I think about it, he’s been like that a lot. Always acting like a deer in the headlights.”

So, the whole situation perplexes them, but before they can say anything else on the matter, Danny strolls onto the tour bus.

“Good morning, boys! How are we today?” Now that they had all discussed it, any behavior from him would be suspicious.

“Fine. Why are you late, Dan?” Danny was immediately alarmed by this, since Sam never called him Dan. It was always Danny or Daniel.

“Uh, I just lost my shoes in the room, and they were under my bed. Sorry, I didn’t realize I was keeping you guys waiting.”

Josh, the only one able to play anything cool, just nods, “It’s alright, we weren’t waiting for long. We should probably discuss the setlist for tonight.” Jake hums but he can’t help but notice that Danny has these large black stud earrings in. And he’s sure he’s seen them before, but he can’t quite put his finger on were.

For now, he lets it go. But he keeps it in the back of his mind for later.

They stop at a rest stop that afternoon, along with most of the tech crew who travel in their own bus. You go to check in on your boys and buy Sam a snack as a peace offering for not believing him this morning.

But instead, you run into Josh, who decides to find the others with you. You get to talking but you feel him staring at your face, and you blush.

“What, do I have something on my face?” You ask bashfully.

“No,” he hums softly, tilting his head. “You just— Where’d you get that necklace?” He swears he’s seen it before but can’t put his finger on it.

Your hand goes up to fiddle with the necklace, almost nervously.

“It’s a gift from my sister, I wore it when we graduated, remember?” Josh does not remember.

For now, he lets it go. But he keeps it in the back of his mind for later.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, Toots, Guess I forgot.” He links arms with you, “Let’s go find the guys, huh?” He smiles. Happy to drop the subject, you go with him willingly.

Sammy, Danny, and Jake are getting their snacks when something catches Danny’s eye, and he won’t stop staring, so Sam looks to see what he could be so bothered by. And all he sees is his older brother, linking arms with you.

He smacks Danny’s arm, whose head snaps to look at him.

“Just Josh, Dude. At Ease, Soldier.” He teases. But he can’t shake this feeling that Danny was bothered by it. But why would he be?

Nothing else weird happens throughout the day, and the show that night goes well. So well, in fact that they invite you to a local bar where they can grab a few drinks and decompress from the day. And that goes really well too, except when Sam sees you the next morning and hickeys cover your neck.

“Dude! What the fuck!?” He asks, investigating your neck further. You blush and shove him off gently.

“Relax, Sammy, I just—I hooked up with someone last night that I met at the bar, and they were kind of rough. No big deal, I’ll never see them again.” You say, with a casual shrug.

Something is off about your tone. But he says nothing.

For now, he lets it go. But he keeps it in the back of his mind for later.

And then, he notices these earrings you have in.

Large black diamond studs.

“Nice Earrings.” He comments casually. He swears he’s seen them before, but like, recently! It perplexes him a bit and it must show on his face, because you are quick to clear up any confusion.

“Oh, thanks! I wore them last night for the bar and I just forgot to take them out. They aren’t too casual, so I don’t wear them too often.”

And it makes enough sense. Why would you lie to him about something as stupid as that?

Then, when he sees Danny that night, he’s covered in hickeys.

And Sam thinks he might still be drunk or high, or both. Because what the fuck is going on?! You both were acting strange, and he’s noticing these little things, so he decides to confide in Josh and Jake again, who relay their findings, and they decide they must confront Danny together.

Danny is not too shocked when he goes to get undressed and get his makeup removed only to find the boys waiting for him there. It took him a while to get back to the dressing room.

“Oh, hey guys! Sorry, I didn’t realize you were waiting for me. I got caught up talking to one of the security guards and then I got lost, this venue is so damn confusing.” And then Sam knows he’s lying because if HE could figure out how to return to the dressing room, then Danny, who has an amazing sense of direction, definitely could!

“What’s going on with you, Man?” he asks as he begins to wipe the makeup off his face.

“What? Nothing is going on with me, dude, I told you I just got lost.”

“Bullshit,” Josh calls. “You’re distracted, always late, and have suspiciously good jewelry taste as of late!”

“Yeah! And it’s affecting other people too,” Jake recalls, “Even the tech crew has noticed it! Our stage manager, our best friend, is acting weird too, and I have a feeling it’s because of your shady actions!”

And that’s when it hits Sam.

The earrings.

The hickeys.

The necklace.

The lateness.

The god damn hickeys.

“Just be real with us, Danny—” Josh starts, before Sam stands up.

“MOTHERFUCKER!” He gasps.

And that stops everyone in their tracks. He says your name to Danny, and it immediately catches his attention.

“What about them?” He asks.

“Are you sleeping with them?” Sam asks.

“What?! Sammy, c’mon—”

“Daniel Wagner, are you fucking our stage manager?!”

There’s a pause.

“Sammy. You’re acting—”

“Answer the question.”

“No!” He sighs. “I think they are lovely, and I would love to, and I want to take them on dates and woo them, but I am not fucking our stage manager, Sam. You guys are being paranoid. And if you don’t mind I’d prefer they don’t know about the fact that I like them, okay?”

All the other boys nod. Of course, It makes perfect sense! You and Danny both like each other but you aren’t able to tell each other that because of your long-standing friendship, but you’re sharing jewelry as a way of subtly telling each other. And that explains why he was staring at you and Josh the other day! And the hickeys were from other people because you couldn’t have each other! Duh! Maybe he really did get lost going back to the dressing room.

The conversation quickly shifts and moves on from Danny’s confession, and everything is normal. They could help you realize that the feelings were reciprocated.

When Danny eventually makes it out of there, he makes his way back to his hotel room. But on his way up, he quickly checks to see if any of the boys are following him, before making a stop on the way.

The knock on your door doesn’t startle you, in fact, you were kind of ready for it. You had gotten back a little while ago and turned on the shower to let it heat up. When you answer it, you grin up at him and grab his arm, pulling him inside. He shuts the door behind himself, before his arms are around your waist, leaning in for a long kiss.

It’s full of this gentleness that he grants you because, well, he always greets you with one sweet, truly loving kiss.

When he pulls away, he grins back at you.

“Hi, sweets.” He hums.

“Hey, handsome.” You respond, “Did you put the boys to bed like I asked?” He laughs at your phrasing, leaning down to kiss your jaw. And then your neck. Again. And again. And one more time for good measure.

“Mhm. They asked me if we were together though.” He keeps kissing your neck.

“I figured as much; they’ve been acting weird.”

“They might think I have a crush on you, now.” He says between kisses.

“And what would give them that idea?” You ask.

“…The fact that I told them I had a crush on you.”

“Well, do you?”

“Mm... I dunno. Might have to kiss you a few more times before I decide for certain.” You grin.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah... Maybe a little more than kissing too...”

“Well, don’t let me stand in the way of your methods, Danny.”

He grins, and kisses you again, this time, deeper, with none of the gentleness of the initial kiss. But there’s a new feeling you get from him now. Hunger.

And you kiss back, as if you have something deeper than hunger. Starvation, maybe.

And you don’t think either of you will ever be satiated.

By the end of the night, he decides he most definitely has a crush on you.

[1intrusivethoughts1]

Love Language

Osamu Miya x transfer!reader

Part 1

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, Atsumu and Osamu fighting, reader gets words wrong sometimes, some bullying in later chapters, part 2 coming soon, 2.3k words, probably has mistakes

You pursed your lips as yet again, you had gotten lost in the crowded schoolyard. The students talking in a language you didn’t understand well didn’t help either. Your parents had randomly decided to move to Japan and enroll you in a difficult study of the language for 3 months before tossing you in school. Yeah, you still suck at the language. Though your knowledge is well enough to converse with students, none of them had stopped to answer your question. Seemingly too busy to say a few words.

You entered the second building and stopped mid way through the hall. You stared at the class schedule sheet and tilted your head. Your expression remained very confused. Eyes tracing the words over and over again. You were at the right place…right? Your eyes remained on the paper and continued walking. That was, until you bumped into a person. Neither of you fell on the ground, it was a rather awkward position. You had your head shoved in their chest and was tilted slightly towards them. You immediately took a step backwards and bowed softly.

“I’m so sorry- I didn’t see…you.” You raised your head and your face immediately fell. A tall and very scary looking man was standing there. With your mouth agape, you took another step backwards before you put a determined look on your face. You can do this! Maybe he will help?

“Uhm…i’m new…can I have…help?” You said slowly, the words still didn’t roll off your tongue smoothly. Having to think before speaking always.

He raised an eyebrow, shocked by your question but nodded.

“Yeah, sure.” He hummed and bent down to your level, peering at your schedule. He hummed again and straightened his posture.

“Your first period is with me, so i’ll take you there.” He spoke softly as he turned around. He beckoned for you to follow as he started to walk down the hallways. You stayed beside him, occasionally glancing up at him. He wasn’t really scary, he was pretty nice. He had gray silver hair, the dark brown undercut hinting that it was dyed. He was also very strong, at least in your eyes. He had visible muscles and a nice jawline too.

“We’re here.” He announced and turned to you. Giving you a once over before he took his hand out.*

“I’m Miya Osamu.” He introduced himself, a small smile growing as you took his hand.

“I’m [Name]!” You smiled, happy someone was talking to you seriously. He said your name under his breath, almost testing it out. 

“Let’s go inside, okay?” He said in a gentle tone. You nodded and both of you walked inside the classroom, already filled with students. You unfortunately did not get a seat next to him, but was close enough for comfort. 

The teacher eventually arrived on the classroom and began to teach. You payed very close attention, mainly because it was difficult to understand some words he would say. 

“Uhm…excuse me?” You whispered to the person next to you. The girl looked at you and tilted her head.

“What?” She raised a brow.

“What was the word he said…minute ago?” You asked, though it wasn’t really a coherent sentence. She looked at you weirdly for a second before speaking.

“Relation?” She asked, and you nodded. She sighed and turned back to listen, while you scribbled down the word, hoping to get half of the notes write.

As you were writing notes down frantically, the lunch bell rang. Your head shot up and you frowned, stuffing your materials in your backpack. Once finished, you saw Osamu at your desk.

“Want to eat together?” He asked, his hands full with his bento box. 

A huge smile spread across your face and you nodded your head.

“Yes! I’d amazing love too!” You said, the smile still present as you grabbed your homemade lunch.

He quirked a brow at your word choice and smiled, chuckling under his breath. You followed him to the cafeteria, where you both sat down at a random spot. He opened his bento box, which revealed onigiri and some vegetable sides. It looked really good. 

“Did you make that, Miya-san?” You asked, pointing at the onigiri’s. He nodded his head and placed one on your boxed lunch. 

“Try it.” He said before grabbing one for himself. You were about to protest, but honestly it looked really good. Picking it up gently, you took a bite. Your eyes immediately lit up and a smile spread across your lips.

“It’s really good!” You gushed, taking another bite. He smiled in response, before someone yelled his name. He sighed, his smile disappearing as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Oi! ‘Samu! where’s my lunch?” A blonde guy yelled, who looked really similar to Osamu. The blondes eyes traveled to you and he paused for a moment, before looking back at Osamu with a smirk.

“Who’s this? Eating with a fan? How scandalous!” He gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. Osamu glared at him before speaking.

“She’s new, a transfer.” He explained.

“[Name], this is my brother Atsumu…” Osamu said with a sigh, he didn’t sound very happy.

“Twin brother! Twin!” Atsumu corrected him loudly, as if it made a huge difference. 

“Nice to meet you, Atsumu.” You smiled. He walked over to you, surprising you a bit. He placed a hand on his chin as he studied you,  looking you up and down. 

“You should be our volleyball club manager.” He said bluntly. You furrows your eyebrows, what was that?

“What’s a volleyball manager?” You asked. Atsumu opened his mouth to speak before Osamu interrupted him.

“No, ‘Tsumu. She’s new. She needs time to adjust and shouldn’t have to worry about this.” He frowned. Did his brother always make him this angry?

“Why not? She’s perfect!” He continued speaking in a hushed yell, though it didn’t really work out. The two continued to banter and you could only think of one solution. Why not apply yourself to something you know nothing about? Sounds like a great plan. 

“I’ll be the manager.” You spoke, causing the twins to look at you. Atsumu looked happy while Osamu shook his head at you.

“I think it’ll be fun. It’ll be okay, Osamu.” You smiled, as if to ease whatever worries he had. He let out a sigh and Atsumu grinned, grabbing your wrist. 

“Alright, follow me.” He snickered as he dragged you to who knows where. You didn’t really get the chance to follow him, as he was dragging you the whole time. He brought you to a table filled with more guys? 

“Guys, this is our new manager!” Atsumu stated proudly, placed his hands on his hips and closing his eyes to add emphasis. You stood there and shyly waved. This was super awkward. One dude stood up and bowed to you.

“I’m Kita Shinsuke, the team captain. Thank you for applying yourself.” He said in a gentle voice. You smiled at the greeting and bowed back at him. He’s really nice.

“I’m [Name].” You introduced yourself, the other guys nodding in response. 

“Can you stay after school from now on? We have practice then.” Atsumu asked excitedly, he sounded really happy about a manager. You nodded, why not? It’ll show your parents that you’re applying yourself to the new school. 

“Great! ‘Samu can show you where since he’s in your class.” He grinned before practically sprinting to his seat that was only a few feet away. You turned to go to your seat, but Osamu was right behind you.

“Oh!” You said awkwardly as you almost bumped into him again. 

“You know, you didn’t have to.” He said softly as you walked back to your food.

“Hm, yeah. I want to though.” You nodded, assuring yourself this was the right decision. He hummed at your response, and you both reached the table. 

“What does a manager do?” You asked, trying to sound nonchalant about it. He looked at you for a second before turning his head and chuckling a bit.

“They schedule matches, make notes of the players and help clean the gym. Nothing too bad.” He said slowly, hoping you would be able to understand all that.

“Oh, okay!” You hummed, though you did not understand it all. Japanese was hard…

The bell rang which meant classes, so you and Osamu packed your lunch up and walked back to the classroom.

“How long have you played volleyball?” You asked him, walking through the hallway.

“Oh, i’ve been playing it for a while. Since me and ‘Tsumu were kids.” He smiled.

“He’s better than me, he’s really talented.” He explained, glancing at you.

“Woah.” Was your response as you turned into the classroom and settled back down.

The rest of class was very boring, it was just stupid note taking, and your hand hurt. You shook your wrist, as if hoping it would alleviate the pain. Sadly, it did not. 

The teacher than announced class was over, which made you smile. Thank goodness. Gathering the few materials you still had out, you turned to Osamu who was looking at you. You slid your bag on your shoulder and made your way towards him.

“Ready?” He asked, placing his books in his bag before standing up.

“Mhm.” You hummed in response, and he led the way. He led you out of the building and along a path, leading to gym buildings. The doors opened upon Osamu pushing them, and a few members were already there. 

“Im gonna change into gym clothes, go talk to Aran or Suna. They won’t bite.” He explained, before exiting the doors you both entered from. You warily glanced at the two team members before taking a deep breath. 

Walking over to the two, you waved slightly as you approached them.

“Hey, I didn’t get to introduce myself. I’m Aran Ojiro.” He smiled, holding his hand out. You happily shook it, returning the smile. The guy next to him sighed and spoke up.

“I’m Suna Rintaro.” He said tiredly, as if introducing himself was energy draining. 

“Nice to meet you two. Do you know where the coach is?” You asked, and the two looked around. Suna pointing whole Aran voiced it once they spotted him.

“He’s over there.” You turned your head and thanked both of them before you jogged over to the coach.

“Hello, i’m the new manager, [Name].” You spoke, getting his attention. He raised a brow, before he sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Listen, if you were a manager you would have a form filled out for me. I know becoming the manager just to see the twins is a great idea it-“ He droned on, as if he had given this speech many times. Though he was interrupted by someone behind you.

“Hey coach! Yeah, I hired her on the spot.” Atsumu walked up beside you, placing a hand on your head. 

“Atsumu, you can’t just do that-“ The coach groaned, a hand running down his face. 

“Here, how about this. I get a form and…uh..” He gestured towards you. “You can fill it out.” 

“Okay! Thanks!” You smiled and Atsumu nodded in approval. Though the coach did give him a deadly side eye. 

You sat down on the bleachers, pulling out a clipboard the coach so graciously gave you. Writing the names down of the people on the team, you tapped the pencil on your chin as you watched them practice. Whatever they were doing, seemed right. You put a purposeful check next to their name, smiling at your hard work. 

“What are those checks for?” The coach asked suddenly, you didn’t even know he was there!

“Uhm, they’re there if they met the qualifications I had set this week.” You said, smiling proudly at the smart statement you had just made.

“Which are…?” He raised a brow, clearly expecting an answer. Uh oh, that’s a problem. You don’t know a thing about volleyball.

“I…I was thinking…oh! I was thinking of revealing them at the end of the week, to show what the players did well on.” You explained. He seemed impressed with your answer, letting out a hum as he crossed his arms.

“Good.” He said gruffly. He then pulled out papers and handed them to you.

“Fill these out and give them to me tomorrow.” He said before walking away.

You sighed, very relieved that the situation went well. As you looked back, you noticed Osamu glancing at you every now and then. Once you caught his eye, you gave him a little wave, which he returned of course. You then tucked the papers way into your bag, making a mental note to fill them out later.

Being a manager wasn’t so bad. Well, you shouldn’t say that when it’s your first day. As practice ended, you jogged over from your spot towards Osamu and Atsumu. You followed their actions, and began picking up balls and throwing them into the basket. Once the gym was all cleaned up, you began gathering your bags. 

“Hey, want me to walk you home?” You heard Osamu speak behind you.

“Us. Have us walk her home ‘Samu.” Atsumu corrected. 

You turned around to face them and nodded with a grateful smile.

“Sure! That’s very kindly.” You replied, though Atsumu bursted out laughing at your reply. Osamu shot him a glare before he sighed and looked towards you.

“Kind. Not kindly, though that does sound like a better word.” He said softly. Osamu paused before he jabbed Atsumu in the side, causing him to yelp in pain.

“I-I’m sorry [Name]…” He looked down with a frown. You giggled at that and shook your head.

“It’s fine.” 

The two of you then began walking towards your house. Finding out that your houses weren’t far from each other. Only a few houses down. As you arrived at your house you thanked both of them.

“It’s no problem! We are gentleman.” Atsumu said proudly, a stupid smirk on his face. Osamu rolled his eyes and waved at you.

“Take care.” Osamu said before walking off with Atsumu. 

Maybe being a manager wasn’t a terrible idea after all?

[littlexscarletxwitch]

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗮 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗱𝗲

paring: mum!florence pugh x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff fluff fluff, flo being a mum, r also being a mum, pregnant!flo, flo melting by just looking at her family

warning(s): tooth rotting sweet, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 2.3k

note: you asked (I asked), you begged (@allbeatriz begged) and now 'Same shade of green' part 2 is here! FINALLY. Shout out to that lovely person that got me into writing this fic. I love you, stranger, and I really hope you like it. Hope you all enjoy, lots of love, M. <3

requests are open! + check my rules here + masterlist <3

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. Part 1 | Part 2 ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Florence always knew she wanted kids, she had always pictured her future surrounded by cute little children.

Then Aaron came along and she felt like it was meant to be. Sure, the baby’s dad wasn’t in the picture, hell, he wasn’t even aware the kid existed until he was born. But it was just how things unfolded, he had left town before she was even aware she was pregnant, and then she couldn’t bother to reach out to him.

She felt like she owed it to her son, he needed his father in his life. So when Aaron was born, she got in touch with him. But he didn’t want anything to do with the baby. Florence didn’t push him, she wasn’t going to let someone into her baby’s life if that person didn’t want to be part of it.

At first she thought it was the right thing to do, but then Aaron grew up and she could tell that there was something pissing him off, yet he never said anything about it. Florence felt guilty for taking that decision for him, she wanted to take it back, she should have done something about it. But then you came along, and somehow you made everything better.

Your eyes were squinted, your tongue was poking out of your lips, brows furrowed, deep in concentration.

“No! Dang it!” you muttered, making the two greeneyed chuckle.

“Eat my dust,” Aaron joked beside you.

“You got me again, little man,” you said, gently ruffling his hair.

It was the third time in a row that Aaron had beat you, it was kinda lame losing to a 10 year old at ‘Mario Kart’, but it was worth it to see him smile at you.

“Okay, time for bed, mister sweet face.”

“Five more minutes, mum, please,” Aaron looked at Florence with puppy eyes.

“It’s late, Aaron.”

“Please,” he tried again, but Florence had a stern face. So he tried with you.

“Oh no, please don’t look at me like that.”

“Five more minutes.”

“Buddy, I—.”

“Please,” you swore you could melt by just looking at those big doe eyes.

You looked at Florence, seeking help. But she was already looking at you, carefully watching your next move, letting you handle the situation.

You cleared your throat, “If you go to bed now, I promise we can get ice cream tomorrow,” you negotiated with the little man.

“Cookie dough and vanilla ice cream?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, that’s a deal,” he shook your hand. “Good night then,” he said with a smile on his face, leaving a peck on your cheek.

“Good night, little man.”

“Night, mum,” he went to kiss Florence goodnight.

“Night, baby. Sweet dreams,” she kissed his forehead and watched as he entered his bedroom.

Florence took a seat beside you on the couch, letting her body crash against yours as you wrapped an arm around her.

“So, how did I do?” you said with a tint of mischief.

“What do you mean?”

“I know what you are doing.”

“What am I doing?”

“You let me handle him. Why do you do that?” you were genuinely curious.

“I don’t know, I—,” you could tell she was holding something back.

“What is it? Tell me,” your fingertips brushed her hair, offering her some comfort.

“You know how I’ve always wanted kids,” you hummed in response. Ever since you had met Aaron 5 months ago, Florence had come clean to you and told you how she always wanted to be a mother. “Well, I have been thinking, like a lot, this isn’t just a rush thought,” she was rambling, she was clearly nervous.

“Just spit it out,” you chuckled.

“I want another baby.”

You stopped brushing her hair, which she noticed.

“I know, I know,” she said, turning to face you. “We’ve only been dating for a year now, and you had only met Aaron just five months ago. But Y/n, you have to understand that it’s what I want,” her bottom lip was trembling. “And I need to know if it’s something you would eventually want or else I… I don’t know.”

But she did know, she would have to let you go. Something she didn’t want to do, but she couldn’t force you into something you wouldn’t want to be part of. Her heart would break into a million pieces.

You felt your stomach sink into itself, she had caught you off guard. You knew this was a long overdue conversation. She had repeatedly told you how much she loved Aaron and you weren’t blind, you could tell she loved kids. That conversation was bound to happen, you just thought you would have a little more time to figure how you felt.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want kids at all, the thought had never crossed your mind. You were always too busy with your life, living in the present as you called it. And then you met Florence, and you started to think about your future with her right by your side. And then Aaron came along.

At first it was weird, for the three of you, but mostly for you. You felt you didn't belong, like you were in their way. They were a family and you were just you, trying to figure yourself out. But the little man welcomed you with open arms, and that was all it took for your walls to break down. You thought that things wouldn't work out, that he would hate. But it was quite the opposite really.

“Y/n?” Florence snapped you out of your thoughts.

Her eyes were watery, your silence made her uneasy. She regretted having brought up the subject, she could tell you weren’t ready for that kind of commitment. But she had to know where you stood.

Who were you to deny her such wish? You only wanted to make her happy.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your heart. “I say… we should try to make one right now.”

“What?” she sounded surprised.

“Aaron’s asleep, isn’t he?” you began to kiss her neck.

A soft moan escaped from her lips, “We don’t have to—,” you could feel the tint of worry and doubt in her voice.

“Yes, we do,” your hot breath on her neck sent a shiver up her spine. “I want this, okay?” you searched for her eyes. “I want this, I want you,” you kissed her lips. “Unless, of course, you don’t want to make a baby right now. In that case, I’m gonna make some tea,” you teased her, kissing her jaw.

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

“Oh, I’m gonna do more than that,” you smirked as you watched her cheeks go crimson red.

[…]

You leaned your head to the side, squinting your eyes trying to understand what your eyes were looking at.

“So that’s the head?”

“Yes,” the doctor answered.

“I just don’t— oh, there it is,” you said, smiling up at the screen. Finally seeing the baby’s body.

“Looks fat,” Aaron said next to you.

“Aaron!” Florence scolded him, making the doctor chuckle.

“Yeah, she does,” you giggled.

“Y/n!” she now scolded you.

“But she still will be cute, don’t worry about it,” you joked.

“How do you know they are a she?” she raised her brow at you, as the doctor moved around the tool on her belly checking on her baby.

“That’s my kid, right there. I know.”

“Yeah, sure,” Florecen rolled her eyes at you. But couldn’t shake the butterflies she felt when you said ‘my kid’.

“Well, the baby’s healthy, nothing to worry about. I’ll see the four of you in about 3 weeks, and we can see the baby’s sex.”

“I’m telling you, doc. It’s a girl,” you nudge the boy beside you. “Right, buddy?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you noticed he didn’t sound excited at all.

“Okay, that’s it for today. See you guys later,” the doctor said as she closed the door behind her.

“Oh, gosh. I’m starving,” Florence said as she cleaned herself up and adjusted her top. “I’ll go to the restroom and then I’ll meet you guys at the car, okay?”

“Yeah, go ahead, love.”

The two of you walked in silence back to the car, and you could tell something was up with him since it wasn’t like him not to be talking. He was like Florence in that way, they always had to be doing something or else they would explode. Unless, of course, something was up with them.

“Okay, spit out, little man.”

He looked at you, and he knew there was no escaping from this conversation.

“I just… I don’t know…”

“It’s okay, take your time.”

He breathed in, “I don’t want things to change,” and then breathed out, as if a weight was lifted off of his shoulders now that he had said those words.

“Oh,” you understood. He had been an only child for 10 years, soon to be 11. Of course this whole thing was a big change for him. “Look, honey. I can’t promise you that nothing will change because change is part of life. But I can promise you that your mum and I are always going to be her for you, okay?”

“I just… I don’t think I'm ready to share my mamma with someone else,” he shyly confessed.

“Oh, Aaron, baby. it’s okay to feel like that. But you must know that your mum loves you dearly, and another baby won’t change that.”

“No, not mum. I don’t wanna share you, mamma.”

Your heart skipped a beat, “Me?” You asked in disbelief.

“Yes!” he complained. “I just got you and now I have to share you, it’s not fair,” he said walking faster to the car, clearly mad.

“Aaron, wait up,” you jogged to catch up to him.

You stood right in front of him, looked into his watery eyes and then hugged him tightly. You could feel him sobbing into your chest as you ran your fingertips through his dark hair.

“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed. You didn’t know he felt this way for you, you swore you could melt right there.

“You will like her more than me.”

“Hey, no! Don’t say that,” you gently pulled him away to look at him in the eyes. “Don’t say that, okay? You are very special to me, you know that?” your hands cupped his cheeks as your thumbs wiped away his tears. “You may not be mine biologically, Aaron. But you must know that I care for you as if you were.”

His bottom lip was trembling, his eyes had a red hue around them and at that moment he looked exactly like Florence.

“It’s important to me that you know that, okay?” he nodded. “And I’ll remind you of that as many times as I have to, alright?” he nodded once again, and smiled as you left a sweet kiss on his forehead.

“Oh, there you two are,” Florence said, approaching the two of you. “Is everything okay?” she asked as she could tell something had happened while she was gone.

“Yeah, mum. Everything’s good,” Aaron said, as he held you tightly.

Florence looked at you confused, but you just muttered a ‘later’ under your breath and she understood.

“Okay, who’s hungry?” you said, snapping the two greeneyed out of their thoughts.

[…]

The moment her loud crying filled your ears you swear your heart stopped beating for an entire minute.

You felt all types of emotions all at once, happiness, anxiety, love, worry, joy, fear, devotion. It felt as if you were finally complete. And then when you got to hold your babygirl, with Florence and Aaron right beside you, you finally felt at home.

“Oh, I’m so glad she has your nose,” was the first thing that came out of your lips, making the two green eyed chuckled.

“I hope she doesn’t have your bad temper,” Florence mumbled.

“Or her bad jokes,” Aaron added.

“Hey! Knock it off, you two,” you meant to sound hurt, but you were filled with happiness that it was impossible for you to feel some other way.

“Can I hold her?” Aaron shyly asked.

“Of course, buddy,” you smiled at him.

He got comfortable in his chair and you gently placed his baby sister in his arms. Aaron gently brushed his index finger through her tiny hand, and you watched as Florence's eyes began to get watery.

“She opened her eyes,” Aaron gasped.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but ugh…” he scoffed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you scoffed back at him, getting closer to him and watching your baby girl over his shoulder.

“She has your eyes,” he mumbled, annoyed, playfully rolling his eyes at you, making Florence giggled.

“How dare you, little man?” you wiped a fake tear from your eye.

You watched closer, it was true. She did have your eyes, same shape, same shade as yours. And you couldn't help but smile at that, fighting back the tears, because you promised yourself that you wouldn't be one of those corny people who cried just by looking at their babies. But there you were, almost sobbing just by looking at her in Aaron’s arms.

You watched as he began to baby talk to his sister and a smile formed on your face, biting your bottom lip to stop it from trembling.

“We did good, didn’t we?” you whispered to a sleepy Florence, getting back to her side.

“We did great,” she smiled back.

“Why don’t you get some rest, my love?” you left a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Yeah…” she yawed. “I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you even more. Now, get some rest. We’ll be here when you’ll wake up,” you said as she drifted off to sleep.

A smile formed on Florence’s lips as she realised how lucky she was, and how grateful she was for the three of you. She swore she could have melted right there, in that hospital room, surrounded by the people she loved the most on earth.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M