#this is something i've been meaning to put into words for a while
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It Takes Two
Robert had hit the jackpot with Liam. They just clicked in a way that he never had with any of his previous partners, or honestly, even his friends and family. Robert wasn't a particularly romantic person, but the word “soulmate” had cropped up in his thoughts more than once.
The two had the same humour, enough shared hobbies that they could always find something to do together, but were different enough that they were constantly introducing each other to new films, music, and ideas. It helped that they were both gorgeous. Liam was a little shorter than average with the trim build of a swimmer, and his sparkling blue eyes stood out below ash blond hair; Robert was taller and bulkier, but no less fit, and with dark hair and eyes. They both had great careers, great families, great friends, great lives. Robert couldn't imagine anything that could put a dent in the trajectory of their perfect relationship.
“Sorry, you want what?” Robert said, blinking. He couldn't believe his ears.
“I want us both to gain weight,” Liam said, breathing slowly and shakily as if to calm himself.
“Like bulking?” Robert asked slowly, grasping for an explanation that made sense. “At the gym?”
Liam exhaled forcefully and sat back. “No,” he said. “I want… I want to be fat. I'd like it if you were too.”
Robert sat in silence for a while. “Right,” he said after a while. “Okay.” He furrowed his brow. “Sorry, you're going to have to- why? I just don’t- why?”
“It's a uh…” Liam closed his eyes forcefully, balled his fists, clenched his teeth. “Well it's a sex thing,” he forced out. “I have a fat fetish.” He nervously played with the napkin in front of him and looked around the restaurant. “Like, we wouldn't have to, you know, I'm not saying I'd really want us to actually gain weight.” He laughed nervously. “But I just, I don't know, like it's a thing for me and I wanted you to know and umm well.” He took a sip of the beer in front of him. “I'd like it if we could do some stuff with it. Just, you know, roleplay or whatever, not obviously, like get fat or anything.”
The two men sat in silence for a while. “Okay,” Robert said after a while. “That's umm… well it's okay, I guess.”
“Yeah?” Liam said, sitting up in his chair and smiling for the first time in the conversation. “It’s okay? You don't think I'm a freak?”
Robert forced a thin smile. “Yeah,” he said. “I mean no, you're not a freak, but yeah, it's okay. I uhh, I think I'll need to think about it for a while.”
“Is everything okay for you both?” their waitress boomed down at the two of them in a thick Mancunian accent. They both jumped in their seats. “Sorry!” she continued. “Didn't mean to scare you!”
Robert shook his head. “Sorry, no, it's fine, we were just in the middle of umm… Yeah. It's good. The food’s all good.” He looked down at the half eaten burger and chips in front of him.
The waitress raised her eyebrows, clearly excited to tell her colleagues about the hot gay couple who seemed to be breaking up over dinner. “You call me if you need anything then, won't you?” she said as she walked away.
“I'm sorry,” Liam said. “This is a lot to just put on you, it’s weird. I just thought maybe over a meal might be easier, you know. Not as intense.”
Robert shook his head. “It's fine, really, I just need to…” He looked at the platter of sides that Liam had insisted on ordering. He'd found it odd at the time; now he found it made all too much sense. “I just need to get my head around it. Let's eat, yeah? We can talk about it in the morning?”
For the first time since they first met, their conversation was forced. They bounced between what they thought of recent movies they'd watched, banal work gossip, even at one point resorting to commenting on the weather. Slowly, the food disappeared from the table.
-
Robert woke Liam up by putting a mug of coffee on his bedside table and kissing his forehead. “Okay.”
Liam opened one bleary eye. “Okay?”
“Okay,” Robert repeated. “I've been thinking about it, and okay. If it'll make you happy, we can try out putting on some weight.” He sat down on the bed next to Liam.
“What?” Liam said, frantically sitting up in bed, all tiredness leaving his face immediately. “You're really- I mean, we don't actually- I'd be happy if we just did some roleplay, or maybe, I don't know, maybe a threesome with a big guy or-”
“No you wouldn't,” Robert said. “I saw you last night. You started off with saying you wanted us to get fat, then backtracked. This will make you happy.” He took a long swig of his own coffee. “And you make me happy. So I guess that I'll do it.”
“Rob, this is a really big… I mean…. Why are you okay with this? This is weird, I do know that.”
Robert shrugged and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I don't know if it is that weird, you know?” he said. “I mean, yes, obviously the specific, you know, request of it all is weird but…” He brought some photos and showed them to Liam. He swiped through men with varying degrees of dad bods, plus sized models, even some men with actual, if modest, guts. “People are into it, I guess? Like I know that. And I'm not averse to it, some of these guys are hot and I always like it when guys do bulks and…” He shrugged again and put his phone away. “I guess it would be nice to not worry about going to the gym and watching what we’re eating and stuff for a while.”
Liam hugged Robert tightly and kissed him. “This is amazing. You're amazing.”
Robert laughed. “Alright, alright. You’re going to owe me a lot of blowjobs for this though,” he joked.
“Oh don't you worry,” Liam flirted back. “Once you’ve put on a couple of stone you won’t be able to keep me off you.”
Robert’s face paled, but he gave a strained smile. “Come on,” he said, standing up off the bed. “I’ve been to the shops.” He swallowed nervously. “I thought we could have bacon and egg sandwiches for breakfast.”
-
Getting fat, Robert thought to himself a month later, was actually pretty fun. No more bothering with cardio at the gym, eating whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Food just tasted so much better if you stopped caring about how much butter you were adding, and he'd never realised how good McDonald's breakfasts were, but now was having multiple a week on his days in the office; this past week he'd even started experimenting with fast food for lunch, a luxury he'd always previously avoided. There were benefits he'd not expected as well; he’d hit multiple personal bests on lifts at the gym as all the extra food acted as fuel, and he's quickly come to enjoy the satisfying warmth of an overly full and stretched out stomach. Best of all, Liam’s sexual appetite, always healthy, had positively exploded, and the two spent most of their time together naked and eating.
Of course, not everything was rosy. Robert found it disconcerting how quickly his abs had faded and how his trousers had started pinching his sides and he would occasionally panic after they'd gorged on a particularly large meal, staring at the small curve of his gut in the mirror as he wondered what he'd agreed to. Still, he reasoned, it wasn't really noticeable yet, especially with clothes on and it really was fun just cutting loose. Besides, it made Liam happy, and Robert was quickly realising that that was all that really mattered to him. Everyone gains a bit of weight in relationships anyway.
“Best start laying off the beers Robby,” Robert’s brother Dylan said, poking the small puddle of fat at his middle. “You're starting to look like me.” He slapped his own beer belly, grown since the birth of his daughter a couple of years before.
Robert choked on his beer. “What?” he said. His hand flew down to his side, feeling the thin layer of fat that had started to accumulate. He was sure that you couldn't see the gained weight through his clothes. “No, I haven't, umm…”
“Ah, I'm only taking the piss,” Dylan said, slapping Robert on the shoulder before draining his pint. “I'm hardly one to talk, am I?” He gestured down at himself. “I'm just saying, our genetics, it'll catch up to you sooner or later. You've seen dad.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Here, I saw him last week, he said he was seventeen bloody stone. I said bloody hell dad, you'll need to reinforce these chairs soon.” Robert laughed through a forced smile. “Anyway, speaking of taking the piss,” Dylan said standing up and walking to the gents.
Robert took the opportunity to survey his body. Perhaps, he thought, you could just about start to tell - sitting down anyway. His shirt fit just a tiny bit tighter than he was used to, and his torso wasn't quite as flat. He thought back to what his brother said. Would Liam want him to get as big as his dad? Seventeen stone. He tried to imagine that much weight on him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, he reasoned, he had a good base of muscle, he wouldn't look gone to seed like his dad, with his beer gut that strained all his shirts. Still, he resolved to cut back. Liam seemed happy enough with his current size, anyway.
Four hours later, Robert stumbled through his front door, chips, cheese and gravy in hand, sauce from his already devoured kebab down his shirt. He found Liam watching a film in the living room.
“Hello sexy,” Robert growled through a mouthful of cheesy chips. His cock hardened as he flopped down next to his boyfriend and began to feel up his thighs.
“Hello sexy to you too,” Liam laughed. “Did you get any for me?” he asked as he stole a chip.
Robert shook his head and pushed some more chips in his mouth. “Sorry, didn't think,” he said. “Was just really hungry.”
“That's okay,” Liam said with a smile growing alongside his erection. “You get nice and filled up.” He squeezed Robert’s middle. “I'm loving this beer bloat you've got going on,” he growled. He leaned in and kissed Robert’s neck while one hand began unbuttoning Robert’s jeans. “Did you have a good time with Dylan?”
Robert sighed as his jeans sprung open. “He said I'm getting fat,” he told Liam. His hand fell on top of Liam's as it massaged his gut. “Do you think I’m getting fat?”
Liam laughed. “Oh don't you worry about that,” he said. “You're nowhere near what I’d call fat yet.” Robert smiled before belching. Liam scrunched his nose against the smell of his breath, strong with beer. He leaned in and kissed Robert, hard and long. “How about we take those chips to the bedroom, big boy?”
-
Robert turned to the side as he looked in the mirror and sucked in. He tried to tell himself that he didn't look fat per se, but god was that getting more and more difficult. He was running out of euphemisms for his changing body; for a while he’d told himself he was looking solid, then healthy, then sturdy, burly, and husky and now he had to admit that thick was the best he could hope for. Hell, even chubby might be underselling it. He stopped sucking in and let his gut pool out, sticking out past the waistband of his new 36” waist trousers. He thought ruefully about the 38s lying in the drawer that Liam had convinced him to buy, telling him he'd be wearing them sooner rather than later. He brought his arm up and flexed. At least his muscles were growing too, but he had to admit, it was becoming less apparent as they got covered up with a layer of chub.
At least he wasn't alone in his changing body, with Liam also growing alongside him, although not nearly as fast. While Robert had recently passed two hundred and twenty pounds, Liam was lamenting how he was still fifteen pounds away from the big two-oh-oh. Robert told himself that it was just the difference in their heights, but he knew he wasn't really that much taller, and the difference in their weights really was becoming obvious. While Liam’s pudge had only just started forming a proper belly over the last five pounds, Robert’s own gut had long since reached the point of stretching out his shirts.
In a perverse way, Robert was almost beginning to enjoy how much fatter he was getting than Liam. He'd always been taller and bulkier than his boyfriend, with broader shoulders and bigger muscles, and odd as it was, he was enjoying how he was now outgrowing him in yet another way. He began to feel more masculine, more dominant, and he loved the way his new body made the smaller man go crazy and want to worship him, all while knowing that Liam would give anything to look like he did now. He'd always had a competitive streak, and this was just yet another competition to win.
Robert struggled to button up a shirt, and gritted his teeth as he felt the buttons strain around his shirt, even as his cock inexplicably swelled in his jeans. He walked downstairs and tried to ignore the sensation of his body shaking with each step to find Liam checking his hair in the mirror.
“You ready to go?” Robert asked.
Liam looked up smiling, only for his mouth to fall open upon seeing Robert. “Fuck Rob, you look massive.” He reached out to grab the bottom of Robert’s gut and gave it a small shake. “Are you sure you don't want to wear a large? It's a bit tight. There'll be loads of people there.”
Robert shrugged, the motion causing his shirt to ride up. He tugged at the hem awkwardly. “This is a large,” he explained. “I’ll need to go shopping for some extra larges this week.”
“Oh wow,” Liam whispered. “Extra large, that's, wow.” He tugged at the hem of his own shirt in a mirror of Robert’s motion. Despite being a medium, Robert knew, the shirt was barely snug. Robert struggled to hide a smug smirk, even as his annoyance at his shrinking clothes mounted.
“Well you'll be wearing this shirt soon enough, eh?” Robert said before giving Liam a kiss on the cheek. “And then we can share extra larges once you catch up.”
Liam smiled sadly. “Yeah, maybe.” His phone buzzed and he looked down at it. “Taxi’s here,” he said. “You got everything?”
Robert nodded an affirmative, before dashing to the kitchen and grabbing a couple of chocolate bars for the road.
“God did you see their faces?” Liam asked as they came back that night. His face was flushed with drink and arousal. “They couldn't believe how fat we'd gotten!”
Robert burped into his fist and began to unbutton his shirt and trousers. He gave a sigh of relief as his unconstrained belly was allowed to surge forward. Liam stared at the spectacle for a second before hurriedly mimicking the motion, despite his own clothes not being nearly so restrictive.
“Good food,” Robert said simply. His cock was rock hard, as it was more and more frequently whenever he'd stuffed himself, as he had tonight. He let out another belch.
“You ate so much,” Liam said, almost reverently. “When you went to the toilet, Olive asked if everything was okay. They're properly worried about how much weight we've gained.”
Robert gave a lopsided grin. He was sure they were mainly concerned about him, and not Liam, especially as he'd ended up finishing so many people's meals at the end of the night while Liam struggled to finish his own plate. He reached into his pants and gave his hard cock a squeeze. “You know,” he whispered to Liam, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “There's a tub of ice cream in the freezer. Maybe you could, you know, while I ate it?”
Liam's eyes widened. “You're still hungry? Oh wow. Yeah, yeah, absolutely, I mean, wow.” His smile widened and his hands explored the sides of Robert’s gut.
“Go on then,” Robert said with a small nod of his head towards the kitchen. “I'll be upstairs.”
“Oh, right, yeah. Of course, I'll just go and, yeah.” Liam dashed off towards the kitchen as Robert trudged upstairs, massaging his bloated middle.
Liam entered the bedroom to find Robert sat on the edge of the bed completely naked, with his legs spread wide to expose his thick, hard cock.
“I microwaved it for a bit,” Liam said. “So it's easier to eat."
Robert merely grunted and spread his legs wider in response as he took the tub away from Liam, making his wants clear. Liam sank down before him and dutifully swallowed as much of his prick as he could. Robert grabbed the spoon embedded in the ice cream, and sucked what was on there before tossing it to the side. Instead he simply raised the tub to his lips and began to chug. He threw his head back and closed his eyes, relishing in the twin pleasures of head and dessert.
Okay, he thought, yes, he'd lost his hot gym body he’d worked so hard for, but god, if this is what the alternative was, who gave a shit? What did he want to work out for anyway? He was in a great relationship, getting treated like a king, so it's not like he needed to attract anyone. And besides, his brother was right, with his genetics it was always going to be a losing battle. No, it was best to just lie back, taste the ice cream, and think of England.
He climaxed just as he finished the ice cream. “Thanks babe,” he grunted. “That was great.”
“That was really hot,” Liam enthused, unbuckling his belt and dropping his own trousers.
“Anything to make you happy,” Robert said as he crawled into bed and began scrolling on his phone.
“Oh. Right,” Liam said. “Yeah.” He crawled into bed next to Robert.
-
Robert burped as he brought the carton of heavy cream away from his lips. The taste was greasy and unpleasant, but he thrilled at the thought of how many calories he'd just chugged, and all before dinner.
“What are you doing?” Liam asked. “We’re leaving in a moment, you still need to get changed.”
“Just topping up the tank,” Robert grinned. He pushed his gut out to make a show of it. “What's wrong with what I'm wearing?”
Liam looked at his watch. “We’re eating in half an hour Rob,” he said. “And that shirt’s ridiculous, it's barely buttoned.”
Robert smirked and moved in close, grabbing Liam's love handles and grinding their soft bodies together. “Don't worry babes,” he said. “I'm just getting warmed up. Hey,” he added in a whisper. “I'll even let you feed me dessert later.”
Liam broke away and stepped back. “I'm being serious Rob,” he said, struggling to hide his erection. “You can't wear that shirt. Go find an extra large.”
Robert drummed his fingers against his gut. “All in the wash,” he said smugly. “Come on, don't act like this doesn't drive you wild.” He fingered his belly button through one of the gaping buttons holes. “Two-fifty pounds, eh? Did you ever imagine I'd get so big for you when you asked me to get fat for you?” He reached down and gripped Liam’s cock through his trousers. Liam whimpered involuntarily. “Did I tell you that I'm fatter than Dylan now? Dad too. Biggest guy in the family now, sounds pretty good, doesn't it?”
Liam stepped back away from Robert’s grasp. “Just put on a jumper or something,” he said. He rearranged his erection. “The one you got a couple of weeks ago will work.” Robert stepped closer again and he stepped back. “Please Rob,” he said. “It is hot how big you're getting, and I'm glad you're starting to get something out of it too, but not in front of my family, yeah?”
“I'm just joking!” Robert said. “I know I can't wear this out in public anymore. I'll go sort it now.”
“Thank you,” Liam said.
As Robert left he smacked the side of his gut. “All for you baby!”
Robert returned shortly after, his jumper managing to cover his body but doing nothing to disguise his expanded girth.
“I didn't ask you to get fat,” Liam said, sitting at the kitchen table.
Robert laughed. “What?” he asked.
“Earlier,” Liam said. “You said I'd asked you to get fat.”
“Did I? Well, you did, didn't you! Otherwise I have made a very big error of judgement.” He lifted his jumper to reveal the still straining shirt.
“No, I mean, I know I did ask you to get fat, obviously,” Liam said. “It's just. I didn’t say that. I said I'd like us both to get fat. Together. I feel like that's not been a thing for a while.”
Robert stepped closer to Liam and rubbed his buttery side. “You're getting fat too,” he said. He almost laughed at the ridiculousness of comforting someone about how they were gaining weight. “Here, you hit two hundred pounds finally, right? That's great! I'm really proud of you.” He kissed bent down to kiss Liam. “You're my chubby guy too. It's just that this is your thing I guess, so I don't know how to do all the encouragement stuff you do for me. I just want to make you happy, and I guess I got a little carried away.”
Liam shook his head. “No, I know,” he said. “I'm just being silly. I do really appreciate what you've done.” He laughed. “You know, I just kind of thought you'd put on twenty pounds and then get freaked out. I actually thought I'd end up being the fatter one.”
Robert kissed Liam again. “Funny to think about that now, eh? Here, we've still got five minutes before we need to leave,” he said. “There's another thing of cream in the fridge. Why don't I feed it to you before we go?” He leant in and whispered in Liam's ear. “I think you'll really love how two hundred and fifty pounds feels.”
Liam pulled a face and laughed. “No way,” he said. “I don't know how you chug them, it's absolutely gross.”
Robert shrugged. “Your loss is my gain. Why don't you have some chocolate or something then?” He opened the fridge and licked his lips as he looked. “You know, if you don't want it, maybe you could feed it to me? Maybe we could see if I could break my record for number of calories today?”
Liam forced a smile. “Yeah, if you want,” he said. “Sounds hot.”
Robert grinned as he passed the cream to Liam and sat down and tilted his head back to allow him to pour it down his throat. “The things I do for you, eh?”
-
Robert lifted up his t-shirt as he scratched his side. His most recent stretch marks were particularly aggravating, a fact which wasn't helped by the fact that he was just on the cusp of needing to size up his t-shirts and sweatpants, the too tight fabric irritating the more sensitive skin.
“What's for dinner babe?” he asked Liam as he walked into the kitchen. Liam was clearing away the remnants of Robert’s lunch, a small pile of McDonald’s wrappers and boxes.
Liam's eyes flicked up and down Robert’s body before turning away. “Roast lamb,” he answered. “I thought we'd have something a bit special, since I reached fifteen stone yesterday.”
“Oh yeah?” Robert asked with a smile. He reached out and patted Liam's small paunch. “That's amazing, well done!” He hoped the milestone might work to undo some of the tension that had developed between them ever since Robert had passed two hundred and fifty pounds, almost thirty pounds ago now. Robert sometimes almost forgot that Liam was trying to gain at all, such was the disparity in their rates of weight gain.
“Yeah, I did actually tell you yesterday,” Liam said icily.
“Oh sorry!” Robert said, as he opened a cupboard and pulled out a pack of biscuits. “I must have forgotten.” He began to eat the biscuits three at a time.
“Yeah, well, you were eating, so…” Liam muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, you said something,” Robert insisted.
Liam shrugged. “I said that you were eating,” he repeated. “So it's not surprising that you didn't pay any attention to me.”
“Where's this come from?” Robert asked, incredulous. Biscuit crumbs showered from his mouth as he spoke.
“Where's it… How about the last two years of you doing nothing but eating all the time, only caring about yourself?” Liam snapped.
“Excuse me?” Robert said. “Can I remind you that all of this,” he gestured down at his body, his soft overhang hanging out the bottom of his shirt, the way his sides bulged out, the outline of his tits pushing out and down, the beard he'd grown to hide his double chin, “is because you wanted it?”
“Oh, don't put this on me!” Liam replied. “You want this.”
“You're the one with the fat fetish!” Robert pointed out. “I’m just going along for the ride because I love you!”
Liam rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah?” he asked. “Well when was the last time I encouraged you then, if you're just doing it for me?”
“Yeah, actually!” Robert retorted. “I'm doing this for you and when was the last time you encou-”
“More to the point!” Liam interrupted. “When have you ever, ever, encouraged me?”
“What?” Robert asked, blinking. The question had genuinely thrown him.
“This was supposed to be about me!” Liam snapped. His voice shook a little. “I was the one who asked you to do it and at every fucking stage you've used it as an opportunity for me to wait on you hand and foot.”
“Oh, I've not done anything for you have I?” Robert grabbed the side of his gut and shook it. “Me gaining over a hundred pounds, just because you asked me to, doesn't count as me doing anything, does it?” A heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the sound of Robert forcing biscuits into his mouth. “I knew you were jealous,” Robert muttered eventually, crumbs spraying from his mouth.
“I am not fucking jealous of you,” Liam fumed. “How dare you? Fucking jealous.”
“Yeah, you know what?” Robert said. “That's exactly what this is. You wanted to get fat and you can't stand how much bigger I am than you.”
“Can you hear yourself?” Liam scoffed. “And you act like you don't want this at all.” He turned away and began to pull food from the fridge to make dinner. “No, what I wanted was for us to gain weight together. You had to take it all way too far.”
“I took it too far?” Robert asked.
“Yes,” Liam replied. “Yeah, you know what, you did take it too far.” He spun around and gestured down at his body. “I'm quite happy with where I am. I wanted us both to get dad bods, hot ex-jock vibes. Not obese middle aged dad.”
Robert’s face grew red. “That’s a lie and you know it,” he spat. “You still worship this gut every chance you get.”
Liam’s nostrils flared. He turned away, back to the chopping board, and busied himself with vegetables for a minute. Robert could hear him trying to slow his breathing. Eventually, he turned back around. “I just think we should both slow down,” he said. His voice was measured, slow and calm. His fists were clenched and shaking with white knuckles. “We've both,” he put special emphasis on the word, “maybe taken this too far, and it's probably best if we both take a break from the idea of gaining for a bit.”
“Yeah, why don't you slow down your gains,” Robert mumbled.
“What was that?”
Robert bit his tongue. He was being offered an opportunity to end this argument. “Yeah, you're probably right,” he agreed. “Whatever makes you happy. It was your idea after all. If you want to stop, no reason to carry on.” He shoved a fistful of biscuits into his mouth.
“Yeah, right, well,” Liam said. He sighed and turned back towards the food he was preparing. “Why don't you go watch something? I'll call you when dinner's ready. It'll be a while.”
Robert shrugged. “Sure,” he agreed.
“And Robert?” Liam called just as he'd left the room.
“Yeah?” Robert replied.
“Why don't you set up the spare room for tonight,” Liam said. “Your snoring’s gotten really bad the past twenty pounds or so, and I need to be up early.”
Robert hesitated for a moment. “Yeah, can do.”
-
“”What the fuck is this?” Liam sighed. Robert couldn't help but admire the way his partner's newly blossomed love handles were framed by the hallway light behind him. He felt oddly proud of his boyfriend's recent weight gain, even as it paled against his own.
“I uh… well,” Robert began. He looked down at himself in the light streaming in from the door. Clad only in too tight underwear, crumbs had fallen down to litter his body hair. His fingers were thick with chocolate icing where he'd dug them into the cake in front of him, and he knew that it must be all around his mouth as well. “I got hungry,” he finished lamely.
Liam entered the dark kitchen and sat in a chair opposite Robert. “Dinner was plenty,” he said. “I was full.”
“Yeah, well, I'm bigger than you, aren't I?” Robert pointed out. “I can't help it if I get hungry, can I?”
Liam shrugged. “I guess, yeah,” he said. “Could you help buying a-” he picked up the packaging and peered at it in the dim light. “Party-sized triple chocolate fudge birthday cake, serves twenty, I'm assuming earlier today?” he asked. “Because this didn't magically appear in the kitchen. Could you help hiding it? And suggesting that you sleep in the spare room so I wouldn't notice when you snuck downstairs?”
Robert slumped in his chair. The wood groaned in protest. “I am trying,” he said after a while.
Liam sighed and put his head in his hands. “I know this isn't the first time this week,” he said. “I know that it's at least two or three nights most weeks, and if it's not,” he gestured at the mess of chocolate on the table and on Robert, “this, you sneak out and go to a drive through.”
The kitchen was silent for a while.
“We said we'd both stop gaining,” Liam said eventually. “We said we'd try and lose weight.”
“You've put on weight too,” Robert said. He felt like a child arguing about missing out on play time. He couldn't stop thinking about the rest of the cake in front of him. He wanted to lick the chocolate off his fingers.
“I've put on fifteen, maybe twenty pounds,” Liam said. “I'm not saying I've been great,” he admitted. “But I've cut down. That's not crazy for a year.” He paused for a while. “How much do you think you've put on?” he asked.
Robert shrugged. “Yeah, probably the same,” he said. He could feel his cheeks redden, and hoped it was dark enough that Liam couldn't see. “It's not like I weigh myself very often.”
Liam put his face in his hands and leant on the table. “I found your grommr account,” he said.
Robert squirmed in his seat. “Well what were you doing on grommr then?” He winced even as he said it.
“I've got a fat fetish,” Liam replied. “What are you doing on there?” When he got no reply, he continued. “It said you're three hundred and forty pounds.” He picked up a small fragment of the leftover destroyed cake and ate it slowly. “Is that right?”
“I guess,” Robert said.
“I don't think this is working,” Liam said.
“I know,” Robert said. “I'll do better. I'll try and lose some weight, I know I've taken it too far now, I’ll join a gym and-”
“No,” Liam cut him off. “I don't think this is working. Us. I think… I think we should break up.”
-
“You okay buddy?” Dylan asked.
Robert shrugged and took a swig of his beer. He belched. “Why wouldn't I be okay?”
Dylan sighed. “Rob, I… I mean look at yourself. This isn't okay.”
Robert scratched his beard. He'd maybe let it grow a bit too long, and he'd not had a chance to buy any clothes that fit in the past couple of months, but what was he supposed to do? He'd been busy, and it's not like he could just walk into shops and pick up his size anymore. “It's just work and stuff,” he said. “And with the move, my appearance hasn't been my top priority.”
“Yep, and I completely get that,” Dylan placated. His voice was bright and soft and his hands were spread open like he'd presumably heard in some how to handle difficult conversations podcast. “But I don't think we’re talking about just your appearance here. You have… fuck me Rob, you've gotten really fucking big.”
Robert scratched his gut and tried to pull his t-shirt down. “It's just the break-up,” he said. “And you've said it before, we've got shit genetics for getting fat.”
“Look, I'm not trying to have a go,” Dylan said. He slapped his own gut. “I'll be the first to admit that I'm not exactly in my prime. I don't think I've been to the gym since Livy’s been born, probably not great. Shit happens, and I get that the break-up hasn't helped, and work, and yep, absolutely, we did not win the genetic lottery in our family for twenty-eight inch waists but… I mean this isn't exactly the break-up, is it? It's been going on a lot longer than that, but at least, fuck, at least I used to think you were happy with it. Happy with Li-” Robert shot him a dirty glare. “Well, whatever, happy, anyway.”
“Who says I'm not happy?” Robert asked. He drained his beer bottle and stood to get another. When he returned he collapsed back into his seat and Dylan winced. “Yeah, I put on relationship weight with Liam too, but that wasn't, you know, that wasn't anything to do with… We just weren't, I don't know, compatible anymore. I know I'm fat, I know I’m stressed, and that I've been doing better, but I'm fine. You can drop it.”
“Look, let's…” Dylan looked around the room as if searching for something to help him. “I weighed myself the other day, eighteen stone. Not proud to be fatter than dad these days, but you know, there it is. How much are you weighing?” He looked Robert up and down. “Over twenty stone?” He hesitated. “Twenty-five?” He said it as if he couldn't believe anyone could weigh so much.
Robert shrugged. “Twenty-seven maybe.” He actually thought it might be a bit more.
“Jesus fucking Christ Robby,” Dylan exclaimed. “No, sorry, I don't mean- that's not, you know, it's fine, bodies come in all different- but fucking hell Rob that's… Twenty seven stone!” he cried. “That's not just relationship weight, is it? That's not break-up weight or stress weight or shit genetics that’s…” He took a deep breath and clasped his knee. “Do you like it?”
Robert stared at him. “Like what?”
“Look, no judgement,” Dylan said. “Vanessa says she likes, you know,” he shook his own gut for emphasis. “The belly. She even feeds me up a bit sometimes, I think, and I'm not exactly turning down bigger portions. I know it's a thing. I even get it a bit. But, I mean Rob. You can tell me.” He reached out and grasped Robert's knee. “Is it intentional? Even just a little bit? At least if, fuck, if I knew you were doing it on purpose, that you liked how fucking big you'd gotten I could… I could stop worrying about you fucking losing it. Like, I'm going to worry about your heart giving way, yeah, fine, but I can't be dealing with worrying about you being depressed or needing help and… And if something happened and I'd not done anything. Not after mum.” He started fidgeting with his collar, a nervous habit he'd had since school.
“Yeah,” Robert said quietly. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I'm into it. It's been, you know, on purpose. Mostly. You don't have to worry about that stuff. I'm not going to, you know.”
“Thank fuck,” Dylan sighed. “I mean, not thank fuck. It's still pretty fucking weird if I'm being honest, but I'm glad that you're, I don't know, not happy I guess, I know you've got other, whatever. I'm glad this isn't some insane compulsive episode or… I mean I've been imagining loads of stuff.” He downed his beer and breathed shakily. “So Liam was into it too? That's how you two met? Some freaky gay kink club?”
“What? No. Fuck off,” Robert said laughing. “Liam was into it, yeah, but he uhh, well he actually introduced me to it. I went along with it for a bit and then… I don't know, at some point I started liking it.”
Dylan nodded. “I get it. Like, I know I'm not supposed to be liking how fat I've gotten but there's something about it, I guess,” he said. “So what happened with you and Liam? You realised you only had the fat thing in common?”
Robert sighed. “No, we were… fuck. We were fairly perfect for each other. He got, I don't know, jealous about how big I was…” He took a drink and closed his eyes. “No. It wasn't just him. I turned into a knobhead about it.”
“Turned into a knobhead?” Dylan asked with a laugh.
“Oh fuck off,” Robert said. “I got, I don't know. There was a lot going on. I felt like I was doing this huge thing for him, but then I started to like it, and… At some point I managed to make it all about me. And if I pretended I still didn't like it I could still make out I was making this noble sacrifice, but really I was just completely ignoring him. And I think, you know, he did get pretty jealous at one point, but I didn't help. Made it into this weird competition.”
“Well you've got me beat at least,” Dylan said. He reached over to pat Robert's arm. “Here, I've got to go to town tomorrow. I'm not exactly fitting into my work shirts myself these days, how about we go together? Get you some stuff that actually covers that gut.”
“Fuck off,” Robert said, laughing.
“No, I'm serious, Vanessa's actually said she won't let you back round if you're not covered up again,” Dylan said. “You're scaring Livy. And the dog. Come on, we’ll make a day of it.”
“You do know I can't exactly just pop into Marks and Sparks and pick up a jumper, don't you? Most places stop at three XL if you're lucky.”
“No, come on,” Dylan insisted. “There's that plus size place in the Arndale, and Go Outdoors has a sale on, they'll have a tent that'll fit you.”
“Oh fuck off!” Robert laughed. “Yeah, go on then, I'll come along.” He drained his beer bottle. “Thanks, Dyl. Seriously. This has been… It's been good.”
Dylan shrugged. “What am I here for, eh? I'm just sorry I didn't mention it ten fucking stone ago.”
-
Robert huffed as he found his seat and squeezed himself into it. He hated how cinemas made you pay extra for supposedly premium seats, only for them to still not be big enough. He settled himself in, sorting his collection of drinks and snacks.
“Robert? Is that you?” Robert looked up to see a man significantly smaller than him, but still undeniably fat.
“Liam?” he replied.
“Oh god,” Liam said. “I’ll find another seat, don't worry, it doesn't matter.”
Robert patted the seat next to him. “Don't be silly,” he insisted. “It'll be nice to catch up during the trailers. Besides,” he looked around at the rapidly filling seats around them. “It's the opening weekend of Paddington vs Barbie 2: Paddington's Revenge, I'm not sure there’ll be any spare seats to move to.”
Liam looked around, sighed and sat down.
“You here with anyone?” Robert asked.
Liam shook his head. “The first one went right over my head the first time I watched it, I decided to come without any distractions.”
“Same,” Robert agreed. “And after it won all those Oscars I knew I should come see this one quick before anyone spoiled it for me.” He surveyed Liam for a bit. “How've you been, anyway?”
Liam smiled. “Good, yeah. Lots of the same, you know,” he said. “Not much to report.” He hesitated for a moment. “Still very much on the gain train.”
“I noticed!” Robert laughed. He reached over and poked Liam's gut where it spilled out over his belt. “How much are you clocking in at these days?”
“Two-seventy,” he said proudly. “I'm wanting to put a bit of a push on before Christmas, get over twenty stone, maybe.”
“Nice!” Robert said, slapping Liam's side. “Well, it suits you. Always did.”
“How about you?” Liam asked. “I noticed you've lost all the weight I forced onto you.”
Robert laughed and shook his own gut that spilled out towards his knees. “Yeah, I couldn't stand it, you know, who'd be fat?” he joked. “I'm about four-seventy, maybe four-eighty these days.”
Liam whistled. “Wow,” he said. “That's incredible. Like, I thought I was fat but you're another two hundred pounds on top of that.”
“You are fat,” Robert said warmly. “I'm just a lot fatter.”
“A whole decently chubby person fatter, in fact,” Liam pointed out.
“I like that,” Robert said laughing; his whole body shook with the action. “You know, I eventually admitted to myself that I probably am a gainer after all.”
“Probably a gainer, wow,” Liam said. “That must have been a difficult conclusion to come to.” He put a finger underneath one of Robert’s moobs and lifted it before letting it drop and watching the ripples spread across the larger man's body.
“Yeah, well, you know, a pretty great guy introduced me to the whole thing,” Robert said.
Liam smiled sadly. “So have you been seeing anyone or…?”
“Not really,” Robert replied. “I meet up with some feeders occasionally but, they're not, you know. It's not the same.”
“No, I know what you mean,” Liam agreed.
“So are you?” Robert asked. “Seeing anyone or anything?”
Liam shook his head. “Some dates and umm… no. No. Not seeing anyone.”
“I'm sorry,” Robert said. “For everything. For… I got selfish. You were the best thing that ever happened to me and I turned it into this selfish fucking…”
“I'm sorry too,” Liam said. “It wasn't just you. I asked you to do it for me then didn't like it when it turned out you actually enjoyed it, which is pretty fucked up of me. We could have talked about it more. Properly I mean.” He looked around. “Listen, all these people listening in are clearly finding our conversation very fucking weird, and I can't really be bothered with all this art-house stuff anyway. Do you want to just go get something to eat?”
Robert looked down the full row. “Getting out might be a bit of an ordeal. I'm not really built for squeezing past people these days,” he said.
“Sounds hot,” Liam replied. “You in?”
Robert laughed. “Yeah, okay. Dinner sounds nice.”
-
Liam licked the last of the chocolate off of his fingers as Robert lapped up his cum.
“Happy three hundred pounds babes,” Robert said as he leant up.
Liam struggled to sit up. “Your turn now,” he said.
Robert shook his head. “This is your night. Big celebration,” he said. “You don't have to do anything.”
“I want to,” Liam insisted. “Besides, we've got a whole other cake and I’m stuffed.”
“Oh I'll eat the cake,” Robert said. “But you don't have to suck me off.
“You're sure?” Liam asked.
Robert smiled. “It's fine, you take a nap to digest everything, I'll go clean up,” he said. “As long as you're happy, I'm happy.”
#gaining fiction#gainer fiction#weight gain#gainer story#weight gain story#male weight gain#it takes two
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Hi. I love your writings. After I discovered Tumblr and your account... I don't know if I've had any day without coming back here... I had a request.
Bathroom sex with Minghao. It has been going on in my mind all day... Either bathtub or shower.
Even though he's not so masculine like others... I feel like he has an incredible core strength. So maybe putting the reader against the wall? Also if you're comfortable, could you add the reader as someone who's overweight and gets insecure from time to time.
It's like Minghao is comforting them through showing how beautiful they are through intimacy? Feels like something he would do.
Love your writing. Take care
bath sex with minghao
WARNINGS: bath sex, insecurities, praising, nipple sucking, penetrative sex, a tear dropping here or there...
a/n: thank you my love for making me part of your routine 😭🙏 I luv seeing you here, you are soooo sweet!! sorry for making u wait for so long 🥺 love you too, take care of yourself, and drink lots of water plsss
you’d been spiraling about it all damn day. the way minghao’s hands just felt—long fingers brushing your skin in passing, his touch so casual but also so intentional. it stuck to you like a tattoo, made your brain fuzzy. you didn’t even realize it, but the itch of your insecurities had been gnawing at you. maybe it was that girl in line earlier with the perfect ass and the confidence to match, or maybe it was just the mirror, the way it always reflected every single thing you couldn’t fix.
but minghao sees you, actually sees you, and it ruins you every time.
“you’ve been quiet all day,” he says from the bathroom doorway, his head tilted like he’s already piecing you apart, trying to read the shit you don’t say. “what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
you don’t answer right away—can’t, really—because he’s standing there in just his sweatpants, waistband hanging low, hair still damp from his post-workout shower. fucking unreal. and you hate it, the way you almost flinch at the word “pretty,” because yeah, he means it, but your brain won’t let you believe it.
“nothing,” you lie, but your voice cracks. his eyes narrow.
“bullshit.”
you huff, looking anywhere but him. “it’s not a big deal. just—ugh, i don’t know, okay? can we not do this tonight?”
but of course, minghao doesn’t take that. doesn’t let you slip into your head and drown in it. instead, he steps in, closing the door softly behind him, like he’s locking the world out. “you know you can’t bullshit me, baby. talk to me.”
and then he’s right in front of you, hands sliding over your arms, thumbs skimming your skin like he’s earthing you.
you mumble, “i just—i don’t feel good today, okay? like… about myself.”
his brows pull together, and you hate that he looks hurt on your behalf. “y/n,” he says, his voice softer now, “what the hell are you talking about?”
“you wouldn’t get it,” you mutter, but the words catch when he lifts your chin with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze.
“try me.”
and fuck, he’s patient, doesn’t rush you, just waits while his thumbs start rubbing little circles on your hips. finally, you crack. “i just… sometimes it’s hard, okay? i see all these girls who look perfect, and then there’s me. i don’t even know why you—”
“don’t,” he cuts you off, firmly. “don’t finsh it, don’t do that. don’t talk about yourself like that. do you know how fucking beautiful you are? like, actually?”
you laugh, but it’s bitter, because it’s not something you believe. “hao—”
he doesn’t let you finish, leaning in to kiss you, like he’s trying to rewrite whatever nonsense’s looping in your head. his lips move with yours, one hand sliding up your back, the other curling around your waist, and it’s so easy to melt into him, to forget everything else.
“i’m serious,” he murmurs against your mouth. “you’re the most gorgeous person i’ve ever seen. i love every. fucking. inch. of you.”
you want to argue, but then his hands are tugging at your shirt, and the air shifts. he pulls back just enough to look at you. “can i?”
your nod is shaky, he peels your shirt off like it’s a ritual, and when he sees the hesitance in your eyes, he leans in to kiss your shoulder, your collarbone, every patch of skin he uncovers.
he’s backing you up against the shower wall, his breath hot against your neck as he trails kisses down your jaw.
“hao,” you whisper, barely able to get the word out before he’s hooking your legs around his waist, his strength catching you like it’s nothing. “wait, i’m—”
“you’re fucking stunning,” he says, cutting you off, his lips crashing into yours again. “and i’m gonna make sure you never forget it.”
the sound of the water hitting the tile was loud, drowning out every thought in your head except him. minghao was everywhere—hands firm on your thighs, lips pressed to your chest, tongue teasing your nipples until you were squirming. the spray soaked through what little clothing you both had left, making the fabric cling before he shoved his pants and boxers down with one hand, the wet heap hitting the floor with an exaggerated plop.
“didn’t know your pants were that heavy,” you giggled. he smirked before leaning in to kiss you again.
“focus,” he murmured. his hips pressed forward, and you gasped when his cock brushed against your pussy—hard and ready, like it always was when it came to you. it was one of those things that made you feel… better, somehow. like maybe he really did mean all the things he said about how he wanted you, how he needed you. not that you’d ever admit it—god, no, he’d never let you live it down.
you squirmed against him, suddenly hyperaware of how high he had you hoisted. “hao, i—”
“relax,” he interrupted. “i’ve got you.”
“but what if—what if i fall?”
his jaw tensed, his hands tightened on you. “you won’t fall, y/n. do you trust me?”
you nodded, but it wasn’t enough for him. his eyes narrowed. “say it.”
your voice cracked. “i trust you.”
“good,” he said, but there was a shimmer of guilt in his expression when he saw the tears welling in your eyes. his voice softened immediately. “hey, baby—fuck, i’m sorry. didn’t mean to sound so harsh. you’re safe, okay? i promise.”
his lips brushed your cheek, catching the tear that spilled over, and you sniffled, clinging to him tighter. his forehead pressed to yours as he whispered, “you’re safe with me. i swear.”
and then he rolled his hips, sliding into you, and whatever insecurity you’d been holding onto was gone—just gone. all you could feel was him, thick and deep, stretching you until your head spun. he groaned, his breath hitching as he bottomed out. “you feel so fucking good, baby. perfect. perfect.”
your fingers dug into his shoulders, a whimper slipping past your lips as he pulled back and thrust again, deep. the angle made you gasp, made your whole body shake in his arms. “hao,” you choked out, overwhelmed, and he just smiled against your neck.
“that’s it babe,” he murmured, picking up his pace, his hips slapping against yours. “see? i told you, baby. you don’t have to worry about anything. i’ve got you. always.”
his words melted into the steam around you, and soon you weren’t sure if it was water or sweat trailing down your body. he fucked you, his grip on you steady and unrelenting, making it impossible to think about anything but the way he filled you, the way he made you feel like you were his.
“shit—fuck, hao, i’m gonna—”
“i know,” he cut in, his voice thick and breathless, but that smug grin never wavered. “let go for me, baby. you’re so fucking beautiful when you cum. let me see you.”
and when you did—when your body clenched around him and your moan echoed in the steam-filled space—he followed right after, his hips stuttering as he buried himself as deep as he could go. his head fell to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin as he held you close, neither of you caring about the water still raining down around you.
“see?” he said after a moment, pulling back enough to look at you. his smile was soft now, tender. “told you I wouldn’t let you fall.”
#seventeen imagines#seventeen reactions#seventeen x reader#seventeen scenarios#seventeen headcanons#svt imagines#seventeen#seventeen smut#svt smut#minghao smut#minghao fanfic#minghao imagine#minghao x reader#minghao x y/n#minghao x you#minghao x oc#the8 smut#the8 x reader#the8 seventeen#the8 imagines#minghao#xu minghao#svt#minghao seventeen#minghao imagines#minghao reactions#seo myungho
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Rollo Flamme: A Heart's Warmth
Hello ♡ So I've never written for Rollo before, but I got this cute idea for him that I thought would be fun to write. Hopefully you guys like it! Enjoy ♡
Glances and hesitation, walking side by side. The air is cold, yet he feels warm, much too warm as your shoulders brush. He had warned you of the chill coming, weather growing colder as the seasons changed. Yet you didn't listen, neglecting to wear suitable clothes. Where was your winter jacket? Where were your gloves? He should have sent you home, should have told you to come back once you were better dressed. But the way your eyes lit up as you met, coming towards him as if he was something to look forward to… he found the words wouldn't leave his mouth, stuck like his eyes, glued to your features. Do you glance at everyone with that smile, with eyes that shine in adoration?
He turns away when it gets to be too much, unable to meet your stare for long. You were bright, much too bright to linger on, your voice ringing in his ears like chimes. Did you really enjoy his company that much? Speaking to him with such joy, with care meant for those close. Even now he can see you shiver, ill prepared for the day ahead. Was it worth it? Did time with him mean so much?
... He would prefer if you took care of yourself, especially if it involves him, unwilling to allow you to use this outing as excuse. He tells you as much, reminding you to dress appropriately next time, and confirming you had the necessary clothes. If you have gloves, wear them. If you have a winter coat, wear it. You're only going to get sick if you don't... (and that's the last thing he wanted, watching as you tried to hide another shiver).
Your shoulders brush again, causing him to look between you as your hands touch. While he wore gloves, your hands were bare, exposed to the elements. He knew you must have been uncomfortable, the temperature continuing to drop. Perhaps he could... no, he couldn't possibly, shaking his head at the thought. There was no way he could-
And then your hands touch again, shoulders brushing once more as he starts to reconsider. Perhaps he could... his hands starting to shake as he contemplates the idea. With how close you were, he could always make it seem like an accident, waiting until your shoulders brush once more. When the moment doesn't come his eyes narrow in frustration, working up the nerve to put his plan into motion.
"Dress more appropriately next time..." He reminds you again, his hand shaking as it slowly moves closer to yours. When your hands touch he moves away quick, as if burned, before trying again.
"The last thing you need is to get sick." He finishes, turning away as your hands touch once more. You can feel him shake as his pinky moves to hold yours, the warmth of his wool gloves feeling good against your skin. It wasn't much, more of a subtle warmth really, but your chest burned, knowing how much he cared ♡
Hopefully this was good for my first time writing him lol ♡
Thank you! ♡
#♡.sheep writes#♡.twst#♡.rollo flamme#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#rollo flamme#rollo flamme x reader#rollo x reader
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Worth The Risk
Jason Todd x Reader
Masterlist - Join My Taglist!
Written for Fictober 2024!
Fandom: DC
Day Twenty-Eight Prompt: "Just say what you want"
Summary: Jason's teammate has been trying to ask him out for a long time now, but he's always ducked the question before it's officially been asked. Now, it seems he's finally ready to talk about why.
Word Count: 1,955
Category: Fluff, little bit of Angst?
Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.
"I'm telling you, Art, I'm starting to go a little crazy! He'll flirt with me all day long, but the minute I try to turn it into a date or a kiss or even a fucking conversation, he pulls back like he's been shocked!"
I could hear Artemis, one of my best friends, trying to stifle a laugh on the other end of the line. I narrowed my eyes, but didn't call her out on it. I had bigger problems right now, as far as I was concerned.
"Okay, when you say you've tried to turn it into a conversation...?"
"I mean I've gotten as far as 'so, Jason, I've been thinking' before he suddenly has a call coming in from Bruce or an urgent cramp in his leg or a super interesting bird outside the window that he has to go look at right now!"
This time, Artemis didn't bother trying to hold back her laugh. I scowled even though she couldn't see it.
Jason Todd and I had been friends for a while now, working together as vigilantes. We'd hit it off from the first time we met, and our relationship had always been a little flirty. More recently, though, it had felt on the verge of something more. And I wanted that. I liked Jason, a lot, and I wanted to see where we might be able to go, if he was interested too.
Most of the time, it did seem like he was interested. But for whatever reason, he kept pulling a 180 on me and defaulting to more platonic behavior than we'd ever had with each other any time I tried to bring it up. I'd decided to talk to Artemis about it, to see if she could give me any advice or anything, but so far she'd been absolutely no help.
"Alright, Art, I'm glad I've been able to entertain you tonight, but can you please-"
I stopped short at the sound of a knock on my door. I frowned. I hadn't ordered anything, and I wasn't expecting anyone. So who the hell was at my apartment?
"Hey, you still there? You alright?"
I hummed, standing from my seat in the kitchen and heading for the door.
"I'm fine. Somebody just knocked on my door, hold on."
I leaned forward to peer through the peep hole, and to my immense shock, I saw Jason Todd standing on my doormat. After a few moments of stunned silence, I finally managed a few words into the phone.
"Yeah, Art? I think I'm gonna have to call you back."
I hung up without waiting for her reply. I'd owe her an explanation later, but I knew she'd understand. Whatever this was about, it seemed pretty serious. Jason had never once shown up at my civilian residence, despite both knowing each other's identities.
I cleared my throat and stuck my phone in my pocket, trying to get a handle on the nerves that had suddenly exploded in my chest. After a moment, I couldn't stall anymore. I took a deep breath and opened the door to find Jason fidgeting almost as much as I was.
"Hey," I said, giving him a weak smile. "What's... what's up? Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine," Jason said, glancing down and rubbing at the back of his neck. "I just... wanted to talk to you. About something. Didn't want to wait till the next time I saw you on the rooftops, hunting somebody down. I hope that's okay."
"Yeah! Of course, yeah. Come on in."
I took a quick step back from the door, holding it open for Jason and trying not to let him see my nerves. He walked through, but stopped in the entryway between the kitchen and the living room, looking a little lost. All I could do was stare at him for a moment as I shut the door. It was strange to see Jason in the middle of my civilian apartment like this, but it was also the kind of strange I could get used to.
"Here, take a seat," I said, heading to the kitchen and motioning towards one of the stools at the counter. "Can I get you a water or something?"
Jason cleared his throat, moving with me after a moment's delay.
"A water would be great, actually. Thanks."
"Sure thing."
I used the time it took me to get some water from the fridge, with my back turned to Jason, to take a few deep breaths. I was a vigilante, for god's sake, I knew how to keep myself from panicking in stressful situations. I wasn't going to let this impromtu visit unravel me.
I returned to Jason with a water for each of us, then sat down at the stool next to his. I was still a little nervous, but my heart had at least stopped pounding quite so quickly, and my hands weren't shaking when I set down the waters.
"So... you wanna tell me what's up?"
Jason cleared his throat, shifting in his seat before meeting my eyes. I gave him a little smile, and it seemed to help him relax, at least slightly. He smiled back.
"Listen... I really like spending time with you. And working with you and talking to you and... and everything. And Roy has been telling me he's sick of listening to me talk about you, so I'm taking his advice and coming to talk to you."
My heart did a backflip in my chest, but I refused to get too far ahead of myself. Jason still looked grim and stressed out of his mind, like he did when I tried to ask him out, which didn't exactly match the positive topic I was hoping this conversation might have.
"So... what are you saying?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light. "Because it sounds like you're building up to one thing, but your tone and your body language is pointing to something very different. Are you trying to ask me on a date, or trying to tell me you're not interested."
"I'm not not interested," Jason responded quickly. I raised an eyebrow, but he looked more stressed than before.
"Okay... so then, what is it? Just say what you want, Jay."
Jason took a long, deep breath in, closing his eyes for a minute and apparently trying to get in the right headspace. When he finally opened his eyes again and met my gaze, he at least looked marginally calmer.
"I want to ask you out."
"...I feel like there's a but coming."
"...But... I don't know, I just feel like you should be fully informed. I'm not necesserily the most... stable potential partner. I'm still working through a lot of shit from before and after the Lazurus Pit, and I'm a regular letdown to my family. That whole experience... I think it broke something in me. And I've been trying to fix what it broke, but I'm not sure I can. I don't want you agreeing to a date or anything else without knowing exactly what you're getting into."
I frowned, which Jason seemed to take as an expected bad sign. His shoulders slumped a little, and he looked resigned. I shook my head.
"Jason... what the hell are you talking about?" Jason opened his mouth like he intended to speak, but I held up a hand to cut him off. "That was mostly a rhetorical question. Believe it or not, I've gotten to know you pretty well in the time we've spent together, working side by side in life and death situations and passing days upon days with each other. And frankly? I like you. A lot. If you hadn't sent up the signals for a hard no everytime I tried, I would've asked you out a long time ago."
Jason sighed. "I still feel like you don't know what you're getting into. I don't want to go down this road and have you end up regretting it and hating me."
"Okay," I said, letting out a sigh of my own. "First of all, let's clear something up. Not once have you disappointed me or let me down, not in all the time we've known each other and worked together, even though you've had plenty of opportunities. And Jay, I didn't know you as Robin. I don't know the old you that you're so intent on comparing yourself to. But the guy sitting in front of me right now? He refuses to see it, but he's a wonderful person and friend, and anyone would be lucky to date him."
Jason flushed and looked down at his lap, but I didn't stop.
"Second, if I ever hear Batman or another one of your family members calling you a disappointment, it's game over for them. I'm punching them in the mouth like they deserve, and that's the end of that."
Jason snorted, briefly picking his head up to give me a look. I grinned back at him.
"And third..." I let the smile fall from my face, adopting a serious expression instead as I gently reached out to take one of Jason's hands. To my delight, he let me. "Third, nobody knows how things're gonna go when they go on a date with somebody. There's no real predicting that, there's no garuntees that we'll be perfectly matched and instantly work out and never have trouble forever and ever. But I know you're a good person, and I love spending time with you, and I trust you with my life, and my heart likes to do a gymnastics routine whenever you're in the same room as me. So if you feel similarly about me, and you want to give it a shot...?"
Jason sighed, chewing on his lip for a moment as he stared at me. Finally, he nodded.
"Yeah. Yeah, I really do."
"Good. Then that's that, Jay. There's no garuntees of anything, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try. The only way to really lose is to let fear keep us from taking a shot at happiness, right?"
Jason shook his head, but he was smiling all the same as he took my other hand in his, too.
"I guess you do make a pretty convincing argument. But seriously, are you sure you want to do this? It... feels like it could lead to a lot of complications."
"Jason, I'm sure." I laughed. "Honestly, I have been for a long time now. Are you sure?"
I saw Jason take another bracing breath. Then he straightened, shoulders back, and gave me a genuine smile.
"Yeah. I'm sure."
"Great! Then what do you say we turn tonight into our first official date? I was just about to make dinner, and I've got some good movies we can pick from."
Jason's smile grew, taking on a little bit of an edge.
"That sounds perfect to me. As long as you promise to let me take you out for our second date. Somewhere nice."
"Believe it or not, that's not going to take too much convincing."
The two of us shared a smile again, and I gave Jason's hands a squeeze before standing and heading for the kitchen. He joined me, and when I stood at the counter to lay things out, Jason only hesitated for a second before coming up behind me to wrap his hands around my waist. He leaned in to place a soft kiss on my temple, and I leaned back, a smile on my face.
This time, my heart didn't do a backflip. Instead it radiated warmth through my chest and into the rest of my body. I knew we were at the beginning of our road, and there were no garuntees about what might be at the end of it. Still. I couldn't help having a good feeling.
****************
Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @samreich @misshale21
DC Taglist: @gaychaosgremlin @v1ckycheesue @lavender-dinos @g0atmansbridge182
#fictober24#dc#jason todd#jason todd x reader#dc fanfiction#dc x reader#dc imagine#dcu#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd oneshot#jason todd imagine#red hood#the red hood#red hood x reader#red hood fanfiction#red hood oneshot#red hood imagine#artemis#roy harper#vigilante
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need to be watching comfort movies with manon and holding her like please let me take care of you my heart hurts
i stopped studying to write this up, it's probably trash but i needed to do something
— ANYTIME, ALWAYS 👑
warnings/tags: fluff, established relationship, f!reader
you knew something was off the moment you stepped inside the dorm for the girls after getting a text from manon. it was quiet with the rest of the girls gone for the award show, an oddity for the home that was buzzing always. you were given an extra key from sophia who explicitly told you that you were the only one to have an extra and to not let the staff find out. to be fair, you didn't really care though if the staff found out right now.
when you got the text from manon that read; can you come by? :(, with nothing else, you had a feeling something was wrong. you showed up at the dorm within twenty minutes.
you step into the living room, seeing manon sitting on the couch with the hood of her hoodie over her head watching, or trying, to watch a movie on the tv. she doesn't even notice your presence until you step closer to her. "hey, baby," you say softly, making her finally realize you're there and look up at you.
"hey," she says quietly. "how did you get in?"
"sophia gave me a key a while ago," you answer, sitting down next to her on the couch. "is everything okay?" you ask hesitantly.
"mm," manon hums, not moving. "just...things," she mumbles.
"okay..." your voice trails off as your eyes glance around. "do you want to talk about it?"
manon shakes her head, her eyes finally meeting yours with tears in her eyes. she opens her mouth to speak but you're wrapping your arms around her and pulling her into your embrace before she can get anything out. she puts her face in your neck, her arms grabbing your shirt tightly as if you would disappear.
"it's okay," you whisper softly. "it's okay," you reiterate a few times, your hand rubbing her back reassuringly. you can feel a few wet droplets hitting your skin, and you pull her closer to you, her body practically pressing against yours as she quietly cries into your neck.
you can hear her mumbling into your skin, and you can only make out a few words every now and then, but you can decipher it and figure out what she's saying. "look at me, baby," you say quietly, moving your hands to her face.
manon slowly lifts her head from your neck to look at you, her eyes slightly red from crying with a few tears still trailing down her cheeks. "i-i don-don't understand-"
"hey, hey," you interrupt her quickly, knowing exactly where it would lead. "i'm going to stop you right there. just breathe, okay? everything will be okay, you will be okay. i don't know what you're seeing, but ignore it. it's hard, i know. it's been hard, i know. but you're the strongest person i've ever met," you wipe the tears away with the pads of your thumbs. "i love you so much, the girls love you so much, everyone loves you. forget the small percentage of people who are jealous because you're talented and they aren't. you are so important to so many people. you mean the world to so many, to me. i love you so much."
listening to your words has more tears welling in manon's eyes as she nods along to what you're saying. "i love you too," she mumbles quietly.
you lean in and softly press your lips against hers, feeling her reciprocate instantly as her hands rest on your waist. you pull away for a moment, leaning your forehead on hers while wiping away the remaining tears. "is there anything you want to do?" you ask.
manon shakes her head lightly. "not really. i was watching a movie, but it's kinda trash."
you nod while giving a short hum. "okay. how about we put a good movie on and i'll order us something to eat?" you suggest.
"i'm okay with that," she replies.
"okay," you peck her lips, smiling slightly. you grab the remote off the table and grab manon's arm, pulling her down on top of you as you lay on your back along the couch. she giggles softly at the action, resting her head on your chest as you look through the movies listed on the tv. putting on a random one, you put the remote down and look back at manon, wrapping your arms around her. "i love you so much," you quietly speak.
"i love you too," she responds in the same voice. "please don't leave," she whispers.
"i won't," you immediately reply. "i promise." you kiss the top of her head. "you don't have to worry about that. i'm staying for as long as you'll keep me around."
"forever?" she murmurs.
"forever."
#katseye thoughts 💭#katseye x reader#katseye imagines#katseye scenarios#manon bannerman x reader#manon x reader#manon bannerman thoughts 💭
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"Sure, besides maybe having someone to share it with." She says this in the long-vowels teasing tone she usually applies to Ajax. At first I think she means herself, and I think she's right. It does feel better now that she's here, and she's the only person I've ever been able to truly say that about. I'm about to muster the courage to put the sentiment into words when she continues. "Thing may have blabbed about your date with Tyler. How did it go?" This is such a hard one-eighty that it takes me a moment to calibrate. It's certainly no longer time for a compliment. I haven't thought about Tyler all night, even when I was coordinating Xavier's arrest with his father. But Enid seems to want to discuss the date. "It was....interrupted," I say. It's the only word that feels honest. Enid's smirk widens. "Maybe it's time to finish it? I heard Tyler is working the late shift..." It would never have occurred to me to do any such thing, but then I think maybe this is what Enid wants from me. Someone to discuss boys with. Dates. All the trappings of adolescent girl friendships I've always avoided like the plague. Maybe this is what she shared with Yoko. The thing that made the other girl the more attractive option when all I could do was fixate on attack patterns and organs in jars. There's more to parse out, of course. Part of me wants to confess that I'd rather stay here...."I'll tell you all about it when I get back," I promise her, and I head out for the Weathervane.
-from the novelisation of Wednesday.
So...
Wednesday notices that Enid is addressing her, while talking about having someone to share things with, in the same tone she uses to address Ajax-which is explicitly described earlier as flirtatious.
From earlier:
"Ajax," Enid says in that flirtatious way people sometimes do. Drawing out the last vowel.
And Wednesday, thinking Enid is talking about herself and Wednesday....agrees, and is about to reciprocate.
And then Enid reveals she was talking about Tyler and Wednesday's date-meaning she was definitely talking about having someone to share things with in a romantic context-and Wednesday reveals she hasn't even thought about Tyler all night.
And even with the knowledge that Enid was definitely talking romantically-Wednesday is disappointed to realise Enid wasn't talking about herself and Wednesday and had been about to reciprocate the sentiment to Enid.
And then Wednesday admits she doesn't even want to go and find Tyler-but she does so because she thinks that this way, she and Enid will have something to talk about, and that their bond will be less likely to end. (It's also made clear she doesn't want Enid to prefer Yoko to her.)
So Wednesday reluctantly goes out to continue the date with Tyler-with the clear implication that if Enid had been talking about herself and Wednesday, she wouldn't have done. She's only going because, in her mind, Enid just made it clear that she sees Wednesday and Tyler as a couple-and because she wants to have something to talk about with Enid in their friendship that Enid actually enjoys talking about, with her thinking that "maybe this is what Enid wants from me". Which kind of has a note of "Maybe this is only what Enid wants from me."
I was going to say it reads like that trope of the main character going on a rebound date when they've been about to confess feelings for their love interest only for a miscommunication to lead them to think the love interest doesn't reciprocate and then realised that's basically exactly what it is.
In the novelization, at least, Wednesday canonically believes Enid is talking in a flirtatious, romantic context to her and is about to reciprocate.
#wenclair#wednesday#wednesday novel#wednesday addams#enid sinclair#jenna ortega#emma myers#2022#wednesday netflix#wednesday novelization#wenclair analysis#wednesday analysis#wenclair meta#wednesday meta#tyler galpin#hunter doohan#2024#ajax petropolus#georgie farmer#yoko tanaka#naomi j ogawa#wednesday x enid#tehlor kay mejia
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A light chuckle left his lips as she commented about the ship being smart. He had the thought that maybe the ship was the exact opposite. Maybe it was stupid and naive for wanting to sail back into the same waters, but he didn't dare voice as much, not wanting to ruin the decent moment they had been able to create. Instead, Pat nodded in agreement at her sentiment.
His lips quirked upward again when she mentioned how she'd never been good at small talk. Pat could still remember one of the first times before she'd actually agreed to go out with him, them skipping class, sitting in his car and she'd turned to him with such confidence and questioned "What are you about Pat O'Morhan?" It had been a slice straight through small talk and he'd loved that about her, even then.
He watched as she took a second drink from her glass, and he followed suit, finishing his and pushing it away slightly, to give his hands something to focus on, though he was grateful when she spoke again, and he couldn't stop the slight chuckle that fell from his lips at the clear surprise in her tone. "Yeah, well, I wasn't gonna ask." he admitted with a sheepish grin. Sure, he'd been an outright criminal, hell, still was, put in very dangerous situations over and over again, but when it came to feelings, and vulnerability, Laurel was the brave one of the two of them.
"It does, doesn't it. Probably because nothing and everything has changed." he answered, because that's exactly how it felt to him all at the same time. the joy in the one questioned word was infectious and a smile spread over his features instantly. Though, he didn't have the opportunity to answer as she was up and closing any distance between them, her hands finding his cheeks and her lips meeting his. Pat pushed his chair back slightly, his hands finding her cheeks as he returned her kiss.
Had she not pulled away, he would've happily pulled her right onto his lap, though even as she started speaking, she didn't move away from him, and his smile grew as the speed of her words increased. "You're good." He nodded as she spoke, and after she trailed off, he took her hand in his and did pull her into a sitting position on his lap, his free arm moving to wrap around her waist, as his other hand released hers in favor of moving to cup her cheek. "We can take it slow if you'd like." he agreed, knowing it probably wasn't the smartest idea to jump right back into whatever they'd had, especially when he was holding what might be considered more secrets now than he had been then. Yet, the pull and attraction and love he felt for Laurel meant he was aching to do exactly that.
A light chuckle left the man as he tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "I know I've been out of touch a while, but I think the kids still call it dating." he teased, his smirk returning as he looked up at her. "I uh, I'd be okay with calling it that if you wanted." he offered. That didn't exactly mean they were boyfriend and girlfriend, right? Still sans titles, but at least it was something to ensure they both knew that the other was right there and invested, and god damn it if he wasn't whole heartedly invested.
Seeing his grin amused her immensely. Laurel just felt relief all around, especially when each moment they had spent together felt fleeting, feeling like she could lose it from one moment to the next. Still, even if it turned out to be short-lived, she was willing to enjoy it to the fullest. Each smile, laughter, the way his eyes seemed to pierced her soul - greedily, she craved it all.
She caught that glimpse of surprise in his features, and for a second, she feared she had been too honest. But, the satisfaction that followed was much more familiar to her and Laurel couldn't help the smile full of relief that adorned her lips. "Back at the dock, what a smart ship," she mused out loud, wondering if she could take that to mean that he also had not moved on. Even after all this time. It was a second of mirrored satisfaction, followed by that immense guilt that wouldn't leave her alone. All these years, after ruining his life, and he still hadn't moved on? She couldn't help the pang of guilt that struck her. "I would be pleasantly surprised to find our ship back somewhere on that dock."
Even with the semi-hopeful conversation happening, her situation wasn't lost on her. He may have turned a new leaf and his life may look very different than it had all those years ago, but Laurel knew he was still close to his family, thinking back to his cousin stopping by his place and that dinner he went to with his dad. And on her side? Well, her mom still held some influence in her life - something she'd been unable to kick. Laurel's need for her mother's approval still dictated her life to this day. "Well, I was never really good with small talk," she teased, following his lead and taking another drink from her glass. Though, it was much larger than just a sip. Liquid courage? Maybe. Setting the glass back down on the table, Laurel willed herself to look back up at him, meeting those blue eyes she loved so much. Looking at him once more, she reiterated to herself that, yes she was willing to try again. Go all in for him. If her gaze was not communicating that, then one more sip of her drink, and Laurel was ready to say it out loud. Unable to continue dancing around what she wanted.
"You're glad?" she breathed out in surprise. Her realistic tendencies held her down, though a sliver of hope threatened to take over. "New territory is right, yet it feels very familiar. I just can't pinpoint why." Laurel hung to every word, his smile mesmerizing her like it had so many years ago. It felt like a turning point for them - an adult conversation between two people who hadn't seen each other since their teenage years. It was definitely something. Inevitably, a smile broke out on her lips. Pure joy in her features, and that hope from earlier burst through her chest. "Really?" she said breathlessly, unable to contain herself as she stood up from her chair and closed the distance between them, cupping his face in her hands and pulling him in for a kiss.
A laugh pulled from her lips, shaking her head. "Okay sorry, I got carried away. Yes, me too. Well, I had already said that. But, honestly...no pressure. I'm not expecting us to just immediately go back to what we had. More so, I just wanted you to know that I'm still here and I still...feel things for you. So yes, expecting things from each other, I can work with that. We can just take it slow, right?" She felt like she was reaching rambling territory, her nerves were in full display and leaning on being chill and nonchalant to not completely freak him out. "Don't worry, I won't request any girlfriend titles or anything of the sort."
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surprise visit – 2
steve harrington x f!reader | no warnings | friends to lovers fluff | 3k
an: it's been a while since I've posted for steve but I wanted to continue where the last blurb left off, I hope you like this!
part 1
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You remind yourself to breathe at least five times while getting ready. It’s not that you’re scared of going out with Steve tonight, no. This is a good kind of anxiety, a thrumming energy that has you daydreaming while you put on some mascara and makes you hold your breath in anticipation. It feels like something new is happening which is why your hearts been in a frenzy all afternoon. Mostly, you just want to see Steve again; there’s no joy like the one you feel with him nearby.
You look at the clock on your nightstand and move to grab a bag and some essentials to bring with you. Money, keys, lipgloss fit neatly inside before you make your way downstairs. It’s 7:25 which means Steve will be here shortly.
As if conjured by your mind, his car pulls into the driveway the moment you get downstairs. He’s quick to run out of his car and jog up the driveway to ring your doorbell. Your stomach somersaults in place as you look down at your clothes —a cute dress styled with a sweater and leggings to fend off the cold. Then with a deep breath you walk to the door and open it to find Steve beaming on the other side.
He looks beautiful and pink cheeked from the cold November air. His hair is perfect like always, so is the smile he gives you when he meets your eyes. The hand he runs through his hair the only clue that he’s feeling the same nerves accelerating your heartbeat.
“Hi Stevie.” You breath out.
“Babe, you look beautiful.” He smiles, pulling you into a big hug. You shiver as the cold air outside clashes with the warmth you can feel through Steve’s jacket. His arms are around your shoulders, his green bomber jacket smells as wonderfully as he does.
“ Thank you.” You murmur as you step back; feeling shy under his observant gaze but glowing from within at his compliment. “I like this jacket on you,” You grin loving the way his eyes soften
“I’ll wear it more then.” He winks before offering his hand to you. “Come on, let’s get you out of the cold.”
Your hands tingle where you touch and you can’t help but smile widely at the way Steve seems to feel it too. You separate at the passenger door which he opens before joining you inside. “It’s a little early but I wanted to avoid the line at the concession stand.”
“I don’t mind that it’s early.” You glance over at him. “You can tell me what you did while I was away, I doubt it was as uneventful as FV.”
“Mustache dude wasn’t eventful for you?” He jokes, making you roll your eyes.
“Sure, Stevie.” You concede, then shove at his shoulder lightly. “Come on.”
“Okay, I tell you one thing and you tell me something from your family reunion.”
“Deal.” You offer him your hand and steve takes it with his free one; then shakes it once but doesn’t let go. “You start.”
“Okay…” Steve draws out the word, recalling something to tell you. “Oh, Dustin tried to teach me that dungeons game; didn’t work out.” There’s a smile on his voice that brings forth one of your own.
“What why?” you turn slightly on your seat, curious to know what happened.
“Blame Henderson. He didn’t explain the rules well enough then complained I wasn’t playing right.”
The outrage in his voice makes you laugh, a full belly laugh that has you leaning back on your sit. Steve’s hand tightens its hold on yours, like he’s happy he made you laugh. “Learning a new game is always complicated, I regret it the moment they explain the rules.”
Steve laughs. “Oh I regretted it alright. Come on, now you tell me something.”
“Alright, I… almost broke my arm?” You say tentatively, flinching at the memory. “I was climbing a tree and–”
“Babe, why were you even climbing a tree.” Steve’s eyebrows are knitted together in concern. “Did you get it checked?”
“Stevie, I was just so bored!” You groan, staring at the car’s ceiling for a minute. “My older cousins started climbing this tree in the backyard and I tried to, but I lost my footing.”
“And you fell on your arm?” Steve asks, worry pouring out in every word.
“Yeah, but I got it checked out by this doctor my aunt knows and he says it’s okay.” You reassure him, turning sideways to face him again. “It doesn’t even hurt.”
“Honey.” Steve sighs, his eyes glancing at you. You meet them with as much reassurance that you can offer.
“I’m okay.” You whisper, smiling at the furrow of his eyebrows. And because you can help it you hold both of his hands in yours. “Don’t worry. Now you say something else.”
Steve shakes his head, kissing your hand before nodding. “I spilled Keith’s coffee the other day at work.”
“Did he kill you?” You ask with a frown knowing Steve’s manager isn’t very fond of him.
“Sadly, yes.” He nods, keeping a serious face for a few seconds before you laugh and he starts to laugh with you. “You missed the funeral.”
You shake your head, reeling back your emotions so they’re not so easily read on your face but unable to keep it from coating your words. “I missed you, Steve.”
Out the corner of your eye, you see the drive-in theater in the distance when Steve looks at you and smiles; a soft thing you realize is just for you. “I missed you too.”
There are already many cars at the drive-in when you make your way into the lot. There are fairy lights hanging from the trees, a concession stand, the big white screen and a marquee showing the romcom double feature. Dirty Dancing and The Princess Bride.
“Stevie.” You turn to him as he drives to a secluded spot. “I love these movies!”
“Babe, I told you they were playing your favourites.” His smile is beaming, pleased with his idea of inviting you before he gets out of the car to open the door for you. You shiver as you step out but Steve’s quick to throw his arm around your shoulder. His warmth is immediate, and you don’t feel as cold while walking to the concessions stand. “Don’t tell me you didn’t believe me.”
“I did but I didn’t know they were from my top three!” You look up at him, feeling happier than you can put into words. “Thank you.”
He shakes his head, opening his mouth to say something until the lady at the counter calls both of you to order. Like he said, there are barely any people buying popcorn yet. “What do you want, babe?”
“Popcorn and soda are fine.” You say after looking at the menu and smelling the buttery popcorn in the air. “You?”
“The same.” Steve nods, then turns to order. He looks at you again as the lady, Jade as her nametag reads, gets to work filling a popcorn bucket. He sees the way you shiver because of the weather and wraps his arms around your waist. Your chest is pressed flushed to his, and you have to look up to meet his eyes. “You don’t have to thank me for the movies, you know I’d do anything for you.”
Cold suddenly forgotten, you feel a rush of warmth flood you from head to toe. It makes you melt against Steve’s touch and focus only on him. The warm lighting from the concession stand making his eyes sparkle beautifully and you become extremely aware of how close his face is to yours. Then his hand brushes gently against your cheek –just like yours had done earlier in the day– and you’re not sure how this is all so easy between the two of you. Easy to be so close, easy to get lost in his eyes instead of looking away, easy to lean closer because his gaze drops to your lips.
It's also easy to forget you have an audience.
Until Jade clears her throat loudly, looking impatient for the two of you to pay and get back to the car. It makes you laugh, not feeling embarrassed as Steve kisses your temple instead and lets go of you to reach for his wallet. Once he insists on paying and leaves Jade a tip inside the tip jar, he takes your hand with a smile and leads the two of you back to his car. You don’t know what to say, you’d been so close to kissing him you’re not sure you can speak. So heart hammering inside your chest you lean your cheek on his shoulder, silently communicating your affection and hoping Steve knows what you mean.
He's careful with the popcorn bucket as he opens the door for you again before getting into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. A few moments later, warm air begins to flow out of the vents and you make sure to warm your hands in front of them.
“That better?” Steve smiles at you as he sets down the popcorn on the dashboard and makes sure it stays put.
You nod silently. Nerves take over you again but you push past them. “Stevie?”
His answering hum tells you to go on, so you do. “Is this a date?”
Steve’s lips part in a beautiful smile, its charm tuned down by bashfulness. It makes your heartbeat settle into a steady pace as you smile back. “It is.”
“So what happened back there…”
“What? Me wanting to kiss you?” His voice is lower now, the simple mentioning of the kiss changing the air between you. When you nod, he reaches for your hand. “I’ve been…”
You squeeze his hand when he stops himself, encouraging him to talk to you because your brain has turn into a loop of his voice saying: Me wanting to kiss you.
“I’m crazy about you.” He shakes his head, eyes turning soft as they never leave yours. “And I’ve wanted to tell you so many times, but I didn’t know if I should.”
“What changed?” You ask, a whisper between the two of you.
“The way you looked at me changed.” Steve smiles, moving his hand to hold your cheek. “It was the same way I look at you.”
You look away in embarrassment, but he brings your gaze back to his with a gentle touch. “Four days away from you and I forgot how to hide that I’m in love with you.”
“I’m glad you did.” Steve shakes his head beaming before his eyes flick down to your mouth. “Because now I can stop hiding it too.”
His words fill your stomach with a million butterflies, and your fingers tingle in anticipation. Steve leans closer to you, until your breath mingles between you, until the thrumming of your heart is so loud, he’s sure to notice. He hesitates, meeting your eyes in a silent question.
You smile, heartbeat calming down. This is Steve, your best friend, the one you love and as it turns out, loves you back. “You can kiss me.” Your voice is a quiet whisper but it’s enough for Steve to close the distance between you and allow your lips to meet for the first time.
The first brush of lips is so gentle it makes a pleasant shiver go down your spine, a shaky breath leaving you. Steve feels it and his thumb caresses your cheek just as softly before he moves his hand to your jaw as he kisses you again. This time though, he presses against your lips a little harder than before, angling your faces to kiss you better and open you up to him. He licks your bottom lip, humming in appreciation when a noise gets caught in the back of your throat and one of your hands goes to his hair.
And just like earlier, it’s easy. Easy for him to make you melt against him, to feel his emotions pouring into each caress of his mouth on yours. Easy for Steve to know exactly how to kiss you, scrape his teeth against your lips and smile against the corner of your mouth when you do. It’s better than you could’ve ever wished for; new but still familiar. It leaves you dizzy but happier than you’ve ever been.
You’re so lost in each other you don’t realize the first movie has started to play until you part and see that your faces are both illuminated by the big screen in the front of the lot. It brings a laugh out of you and soon enough Steve is laughing with you. You’ve seen Dirty Dancing enough times to know it only just started playing, so you turn to Steve.
“We haven’t missed much.” You inform him, beaming at the way his lips look very much kissed.
Steve shakes his head, like he can’t believe what you’re saying. For a moment you think it’s about the movie but soon realize he’s just feeling the same bubbly disbelief you’re feeling too. “You’re so beautiful.” He says, voice soft and eyes adoring.
You smile, feeling shy but too joyful to look away from him. Not knowing what to say and buzzing with electricity from his words and kisses you press your forehead against his. “Steve.”
He only hums, eyes closed and nose brushing yours in a silent question. “I know you said not to thank you but thank you.”
He smiles, blinking his eyes open and kissing the corner of your mouth. “I love you, I’m glad it was a good idea.”
“You can never go wrong with a romcom Stevie.”
“More like with your crush on Patrick Swayze.” Steve rolls his eyes, nothing but love shining through them. He motions to the screen as if to prove his point.
You shake your head, not holding back the smile that inevitably comes to your face. You’re on a date, he loves you, he kissed you. By the look on Steve’s face, he’s thinking the same thing. “And my crush on you.”
“Babe.” He Steve groans, looking at the ceiling. “You can make me want to kiss you again, you’ll miss the movie.”
“I think you can give me one more.” You lean close, loving the way Steve gravitates towards you. “They haven’t danced yet.”
Steve grins and the second kiss is even better than the first one.
✦✧✦✧✦
I hope you liked this! reblogs are always appreciated
masterlist
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington blurb
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Imagine Sanji Flirting With You While He Waits On You
OPLA Sanji X FemReader
Rating: G
Warnings: Flirting
Word Count: 800
(A/N:) It feels so good to be writing again! It has been crazy around here and it's just going to get worse with the holidays coming up! I hope to write more soon as my drafts are so full of ideas so keep an eye out for more stories to come, cause just because I haven't been writing much doesn't mean that I've quit! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess
The Baratie was the talk across the span of the East Blue and you had been dreaming of the food for weeks. With a reservation made in advanced you counted down the days until the moment finally arrived. The doors opening before you, beckoning you inside with an extravaganza of wonderful and delicious smells. Lead to a table closest to the kitchen, the host left you with a polite smile and promising your waiter would be with you shortly. Despite dining alone, you dressed nicely and put a light layer of makeup on. You enjoyed looking nice and you didn't let your relationship status keep you from wearing things you enjoy or eating at restaurants like the Baratie. Despite the host's promise it was taking a little bit for your waiter to make his way to your table. The place was busy and you could wait patiently, though you did wish they would at least bring you some water to sip on.
Taking in the extravagant decorations that surrounded you, you didn't pay much attention to the commotion going on in the kitchen until a loud clatter caused you to jump. Out from the swinging double doors a young blond haired man stomped out with a large mustached man following right behind. Feeling a little guilty you couldn't help but watch the scene play out. Both men continued to shout at one another before the younger one tugged off his apron and tossed it at the older chef. His hands in his pockets he ignored the enraged shouts coming from the head chef. The other patrons quickly turned away so you took that as your cue to do the same. You watched the blond talk with the waiter before he nodded and headed in your direction. You gulped, suddenly dreading being there as you didn't want to make him mad. You could tell he was still seething but as he got closer to your table his shoulders relaxed and he grinned brightly at you.
"Welcome to the Baratie madam. Pardon the rough housing, but we hope it doesn't frighten you away. Can I start you off with something to drink?"
You couldn't help but gap in awe. How he could go from enraged to a perfect gentleman astounded you. He waited patiently before you were finally able to speak.
"A-a glass of water please," you answered a bit flustered.
"Absolutely. Any preferences?"
"No just water please."
"As you wish," he winked. "My name is Sanji by the way and I look forward to serving you for as long as you need me to."
You couldn't help but smile as he walked away, leaving you feeling giddy and excited to see what else he could flatter you with tonight.
Moments later he arrived with your water and set it before you with a flourish that had you smiling.
"Now could I start our lovely guest off with something delicious like our lobster bisque? Or would the madam prefer something sweet to go along with her personality?"
"Let me ask you this," you smirked. "Is the bisque as smooth as my waiter?"
Sanji chuckled, "Not quite. You may be the smoothest one here darling."
Not sure how you could top that you just cleared your throat and threaded your fingers. Giving Sanji a small smile, "The lobster bisque sounds wonderful."
"As you wish," Sanji winked again and took your order to the window.
Your cheeks were warm and your heart was light as you hummed thoughtfully to yourself. Not long after Sanji returned setting a bowl of perfectly made soup in front of you before sitting another plate with a large slice of chocolate cake and he topped off your water glass.
"But I didn't," you begun to protest.
Sanji shushed you immediately, "On the house love. And maybe after the lady takes her time enjoying her food, she could join me for drinks afterward?"
You seemed to think about if for a moment, enjoying watching him squirm just a little bit. "Since you brought me free cake, I think I could manage a drink or two with my handsome waiter."
Sanji bowed gracefully, "Take your time to enjoy your food and I look forward to later."
"Me too," you replied to his back as he walked away."
You came to try the amazing food at the Baratie and wound up with a date with one of handsome waiters. You couldn't help but feel like you had won the day. Savoring your meal you counted down the seconds until you could be whisked away with Sanji and you hoped that it wouldn't be the only time you got to spend with him. Baratie may have found their most loyal customer in you.
#Sanji Vinsmoke X Reader#Sanji Vinsmoke / Reader#Sanji X Reader#Sanji / Reader#One Piece#One Piece Live Action#Sanji Imagine#One Piece Imagine#Imagine#Not My Gif#My Writing
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Fandom: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac (But really Vargas lol) Rating: Teen and up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
What, exactly, did Scriabin take from Edgar when they separated?
My first multichapter fic for Vargas! :D Yay!
(Pls read Ch. 1 first - Ch. 2 is also recommended, but as long as you're caught up on the first, you're good to go!)
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Side B
What the fuck.
"It's, it's possible that if, maybe whatever happened earlier, whatever caused all that blood and for us to be knocked unconscious-"
What the fuck.
"-and if I suffered a head injury, then maybe-"
No. That's enough.
Scriabin pushed away from the closet door he'd defensively pressed himself up against and put his hands on Edgar's shoulders, which quieted him. He looked at him expectantly, with eyes that Scriabin somehow only just now realized were casually guarded, curious, uncertain in a way that denoted inexperience. That was so messed up, that was completely wrong. Edgar should've been on guard, absolutely, but only because he knew exactly what Scriabin was capable of. He really didn't want to look at him right now if this was what he was going to be seeing instead.
He spun him quickly and pushed him out the door before he could protest. He got one last look at those wide, confused eyes before he slammed the door behind him, bracing it shut with both hands for good measure.
What. The fuck. His head came forward, making a dull thud as his forehead connected with the door. He doesn't remember me? His fingers curled on the door. What does he mean he doesn't remember me?! How could he not know me?! One hand pushed through his hair; his scalp tingled and that was so weird, he felt it and it was so weird- We literally just- He literally just-! As if pulling him screaming into life wasn't bad enough, now he had decided to play some sick prank!
This can't be true. It's just like him to try and make jokes at the worst possible time, he has no tact.
There was a timid knock on the other side of the door. Scriabin jumped as it resonated through his skull, his elbow, pressed to the door with his hand buried in his hair, set his jaw. Then silence.
If he was really trying to get back in, clear things up, say he was only kidding, he'd actually try.
Nothing.
Scriabin's blood was ice as he went over it again. The way he'd said his name. The vacant look in his eyes as he said it, like his mouth knew its shape but none of the meaning. No fear, no realization, nothing that really felt like Edgar, just sound, just noise.
Maybe he really had-
Oh god. His knees gave out, and his arms had no practice at holding him upright, not yet. His hand slid down the door, his other hand guarding his head as his hair fluffed against the grain.
How could he do this
This is all his fault
Stupid, idiotic
He can't do this to me
I can't believe him
I can't believe this
How dare he leave me alone like this
Thoughts spiralling, and all he could do was hold himself down, press his fingers into the back of his neck, force his chest to his knees and maybe he wouldn't immolate under it all. He was shaking, from tension or fear he couldn't tell, his mind too hazardous and loud to cut through it all. He was shaking, dizzy, and if he moved, letting go would surely kill him.
He can't do this to me.
He breathed. And breathed. And swallowed. Eyes closed, heart pounding, sure. Confusion and dismay, whatever. Pain. Fine. So be it.
This isn't like me. A hand untethered from his vice grip in his hair, and he stayed attached to the floor. It connected with the carpet below him and became a new lifeline. He pushed up and away into a limp sit, arms already burning slightly from holding himself up after all that. He shook his head mildly. This isn't who I'm going to be in life. His body, this fear response be damned, he was in control now.
Regroup. Let's- a mental pause, barely a quarter of a second long as he turned the word in his head. Let's pretend it's all true- what does that mean?
He flopped over, leaned upright with his back against the door, heels of his fists pushed down into the carpet to scootch closer. Moving was so awkward still, very unfitting.
He was acting normal. Well, Edgar's baseline for "normal" had changed considerably, so maybe put an asterisk on that. Not that he was ever normal to begin with, but normal-for-Edgar, -ish. That means he has to have some memory.
Scriabin held out a hand, arm slung over his knee, one finger held out. He had recognized his glasses. One. The apartment. Two. Which key to use. Three. He had said Todd's name. Four.
His stuff can be discounted, he's had all that for a while. Back down to one. The kid is a new fixture. Which means he remembers the last couple months at least. He shook his head and brought his hand up to comb through his hair. Well...it's fuzzy for me, so it probably is for him, too. Scriabin remembered everything in as much clarity as the last couple months allowed, there was no way Edgar would know more even if he had all his memories.
Speaking of which, Scriabin could remember everything. He flipped through; the last two months and bringing Todd in, Edgar's parting words to Johnny, his and Devi's conversation - he grit his teeth - and further back, everything along the way, all the way back. False dreams, shared childhoods, everything that was once Edgar's alone, he still remembered it. Nothing was out of place which made it all the more strange!
This is so fucking weird, if I remember everything, then why would he-
He stopped short. His purported purpose had been to replace Edgar. Take him over completely. If he bought into the conceit for a moment, just to play in the space... He was alive now. That was not as intended; it shouldn't even have been possible.
Did he...give me his memories? Like, all the way? Not just to borrow, to shape him, give him legitimacy - he was alive now. His own person. Separate, embodied, and whole. Was this the price of life?
That's stupid. But possible, he couldn't discount. If this - he brought his hands up and looked down at them, watched himself touch his own chest and felt it beneath his coat, shirt, the nerves firing as his slid his fingers up himself - if this was possible, then...
He continued for a moment, curious and reverant, all of him new and privately exciting, to exist and to touch, to feel, smell, see, all of it clear and fresh and penetrated deeply into his mind, as if a layer of film had been lifted from his senses. The moment passed as the memories, unbidden but important, cluttered in around him again.
There were still a lot of questions, and most of them couldn't be answered without Edgar, ugh. If getting anything out of him before had been like pulling teeth, he was very sobered to think about how it might be now. Depending on how much Edgar remembered, maybe he could start piecing things together.
Did he do it on purpose? Did he know this would happen? There's no way he would have been willing to if he had- But he couldn't ask him things like that. Even if he did remember, admitting something like that...
He was just spinning his wheels at this point. Better to gather what he could from the man himself. He looked up, preparing to stand.
Ah-
The room was still in something of a state.
Edgar would be annoying, or at least distracted by trying to pick up the clothes and uncarefully unpacked items strewn about the floor from Scriabin's very successful excavation of his old glasses. The clutter would have to go if he wanted his full attention.
He grumbled as he pushed off the door to pick up the first few things. First day of life and I'm already his maid. Figures. He's always needed me to clean up after him.
Silence.
Somehow it only just hit him. Thinking alone in the late hours, planning things behind Edgar's back, it was nothing new. But a barb unsunk into his mental flesh was left out in the wide emptiness, poised to stab whoever happened upon it next, and he was the only one here.
He felt very small all of a sudden, and he didn't like it at all.
His eyes blankly scanned the room, looking for nothing, until they settled on the toy at Edgar's bedside. His toy.
He dropped the items he'd bundled into his arms and made his way over. He picked up the small simulacrum, turned it over in his hands once, and stared at it.
He wouldn't know this. Not really. He brushed a thumb up and over the little mouth, the contours of its small face. Retroactively, I've never been this at all.
I'm no one to him.
Does this mean we can start over? The thought struck him like lightning, freezing his heart in his chest. He was fixed solid, staring down at the small figure in his hands.
Before he could even think, he'd already thrown it through the open closet door, landing noisily in the box he'd dug through with a clatter. He grabbed up the fallen clothes and items and stuffed them back in the box, burying the toy in mundane detritus, then closed the cardboard flaps and slammed the door of the closet for good measure.
His breath was laboured and he glared, like wishing it gone would make the closet itself disappear.
Answers. He needed answers, more than anything.
He ripped the door open, and there was Edgar who looked up, staring dumbly back at him and carrying the clothes he'd shed earlier over his arm. Something in his mind clicked over, and he didn't think about it.
"Alright," he caught his breath for half a second, "what do you remember?"
Edgar just kept on staring, mouth open, eyes unconfident behind weak glasses. Scriabin huffed irritably, I don't have time for this, and moved towards him, arm outstretched.
"Come on." Edgar gave a small startled sound behind him as he grabbed his collar and dragged him through the doorway. He threw him across the room, not bothering to watch his arc as he closed the door behind him. The bed was that way, he'd be fine.
When he turned back, Edgar had managed to catch himself, though already halfway on the bed. Scriabin stood with his back to the door, feet planted and he crossed his arms. No more speculating around impossibilities, tangible and present as they might be, it was time for a proper interrogation. It was at least preferable to-
Edgar made a face at him and scooted back, offering a seat next to him on the bed. Equal footing briefly flashed through his mind and while he wouldn't consider it ideal, nothing today was really going his way. He sighed, then made his way over and sat across from Edgar, who was eyeing him with a certain degree of caution. At least the feeling was mutual.
"Spill." He re-crossed his arms and leaned towards Edgar. "What do you know?"
Edgar hesitated, apparently thinking, his hands laced and fingers agitatedly if quietly rubbing the backs of his hands.
"I want to verify some things first."
Scriabin snorted dismissively. Where had Edgar's overly-trusting nature gone? A serial killer, well he's an honoured guest, but Scriabin? He didn't even distrust him for the right reasons.
He gestured with an open hand, Go ahead, then tucked his arm back in.
"Todd's last name?"
Pfsh. At least it was proof enough that anything Edgar knew, Scriabin did as well. As expected.
"Casil. His stupid bear's called Shmee in case you forgot that too." Edgar shook his head. No he hadn't? If only he could just check!
"Do you know our phone number?" Obviously he did, so he rattled it off quickly, Edgar nodding in turn. He flipped his hair in time with the last digit, careful to keep his eyes covered. It was a bit of a timid attempt, being the first in this body, which was a minor blessing he supposed.
Edgar mulled over what he'd given him for a moment, then a moment longer, then a moment even longer. His eyes searched absently, gazing down into his own hand, his other on his chin, lightly thumbing his goatee. He was focused on names and numbers, but those were child's play compared to everything, everything Scriabin still wanted to know. It was frustrating on a visceral level, watching him struggle with such simple innocuous nothings while the most important person in his life was sitting right in front of him.
He was supposed to be the most important.
It was frustrating.
"You really don't remember anything, do you?" He didn't hide the sneer as it shaped his voice - odd the way his body just did that now, did things without him actively thinking them into being. Even things like the little waver that made its way in that he pushed back down and under. He was frustrated, angry, tired - any emotionality could be attributed to those, nothing else.
Edgar didn't answer, just kept his gaze locked to his face. That was almost worse. Watching him fumble through things, it wasn't fun, but at least he wasn't trying to pry. He could see him try to look past his bangs, and the fact that he didn't know better...
Scriabin looked away for a moment, then thought better of it. Best defense is a good offense.
He reached for Edgar's face, for those damn scars, ever-present reminders. Edgar shied away, not wanting to be touched suddenly by someone he didn't know. As if Scriabin had ever cared about that.
Well, things were different now. Maybe he didn't really want to touch him anyway. Not yet.
"Do you remember these...?" Instead he framed his face with his hands less than an inch from his skin, and even there he could feel the heat coming off him. Edgar reached for his face, looking away from Scriabin as he touched the angry red marks. He winced minutely, then glanced back at Scriabin, searching him, his expression guarded again. Scriabin could hear his own pulse in his ears.
"...Johnny?"
"Fuck." Fuck! "Of course you'd remember him but not me." God damn it! It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, just because Johnny came first by a hair's breadth, just because he wasn't in Edgar's head, with Edgar's fucked up little obsession with the murderous stick figure- It limited what he could get away with too, if he remembered that far back. Absolutely nothing was going in his favour.
"I'm sorry..." He sounded genuinely remorseful, and it stuck in his throat. Disgusting. "So you know Johnny, too."
"Unfortunately." Scriabin tucked his chin to his chest, arms crossed again in close proximity. This sucks. Edgar just kept rambling, unaware as ever. His excuses held this time at least, one point in his favour, no points for bringing his annoying habits with him despite everything.
"I don't think I've seen him for a couple months now? Everything's awfully..." He gave a vague gesture and Scriabin uncurled slightly. He was giving him room to contribute. He shook his head.
"You haven't."
"Have you?"
He returned to his tight coil of sulking. Not like he was keen to meet up and chat, but he couldn't explain why he hadn't had the opportunity to either.
"I remember he called, too."
"Ugh," barely above breath. Enough about Johnny! Again, Edgar continued obliviously.
"Although I don't really recall what we talked about, not for a while..."
Of course not. I took over for half of those.
He perked a bit, and Edgar focused more on him, patiently setting his hands in his lap.
"You know."
He could play this to his advantage. Give Johnny some well-deserved karmic justice for fucking him over so many times. It was almost better that Edgar didn't know - Scriabin had been trying to get him away from Johnny all this time, and if he really had forgotten everything, not just the moments when Scriabin took over but every moment they had shared, then that meant it coincided almost perfectly with his first meeting with Johnny. Blank spot after blank spot after blank spot, all lined up immediately after getting his face slashed.
He could work with that.
"It's probably trauma." Edgar startled and his hand shot to his temple, lightly touching his hair.
"Like, head trauma?" Scriabing almost laughed. Yeah, probably that too. But that wouldn't help his case.
"No." He leaned in, taking a more intimate, secretive tone. "Think about it. When did things start getting fuzzy?" If he was right on this - which of course he was, but not being able to verify, not being able to see that he was right, it was disconcerting - but if he was, Edgar's memories of Scriabin should start with that first fateful encounter, give or take. A bit of reframing here, a touch of implication there... It probably wasn't even an outright lie; if Edgar's memory were perfect after experiencing everything Johnny had put them through, that would be some kind of twisted miracle.
His only real concern was their "childhood" - how much had Scriabin pulled with him? Would that throw off his story? But that was so far back, there was no way Scriabin or Johnny could be implicated in that. As long as Edgar didn't bring it up before he thought his way around it...
Edgar stayed quiet for a long while. His eyes raced behind closed eyelids, searching, scanning, retracing - Scriabin could almost see the moments where he hesitated, stopped and went back, then starting recollecting again. He wished he could see it for real, watch him unfold himself, touch those memories again, hold up his own in contrast. Even just hear Edgar's thoughts as they went by, feel the emotions he felt. But he couldn't, so he just stared as unblinkingly as this new body would allow, just watched as Edgar went over everything on his own.
He finally opened his eyes, staring back into Scriabin's though he was sure they were still hidden. He felt naked and awkward and Edgar still hadn't said anything. If he could just see like he was supposed to, or if Edgar would just tell him, he wouldn't have to ask. I have to do everything around here.
"It was after you met him, wasn't it?"
"You think it's...mental trauma?" An unspoken 'yes.' Relief flooded him, and he pushed ahead.
"Edgar. He stabbed you." Edgar gripped his shoulder, his eyes closing again and he looked to be in pain. That was a very effective reminder at least. "Do you even know why?" He shook his head and spoke throught half-grit teeth.
"I must have made him mad, but I don't remember-" Of course not, I did that.
"Your mind is trying to protect you." Not. But one of us has to with your inexhaustable deathwish. Scriabin reached out to touch him properly, but Edgar pulled away. He didn't follow, still not yet. Play up the pity. "He messed you up so bad," with a curl in his tone, an I told you so that barely made it to words even privately; how long had he been holding that in? "Surely you must've felt like you wanted, you needed to get away from him, that he wasn't good for you, that you-" He'd told him so many times, some it must have stuck, some of it had to have-
"Then-!" Edgar's eyes shot open, wide and desperate with an edge of disbelief. A strangled gasp escaped him, half-choking him as he tried to speak. "Then why can't I remember you?!"
He almost began rolling off the cuff, but really, he still didn't know for sure. And it definitely wasn't like he could tell the truth even if he wanted to; who, who hadn't lived it, would believe him? Edgar certainly wouldn't, not with his lack of imagination. He had to dress this up, weave a narrative that was plausible, had the perfect mix of truth and falsehood to stand up to scrutiny.
Huh. Ironic.
"I..." No. Some of this was Edgar's fault too. "We...argued."
"Argued?"
"I... Mng." He wanted to aim for some kind of levity, but his throat had tightened on him. He just wanted to tell this stupid inside joke and not have it affect him, not have it mean anything, and here he was getting emotional? He'd say it and fucking mean it. "It's not like I'm in your head, so-" spat out in a rush, there, he'd said it. Haha, isn't that so funny. He swallowed harshly, pushing down everything he felt into his stomach acid. He was in control. He was fine. This didn't shake him. "I can't know for sure," another humourless laugh inside, "but I was against your relationship with Johnny. Maybe you shut me out so you could keep seeing him with no pushback."
It certainly wasn't outside the realm of possibilities of what Edgar would do to avoid taking Scriabin's extremely basic advice about fraternizing with serial killers. How many times had he been ignored up to this point, only to culminate in the ultimate 'I don't know what you're talking about.' Pfeh. I bet he wishes he'd thought of this sooner. It did nothing for his painfully stuttered pulse.
"You know, I've been trying to convince you to stop going back to him for a while, but, well..." He waved his hand at Edgar's hand still death gripped into his shoulder, and Edgar averted his eyes guiltily. At least he showed some remorse. Better than his nigh constant apologia.
He stayed quiet a moment longer, and just before Scriabin made to fill the silence again, Edgar struck him with an intense look.
"What are you to me?" Ugh. Of course. There was not a single good answer for that. Even if he told him everything- no, especially if he told him everything, there was no way Edgar would believe him. But coming up with a convincing lie on the spot, when they were so clearly something to each other - even he needed time to come up with something workable. How could he have ever prepared for a situation like this? It was never meant to happen, so many things were never meant to happen!
He continued at Scriabin's silence. "You know Nny," Ugh! Even his awful nickname. "And Todd. And...me." He couldn't refute it, so he nodded tightly. "Do you live here?"
Technically he had, and technically he hadn't. Still, going forward, it would be easier to let Edgar assume that he did. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go at the moment anyway.
"Yes."
"Are we..." He searched him, looked him over as much as he could and he wasn't subtle about it. If only Scriabin had his proper glasses, he'd let him look as much he wanted, behold his spectacle! As it was, he just felt self-conscious and it was very unbefitting. "...family?"
The baggage on that. He did not feel like opening that particular can of worms in either of their current states. He turned his head and flipped through any number of halfway decent ways to phrase it until he hit on something Edgar would remember. Better not to contradict for now.
"You told Johnny you have no family when you met."
"That's true..." Edgar blinked, processing. "Wait, did I tell you that?" Scriabin startled. Even after he'd accounted for his memory! Of course he had to pick his story apart now, he never knew when to leave well enough alone.
"When you-" No, he had to be involved. "When we bandaged your face."
Edgar mulled on that for a few seconds, taking on a thoughtful pose. "I only remember being alone."
"You don't remember me at all. What do you want from me?" He huffed.
"No, sorry, you're right."
"Thank you." He was right!
Where had Edgar expected him to be? There was something weird about how he'd said it. He filed the thought away for later.
"So, if you've been living here, where..." Edgar looked around the room, then back to Scriabin. "Where have you been sleeping? Todd's already on the couch..."
Scriabin couldn't help as a smile sprung to his face. If he was going to present him with such a perfect opportunity, well, he'd better take it. He even had the decency to look nervous in response! This was too good.
"Would you believe me if I said right here, in bed?" He again tucked his chin, playfully this time, his hair falling further in his eyes. Even through the dark tangles he could make out Edgar's face immediately bristling with heat.
Ooh. That's such a fetching shade on you, my dear.
"But-! I, I haven't been sleeping on the floor!" He was visibly sweating!
"Correct." His smile grew. This was too easy, and he needed an easy win right about now.
"W-" He leaned forward on his legs, though refused to get any closer. When he spoke it was a harsh whisper. "Why...?"
Scriabin shrugged easily, not bothering to reign in his smile in the least. "I mean, where else, right?" He leaned in since Edgar refused to, and oh. He was blushing all the way up to his scalp. Hilarious. "You certainly didn't seem to mind." He couldn't hold back the slightly musical tone or his eyebrows inclination to move on their own. His body knew what he was getting at, and he could see it only increased Edgar's fluster. All the better.
"Well I do now!" Edgar darted up and away, stumbling in his hasty retreat. "If you'll excuse me!" though he was already practically in the hallway by the time he said it. What a display, and Scriabin's laugh was loud and natural.
Finally, something positive. He'd managed to fumble his way through, not his best work in lying or manipulation, but he'd set some important groundwork. He'd gotten some answers, and he could start to shape some more believable stories around them.
The biggest hurdles were Johnny and Devi. As long as Edgar didn't meet with them too soon - or well, at all would be preferable, but he doubted he could just keep him locked up, as much as the idea appealed to him. There were so many things that were possible now, things that he had the ability to do, given the right circumstances... All of that in due time. For now he had a yarn to spin.
He listened as Edgar fumbled in the hall, the sheer sound of cloth being pulled and folded over an arm barely perceptable. Was he really going to try to sleep on what little was left over? Maybe he'd give up once he realized the pickings were thin and beg Scriabin to let him sleep with him. Hah.
While he was out, Scriabin made his way over to the pajamas drawer. They were all old and soft, even just to his hand. They'd do for now, until he could get his own. It wasn't like he hadn't worn all this before anyway.
By the time he'd finished dressing, his clothes discarded on the opposite side of the bed to where Edgar had set up his little nest, Edgar had finally gotten himself a set of pajamas. He wondered for a moment if he'd dress with Scriabin in the room again, though maybe his intense stare drove him off. Who could say. He patted the bed with a wide grin when he returned and was dutifully ignored. He settled down to the side, and Scriabin laid on his arms to look down at him.
"Ugh, lame."
"I don't-"
"Yeah, whatever." He'd heard it all before. At least he could literally look down on him like this. He folded his hands and leaned just a bit further, looking him over. A desire he hadn't realized he had surfaced in the dark and quiet. "Give me your hand."
"Sorry?" Scriabin held out his hand expectantly.
"I used to hear your heart beat every day." Edgar looked at him incredulously, but Scriabin was unperturbed. "Let me hear it again."
He hesitated but eventually slowly offered his arm. "...Okay."
He pulled his arm up and placed his thumb against his wrist. He felt a strange mismatch - where he'd been expecting one heartbeat, there were two. He covered his surprise, near shock at the realization that of course he had his own body now, by pulling harder on Edgar's arm, directing him up to his ear.
"Wh-"
"Shh." Quietly. He had wanted this, wanted this body, this separation, this freedom for so long, and now... He spoke quietly, his voice betraying nothing. "I'm listening."
Edgar's pulse was erratic, but he hardly paid attention to it. His own fingers on Edgar's skin, warm and pliant, and Edgar's fingers twitching in his hair, he could feel it, he was trying not to touch him- This hesitation was killing him, every jerky movement away not from fear of what Scriabin could do to him, just uncertainty, like he was still a stranger- He pressed him harder to his head, and he could feel goosebumps under his fingers. He wanted to just hold him there until all the memories they'd shared poured back through him, into his blood, into his breath.
Where are you?
But he replied in that same uncertain, guarded tone that indicated he didn't know, not really.
"C...can I have my arm back now?"
He pushed him away. "Fine." Edgar curled his hand protectively against his chest, and he noticed he rubbed it slightly, he probably hadn't even realized.
He mumbled out a harried "Good night," and it was almost enough to make Scriabin smile. Almost. He could still affect him but this wasn't enough, it wasn't right.
He laid his head on the pillow, not bothering to pull his arm up over the side of the bed. If he twitched in the night and touched Edgar, well, that could mean anything. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he did it on purpose. Plausible deniability was one of his greatest assets.
As it was, he was just tired. Maybe he didn't pull it back because he hated the thought of sleeping alone, pushed out and forgotten, and hated it more that he was even thinking something like that. How pathetic. He didn't need anyone, especially not Edgar.
But he was tired. Not in his right mind.
Does this mean we can start over...?
The thought echoed and died, and he slept.
#💟#Fanfiction#Blank Slate AU#Edgar#Scriabin#Todd#Shmee#He's technically in there but once again no speaking lines :P Yet anyway lol#It's fanfic time again! I fell into yet another writing fugue and finished Chapters 1 and 2 in like four days lol#If you'll notice tho ♪ Neither of those chapters are featured under the cut :3c Pls do read Ch. 1 at least to get caught up before diving in#This one took a bit longer but that'd be because it's Almost as big as both previous chapters combined lol#I'll update it to the chapter list in a few days! Y'all get a preview here :D It'll be the same there with slightly different formatting#Decided to try something new since tumblr doesn't normally allow underlines but it's very important to Scriabin's syntax#I promise they're all just links to the first chapter lol - you're welcome to check but I promise I didn't put a sneaky link anywhere lol#My one gripe is that it doesn't look as good on-blog :/ Fine on the dash! But I'm not willing to sacrifice the dark colouration on the links#Italics were chosen as the only light feature for a reason ♪#I mean at least it's not Bolded lol I'll take it#These were a lot of fun to write so far ahhh <3 I've been wanting to dig a little deeper for a long while now!#I mentioned this idea offhandedly in the tags of Incoming Outgoing but ahhh it's very rewarding to put to words :D#Fun Fun Fun
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Nice healthy obsession you got there (Patreon)
#Doodles#SCII#Damned#DAX#ZEX#SU#Scribbles for maximum speed and minimum prettiness lol#How! many! layers! deep! can I go!!#I have been well-out from Steven Universe for a heck-while now - stopped around Off-Colors I think? I haven't been back since 2017ish y'see#Something-something pick up Vargas drop off Steven Universe (there was a few months of crossover but it's a whole thing w/e w/e)#Anyway! Lol#It was lurking dormant for This Moment is what I'm getting at#Just needed to stew on SCII for five years and then all the feelings'd come up lol#It is still so funny to me that I drew Max and Dex before ZEX and DAX - whenever things come full circle like this it tickles me#I've already written up a Whole Thing about my alien-faves so that'll be a thing soon enough lol#For now! Silliness! I mean - more silliness lol#Those /are/ ZEX and DAX but?? I guess?? with the body-snatched version but they'd be gems?? I don't know either lol#I put in the caption that DAX would be a pearl but honestly he feels like he'd be an opal or something#Can't say labradorite that's too indulgent but he'd be so pretty! Those hidden depths and flecks of green <3#I feel like ZEX would be something clear and beautiful :) So - not a green quartz lol but something pretty and important!#I dunno I've forgotten many many things about SU gem types haha#Also silly how I put ZEX in the Pearl position - he just Seems It y'know ♪#I mean Max would too lol#But no DAX is the obvious Pearl here - her songs were always my favourite <3 Discounting that she was always my favourite ahem lol#I have Always Always loved It's Over Isn't It <3 A full mournful song for her ugh it's so gorgeous ♥#I've been trying to learn the Italian version because it is So pretty <3#Thank goodness the comments weren't disabled under the Italian upload so someone was able to post the lyrics#So nice to be able to see them! And the words genuinely flow so beautifully they're really fun to sing ♫
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a minute of silence to my skills to estimate how long a project is ever going to take
#my google calendar and Carl bot (and my friends) have been kind enough to inform me today was the estimated posting date of heist au#suffice to say that is not happening#it would have been rad to make a habit out of the co-occurrence of starting a new job and starting to post a finished WIP but alas#that will not be happening for a while longer#I have no idea when will I find the time for writing between two jobs and the big bang but. we'll work something out.#but hey it's good to give your projects breathing space so your brain can do the work in the background and solve the problems for you#I'll probably need to go back and revamp the whole last chapter I've been working on#but I'm still too sick and jet lagged and sick to be thinking about that so I'll consume some more media in the meantime#and complain about how bad the fic I'm listening to is. like god it's supposed to be so romantic and cute and he's literally#depriving her bodily autonomy and her friends support him I want to leave a strongly worded comment so bad#I will not be doing that but god it's so awful I should have stopped listening to this fic long ago. so that's a lesson learned.#put the fucking fic down there's plenty of stuff that's going to be better#hot take I sure no one saw coming sometimes things that are popular are actually bad#anyway have some stream of fucking consciousness /ref to another fic I'm fighting hard to keep discontinued#I know I won't like it why is this so hard#heist au should have been posted today based on maths btw. maths I did wrong for the first time which means it should have been posted#a year ago really#not like I have the proper structure to do a heist au daily#but it would have been fun to post the first chapter on the exact day it takes place. idk just for flavour#does all this make any sense? hardly. this is a diary entry and my two braincells are firing random thoughts at each other#that's fine though. it's all fine. here have some popcorn to go with all this nonsense 🍿🍿🍿 <3#(and also all the drama in the new shadow and bone season. ugh it's so good I love Wesper SO. MUCH. or just Waylan. and Nikolai.#he's my blorbo assigned at first relevant information. relavant information: he's my friend's blorbo#but gods he's so my type it's scary. of course I'll have him as my blorbo. of course of course!#*puts him on a shelf next to Adrien Draco and Hunter*#*steps back to think before putting Waylan there too and sitting Zuko on the far end*#war crimes look so good on them :3#miaing#heist au
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i've been thinking a lot about god & god as concept & god as the answer we as people need and one we made up to make the night go by quicker. and i've been reading books that talk about god and notgod and nogod and then living where i am right now where god is a threat and why that god lived when other gods died and i feel like i've come to a conclusion that i've come to many many times before because i just didn't want it to be true for me.
i don't think i believe in god as concept or as answer. i don't believe in there being something else beyond something more. i think the divineness of god makes god too distant. i live here, i live right now, i live in a world everything exists right next to me. god being far away does not ease any worry, doesn't make the night go by faster, doesn't make anything feel ... the way god is 'supposed' to make me feel.
and i've been wrestling for years to make god real to me. just believe a little hard, pray a little more, have more faith and more faith and more faith and i had so very little to start with that i'm out. i've got nothing left to put into the god machine.
but i'm not without my beliefs. god is just the one i can do without because i believe in me and i believe in spirit and i believe the earth is a mother and a grave. i believe that our ancestors are here with us, echoing the movement of our hands to the nth generation beyond. i believe in the magic of lighting a candle and i believe in the power of prayer ( faithless as it it might be. ). i believe that pomegranates are holy fruit and the act of love is a holy act. i believe the special rocks we pick up from walks are holy and the bird feather we see could be a sign or an answer. i believe in all of those things.
i just don't think i believe in god as concept, god as answer, god as the truth and i don't think i have for over a decade.
and i started this blog as a way to explore faith, to see if my god is actually a being from a long time ago that still has a name or if it's not. if craft was a way of worship or if i should just hang up the hat and move on. i would learn names but then my faith could not match what was expected, what i expected. you were supposed to be the answer, i say, to a god who was and is the answer for so many other people but sits very silent and very quiet for me. and i started this blog when i still believed in god with a capital G. or, i tried so very hard to convince myself i did. if i'm actually honest with myself, i haven't believed in god, capitals or not, since i was in my teens.
but then there comes the really fun part of wanting so bad, wanting so much that it borders on needing, to believe. i sang the songs, i chanted the chants, i prayed prayers, i sat quietly with myself and begged for a god, to the point i was asking for any god, to listen. and hearing no response really began to carve a hole that was shaped like god. like i could trace the shape and if i could just find the shape that fit, i would be complete. but no shape fit. even if i put two in there, they don't fit. three or four, nothing. one big shape just falls out because the hole was made by the absence of ... not the presence of.
and that knowing that i will probably never fill that hole, there will never be a god or a being or anything else that'll fit, is very lonely. and honestly, that loneliness is why i started looking in the first place. because talking to people is incredibly difficult, being with others is hard, being around people makes me feel empty because i see how full they are. i am so scared of the reality that i might die alone as the possibility of meeting someone romantically or making lifelong friends just becomes smaller and smaller every day and it's a terrible fear. it'll send you looking for answers in those blank edges of the map, the blank pages at the end of the book.
but after searching and begging and wishing and hoping and praying, my reality is that the only one in that room when i cry for god is me. it's just me. me sitting on the edge of the bed, crying until my chest hurts because i want so badly to know what that love beyond mortality everyone talks about but can't feel it. me writing letters to god with no answer, me burying sigils, me carving symbols, me trying to make an ancient statue mean more than stone when that's all i can see. it's just me. it was only ever me there.
and i tried. i tried very hard. one day, i might try again. but i've never let the idea of no god sit long enough for me to get to know what it's like to not want and wish and beg.
i also want to mention that i separate god from spirit. spirits, i believe, are much more real than god. spirit is life, everything and everyone has a spirit. i think that spirits echo. this is why i believe my experiences with ghosts & the dead / animal spirits / ancestors are all very real experiences because they are echoes. all spirits come from life but i don't believe god did. i would more-so believe a rock is holy because it was prayed to for centuries upon centuries and that you would go to this rock or this tree or this land to find guidance from the spirit (or spirits) that are there than i would believe that a figure sits above us all and holds the key to life if only we would believe in them.
god as great concept has been prayed to for centuries but there is no echo of god. this is why churches feel holy because the spirit of everyone who ever sought peace lives within the walls. this is why places within the woods feel holy because the trees live and their spirit will echo when the woods are long gone. this is why i ache when my parents tell me as we drive through their old necks of the woods that have all turned into residential or industrial land 'all of this used to be woods'.
and i sit by my river and feel how old he is and there's something living in it. i don't feel god there. it's just the river. and i am more like a river than i am like a statue or a painting. parts of the earth are more alive than others, feel different than others, hold more weight than others. you see a rock and remember that rocks can take thousands or millions of years to form in a process that doesn't need you. you see a stand of trees and feel that something very old and very ancient walked there ( and for all you know, you could be remembering. that splice of dna could remember being that old and that ancient and walking through those trees when they were saplings. )
god, however, needs you in order to exist. there is no god without me. but without me, there is an earth. there's trees, rivers, plants, and animals that all exist without me. there's even people that exist without me. generations of people that i will never know and they will never know and neither one of us need the other to live. there might be something terribly lonely in that but i don't find it as lonely as sitting on the edge of the bed, begging god to help and having no reply.
i could get the same result from the river and have a much better conversation. rivers and i both have mouths but god, in any form, does not.
and maybe this is why the river has a spirit, a form of life. and why the trees are described as having clapping hands, as dancing, as being alive. and why earth is described as a mother. and why we ache at the idea of hands drawn on walls thousands of years ago. maybe this is why i remember my grandmother when i make coffee and feel connected to that life she had because when in doubt, put on a pot. and my mother tells me that out of all her grandkids, she worried for me because i was a lot like her. i feel her spirit, her echo even though i'm thousands of miles away from her, and i tell it not to worry about me because i'll be okay.
( and a quick note is that which i could very well be projecting! i could absolutely just be telling myself something to make myself feel better! there is no hard or fast rules in faith or belief or they would be facts. no one can prove or disprove god. no one prove or disprove spirits. like my concept of spirits and life beyond is very fragile at best! but i have to believe in something just there, out of the corner of my eye. i have to believe in faerie tales, i have to believe in fantasy stories, i have to believe in the magic wand that creates the carriage out of the pumpkin because without it, i would be so empty. i would lose so much of my wonder and curiosity for the world because i would see no point. what point would i have to get up if i can't interact with the spirit of the earth, with the spirit of love, with the spirit of being alive, with the spirit of magic? i wouldn't have one. others can see right down to the flat world of explanation with no magic and live perfectly happy lives but i can't. )
those are things i can believe in. and god ... has nothing to do with those things, i think.
but i don't think i would do away with god as concept, as answer, as anything out right. there's a lot to be gained by knowing humankind put their minds together and said this what love looks like or this is what war could be or i am in need in help and my help comes from a man who looks like my father, like all our fathers, or the father i need right now. i wish to win the heart of fair maiden, and if god is good she will love me in return is something that has been say in so many years for thousands of years. there's that spirit of power in words like that, in prayers passed down, in singing your grandmother's favorite hymn or writing your 8's the way your father did or a thousand different wonderful, human things.
god as human concept is a lovely thing. i have a love that is beyond my body that only a divine being could have made it possible. god, however, as divine being beyond the scope of humanity just ... isn't something i can put faith in it. i can trust the river will flow, the tree will grow, the sky will turn from night to dark but i can't trust that god did that or wanted that or willed that to be. i don't see a divine hand guiding in that kind of wholly(holy) natural chaos.
some might! and that's what i love! i love that someone can look at a tree growing in the strangest of ways and rejoice that god can bless even if the trees. i don't see that but that doesn't mean their mind or thoughts or belief is any less than mine. and it shows me how the world is so incredibly faceted just between two people looking at a tree.
i just think i've pushed and begged and pleaded and prayed for god to be there for so long that i'm ignoring the actual answer that there's just no one in that position. that the position is and never has been filled by anyone because the divine creator, above all and beyond, just doesn't fit into how the world exists to me. it's just not there. i've been trying so hard to build a very human thing for a concept that by being divine is not human. the god-shaped hole can be filled, if imperfectly but filled all the time, by the wild concept of nature and the humanity therein.
so, that's where i'm at on god.
#a very long post#but it's something i've been meaning to put together into words for a while#and nowhere have i come to a conclusion#except that god and i have finally decided to go forward w the divorce#and i know this change will be hard but ultimately it is what we had to do#this is what happens when u go out into the hurricane to fight god#turns out god never showed up to the fight :I#bc i was talkin to myself the whole time ....#wild .... anyway
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why do people always feel the need to stir the soup
#let me just vent here real quick#it's been some time since full release bg3 came out and the vibes were rlly great#but recently I've been seeing more and more drama#like ppl getting mad at other people's opinions and hcs#and while some posts are rlly nicely informative about stuff others are just plain rude and mean like#man it just rlly puts a damper on things u know#like guys it's a game#it's for enjoyment#the characters aren't real#the actors are real people though#it'd just be nice if ppl could stop being shitty and just enjoy a game normally#like normally as in just dont be a fuckin asshat#and like it's cool when people take things from the game and make something bigger out of it#like hey this little thing actually shows this big thing and a lot of thought went into this#but sometimes i feel like some of these are unraveled a little too far and the deal is being made too big#idk im bad with words#i just want everyone to be happy and hold hands#:(
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yet another stream of consciousness post about how i'm doing nothing with my life and it #sux or whatever
#aspen tag#it's kind of. well. i don't know how to start this off without feeling self-aggrandizing#because as true as it is that a lot of my ego roots in intelligence it's not actually the point rn. it's barely even a part of it#like. achievement doesn't come from talent. achievement doesn't even necessarily come from skill at all#achievement comes from motivation. from meaining. from something being worth doing#and. idk. i'm a thinker. my mind's always moving towards something. there's a stream of thoughts and it never stops flowing#and it's just. i mean. i LIKE thinking for the sake of thinking. i really do#i like working things out in my head and looking stuff over just to get a better picture and doing it just because it's there and i can#but none of it is going anywhere. and i'd like to be going somewhere#the thing about falling out of habits is that they become absences so easily#and it sneaks up on you. all the things in your life that are now not#i like learning and creating and puzzling through something. i like trying new things in new ways and figuring it out as i go#i like diving headfirst into whatever i happen to be working on and just living in there for a while#i like a challenge and i like investing myself and i like engaging and complex and FUN#and i don't. do anything with that anymore#i don't have hobbies. i don't get out of the house. i don't really put passion towards anything regardless of if it's there for me to have#and it's not about wasted potential. it's not about having the skill or the aptitude or the resources or any of that shit#it's about how i LIKE doing it‚ and i'm not. that's the point. that's the problem#it's just. draining. to feel like nothing in your head ever makes it into the world#if there was ever a throughline in my dissatisfaction it'd be insignificance#i have an untapped well of myself i'd so eagerly apply if i had a door or a key or any way to get it where it needs to go#but i don't. none of it seems to move anything#i don't know. i'm tired. that's all of it. distilled down into a pair of words far too simple for the weight they carry#well-worn track in the surface of my mind. every passing day the grooves deepen#and there could be a path outside of it. but i don't know how to make one#i don't know how to start. and isn't that every problem i've ever had in a nutshell#adhd! it's fantastic. i'm going nowhere and i've been going there for a long fucking while#and as far as i can tell i'll be going there for another while yet.#i guess that's all there is to it. or at least as much as i've got. i'm tired of being tired and i don't know where that leads me#but it doesn't really seem like i'm doing anything worth losing. so i might as well just let it do what it does
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✎ to my beloved
- gojo satoru x reader
bad days don't mean the end of the world, and your husband is making sure you know that
genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, fluff, fluff—just gojo pampering you
note: my job has been so hard for me this week :') so yeah it's very self indulgent as i need a lil hurt/comfort and i think you should too~
a part of gojo's love entries
general masterlist
This week... has been a total dumpster fire.
You were utterly exhausted, covered in grime and blood, a persisting headache made you almost black out, all while sitting in the hospital waiting room as survivor's guilt slowly consumed you.
Grueling paperwork, a new project, facing the higher-ups, being substituted to Kyoto for days, and then a sudden attack of a curse user on the loose.
In times of need, you were supposed to protect others— you are a jujutsu sorcerer.
And yet, what happened? Megumi suddenly bathed in his own blood. You barely managed to save him in time, and now you were waiting for the news that he would be okay.
Why couldn't it be you instead? You wanted to break down each time you replayed the scene that took Megumi out. It was so eerily similar to how Haibara was—
"Are you okay!?"
You whipped your head, surprised to find your husband pounding down the hall. Satoru looked unlike himself—he was disheveled, and when he saw you, he immediately dashed towards where you were.
"Satoru..." you voice came out in a croak, feeling the lump in your throat closing in. When he dropped to his knee, put both hands on the sides of your face, and then your body, feeling you over to check if you had any injuries—
You finally burst into tears.
"Sweets, hey..." Satoru immediately pulled you close, trying to soothe you. You were shaking in his arms and he tightened his arms around you. "What happened to you?"
"I-I was... w-with him..." you sobbed, burying your face in his shoulder. "S-Satoru... I-I'm sorry...! M-Megumi—"
Your husband immediately shushed you. "Shh... it's alright, yeah? He'll be okay—"
You were still inconsolable even as he held you in his embrace. He hadn't seen you like this... not ever since tragedies during your high school years ago. And he struggled to reconcile this sight of you with how you were back then.
"I-I s-should've stood in his way— t-that way, he won't be hit—" you hiccupped as you poured your heart out and clutched at his shirt. "I-It would be f-fine if it... was me—"
But all thoughts flew when he heard your words, and suddenly he felt so angry—
"What do you mean?" his voice was so low and sharp that it startled you. "How will it be fine if it was you?"
You stiffened, and Satoru gripped your shoulder, pulling away to look you right in the eyes.
"If something bad happened to you... how is it fine?" he emphasized with gritted teeth. "Where do you get that kind of bullshit from?"
Your lips were wobbling as you sniffled. "At least... i-it isn't him—"
"If you got hurt, how do you think it'll make me feel?" Satoru posed the burning question on you next, his cerulean eyes glinting with silent fury, and you almost recoiled.
"T-that's...!"
"I'll wreak havoc if anything ever happens to you." His tone was harsh and forceful. "So if you think you can just—"
"I'm tired!" you screamed then, and he was stunned, wide-eyed as he took in your outburst. "I-I'm just... I've had enough of this— this shit! I want to quit!"
You were openly weeping, and this time, Satoru felt his heart lurch. You looked so heartbroken and utterly inconsolable that his first instinct to protect you took over.
"Then quit." He rose and took a seat next to you, before cradling you closer and pressed your head against his chest. "Even if you quit, I'm still here. I can protect you well enough. I don't like you being a sorcerer anyway."
You were his beloved wife and he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be happy and smiling.
He let out a disgruntled grunt. "Did you know how I was when I heard from Ichiji that you were at the hospital? I thought I might go mad thinking something had happened to you."
You sobbed harder at his words.
"It's perfectly okay if you're tired," he affirmed, patting your back gently. "If you're fine with giving up everything, then I'm on board too. Whatever makes you happy, sweets. Just... don't think of anything that might hurt yourself. Don't think of anything that might make you leave me."
You didn't know you needed to hear it. Right at that moment, your heart swelled with warmth. All your feelings were validated, and even if you chose to let go of everything, Satoru would accept you as you are.
You felt safe, so incredibly and irrevocably secure.
"Whatever happened this time..." he breathed out, feeling the dampness in his chest, his fingers gently combing through your hair. "It's not your fault. No one will blame you. I don't blame you, and Megumi won't too."
Your sniffles quieted down a bit at his words, and your throat still felt tight, clogged with tears.
"H-he... looked s-so much like Haibara... w-when—"
"Shush, he does not. Megumi will be okay. You will too, hmm?"
And just like that, you let go of everything and surrendered your entire being into his arms.
Clinging to him, you finally believed, in whatever shape or form it might take, you would be okay.
A week later, Megumi was discharged after being cleared by the hospital. His wounds were thankfully shallow, and you cried in relief when he woke up.
And after escorting him back, later that night, you laid on top your husband...
Your weight on him felt like a comforting reassurance as he gently patted your back. Satoru couldn't help but smile when he saw how peaceful you looked, like a baby about to fall asleep.
He couldn't resist and planted a firm kiss on the crown of your head.
"Mmm?" you looked up at him, eyes fluttering open, and he cracked a grin.
"What?"
"What?"
"Can't I kiss my own wife? When she's adorable as heck too."
"You..." your lips curved into a bashful, yet exasperated smile, poking his chest in the process.
"Heh."
You drew circles on his broad and sturdy chest, noting how his arms extended and feeling how your toenails only reached a little past his knees. "Your arms and legs are ridiculously long. You are like an oversized plushie."
Satoru snickered. "Well, isn't that good? You don't have to buy them anymore. I can be your personal talking plushie."
"Ew." You hit his chest playfully, and he pushed your bum forward until you were face-to-face with him. He smooched you on the lips, and you giggled afterward.
His eyes shone as he stared at you, breaking to a smile himself. "Finally smiling. Pretty."
"Satoru..." your eyes found his, and you marveled at how sparkling they were. Seeing him so close, even after being married to him for more than a year, made your heart skip a beat. "I..."
"Hmm?"
"I want to keep being jujutsu sorcerer..." You had thought about it ever since, and you still arrived at the same conclusion. "It's true if I give up on it, you'll still keep me safe and all, but..."
Your husband waited for you to continue, still smiling, blinking expectantly.
"...this is something I have to do. I know there will be more hard days ahead, but believe it or not, I... found purpose in doing this," you said, shifting your gaze away from him. "It makes me feel... I can be useful. Even if I'm not special like you, I can still contribute in my own small way..."
How you pressed up against him, the way you looked hesitant and yet convinced at the same time... Satoru thought you were the most precious thing there was.
"Then keep going. I'll still be here too." He hugged you tight then, surprising you. "Just let me know when you feel like you need a long leave, and I'll definitely give you the solution."
"Eh? How?"
"Easy... I can just put a baby in you~ They won't deny you maternity leave or put you in missions~"
"...Satoru, you're—" You shot him a look so unamused, before resigning with a sigh. "Never mind... alright, sure, whatever you say."
"Ooh! So does this mean you want to try now?!"
"—? No, not now yet—!"
"When? We have to try one of these days before some meddlesome aunties ask us when we will have kids!"
Being sillies like this made you so glad that you had him in your life, and that you married him. And if he felt the same way as you... then you really thanked the stars for it.
You huffed, yet wrapping your arms around him in return. "Satoru, you're a clown."
"Your personal clown, you mean. Right~"
#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#satoru gojo x reader#jjk drabbles#gojo satoru#satoru x reader#jjk imagines#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru fluff#jjk fluff#gojo x you#satoru gojo fluff#jjk x reader fluff#gojo fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk fic#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#gojo satoru imagines#dad!gojo#jjk gojo satoru#jutusu kaisen x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo
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