#work space chalkboard

[katanra]

Industrial Home Office

[cupophrogs]

y'all someone help me figure out pants for this badass butch tardigrade lady I'm going to MELT

[geraskier]

.

[seeingivy]

my kink is karma

satoru gojo x f!reader

**loosely based on my kink is karma by chappell roan

an: based on a request from gojo as taylor anon <3 this one is for u

--  

“hi honey bee.” 

you peer over the top of your monitor screen to find satoru gojo, the executive account manager whose murder you’ve been planning for the past few weeks, looming over your desk. his inhumanely long limbs are fixed behind his back, bright ocean blue eyes filled with glee. and you’ve been through this enough times to know exactly what’s going on. 

he’s caught yet another mistake that you’ve made. and he’s here to sick it to you, his favorite worker bee that he likes to irritate. 

satoru gojo is a nicely packaged sewer demon that arrived two months ago, replacing the little old lady who used to occupy the glass office at the center of the workflow. she was kind, a little bit confused here and there, but she got her job done without making a fuss and that was all that mattered to you. she made you blondies for your birthday. 

you didn’t realize how nice you had it until she was replaced with him. because satoru gojo was irritating, prancing in the way he always did – insanely tall and taking up too much space in your peaceful office – with a boisterous laugh, a strange sense of humor, and a tendency to be irritatingly perfect. 

a stitched and tailored suit,  designer perfume, and a sparkling rolex watch on his wrist. a pretty girlfriend that he bragged about at mandatory lunches, a shiny black mercedes, and a penthouse apartment in the center of the city. 

you hate him. you hate how you can feel him scorning at the worn down ballet flats that you wear to work, the vintage watch you snagged from the thrift store, and the narrowed look that he gives to your public transportation card as you tuck it back into your wallet when you walk into the office. 

“are you doing a sales report?” he asks. 

“i’m at my job. where i work in sales marketing. what do you think i’m working on?” 

you watch his eye twitch. the small movements – eye twitches, nose wrinkles, and the turning of his lip – you had been watching them, memorizing what exactly it was that pushed his buttons since he was so keen on doing it first. though, he would never show it upfront, at least not as openly as you do anyways. 

that was one of the nice things about satoru gojo. that he was intelligent and perceptive – enough for him to know that you were maybe the only person in this office who didn’t like him. that you could understand his niceness was masked in arrogance. that you had no intention of kissing his ass like almost everyone else in this office did. 

you loathed his very existence, the stupid jokes he made, and would rather hear nails on a chalkboard than the stories that he recounts from his weekends at his parent’s suburban villa. 

“i love a great sense of humor!” he responds, scooting his long legs over to the side of your desk and hunching over to get a view of your computer. 

he says it with a bright and sparkling smile, but you get the message clear and straight – i’d watch the attitude if i were you. 

the smell of his fancy cologne tickles your nose as he leans over, his face nearly cheek to cheek with yours as he places a little manila folder in front of you. you heave a sigh, opening it up to your sales reports from the last week, each one laminated and with a dark red mark in the center. 

“been looking over your reports. you’re getting a little sloppy with your math.” 

you scoff. 

“is that right?” you ask. 

“uh huh. just make sure you count your decimal points and your zeroes when you turn in this one. i know it can be a little hard sometimes, big numbers and all.” 

you bite down on your cheek, feeling the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. did he always have to be so patronizing? 

“now why would i do that? i’d put you out of a job if i did.” 

satoru clicks his tongue in cheek – one of the clear cut signs that you’ve hit one of his exposed nerves. that he’s a glorified calculator sitting in a fancy glass office with an arbitrary executive title slapped next to his name. 

satoru gojo hates that you always seem to make that point every time he corrects you. and you’ll take any chance to remind him. that he doesn’t do anything worthwhile. that he’s a pretty face and just that – nothing substantial underneath. 

“luckily for me, you’ve proven that you’ll be incompetent until the end. as long as you’re here, it seems that i will be too. i’d get back to it if i were you, honey bee.” he responds, the tone in his voice scathing as he walks back to his office, a glimmering plastic smile pressed to his face. 

--

you have mandatory team building lunches on fridays at twelve thirty. it’s one of the things that you appreciate – that you don’t have to wake up early to put together a lunch from the leftovers in your fridge. 

you cycle through every person in the office, rotating on picking up lunch that accommodates the budget and everyone’s dietary requests, and break bread to get closer to one another. satoru, naturally, goes over budget every time it’s his turn, and insists that it’s no problem – though he always seems to slightly mess up your order, while everyone else’s comes out perfectly. 

and on the days where he isn’t choosing the lunch, he’s so irritating – complaining of a sensitive stomach – and instead brings a nicely packaged lunch that his private chef makes for him every morning.. three courses, always packed with a dessert. 

one time you asked him if the chef wrote him little supportive notes in his lunchbox. you would be lying if you said it didn’t fill you with pride, that the small comment you made was enough to fill him with irritation for the rest of the work day. 

“what are your christmas plans, satoru?” 

you look over at your fellow sales associate, yuuji, and share a smirk with him. the two of you lean back, nursing your little sandwiches from the deli two miles down in your hands as you start the mental counter in your head. 

every day before lunch, you and yuuji make a shot counter of things that you expect gojo to say during team building. common phrases that fall out of his mouth like back at the villa, my custom tailor shop, and louis vuitton – the normal trust fund baby vocabulary, naturally – somehow always make their way into the conversation. 

you drink shots accordingly at happy hour after work. whoever’s word has the higher count has to pay for the entire night. 

your poison for today was private jet. yuuji’s was timeshare. 

“anne marie and i are heading over to her family’s timeshare in bali. they have a property over there – full pool, private beach and all.” 

yuuji snorts. you roll your eyes. 

“a private beach?” nanami asks, eyes raised as he neatly picks the tomatoes out of his sandwich and hands them over to shoko at his side. 

“a private beach, indeed. it’s right on the coast, equipped with boats for excursions and stuff like that. the timeshare comes set with all of those.” he states. 

“excursions.” you repeat, giving yuuji a wide eyed look as he fights the urge to laugh. 

satoru looks over at you, a clear distaste in his eyes, as he leans back in his chair, legs spread wide. 

“what are you doing for your vacation, y/n?” satoru asks. 

“i’m going home with yuuji for a few days.” you state. 

“right. that sounds exciting!” he states. 

you can hear the message laced in that one too – a clear and pointed diss that he’s going to be spending his time at a resort with his skinny legged model girlfriend and you’re going to be going home with the one gay guy that works at your office and get drunk in the bar in your hometown. 

“which airline are you taking?” satoru asks. 

you grin. 

“delta.” 

“never been. i use my private jet to get around.” 

you give him an exaggerated gasp. 

“a private jet? tell me all about it.” 

you’ve goaded him right into your trap – as satoru then says the word private jet a total of seventeen times, defeating the measly eight times he said timeshare – and delight in the fact that you’ll at least get to have a nice night out. 

--

on the first tuesday back from break, freshly minted into five days of the new year, your co-worker katie shakes your shoulder aggressively ten minutes into your shift. you note that four days into the week, satoru has yet to return to the office and you hope that it’s not just good luck – that maybe he fell off of his duffy boat in bali and lost all his memory, rendered incapable of ever returning to the office again. 

you pray that your new boss isn’t as much of an asshole as him. 

you look up to find katie’s eyes wide, an excited smile on her face, as she leans down into your space. katie is one of the few friends that you have in the office, the third person who finds satoru and his antics irritating. 

“did you hear about gojo?” she asks. 

“every thing i know about that man is against my will.” you deadpan. 

she giggles, leaning down to whisper. 

“oh my fucking god. come here. you’re going to love this.” 

she stands up, scanning the room, as she gestures for you to stand up, the two of you making your way over to the break room. you can’t talk so freely about him when his little lackey’s are still lingering around, who will most definitely tell him that the two of you were gossipipng. 

and god knows that would only make his head bigger – knowing that everyone talked about him even when he wasn’t there. katie strides into the room, taking residence over the coffee machine and shooting nanami a polite smile, as she starts absentmindedly brewing a cup of coffee. 

“he’s losing it.” 

“who?” 

“satoru. he’s going fucking crazy apparently.” 

you snort. as if. satoru’s definition of going crazy would be mixing and matching different designer brands – like wearing a gucci watch with a louis vuitton tie. 

“turns out that his glamorous vacation to bali with that raggedy anne doll never happened. she had a whole meltdown and broke up with him after his credit card got declined at a restaurant they went to a few days before the trip.” 

you nearly choke on your spit. 

“what?” 

“apparently it was just a fluke, his card got momentarily blocked since he bought some new car. but she literally freaked out on him and left him stranded.” 

you snort. 

“there’s no way.” 

“she told him that it was unacceptable. that she had enough.” 

“well, i’ll say. she milked an entire designer wardrobe out of him.” you whisper, earning you a giggle from katie. 

“i know! anyways, sharon from hr told me that he’s taken the past four days off because he doesn’t have transportation – he fucking crashed the mercedes when he was driving home from the breakup.” 

“you’re fucking kidding. the g-wagon?” 

“i swear to god.” 

it feels a little mean, but you can’t help but delight in all of it. 

that despite it all, karma’s real. and it’s finally satoru fucking gojo’s turn. six months of patronizing comments and arrogance has finally caught up with him. his pretty girlfriend is just that – a pretty girl who wanted to do nothing with him. the car he brags about has been demolished and at the very least his larger than life ego has taken some type of hti. 

“oh, look, look.” 

katie shakes your arm, the two of you peering through the glass window to see satoru climb out of the bus – the same bus that you take to work everyday to save money – with what you can tell from here is an unironed suit and messy hair. his tie isn’t even done properly. 

and when he walks in, all you smell is the fancy cologne, with the faintest hints of tequila lingering behind. a smell that you only catch, because it’s one that you’ve drowned out on a bad day. 

you and yuuji pick horrendous words for lunch – yours being luxury brand and yuuji’s being private chef – and much to your dismay, he says neither. he actually doesn’t say anything. just sulks in the corner and disappears as soon as he finishes the tacos. 

you leave a mistake in your sales report. he doesn’t even catch it. 

--

“can you close out my tab, toji?” 

toji, the bartender who’s well aware of your antics – and perhaps even more upset than you are that your hoity toity boss didn’t play along well with your game today – gives him a nod, wiping his hands with the towel as he looks over at you. 

“you too, doll?” 

“no, i’ll have another before i head out.” you state. 

he gives you a nod, shuffling off to the side to get yuuji’s bill, as you slump down on the bar, yuuji mimicking your motions as you both lean your heads against one anothers. and he leaves just as fast, pressing a loving kiss to the top of your head as you swirl the little ice cubes in your drink as you watch the bubbles fizz out. 

“rough day, y/n?” 

you shrug. 

“same old – can’t really complain. you?” 

toji smiles. 

“you see that guy over there, at the end of the bar? this is the third day that he’s drank up my entire supply of tequila.” 

you follow the line of his vision to see satoru – the satoru gojo slumming it in this rather disgusting bar, at least for his standards – his tie messy and the buttons of his shirt loosely undone sitting at the bar. 

“him?” 

“uh huh. broke up with like the only girl he’s ever dated, apparently. whoever she is, thank her fucking ass. he tips well over.” toji murmurs, giving you a smile as he rearranges the glasses. 

you give toji a weary smile, pressing the cash down on the bar, as you make your way over – noting that tequila smell is not masked at all this time – as you slide into the seat next to him, tapping on your shoulder. and he looks over, the rims of his eyes red and eyes squinting as he leans forward.  

“honey bee?” he slurs. 

the smell is overwhelming. 

“the one and only.” you respond. 

you reach forward, sliding the little shot glass out of his hand and placing it behind the bar. you turn back to find that his hair is messy, whatever mousse that he’s used to style it has clearly run fraught, and his cheeks flushed pink. 

“that’s enough for one night, gojo. let’s get you home, yeah?” 

“huh?” 

“home. the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or a household?” 

he glares. 

“i know what a home is.” he deadpans. 

“perfect! let’s get you to yours.” you respond. 

satoru turns over to you, blue eyes weary, before he shrugs and slumps down onto the bar. you roll your eyes, scooting your chair closer as you pull up your phone. 

“i’ll do you a liberty. i know you’re probably morally opposed to taxis, so i’ll call you an uber. what’s your address?” 

satoru reaches up, his fingertips brushing your wrist, as he snatches your phone and places it flat on the bar. 

“no thank you.” 

“toji will kick you out, you know. and he doesn’t even know you like that, he’ll probably be really mean since he has a wife to get back home to and all.” 

satoru snorts. 

“then i’ll just go to another bar. i’m not going home.” 

you groan, noting that of course he was going to be stubborn about this too, and that whatever it was in your chest – pity, you suppose – was making you so insistent on making sure he didn’t die from alcohol poisoning tonight. 

“what’s so bad about your pretty penthouse?” you ask. 

he huffs a sigh. 

“there’s pictures of anne marie everywhere. and i fucking hate that bitch.” 

you snort, hearing such choice words about the barbie doll that you never had the pleasure of meeting, as you hop off the stool. you figured he was going to be more of the emotional drunk – crying and whining – rather than cursing her very existence. 

“okay, c’mon. i know somewhere you can go.” 

--

you feel bad for him as the night goes on. because he’s so drunk that he’s sobbing the entire drive back to your apartment, a horrendous mix of drunk ramblings about how honda civics are actually nicer than he expected and how he didn’t even know that this part of the city existed. your previous thoughts about emotional drunks were completely revoked. 

he leans his entire weight on you as you drag him into the elevator, plopping him down on the couch, as you task yourself with making him a green smoothie before letting him pass out into the abyss. it’ll help with the raging hangover you’re positive that he’s going to have tomorrow – and you hope that it means he’ll spare you some kindness the following morning, for saving him from his imminent death and all. 

you change into your comfy pajamas as the smoothie blends – a loose old dartmouth t-shirt and shorts – and pour it into a glass. you take a deep breath, bracing yourself, as you make your way back to the couch where satoru’s peeled his sport jacket off and unbuttoned his shirt nearly halfway down. you make it a point to not ogle his perfectly chiseled body. 

“alright, satoru. this will help with your hangover tomorrow, just drink it really fast because it tastes horrible.” you state. 

satoru looks over at you, completely unfazed by the green drink you hand him, and decides that he’s very shamelessly going to check you out. you can see it in his eyes – the way they follow your bare legs and your mismatched socks, before he looks back up at you and frowns. 

“am i that fucking pathetic that you’re helping me?” he asks. 

you grin. 

“yes.” you respond. 

satoru appreciates the honesty, gulping down the thick and tart smoothie that you made him, and slams the glass down on the coffee table after the fact. he wipes the residue on the back of his hand and shrinks into the couch – and you can’t help but shiver at how normal he looks. 

it’s the first time that you’ve understood it, why everyone thinks he’s so attractive. he has soft and full cheeks, striking blue eyes that go perfectly with his snow white hair. a few freckles dot his nose. 

“well, let’s hear it. make all the fun you fucking want.” satoru murmurs. 

you roll your eyes. 

“do you think i’m a bitch? i don’t kick people when they’re down. something you’re wholly unfamiliar with, i’m well aware.” 

“you have no problem doing it in the office.” he states. 

you scoff. 

“you always start it. you can’t really get mad when i start dishing it back. and i’m a little bit better than you. i won’t make comments about you now that pretty malibu barbie’s broken your heart now because i have a shred of decency.” 

satoru scoffs. 

“you’ll just do it tomorrow, when i’m keen enough to fight back .” he states. 

you sigh, leaning back on the couch, as you look up at the wallpaper pressed to the ceiling. it’s slightly peeling and you make a mental note to replace it when you get the time – which knowing you, you probably never will. 

he was impossible. 

when you look over at him, his eyes fixed to the peeling wallpaper too, but with glimmering tears sprinkling out of his eyes, though they’re slower and quieter than the sobs that he was heaving in the car. you wonder how much he really had to drink. 

“you need to replace your wallpaper. it’s coming off.” satoru seethes. 

“okay.” you respond. 

you look back at the ceiling. you could give him some advice too. 

“you should stop dating gold diggers.” you state. 

he rolls his eyes. 

“how was i supposed to know she was a gold digger?” he asks. 

you laugh. 

“it’s not normal to buy your girlfriend’s entire wardrobe. and her car. and her..”

“okay, okay, okay. it was a gift!” he defends. 

“you know, normal people get a giftcard and call it a day. or a candle from target.” you respond. 

there’s a whisper of a smile on satoru’s face as he sighs, before pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“okay, well. i was trying to be sweet. her love language was giving gifts.” 

you snort. 

“shocker.” you deadpan. 

he reaches for the closest cushion, before smacking it straight across your chest. you’re quick to snatch it from his hands, holding it close to your chest, as the two of you stick back to the silence. 

“so what do i do?” he asks. 

“what do you mean?” 

“i dunno. never done a break up before. she was like my first girlfriend.” 

you would understand it. you would, you suppose, if that was something you could relate to. being so in love that you can’t be with anyone else. but then again, that lingering question would always come back to you – how could you know that this person was the one if you hadn’t tried anything else? 

in your very limited experience in your very short life, one thing always rang true – that the more time you took to learn, to experience, the better things seemed to get. you had a bunch of shit friends in high school and now you’re friends with yuuji. you had four different majors before you picked marketing because it let you be creative. you’ve dated four different guys but you’re still looking for the one. 

that’s why you didn’t understand it – how people could be so one and done, on something so serious. granted, that’s probably how they end up with gold diggers. 

“do you have anything of hers?” you ask. 

satoru gives you a strange look, before digging his hand in his pocket, and fishing out his wallet. he opens up the little zipper, yanking a little silver necklace out of the leather, and placing it into the palm of your hand. 

you feel your eyes widen a little bit, sparkling diamonds set in a little circular mother of pearl design, as you run your fingers over it. you shake yourself out of it, looking over at him resting his forearms against his knees, expectantly waiting for an answer. 

“real cute. go throw it out of my window.” you state, handing it back to him. 

“i beg your pardon?” 

“so a window is an opening in the wall or roof that…” you start. 

he lightly shoves you, before clutching the necklace in his fist. 

“i can’t throw it out. it’s fucking expensive.” 

you roll your eyes. 

“that means nothing to you. you’re not throwing it away because you still like raggedy anne.” 

“raggedy anne?” he asks. 

“yuuji, katie, and i call her that. red hair kind of set that one up for us but…” 

his eyes widen, as he leans forward. 

“do you guys not like her?” he asks. 

you shrug, as you stand up, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as you pull him closer to the window. the question catches you off guard – that he would care what the three of you would think. 

you peek your head out the window –  a few cars still milling on the street, the lights lazily changing, as he joins you and sticks his head out the window. 

“i can’t, honey bee.” he states. 

“yes, you can. it’s just a necklace.” 

“but what if she wants it back?” he asks. 

you fight the urge to slap him, as you stick your head back into the warmth of the apartment. he follows suit. 

“you would go back to her?” you ask. 

“i dunno. i –” 

“she would probably only want to get back together so she can get this fucking necklace back. because she’s a gold digger! screw her, surely you could do better than that!” 

satoru frowns, as he peaks out of the window again. and he makes the motion like he’s going to throw it before he looks back at you, nervously scratching at the back of his neck. 

“it’s limited edition. maybe i should sell it and –” 

“no. you’re going to throw it out of the window right now, on the count of three.” 

“i really don’t want to. we should do something easier first.” he whines.

“one.” you state. 

he panics. surely he couldn’t be serious. 

“this can’t be how normal people cope. i could hit someone and give them a black eye..” 

“two.” you scold. 

“maybe i don’t want to be a normal person. i think that this is all –” 

“three.” 

you snatch the necklace out of his open palm and throw it straight out of the window. it makes a little clinking sound when it finally hits the bottom, the two of you poking your heads out of the window to now see it tangled in the sewage gutter that’s been dirtied by the recent rain. 

“you threw her necklace.” satoru states, in exasperation. 

“when normal people can’t do it on their own, a trusted friend does it to keep them in line.” you state, pushing back into the apartment and wiping your hands. 

satoru follows behind you, his steps featherlike, as you reach for his phone and start scrolling through the contacts. he’s leaning his head over your shoulder, eyes wide as you pull up anne marie’s contact and hold it out to him. 

“you’re going to make me block her too?” he asks. 

“no. you should call her once and say some mean stuff and then block her.” 

satoru’s eyes widen. 

“mean stuff?” 

“call her. tell her she’s a gold digger. that you think her voice is annoying or something.” you add. 

satoru crosses his hands over his chest. 

“that’s not very mature.” 

“okay, but you’re back in dog years since you’ve been dating this girl forever. plus, i’d say it’s immature to be in a god knows how long relationship with someone just for their money. does she have any consideration for you?” 

satoru pauses, like he’s mulling the thought over. 

“if you don’t do it, you’re going to become even more weird and repressed than you are now.” you state 

“i’m not repressed!” he whines. 

“be immature! say a bunch of bullshit and then hang up! you’ll feel great – you…you’re supposed to do these types of things at least once. this is like a rite of passage.” 

satoru gives you a weary look as you lean forward, pressing the dial button. his eyes go wide as you start whispering, gesturing for him to do it. 

“hello? satoru?” anne marie says, voice confused.

there’s a considerable amount of sound behind the speaker, loud booming music making it very clear that raggedy anne is at the club while satoru’s moping it out in your apartment. 

“do it.” you whisper. 

“hi annie.” satoru murmurs. 

you roll your eyes at the nickname. 

“did you want something satoru?” she asks. 

“yeah. yeah, i just wanted to say…” satoru starts. 

“hold on one second.” she says. 

there’s a murmuring over the speaker, which she’s clearly covered, as you start whispering. tell her she’s annoying! she won’t even give you the time of day on a phone call!! 

“sorry, i’m back. i’m on a date right now so i was just trying to slip away.” 

satoru looks up at you. 

“you’re a bitch.” he murmurs. 

you fight the urge to laugh. 

“what did you say?” anne marie responds. 

“you’re a bitch.” he says louder. 

“good! say it again!” you whisper. 

satoru has the whisper of a smile on his face, the silent support goading him on, as he keeps talking. 

“you…you’re annoying. you have a really high pitched voice and every time you wake up in the morning, it gives me an ear splitting headache. and you…you look horrible in blue.”  

the choice of words is a little middle school, but you’ll give it to him. there was a first time for everything. 

“say something else.” you whisper. 

“is that a girl?” anne marie asks.

you both widen your eyes, before satoru quickly hangs up and start laughing. you note that for your standards that was horrendously tame, but the glint in his eyes seems to signify that it’s at least done something for him, because it’s the first time he properly smiles after entering your apartment. 

“how was that?” 

“fucking great! she sounded like an idiot!” he responds. 

“she sure did.” 

“now she’s probably wondering which girl i’m with and working herself over it.” he responds. 

you shake your head, pulling out the sheets to make the fold out bed for him properly, before you make your way back over to your own room. screaming middle school insults seems to sober him up enough, because he joins you in folding the sheets, a smile on his face. 

“have you done that before?” he asks. 

“done what?” you ask. 

“throw stuff out like that? call an ex-boyfriend?” 

you smile. 

“mhm. my first boyfriend irritated me so bad that i took everything he ever gave me – a dried up bouquet of flowers, a necklace, birthday cards and all that type of stuff – and threw it in a trash can outside of the bank i go to. and the calling, i did that once when my ex-boyfriend decided to go to san diego for a trip instead of meeting up with me. he made it pretty clear for a week that we were going to break up on that day and i had hyped myself up for it, just for him to not show up. so i got pissed and called him then and there.” you state. 

satoru’s floored.

“really? that’s such a dick move.” 

“i mean, s’pretty standard.” 

you’ve been on the carousel of assholes your entire life. but satoru shakes his head. 

“i can’t believe someone would even do that. that’s unusually cruel.” 

you forgot about that part. that with having experienced next to nothing, there’s a sense of naivety that comes with it too. 

or hope. whichever word speaks to you more – and at the current moment, it’s the latter, only because he seems so genuinely downtrodden by it – so genuinely believing that people are meant to be good and kind that he can’t fathom someone being mean and selfish just for the sake of it. 

you feel bad for him. 

“that it is. almost as cruel as dating someone just for their money.” you respond. 

satoru sighs. 

“yeah.” 

“that’s kind of the cool part now.” you respond. 

“what is?” 

you sit down flat on the bed, the sheets nicely tucked in and folded, as you pat the little spot next to you on the bed. he obliges, his legs stretching out a considerable distance past yours, as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“this is going to sound really weird, but some day you’re going to agree with me.” you state. 

“okay.” 

“you’re going to feel a lot of things in the next few months. and then after the fact, when you’re really truly over it, you’re going to realize how real all of that was.” 

“meaning?” 

you shrug. 

“you’re going to mope and listen to sad songs for a while. and those songs are going to hit like they’ve never hit before, you’re going to realize people have been writing about this exact feeling that you’re experiencing for years. you’ve just gone through a shared experience that almost everyone has, no matter who they are, of getting your heart shattered.” 

satoru’s never thought of it that way. granted, he’s only been thinking about it for three days, but still. 

“then you’re going to be pissed. you’re going to do a bunch of stupid stuff and you might even regret it a little bit, but that’s part of learning more about yourself. maybe you really do like to have the last word. maybe you can’t fathom it at all, seeing that person ever again. either way, you’re going to figure out something about yourself and it’s going to make it all the more worth it. that’s part of this entire thing – experiencing something new, doing things three, four, five times and fucking up each time, just to…get something out of it. figure out whatever you’ve got going on in this thing.” you respond, flicking at his forehead. 

satoru rubs the spot, glaring at you, as you shoot him a smile. 

“there’s no point in doing anything once. you’re going to live a really long life, were you really only going to date and love one girl the entire time? i know you must have more to give than that.” you state. 

“do you not believe in marriage?” he asks. 

you frown. 

“who said i don’t believe in marriage?” 

“i mean, you seem like so…hippie dippie. i get what you’re saying and…and i’m even inclined to believe you’re right…but where does that stop? you can’t go on experiencing things and people and loving forever?” 

you smile. 

“why do you think so little of marriage? do you really think all of that stops once you enter a relationship with someone?” 

satoru freezes. 

“you keep doing that stuff, but with the person you know is meant for you. clearly your relationship with raggedy anne must have been really, very boring, because getting to do new things together is the fun part. i’d argue that it’s even the point of even being together – growing into something new.” 

satoru thinks you're wise. he thinks that he’s still leftover drunk and whatever it is you’re saying is coming out like poetry to him, that it’s singing to the tune that’s been going on in the background of his head for the past year, because really – his relationship was very boring. 

it had gotten monotonous. maybe he stayed because he didn’t know anything different. maybe that’s why he was so obsessed with stalking your every move – making sly comments, finding mistakes in your reports - just because you were always so keen to give him a different answer, one he couldn’t predict, the only constant thing about you being that you were always different. 

“your brain looks like it’s working overtime. you should go to bed.” you state. 

“okay, yeah.” 

satoru is still drunk. somewhat drunk. maybe a little. 

it’s why he leans forward, to press a warm kiss to the side of your cheek. he notes that your eyes go wide, as you immediately lift your hand to press your fingers to the skin, your cheeks flushing pink. 

“i was hoping you were going to give me like a thousand dollars or something as a gift for being nice to you.” 

satoru grins. because again, it wasn’t the answer he was expecting at all. 

“i could do that too.” he states. 

you roll your eyes, before reaching forward to pinch his cheek. 

“shut up.” 

“you’re pretty.” 

you’re taken aback by the comment, leaning back to cross your hands over your chest, as you eye him again. messy hair, swollen eyes, and pink lips from the drinks. 

“you’re not that bad either. you look way better like this.” 

“like this?” 

“you know…no fancy mousse. creepy perfectly tailored suit. having a proper meltdown and all. not to be rude, but your distress might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.” 

satoru scoffs. 

“you’re just jealous that i look so great all the time.” 

you shake your head. 

“not at all. i’m not into that at all – the whole perfect, rich boy thing.” 

satoru leans forward, eyes wide. 

“what are you into?” he asks. 

you smile. 

“did you really crash your car?” you ask. 

he groans. 

“you know about that?” 

you laugh. 

“i’m into that. you being a real person. i think you’re very funny when you’re drunk and you have the insults of a middle schooler. your hair looks very good when it’s all messed up like this and your very genuine enthusiasm and curiosity is very refreshing.” 

“yeah?” satoru whispers, a glint in his eyes. 

“mhm. don’t lose sleep over it, okay?” you respond, pinching his cheek as you shuffle your way over to your room. 

satoru watches as you retreat, your mismatched socks riding up to your ankles, and he can’t help but wonder if you’re right. if he had missed out. 

he hadn’t done anything. anything at all. you were three feet away – with an entire life he knew nothing about. the little scars on your arms were all a story, maybe from pulling something out of the stove too fast or falling on the pavement, and he can’t help but wonder what it all was. 

if he could still gain it all, after years of falling behind. 

satoru was always an overachiever. he was going to do this, he was going to do this now. 

satoru stands up, legs carrying him to the door of your bedroom, as he firmly knocks on the wood. he hears something that sounds like a thud, before you swing the door open, your eyes adjusting to the brightness outside to find him standing there. 

“it’s been one minute.” you deadpan. 

“can i sleep with you?” 

“i beg your pardon?” 

satoru sighs. 

“i’ve never slept in the same bed as someone.” 

“huh? you and raggedy anne never…” 

he shakes his head. 

“i mean, like once, but it was by accident. my penthouse has two beds and i don’t know what it feels like to…sleep next to someone.” 

you pause. and let your curiosity get the better of you. 

“are you a virgin?” 

“i am not a virgin.” 

you laugh at the irritation in his voice, before holding the door open wider and gesturing for him to walk into the room. 

“my bed isn’t that big.” you state. 

“that’s okay. just…please? let me?” 

you assume that saying no would be equivalent to kicking a dog while it’s down. it’s what you reason to yourself as you let him in, watching as he giggles at your stuffed animals and your glasses in the nightstand before he wraps his arms around you, his embrace warm around you. 

you swear he kisses your hairline. 

“did you just kiss me again?” 

“hey. i’m experiencing new things. i’ve got tons of places i have to kiss you on my list.” 

you snort.

“you’re bold.” you state. 

“and you’re really very sweet. i really like you, you know that?” 

you roll your eyes, before leaning back into his touch. it’s so innocent, so unlike any other guy you’ve talked too – so excited about kissing you on the top of your head. 

maybe it’s a little bit less pity than you anticipated. 

“do you ever think i could do that?” he asks. 

“do what?” 

“what you’re talking about? doing things four, five, six times…growing with someone and all that?” he asks. 

you sigh, before placing one of your hands over his. 

“yes, satoru. of course you can.” 

--

the following monday, you’re greeted by a little box on your desk. you open it up to a giftcard and four target candles, accompanied with a little note and his horrible chicken scratch handwriting. 

honey bee,  heard normal people give gift cards and candles as gifts. but i’m indecisive so there’s four candles. also, they’re custom made and really expensive so don’t throw them out to sass me or make a point or something :O  satoru 

and you see him an hour later, a cup of the cheap office coffee in his hand, as he walks around talking to everyone in the office. his tie is a little bit loose and his hair is unstyled – and you think that it’s interesting, that he had taken what you had said to heart. and your previous thought stands. 

that he really does look better this way. 

he makes his way over after twenty minutes, leaning down and basically pressing his cheek to yours as he looks at your monitor. 

“did you check your math?” he asks. 

“do you want me to shove a pencil down your throat?” you ask. 

satoru laughs and you can’t help but smile. 

“did you like my gift?” 

“yes. but i have a few notes.” 

satoru stands up properly, leaning against your desk with his hands crossed over his chest, as he gestures for you to talk. 

“do tell.” 

“when i say candle, i really do mean one candle. and you know, i meant like an eight dollar candle. like the shit ones that give you allergies.” 

“candles can give you allergies?” 

“i get watery eyes when they aren’t soy or natural.” you state.

“noted. what else?” 

“when i say gift card, i mean twenty bucks. not two thousand dollars.” 

satoru whines. 

“so many rules. you’re so high maintenance, honey bee.” he whines, cupping your chin in his hand and squeezing once, before shuffling back to his office. 

--

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetnertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @timmytimmytuckyy @dreamxiing @mamamamamarga @skunabby @meisque @hoseokslefteyebrow @yoontaedotin

[bunny-1111]

Blow out your candles - Theo Nott x reader

Description: you hate your birthday, your boyfriend Theodore tries to make it the best day for you, but only makes it worse, until...

Word Count: 1.1k

Fluff/Angst

Likes, comments + reblogs appreciated my loves xx

...

"One more sleep" Theo jestered, throwing an arm around you in the busy hallways of the Hogwarts morning traffic.

"Don't remind me" you muttered, wanting to hide in his chest

"Wait till you see what I got you" he teased, a smirk growing as he watched you

"Hey! I told you nothing, not fair!" you whined

"I can't wait, you're gonna love it, and you're gonna love your birthday baby" a cheshire grin painting his face

"I can wait" you say rolling your eyes, before the conversation could continue he pecked a kiss on your lips, before running off to class.

Now stuck walking by yourself, alone with your thoughts, you were becoming overwhelmed, since you were a child you despised your birthday.

With your parents always away, you spent most of your milestones alone, from as young as four years old, it was your Grandmother that would keep you celebrated, taking the morning to gather and make flower crowns, then spend the rest of the day wearing them. When she died, so did your birthday as far as you were concerned.

As time passed, you grew in age and in contentment. You now preferred your birthday to just pass as any other would, that's how it was supposed to be this year as well, until Pansy opened her stupid mouth a month ago, reminding everyone you would be eighteen soon.

Theodore reminded you everyday since then, he was basically a human countdown for your least favourite day of the year.

Now less than twenty-four hours away, you couldn't bare the thought.

Now, the night before the dreaded day, you hoped, by some miracle, Theodore would fall, hit his head, and forget.

That did not happen, the sun blared into your eyes as your boyfriend ripped open your blinds early birthday morning

"Wake up birthday girl!" he practically yelled

"No" you groaned sinking into your pillows, you hands throwing your blanket over you head, make this go away you thought

Theodore tore your blankets off you, and jumped onto you and began blabbering about the plans of the day, he was so happy your birthday fell on a Saturday, you hated it, if you had class you could avoid all of this.

He moved you to sit upright, and continued talking about a day full of surprises

"I hate surprises" you complain

"Well you love me, so you'll like these ones" he returned, gently caressing your face with his warm hands

"Why can't we just sleep the day away in my bed, that's what I want" you said

"Tough luck, sweetheart, let's go" he smiled prompting you up

In the great hall, your friends waited for you, smiles one their faces, waiting to welcome you. Theodore insisted they go around and give you their presents one by one, followed by stating all the things they love about you.

It was embarrassing to say the least, you felt so out of body.

As the hours passed, Theodore did not talk about anything else, reminded everyone, it was getting progressively unbearable. It never ended, he had something or someone waiting for you everywhere you turned.

You knew how much he cared, how hard he was trying, you loved him, and hated yourself for being so displeased at his actions.

By nighttime, you were counting down the hours till the days end, you entered the common room, a chalkboard centring the space, a big 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' written for everyone to see.

You and your friends sat on the couch, when Theo entered, cake in hand, candles lit, your friends began to sing and clap. One final protest.

No, no, no.

You told him so clearly, no cake, and absolutely no singing. Spare me some fucking dignity you wanted to scream

He just didn't listen, placing the cake close to you, waiting for you to blow out your candles.

You threw your head back, tears stinging your eyes, breath, you reminded yourself. When breathing wasn't working you choose to get up and storm to your dorm, hot, frustrated tears flooding your face.

You ran into bed, and continued crying, perfect, you thought, this is what you wanted, right? To push Theo away, to be alone, to feel like shit, to act like shit, congratulations, you're officially a year older and officially a shitty person.

When time passed, there was only 15 minutes left, a knock on your door.

"Please don't come in" you begged

He of course didn't listen, twisting the doorknob, opening and closing the door behind himself.

Theo carefully approached you

"I'm sorry" he almost whispered rubbing your back, meeting each others sad eyes.

"No, I'm sorry" you sigh

"Can I give you your present?" he asked so politely

you nodded, inhaling a sniffle.

"Close your eyes" he requested, you did

You could hear him reached into his pocket, and place something on your head, reaching up to feel what it was, your heart dropped, immediately opening your eyes, head clocking to your mirror, to be met with a flower crown decorating your hair.

You gasped, turned to him and threw yourself into a hug, he held you tight as you cried "How did you know" you enquired

"I wrote your mother" he shrugged, attempting a smile

"One more thing" he continued, handing you a letter

"What's this?" you questioned

"Trust me, darling, just read it" He said, kissing your forehead.

Birthday Girl. Read the front, opening the parchment you almost choked when you recognised the handwriting, it was from your grandmother.

Hi sweet girl,

I will be long gone by the time you read this, but did you really think I wouldn't be there in some way on your 18th birthday.

I love you endlessly, I am picking flowers for you above, stay gentle, regardless of what this world throws at you, and remember the times in the fields, crafting our crowns, baking your cake, laughing, smiling, don't lose any petals without me!

The things I would do to spend just one more birthday with you, child.

Think of me always, as I do, you.

Love you, my flower girl.

-Grammy

You almost dropped it in shock, eyes rescanning, rereading a hundred times

"i- How" you stuttered out

"You mother saved it, she wasn't going to send it, so I went and got it for you myself" he admitted

"You did this for me" You cried

"I love you" he hushed

"I love you so much" you returned, pulling him into your bed.

Before you both drifted to sleep, you faced him, "Best birthday ever" you whispered, kissing you, he grinned

"I'm so sorry teddy" you repeat

"Enough of that, alright, I know it's hard" he sympathised

"You've changed everything for me, I think I love my birthday again, thank you my darling boy" you cry happy tears

He held you tighter.

As you sleep your birthday off, the smile on your face doesn't leave you.

requests are open <3

[bellaxgiornata]

Neighbors [Chapter 1]

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.6k

[Series Chapter List and Summary]

Warnings/tags: 18+; contains friends to lovers, violence, fluff, eventual smut, angst

a/n: Finally chapter one is here after that initial prologue! And so is Frank in this part! Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mycobrakai1972 @stilllivindue2spite @luvr-bunnyy @pone21

Keeping your hand steady, you continued to write out the new seasonal menu on the chalkboard hanging by the coffee shop's register. Every beginning of the month you'd change the specialty lattes over to some different flavor combinations that you'd come up with which you felt were fitting for that time of year, and this morning it was time for that list to change.

You had been focused on what you were doing for the past fifteen minutes now, teeth biting down on your lip in concentration, until a noise coming from the back of the coffee shop caught your ear. Your hand momentarily paused on the ‘B’ you'd been trying to write as you attempted to decipher the sound, beginning to feel slightly on edge. Despite the fact that your shop was bright and airy inside, full of natural light from the large shop windows that allowed for the varying plants you had everywhere to thrive, you always found yourself a little nervous when you were here alone. It was always a fear of yours that something would happen–even if this was generally a friendly small town.

Turning your head, you focused on the door that led to the backroom as the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder. Your hand tightened around the bit of chalk you were holding, your body tensing. Seconds later you spotted Allison making her way through the doorway. Quickly relaxing at the sight of her, you felt ridiculous for having been on edge thinking it could've been anyone else.

Of course it was just Allison, you told yourself. She was on the schedule to open today.   

She sent you a smile when she saw you standing in front of the chalkboard. “Good morning, boss!” she greeted you.

“Morning, Aly,” you replied, attention returning back to the chalkboard. “Do you mind unlocking the front door so I can finish working on this?”

“Already on it!” she replied.

She made her way around the counter, grabbing your keyring from off of the top of it as she passed by. You heard her make her way over to the front door and stick the key into the lock as you finished up the second line on the seasonal menu. You lowered your hand, taking a step back and eyeing your handiwork, trying to see if the lettering looked even enough by your perfectionist standards. 

“So I went on that date last night,” Allison told you.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, head turning to the side as your eyes narrowed at the spacing of a few words. “How'd the second date go?”

Allison placed the keys back onto the counter near you before she made her way back around it. With a sigh you finally figured the second line looked perfect enough and you began to focus on starting the third line.

“Awful,” she told you. “I don't think I've endured so many awkward silences in my life. I mean, it's like he lost the ability to make small talk entirely this time!”

“Maybe he was just nervous?” you told her, focused on the ‘L’ you had begun writing. “You are a big personality after all.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Allison grab an apron from off the back wall and throw it on. Chewing on your bottom lip again, you tried to perfectly space out the next letter with the lines already written above this one. If anything was just slightly off, you knew it would bother you all month long. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Allison said with a sigh, coming to rest her forearms onto the countertop near you. “But I like my men bold and outgoing, you know that.”

You laughed lightly, nodding your head. “That I certainly do,” you agreed. “But maybe someone more subdued could ground you sometimes. Never hurts to give people a chance.”

“Speaking of giving people a chance,” Allison began, the tone of her voice causing you to stop writing and shoot her a side-eye, “when are you going to let someone take you out on a date?”

“Never,” you told her, focusing back on the chalkboard. “I like my men nonexistent. I don't have time to date, you know that, Aly. Besides, there's not a decent option in this town near my age who's still single and doesn't slog it up at The Crooked Antler most nights.”

“You do know there's a thing called the internet, right?” she asked. “That's what dating apps are for.”

“Dating apps are mostly for hook-ups, Aly,” you pointed out, focused on spelling out the word ‘lavender.’ “I'm not looking for that. Or anything. I'm busy enough with the shop and Lily right now.”

“Okay,” Allison said, drawing the word out suspiciously. “But what if you happened to meet a guy in person? Could there be someone who might change your mind?”

“Considering I don't leave this town hardly ever and I've already said there's not many prospects here,” you replied, “I find that highly unlikely.”

Out of your peripheral you saw Allison shrug, her attention fixed on the front of the shop. You continued to work on the third line of the chalkboard, knowing full well Lily would want to decorate it this morning when you finished with it.

“Well what if a really hot guy just walked into Common Grounds looking like a tree that needed to be climbed?” Allison asked casually. “Like a really, really hot guy?”

Your eyes narrowed at her, your hand hovering over the ‘E’ you'd just written. “I'd say that'd never happen and sounds like its bordering on inappropriate work talk.”

Aly rolled her eyes at you. “Only because you don't like to talk about your love life,” she said.

“Because it's not up for discussion,” you stated, turning back to the chalkboard. 

“If you say so,” she sing-songed under her breath.

Beginning to draw out the ‘R’, you heard the door to the shop open behind you. You half-expected to hear Lily’s excited voice greet you along with the cold blast of wind from the early spring morning, but instead you heard heavy footsteps making their way over to the register.

“Good morning and welcome to Common Grounds!” Aly cheerfully greeted the customer. “What can I get you today?”

“Just a large coffee,” a deep voice rumbled out. “Black.”

Finishing the letter you were working on, you couldn’t resist glancing over your shoulder at the man standing in front of the register. He was broad-shouldered under the black jacket he was wearing, his presence easily commanding the space he was in. He stood with almost perfect posture as he focused on swiping his card through the reader once Aly had read off his total. 

The slight head gesture Aly was making at the man when he wasn't looking caught your eye and your attention shifted over at her. She mouthed out ‘he's hot, get his number’ to you and you immediately shot her a pointed glare in return, shaking your head. Aly abruptly straightened back up, plastering a smile onto her face as if nothing had happened when the man looked up at her, sliding his card back into his wallet.

“Your coffee will be ready in just a minute,” she told him.

You watched as Aly turned around, beginning to work on making the man's black coffee. For a moment you stood there, silently eyeing him as he waited patiently for his drink. You had to admit, Aly was right. He was attractive. He had a chiseled profile with a prominent nose, and thick dark hair on his head that you wouldn't mind running your fingers through. A bit of dark stubble covered his jaw, accentuating his cheekbones. He even looked well-built beneath his jacket as he stood with his hands clasped at his waist in front of himself. But the more you observed him, the more you were positive that you'd never seen him in town before. Before you could stop yourself, the question was already leaving your mouth. 

“I haven't seen you in here before, are you just passing through or visiting?” you asked.

The man's full attention shifted to you at the sound of your voice. There was a faint scowl on his lips, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he briefly looked you over. A sudden self-consciousness washed over you under his gaze and the surly, unfriendly expression on his face.

“Neither,” he answered gruffly.

“I just say that because I'm usually great with remembering faces and coffee orders,” you continued, hoping to ease the awkwardness with a friendly smile, “and I don't recognize either with you.”

“Look, I'll be honest ma'am,” the man said, that dour expression never changing, “I’m not one for small talk. It's been a long week and I got a long day ahead of me. I just want some coffee.”

He took a couple of steps farther down to the end of the counter, turning his back slightly towards you and abruptly ending the conversation. Your eyes widened in disbelief at his rudeness, your eyebrows rising up onto your forehead. That wasn't common in this small town. 

Shaking your head at his back, you were about to return to your chalkboard menu when the door to your left once again opened. The sight of Lily beaming at you as she dragged your brother into the coffee shop had a smile instantly returning to your face.

“Good morning, Nini!” Lily happily greeted you. 

“Morning, coffee bean,” you greeted her back. “You ready to help me here this morning?”

Her index finger landed on her chin, tapping it lightly as she glanced up towards the ceiling as she often did when pretending to be in thought. A smile tugged at your lips as you exchanged a look with your brother. You both knew what was coming next–a pastry request.

“If I help, can I get a cinnamon sugar scone?” she asked, her eyes going wide and doe-eyed as they landed back on you.

“Of course, coffee bean,” you answered, taking a step forward and reaching a hand out to ruffle her hair. 

She giggled, beaming back up at you. Just as you were about to say something more to her, the man who'd been rude to you made his way towards the three of you congregating near the door, his large coffee in his hand. Your mouth closed again, your lips instantly thinning into a straight line along your face at the sight of him and that still grumpy expression.

“‘S'cuse me,” he muttered, head ducking down.

He slipped past the three of you, accidentally bumping into your shoulder as he headed towards the door. Your eyes narrowed at his back, watching as he made his way out of the shop and down the sidewalk. 

“Who was that?” Jaime asked curiously, a thumb gesturing over his shoulder. “He doesn't look like one of your usuals. Never seen him around here before.”

Your attention returned to your brother as you shook your head. “Don't know,” you answered. “But he sure was grumpy. Anyway,” you continued, not wishing to spend anymore thought on the stranger's rudeness, “I'll drop her back home at half-past five tonight? As usual?”

Your brother's eyes darted down to his feet, his hands slipping into his jacket pockets. He suddenly looked almost nervous.

“Is it possible you could watch her until eight?” he asked. “I've uh, pulled some strings and got some extra time at work tonight.”

Your head tilted to the side, brows knitting together. “At the Antler?”

“No uh, at work,” he answered, his eyes still avoiding yours as a hand slipped out of his pocket, awkwardly running over the back of his neck. “There's a project that is being rushed and my boss was accepting a few volunteers to work more hours to help speed things up.”

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, curious as to why he was acting so strange about this. “I can drop her off by eight. Maybe we can order pizza for dinner,” you said, glancing down and shooting Lily a wink.

At the mention of pizza, Lily instantly perked up. She began bouncing up and down as she clutched her stuffed husky to her chest. You smiled, your mood instantly lifted by her presence.

“Thanks, sis,” Jamie murmured. “You don't know how much I appreciate your help.”

You waved him off with a dismissive hand. “Don't worry about it, we're family,” you told him. “And I love having my little coffee bean helping me keep things running smoothly here.”

Jaime nodded, shooting you an almost sheepish smile before he turned and knelt down towards your niece. The pair of them exchanged their usual goodbyes along with a hug before Jaime made his way out of the coffee shop without another word. You watched him leave for a moment as he headed back towards his car, still curious as to why he’d seemed so off this morning. 

“So, Lily,” you began, eventually tearing your eyes away from your brother and focusing back on your niece, “why don’t you go fill that watering can in my office while I finish this sign? And then after you’ve finished watering the plants I can grab you that scone to enjoy. By the time you’re done with that I should have this month’s menu written out and you can decorate it. Does that sound good?”

“Yes, yes!” she exclaimed, excitement shining in her eyes. “I’m going to draw butterflies and bunnies and flowers on it!”

Grinning, you gestured your head towards the back door of the coffee shop. “Sounds perfect, coffee bean. Why don’t you get started with that watering can?”

Without being told twice, she darted off through the coffee shop and around the counter, disappearing through the doorway and down the hall towards the back office. Allison was smiling after her, pointing a finger in the direction she’d disappeared.

“If only someone could bottle up that energy and brew it into a coffee,” Allison joked. “I’d like five of those.”

“You and me both,” you agreed.

Heading back to the chalkboard, you tried to focus on finishing it, but you could feel Allison’s eyes on you. With a sigh you turned towards her, an eyebrow shooting up questioningly.

“What?” you asked her.

“That guy might’ve been hot, but his attitude?” she said, shaking her head and making a face. “Wow. I was not expecting that. Definitely no longer Allison-approved for you.”

You shot her a cheeky smile as you teased, “Especially because he despises small talk so much?”

Allison laughed, shaking her head. “Yes, that too. I guess it’s true when they say looks aren’t everything.”

“No, they certainly are not,” you agreed with a sigh.

Once more focusing back on the chalkboard, you began to start on the final line. You wanted it finished before the usual morning rush appeared in a few minutes. But as you were drawing an ‘R’ on the board, you heard Allison speak again and the comment she made had you botching the letter.

“Bet he’s still good in bed, though,” she said, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your face heated as a brief mental image of that man in a more intimate setting flashed through your mind, but you quickly tried to push it away. It had been far too long since you’d last been with someone and you didn’t need to start thinking about that right now.

“Alright, Aly,” you lightly scolded her. “Lily is just down the hall. Let’s keep it PG for now, alright?”

“You got it, boss,” she answered.

But you didn’t miss the tone of her voice that told you she’d noticed your reaction to her comment. Clearing your throat, you focused twice as hard on your chalkboard in silence.

Hanging up the call on your cell phone, you set it down on the small kitchen island. “So Lily,” you called out, turning around and making your way out of the kitchen and back towards the living room. “I just finished ordering us a large pepperoni pizza from Francisco’s and–”

You stopped dead in your tracks as you entered the living room at the sight before you. Both Lily and your dog Penny were perched at the front window, faces pressed to the glass and looking out of it. Presumably the pair of them were once again staring at the neighbor’s driveway–something you'd scolded her for doing a few times already now. 

“Lily, what do you think you’re doing?” you asked her, arms crossing over your chest.

Both her and Penny looked back at you simultaneously. The sight was almost laughable with how much of a pair they always made together, especially with the matching looks of guilt on their faces. You fought to keep a fairly stern expression on your own face at the sight because she’d been trying to watch the neighbor all evening ever since his truck had pulled up and she had told you that he'd been unloading it. The only way you managed to pull her away from the window for any length of time earlier was when you told her she could plate the cookies she’d made for him. Which of course turned into her picking out a leftover plate from Valentine’s Day, one that you’d used when the pair of you had baked heart cookies and handed them out to neighbors and friends the other month. You'd reluctantly helped her plate them, your embarrassment at the prospect of dropping the cookies off only growing with her plating choice. But at least she was coming with you, because there was absolutely no way in hell you’d have delivered them yourself.

“Seeing if he’s done unpacking,” Lily answered guilty. “So that we can go give him the cookies.”

“Lily, you can’t be staring at people outside,” you told her. “It’s rude and people don’t like that. Don’t be a nosey Nancy.”

“But he just grabbed the last box!” she whined, turning around towards you. “Can’t we go give him the cookies now, please ?”

Sighing, you glanced down at the watch on your wrist. It was getting late now that it was nearing six. Any later and it would be incredibly rude to go knocking on his door to drop off cookies. And if it was the last box that he’d taken out from his truck, you hopefully wouldn’t be interrupting him too much, but maybe you’d have an excuse to hand him the cookies, welcome him to the neighborhood, and then run away back to your place and hide from his reaction since he’d need to finish unpacking.

 “Alright,” you relented with a sigh. “We can go drop off the cookies.”

Lily let out a shriek of excitement before she bolted past you, tossing her stuffed husky onto the coffee table as she raced to the kitchen. Penny darted excitedly after her, her nails clacking across the wood laminate floors as she went. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you made your way over to the entry closet, pulling out shoes for you and Lily. 

When you turned around, you saw her carefully carrying the plate of cookies in both of her hands out of the kitchen, the vibrant pink and red heart pattern on the plate impossible to miss even with the plastic wrap holding the very pink and sprinkle-covered cookies in place. Internally you cringed, but the look of pride on your niece’s face had you smiling back at her instead. Because admittedly it was a very sweet gesture she’d thought of all on her own. Even if you still wished she’d just wanted to make regular chocolate chip cookies for the man instead.

It took the pair of you a couple of minutes to get your shoes on before you stepped outside onto the small front porch you shared with your neighbor. Lily walked a step ahead of you, proudly carrying the plate of cookies in her hands down the short distance between you and your neighbor’s front doors as the light waned outside. The sun was near setting behind the row of houses across the street now and it wouldn't be long before it was completely dark outside.

Inhaling a deep breath in as the pair of you came to a stop in front of the neighbor’s front door, you reached a hand out and knocked firmly three times against it. You kept internally hoping this man wasn’t about to make some sort of asshole-ish comment to your niece about the cookies, desperately hoping he was as polite and gentlemanly as Cora had made him sound. But a few moments later when the door unlocked and swung open, your eyes grew wide and the smile completely fell from your face. It felt like the air had been knocked out of your lungs at the sight of the rude man from Common Grounds this morning standing before you. The very same one who’d refused to make small talk and then bumped into you on his way out. All your hopes of him being friendly and polite to your niece immediately disappeared, leaving you with nothing but a sinking feeling of dread.

The scowl you remembered from this morning was still on his face as his gaze landed on you first, his eyes narrowing just a fraction in something like suspicion as he scanned your face. You were still trying to figure out what the hell to say to him when Lily finally spoke up.

“Look, Nini!” she exclaimed, finally catching the man’s attention, “it’s the grumpy man from the coffee shop!”

You swore your heart stopped beating in your chest, embarrassment flooding you completely. Slowly the man’s eyes returned to you, one of his dark brows raising up onto his forehead. Swallowing hard, you’d never wished you could disappear into thin air more in your life than right now.

“Grumpy man, huh?” he asked.

An awkward laugh slipped out of you, a nervous smile sliding onto your face. “I suppose we’re all a little grumpy before our caffeine,” you awkwardly replied. Clearing your throat as his hardened stare only grew your discomfort, you quickly pressed on. “Look, we didn’t mean to disturb you, we just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.” Pointing to yourself, you gave him your name in a rush before gently placing a hand atop Lily’s head. “And this is my niece, Lily. She’s often with me and she was the one who wanted to bake you cookies when she heard I was getting a new neighbor. So we just–just came by to drop those off real quick.”

The man’s expression shifted slightly as he focused back down on Lily at your side. An emotion crossed his face so fast that you almost didn’t catch it, but you had. Curiously you noted he'd briefly looked pained, but then the unthinkable happened–he smiled .

“Well is that right?” he asked, crouching down to your niece’s height. “You made me cookies, sweetheart?”

“Yes, they’re heart cookies,” she told him, holding the plate out towards him. “Because heart cookies make me happy, so I thought they’d make you happy. Nini and I made them yesterday.”

He reached out, accepting the plate of cookies from her little hands so gently while the smile only widened on his mouth. As you watched the surprising interaction play out, you had to actively make sure your jaw hadn’t dropped onto the front porch floor. Because whatever you’d been expecting him to do or say in reaction to receiving those cookies had most certainly not been this.

“Did you pick out the pink frosting?” he asked her, examining the cookies.

“Yep!” Lily answered proudly. “Pink is my favorite color! And so is purple and green.”

The man glanced up from the plate in his hands at your niece, a genuine smile still on his face as he nodded. “Well those are good colors, but I think you chose well with the pink,” he told her. “And I like the sprinkles.”

“Thank you!” Lily said, beaming and twirling a little back and forth in excitement before him. “So what’s your name?”

He chuckled lightly at her enthusiasm, his focus solely on her. The unexpected and pleasant deep sound of it warmed you, especially with the sweet way he continued interacting with your niece.

“My name is Frank,” he told her. 

Lily nodded her head, still smiling her heartwarming smile at the man. The look on his face had you realizing maybe you’d completely misjudged him this morning, though you worried he wasn’t going to like you much after Lily’s initial comment about his grumpiness. Hopefully that wouldn’t make things strained between the pair of you, especially with being neighbors.

“It’s nice to meet you, Frank!” she chirped.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, too, Lily,” he told her. Gesturing his head towards the plate of cookies in his hands he added, “Thank you for these. Been awhile since anyone’s brought me baked goods.”

Lily’s eyes lit up at his words, a surprised gasp leaving her. “Well in that case,” she began, her excitement somehow increasing further, “maybe we can make you brownies next! And Nini makes the best cinnamon rolls!”

“Hey, coffee bean?” you said, quickly cutting in. 

She looked up at you, all innocent eyes and bright smiles. You sent her a tense smile in return, ignoring the way Frank’s gaze falling back on you was beginning to make you feel multiple confusing things all at once.

“Maybe we should let Frank get back to unpacking and settling in, yeah?” you suggested. “He just moved in, remember?”

The expression on her face slightly fell at your words, but she nodded slowly. In the doorway, Frank began to rise back up to his full, intimidating height. Swallowing nervously, you focused back on him, sending the tense smile on your face his way.

“Sorry to have bothered you this evening, I'm sure you're busy,” you told him. “But welcome to the neighborhood. I’m uh, just next door if you ever need anything.”

He nodded his head curtly in reply, muttering out a quiet ‘thank you.’ You gently nudged Lily’s shoulder with a hand, attempting to direct her back towards your duplex with you. But as you turned and began to make your way back home, you overheard Lily speak up one last time.

“You know,” her little voice said, “you really aren’t so grumpy after all.”

Your eyes snapped shut as you sucked in a sharp breath, momentarily pausing mid-step. Why did kids always have to say whatever was on their mind?

“No,” he agreed with a soft chuckle, “no, sweetheart, I’m not. Thank you again for the cookies and I hope you ladies have a good night now.”

Cheeks straining from the awkward smile you plastered back onto your face, you glanced at him over your shoulder, sending him a partial wave. He shook his head, laughing softly to himself before he turned and closed his front door. Lily skipped happily over to your side as the pair of you made your way back to your front door, entirely unaware of your current embarrassment.

“How much longer until the pizza gets here?” she asked.

“Soon, coffee bean,” you answered, opening your front door.

Hopefully soon enough for me to bury my face in it and forget about that awkward encounter, you thought, hurrying back into your place. Because that was uncomfortable. Hopefully we don’t run into each other all that often.

[queenshelby]

Chemical Reactions (P. 2)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Smut in later parts, Age-Gap, Infidelity

Words: 1,867

Note: The fic is spoiler free and fantasy.

Later that day…

In the lavatory, you inspected your appearance for a moment. You were wearing an embroidered peasant blouse paired with a plain cardigan, a dark coloured skirt and a set of comfortable shoes. Your hair was pulled back in a random clip which, for the meeting with Dr Oppenheimer, you decided to remove. You looked much better with your hair being open and, just as you looked at yourself again, you felt a pang of anxiety, wondering what Dr Oppenheimer was truly thinking of you.

Did he think that you were smart and worthy his attention or did he simply took pity in you because you were a woman?

You then scrunched your eyebrows after a second of thought and adjusted your bag on your shoulder to prepare to face the beast.

For some reason, this man intimidated you and that also, somewhat, aroused you which was a combination of feelings that you never felt before.

Thus, almost hesitantly, you arrived at the lecture room at around 5 o’clock, which was almost thirty minutes after your last class for the day had finished and, when you walked into the somewhat dingy room, you saw him, standing there, looking at am array of calculations.

"You are late” Dr Oppenheimer then remarked without even looking at you at first before, finally, turning around.

"You didn't actually give me a time..."  you began to say as you walked towards him and watched him furrow his eyebrows.

“No, I suppose I didn’t” Dr Oppenheimer acknowledged before turning the chalkboard over so that you could not see his writing and calculations at all.

“Have you figured the problem with your calculation yet?” you asked almost bluntly as, awkwardly, you stood in front of him. Your lab coat was draped over your left forearm while your right hand held your bag's strap to your shoulder.

You kept your eyes forward, directly in line with where his neck met his chest before looking up into his deep blue eyes which, by this point, were full of questions.

“Who says that there is a problem with my calculations?” Dr Oppenheimer then asked almost out of the blue and a short moment passed before he took your coat and bag from your hands, laying them on the nearest table.

“I think that you took a wrong turn somewhere and…” you began to stammer just before released the nervous breath which you did not realise you were holding until he began to speak again.

“Sit, please” he gestured and, just after you complied with his request and sat down in front of his large wooden desk, you could feel Dr Oppenheimer’s presence next to you.

“Do you have a pen and some paper?” you asked and, of course, he did.

“Of course” Dr Oppenheimer said as he placed two white pieces of paper and a freshly sharpened pencil in front of you.

“Now, please show me your calculations” he then said while he stepped back but, even though he decided to give him some space, you could see him out of the corner of your eye, watching you as you worked.

You wrote down formula after formula, directly from your head and whilst this was nothing but theory, you imagined every single reaction in the back of your mind.

You were fast and Dr Oppenheimer’s mouth hung open as he watched you work, focusing intently to be sure that it all made sense until, suddenly, your mind went blank. The proximity was making you hot and you felt yourself burning up under your blouse.

“That’s it?” Dr Oppenheimer thus asked and you shook your head.

“I just lost my train of thought, again…” you said, sounding like an idiot, causing the professor to chuckle.

“Am I making you nervous?” he then asked and, as if you had not already embarrassed yourself enough, you nodded somewhat dumbfounded.

“Right. My apologies. I will just take a seat next to you” he then said before pulling another chair to the table and sitting down right next to you which did not make this situation any better whatsoever.

Of course, he was no longer towering over you, but he was now much closer to you than he was before, acting and behaving almost like an equal.

“Go on then” he said, wanting to resume your work while the heat of his body began to burn you. You squirmed uncomfortably on your stool until you had to put the pen down to take off your cardigan which, by this point, was still partially covering your blouse.

"What is it?” Dr Oppenheimer then asked somewhat concerned but you shook it off.

"Nothing, I am just hot" you said plainly before taking in a deep breath and resuming your calculations which is also when Dr Oppenheimer became more interested in again and decided that he needed a better view.

You were now getting to the point of where you assumed he made a mistake and he was intrigued by the route you were taking in your formula.

“Explain it to me” he demanded, wanting to know why you are calculating the chemical reaction in the way you were and you had no problem telling him, in scientific terms, as to how you arrived at your conclusions.

As such, you talked and talked while squirming around until, eventually, you got back into position and wrote down another formula, which was one Dr Oppenheimer had not considered before and, just as you placed pen on paper again, you felt something touch your neck. Not soft enough to be hair brushing your neck, but not enough pressure to feel entirely deliberate.

“You aren’t even looking?” you then said as you otherwise stayed completely still when felt Dr Oppenheimer adjust your twisted necklace.

“Because you did it wrong” he responded as he picked up the chain and turned the jewellery until the clasp is on the back, where he dropped it back onto the nape of your neck. If you did not know better, you would have thought you felt his fingertips linger a little longer on your skin than they should have lingered there, but you could not be too sure.

“I did? How?” you asked while thinking about the science as well as how his fingertips felt on you, raising goosebumps on your bare skin. Him moving your necklace would have been harmless and platonic if it was not for that hesitation at the end of the action. The half a second too long that his hand remained on you, brushing lightly at the skin on the side of your neck.

“Allow me” the professor then said before taring up one of your pages and giving a plain piece of paper to write on.

He then took the pen from your hand and wrote down what you had written until you took this wrong turn in your calculations, which is where he halted and prompted you to think.

“Think about implosion, not explosion” he said and, almost immediately, the penny dropped and you gently grabbed the end of the pencil he was holding while making sure to let one finger feather a touch onto one of his.

"May I?" you say quietly, feeling his eyes on the side of your face as you looked at the pencil. The whole exchange only lasted a couple of seconds before he released the utensil and you leaned down over the paper while letting your shoulder brush his.

"Is that right now?" you then asked innocently after finishing the formula, turning to look at him as you gauged his reaction. This was the first time you had really looked at him since he first started explaining where you went wrong, and you were not sure what you expected, but it was not this.

Dr Oppenheimer only had his left hand resting on the table now, his chest turned towards you as he searched your face and smiled. You smiled back and held his gaze, trying to think of something to break the moment while keeping the upper hand.

“I am impressed but…” he then began to say and, instead of saying anything to him in response, you remembered the pencil you were holding and quickly moved to hold it between you and him. Without looking at it, he reached forward and covered your hand with his, those blue eyes on the verge of pouring into you. He then slid the pencil out of your hand and leaned down one more time, changing one of your subtraction signs to an addition. In your mind, you honed in on the mistake, cursing his distraction for causing you to make a mistake in front of him.

"Now, you're perfect" Dr Oppenheimer then said nonchalantly as he stood back up.

“Hmm” you stammered while trying not to react to his comment, or the fact that he used your own tactics against you.

Considering the moment gone, you picked up the paper and retreated in order to quickly get out of there as you could not help but think that you made things almost awkward now. Not only did you have more questions now than you did previously, you feared you may have moved you both in a direction that bordered on inappropriateness.

Obviously, you were flirting with him and he was a married man in respect of whom you got no read on when it came to his intentions towards you, because you were so consumed by the moment. You were consumed to his body's reaction to yours, his eyes, his parting comment, saying that “now you’re perfect”…

You then recalled the moments when you feared that your cover was blown, that he caught on to what you were doing, namely flirting with him. Part of you hoped that he thought he was flattering himself, similar to how you have been feeling, but something about this man told you he scarcely denied his ego satisfaction.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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[sirfrogsworth]

What's the shortest period of time you've ever watched a movie before you knew it was terrible?

I'm pretty sure "Jackpot!" has set a record for me. All I knew was that it had John Cena in it. And I think John Cena is a cool guy. So I decided to give it a chance.

And perhaps I should watch more than 12 minutes to make sure this movie is terrible. But every second of it so far has been obnoxious.

Okay, there was a scene where John Cena sang along to the Turtle Power rap. But every other second has been nails-on-the-chalkboard.

Streaming services are making these shitty B movies but they aren't the right kind of shitty. They remove everything you love about B movies and just leave... the shitty.

For instance, this scene above. Where they say "Why would NASA need a marine biologist?"

Get it?

NASA does space.

IT'S FUNNY!

Welcome to the OBB!

Okay, but this was a joke about space. They wouldn't send a marine biologist to space.

(Jessica Meir is probably the most overqualified person on the planet. You're already an astronaut, no need to be trilingual. And a musician. And a pilot. And a penguin expert. Making us all look bad.)

It's almost like you have an amazing view of the ocean from space and also a unique environment to do marine biology experiments and also NASA explores other planets and some of them have oceans and, and, and...

I don't think I'm being pedantic about this.

It's just a lazy joke.

Anyway, I'm going to watch this movie because I am bored and too tired to work on my photo editing.

But I want to do a fun game where I guess the Rotton Tomato score. And then once I finish the movie I will report back and see how close I was.

Froggie's Official Rotten Tomato Guess...

8%

Sorry, John Cena, I don't think you can pull this out of the crapper.

[steviewashere]

Kisses to Make it Better

Rating: General CW: Vomiting (It's Kind of Gross, Sorry) Tags: Established Relationship, Married Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Future Fic, Sick Fic, Sick Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Migraines, Steve Harrington Has Head Trauma, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Forehead Kisses, Lots of Kisses, Star Wars Reference, Steve Harrington is a Dork, Eddie Munson is a Dork, Teacher Steve Harrington (Briefly Mentioned), Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is the kiss on my forehead."

💕—————💕

When Steve wakes up, it’s to the sharp, piercing sensation of a migraine attack. He immediately closes his eyes and groans. His senses are heightened miserably.

Soft bird song is like screeching. The gentle rustle of tree leaves like the scrapes of fingernails on a chalkboard. (And god does he know that from working with a bunch of butthead eighth graders.) Any sunlight is like a laser aiming to obliterate him onsite. He’s warm and boiling and the blanket sears where it touches. But when the removes it, he’s frozen to his core and shivering. The dull sounds of Eddie’s snores—Steve almost wants to suffocate him; he may not usually be a motorboat, but wow does he mimic one amazingly right now.

He can’t take it. The space in their bedroom is too much for his everything. So, he grabs his pillow from under his head, stands on unsteady legs, and ventures out into the hallway. Snatches a spare quilt—one made by Joyce Byers some short years ago for his and Eddie’s makeshift backyard wedding—a wash rag to put under cold water, and a towel. Just in case he has to lay on the bathroom floor. It’s humiliating knowing that the migraine could reach that point, what he wouldn’t give for his uninjured pre-1983 brain.

The couch is lumpy and distinctly firm and uncomfortable under his mutilated back. He’s sweaty, cold, too hot, nauseous, and dizzy. Really, he should’ve stopped by the medicine cabinet in the bathroom for his Imitrex. But the mere idea of standing longer than he needs to, the floor like ocean waves crashing at his feet, his entire body an uneasy cargo ship ready to crash into lighthouse rocks—it makes him shiver. Though, whether that be from his body’s inability to regulate his temperature, he isn’t sure.

But he manages to find a comfortable enough spot. Left arm squished and folded awkwardly by his head, the other tight at his side. Legs crossed at his ankles. The rest of him completely supine to the cushions. Head nestled and drowning in his practically flat, definitely overused bedroom pillow. He sighs, agitated.

This is his life.

Probably should’ve woken up Eddie. Probably should go to the landline and call in sick to work. Probably should get a puke bucket, too. But…nope, he’s somewhere between comfortable and dying on the couch. The perfect in-between. He closes his eyes against the next wave of dizzying nausea that overrides him. Breathing through his nose in sharp, hot exhales. Willing it, or at least attempting to, away. This is one of the worst attacks he’s had in a very long while. Beats out the infamous migraine attack of 1990, a story that ends in a bed at urgent care, accompanied by heaving puke, with Robin’s and Nancy’s cold hands to his sweaty forehead, and Eddie nervously chomping away at his fingertips. Should he go to urgent care? He grinds his teeth together at the thought.

Distantly, there’s some shuffling around the bedroom. Steve grimaces at the noise. Then, some light footfalls in the hallway. And all at once, God’s heavenly light is cast around him, though now it’s like the swallowing pits of Hell. He groans, tight and muffled in the back of his throat.

“Shit,” Eddie hisses. “Sorry, baby, sorry,” he whispers. Eddie’s not that great at whispering. Or, maybe he is. Maybe Steve is Dumbo level sensitive to every sound in the world. The light is flicked back off and Eddie comes closer to the couch.

Though, the aromatic scents of Eddie’s Axe musk body spray overpower every sensation Steve’s experienced in the short span he’s been awake. Did he fucking spray it before going to bed, Steve wonders, gagging. He puts out a weak hand, palm towards Eddie. “Don’t,” he strains. Even his voice is grating. “You—“ He gags again, throat clenching, stomach turning, bile rising. The palm draws back, flapping in the air, landing harsh around his mouth, squeezing his skin and lips. Steve rolls up onto his right elbow, pointing his face down at the floor, puking—into the kitchen garbage can that Eddie has, somehow, brought in super human speeds.

Eddie hushes above him. He must be crying if that’s how Eddie’s reacting. But he can’t care to notice. His head trapped in the kitchen bag. Coffee grounds and an empty container of baked beans, combining in a hideous concoction that could be compared to that of fresh, steaming dog shit. The sour stench of himself, his insides, the rest of the putrid garbage around his spewing mouth and snotty nose—it all makes him puke harder. A hand traces up and down his spine, the heavy touch barely noticeable unless he’s gasping for air.

When he’s done, he collapses back onto the couch with a resound thud. His breath exhausted and the blood vessels in his face probably bursted. Closes his eyes to block out everything, to try and ground himself again. Eddie shuffles as quietly as he can out of the room. The front door is open, cold morning breeze tickling Steve’s skin, the trash can placed on the porch for now. It’ll get changed out, Steve knows Eddie will do it. He’s getting the Imitrex, some Zofran. Water and a straw. Steve can only hope that Eddie will take a quick shower with some unscented soap, the cologne musk too infuriating to his nose.

He’s carefully sat up. Body loose-limbed and aching all over. Propped up into sitting on the middle cushion. Hair swiped away from his forehead, clipped back by a couple alligator clips. Eddie gently taps the underside of his chin. The nonverbal request, Please open your mouth for your medicine. Steve drops his jaw without hesitation. Pills set on his tongue and a straw placed between his lips. Eddie’s hand goes to his left arm, running up and down in slow stripes. Please take slow slurps, is what that hand motion means. And Steve does what he’s told. Careful to not upset his already agitated stomach.

“Eddie,” he croaks. A hum lightly vibrates from above him. Hands nestled on his skin, laying him back down on the couch. He doesn’t open his eyes, squeezes them tighter in fact. Sighing into the horizontal position of his body. “Eds, please take a shower.”

A light snort. “Saying I stink?” Eddie whispers, though there’s no offense drawn tight in his voice. Just amusement. Maybe some concern if Steve could only focus on the sound.

He shakes his head, but grimaces at the light-headed sensation it causes. Settles and whispers, “No, I can smell your cologne. Too strong.”

“Oh,” Eddie mutters. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Let me take care of that.” He sets something clunky on the floor. Another bucket, most likely. And stands, his shadow blocking the sunlight streaming in through their living room windows. He must take notice to the light because then, the curtains are all shut at once. Or, something quick like that. Steve isn’t really aware of reality right now. Floating somewhere between comfortable and dying, laying in that still, too.

In the blink of an eye, Eddie is back by his side. Though, when his right hand tangles with Steve’s, he’s noticeably damp. Either he took the quickest shower in existence. Or Steve’s time blindness is on another level today.

“Pain level?” Eddie murmurs.

Steve sighs through his nose. “Started as a nine,” he mutters, “down to a seven.”

“Poor baby,” Eddie sweetly coos. He gently squeezes Steve’s palm. I’m here, I’ve got you, you’re safe, he says. His other palm settles softly on Steve’s forehead, over the cold wash cloth he placed there. Thumb pressing between Steve’s eyebrows. “Want me to massage?”

“Yes, please,” Steve murmurs.

Another squeeze to his palm. Then, Eddie carefully maps his fingers over Steve’s scalp, pressing down minutely into the tendered areas. He sweeps his thumb down the bridge of his nose, under his eyes, pushing gently at the surrounding bone and sinus pockets.

But then, he does something he normally wouldn’t do. He peels the washcloth off. Which is fine with Steve, it’s already gone warm. He’ll need the ice pack in the freezer in a few. Eddie puts his hand back on the crest of Steve’s head. And leans down.

A warm, barely damp, sweet peck to the center of Steve’s forehead.

He opens his eyes. Steve—already sensitive, strung up beyond belief—tears up. Whimpering lowly, attempting to not be heard. Though, of course Eddie heard. He’s extra perceptive when Steve has migraine days. He immediately draws back, eyes wide and frowning. “Fuck,” he spits, muted. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

Through his weeping, however quiet it is, Steve stutters, “It’s fine—it—You didn’t hurt me. Just—Sweet.” He preens up into the hand still on the back of his head. “Wasn’t expecting it.”

“Oh,” Eddie whispers. He settles back down, having risen up on his knees from where he’s situated on the floor. Another little kiss to Steve’s nearest temple. Then between his eyebrows. Under his eyes. Tip of his nose. Back to the center of his forehead. “Just kissing the hurt away,” Eddie murmurs on Steve’s skin. Smacking one more on the crinkle Steve didn’t even know he was doing. “Is it working?” He lowly whispers.

Steve chuckles. “I don’t know,” he says. “Do it again?”

“Of course,” Eddie promises. A kiss here and there. But, the most prominent spot being his forehead. Eddie’s hand slides away from Steve’s, instead splaying over his heart. Pressing firm to his chest. Steve briefly wonders if Eddie can feel how his heart speeds up with each press of his lips.

Another to his forehead, drifting down his nose, one on his chin, and the last on his lips. “Ew, Eds,” Steve murmurs, “I got barf breath.”

“Don’t care,” Eddie mutters. Back at Steve’s forehead. “You aren’t contagious,” he says as if that immediately overrides how disgusting it is. “In fact, the only thing I’m catching from you is feelings,” he flirts, or at least Steve thinks he’s attempting to do that. If the stupidly endearing little wiggle to his eyebrows means anything.

Steve fondly rolls his eyes. “You’re such a dork,” he states.

“Your dork,” Eddie whispers. “And I love you.”

“I know,” Steve whispers in turn.

Eddie draws back from kissing again. To lock eyes with Steve, who is glowing with mirth. Probably paler than he’s ever been and tinted green. Yet, with fake annoyance in Eddie’s eyes, all that’s directed at Steve is unashamed love. “Did you just Han Solo me? Who’s the dork now?”

“Me,” Steve proudly murmurs. “Kiss?”

And Eddie obliges.

With the kisses as distraction, a hand over his heart, the nausea receding for now—Steve is filled with warm love. He believes that Eddie may truly heal him.

Migraines are always the worst days. But it’s a good day, if Eddie is there beside him.

💕—————💕

[lemonmaid]

Also for some reason I cannot edit on the app? Nor on the website, so please work with me here, sorry about the confusing layout, I know I hate it too.

“I don't need you hovering”.

(name) glared at Xiao, who was literally watching (Name) as a hawk as he tried to feed their four year old pup.

“Ah!!”

(Name) resumed his attention onto Yuen, who was glaring at the two for interrupting his feeding, “Oh I know buddy, Dada can be so mean”.

“He is four, I think he can feed himself”.

(Name) rolled his eyes, “I'm still cutting up his food for him, he could literally-”.

“Let me do it”. Xiao gently moves (Name) over to cut up Yuen's food.

(Name) silently seething; his scent souring,”I'm pregnant not incapable” he mumbles.

(Name) was only six months pregnant, not too far into his pregnancy but not too far away from giving birth. Did he appreciate Xiao's helpfulness? Of course, some omegas would be delighted to have a mate so helpful and understanding as Xiao. Xiao was very experienced in the field, having a pup, Yuen, before meeting (Name) with a one night stand. 

(Name) excuses himself from the room to finish getting ready for the day. Looking at the bathroom mirror, his stomach barely dropped, perks of being a male omega. 

“You should be getting bigger soon”.

(Name)’s eye twitched, “Wow… Thanks”. 

Was Xiao a great mate? Of course! (Name) couldn't be happier, but it's Xiaos overbearing that got (Name), it's ‘You're doing that wrong’, ‘no let me help’, ‘you shouldn't pick up Yuen’. It was very exhausting.

Xiao was dressed in his work clothing holding Yuen who was ready for school, hence the yellow bucket hat and blue school uniform. “Yuen say bye to Papa”.

“Bye-bye!!” Yuen does the kiss motion towards (Name).

“Are you going to be okay going to University today? I don't want you walking that far-”

“Again, pregnant, not broken, anyways I was going to pick up groceries after class”. (Name) gave the two a quick hug and the two goodbye.

“And then he tells me “yoU ShOUld bE geTTinG biGGeR sOOn” like fuck off please, I understand that he is trying to help but, it's overwhelming! I can do things by myself! I'm a big boy!”. (Name) ran to his father-in-Law, Zhongli, who was his Political Science professor. 

(Name) usually got to school early to help Zhongli set up the classroom, but that was both of their excuse to gossip.

Zhongli watched the younger omega scrub the chalkboard harshly, putting his hand gently on the younger male’s shoulder, “Maybe see it from his perspective… when Xiao was… Expecting, he was alone, besides from me and his step father, think of it as he doesn't want you to feel alone. Also culturally speaking, he the rest of his siblings were raised that a pregnant omega shouldn't be do anything but resting, so this is a change for him as well”.

(Name) snickered at the memories from early into his pregnancy, how Xiao told him not to rub his stomach often or the pup will end up being spoiled or how when he came back from night school, Xiao lit sages around the house. 

“Just communicate with him”. Zhongli said with a soft smile on his face. 

After class was done for the day the two omegas walked home together.

“Hmmm, what is for dinner tonight (Name)?”.

(Name) hummed, “I've been craving some Tangbao, the big ones, no, bigger”. (Name) drooled at the thought of a hot doughy, chewy, flavor filling bun in his stomach, the thought earned a kick from the pup inside of him.

As the two walked into the shared home space, the aroma of dinner hit their noses.

“Papa!!” 

Yuen ran up to (Name) and Zhongli, giving the two a giant hug, or as big his small arms could. 

“Hello to you too Yuen, I trust you've been a good boy for your fathers?” Zhongli said as he patted the boy's head. 

Yuen nodded his head, grabbing Zhongli’s hand, “come! I wanna show you! My book!”.

(Name) took his shoes off carefully before stepping up stairs to join the family in the living space, (Name) drooled at the thought of dinner.

It wasn't too abnormal for Xiao to be cooking but usually (Name)  to cook. 

(Name) slouched down into the comfortable recliner in the corner of the room, waiting for dinner, closing his eyes, listening to Yuen speak his mind to his grandfather.

“this is! Uncle… Bo-sac-i-us!”

“That's a very good illustration, young one, who's that right there?”

“That's my new baby sister!”

“Oh, you're sister?”

“Mhm! Papa said he thinks it's a girl and Dada says Papa is always right”.

(Name) smiled fondly.

“Dinner everyone” Xiao spoke softly, taking in (Name)’s tired form.

The table was set up neatly, dinner looked perfect, it was almost like a mutton hot pot. 

“Now Yuen, do you want to eat with a fork or your training chopsticks?”.

“I wanna practice!!”.

(Name) looked at the food in awe, but his hormone pregnancy brain nagged at the thought that this wasn't what he wanted, but the food looked so good at the sametime. 

“Are you okay (Name)?” Xiao whispered.

(Name) started grabbing greens and beef and putting into his bowl, “I'm- fine”.

Xiao didn't press any further, picking up food and putting it onto Yuens and (Name)’s bowls. 

Dinner was calm, well, for everyone else. (Name) was quietly seething, he felt guilty about it though, he didn't mean to feel this way but he can't help it, pregnancy brain.

“Yuen, make sure grandpa sees his way out the door”.

“Yes dada!!”.

(Name) helped collect dishes to put in the sink.

“Are you sure you're okay? Your scent is off”.

(Name) finally quietly broke down, “I wanted Tangbao for dinner, not a hotpot meal, I hate that you do things for me, I hate how I can't go anywhere without you hovering! I'm sorry! I'm just overwhelmed!”. 

(Name) quietly sobbed into his mate's chest.

Xiao rubbed (Name)’s back, leading the omega up the stairs to their share bedroom. 

“I'll be back, let me finish cleaning and get Yuen to bed”.

Xiao was gone for 40 minutes, giving (Name) time to breathe and calm down. When Xiao came back, he had a small plate of melons and tea with him.

“I'm sorry”.

(Name) took the plate, calming down, “was this the good melon?”.

“The one that's been in the freezer since New Years”.

(Name) hummed, “I forgive you, for now”.

Xiao chuckled, massaging (Name)’s swollen legs, “I mean it. I'm sorry. I wasn't aware of your feelings. That makes me a bad mate”.

(Name) sighed, “You're not a bad mate, you..just… are not emotionally self aware sometimes”.

Xiao nodded, “I'll work on it, I'll do better”

“I appreciate that”.

A small knock on the door interrupted the two. “Papa, can I sleep with you?”.

The two omegas smiled softly, “Yes Yuen, give us a minute to get change. We'll come get you”. 

[desb3ar]

Vulnerable

Pairing: Miguel x Reader

Summary: A heart to heart. Comforting Miguel.

Genre: Emotional, uplifting

Warnings: Forms of self-neglect and self-loathing.

Disclaimer: This is placed during the heat of his tragic event. Just a couple weeks after. I can’t tell you the gap between then and the time the movie was placed since I don’t have a timeline at my disposal, so I’m sorry if theres some inaccuracies within here that don’t sit right.

The reader has no indication of gender.

~~~~~~~~

It’s been weeks since the tragedy. The moment the world had crumbled around him like an earthquake wreaking havoc in a city, debris crushing those around him, just out of his reach. That horrific day of seeing the unforeseen result of his actions left an ugly stain on his decrepit psyche. The unforgettable memory of hearing his foster daughter desperately yell out to him for aid as she glitched into nothing right in his arms had messed him up completely. Seeing his palms, like her blood was on his shaky hands. Someone he had a strong connection with, someone who he loved dearly, was gone, and he was the person to blame. A whole universe was in the palm of his hand, unbeknownst to him.

As he would stand tall, the Miguel he was before being gutted out of anything, he remained in his office. Empty and cold. That space was nothing but a tomb with someone buried alive inside by the worries and concerns for keeping everything together. Dealing with nails-on-a-chalkboard humor by numerous Peter Parkers and other variants was something he endured every waking hour when he was working. Which is every day.

With his neglected emotions aside, shoving them into the back of his mind, he keeps himself ready to order when he’s on the clock. An anomaly was taken down in minutes if it wasn’t some big shot super villain. He’d rid himself of the need for back up, he didn’t need anyone. He can do it all by himself, he’s a strong guy. Isn’t he?

He’s lost track of the days, or weeks, he’s taken a day off. That led to certain needs not being met. His shower wasn’t touched for days until he actually took his focus off his screens to get a whiff of himself. He had no shame, nothing was worse than the reason he’s brought himself down to hell. He didn’t care what anyone else thought. Jess and Peter B. gave him a push to get his tail up. He was able to return to his home just to bathe, but then it was back to work. That was his plan, to pop in then pop back out.

However, someone knocked on his door. With a slight groan and great reluctance, he made his way over to his door and pulled it open.

“You got the wrong house. I don-“

His mouth froze when he saw who he was about to shut down.

It was you.

Miguel and you had gone way back to his early days of being Spiderman. You and him had chemistry that not even the most skilled chemist could understand. You were a calm, reasonable, and sweet being with a heart made of gold, seems like you gave him a chance when he was accepted into your orbit.

The two of you hung out with each other frequently, drinking at spots you found in the cities, downtown too, and swapped between who’s pad you two were gonna hang out in that day.

Your bond was believed to be unbreakable. Until the incident.

Days together turn into the days you’d only remember. When life was just alright, when he smiled. Now they were counted, tallied up to the grand total of 47 since the last time you two faced one another.

What you saw was a walking dead man, his eyes sunken from the lack of overall care, eye bags telling his horrific sleep schedule, skin dry, hair messy, he was not the same man. You couldn’t even make out if he was even the guy you’d steal food from and share drinks with. Its been weeks and then some of radio silence on his end.

You’ve ruthlessly contacted him, but he was never keen on responding to your messages and endless calls. Multiple calls turned to one a day. Messages followed suit. You lost enough hope with long-distance communication and decided with better judgment that this reunion needed to be face-to-face. The untold but expected awkwardness was your push.

You two stood in heavy silence until you let out a soft sigh. Then, you pushed your way in, making him stumble as you moved him away from the door and pushed it close. His cracked and damaged heart skipped a beat.

“I’d believe you’ve lost your phone given your silence.” You started. Miguel stared at you as you found your place in front of him. “… But you make way too much money to not have another one if you even lost it to start.”

Miguel sighed and just… Walked away. This left you wide eyed. “Wha- Hey! Don’t just walk away from me- TALK to me! Where have you been?” You exclaimed as you followed behind him. “It’s been ages without a single word and you don’t even have anything to say now that I’m here?”

You went on to vent about the worrying abrupt absence that came from him as he set his route to his room that was devoid of filth. You’re heart ached when he didn’t say a way to your words, as if they hadn’t meant anything, or simply went through him with no effect. He sat on his bed facing away from you with you standing at the doorway.

"It's nothing." He monotonously muttered as he kept his eyes off you,

"Like hell it is." You spat. "C'mon, don't get fresh with me. Where have you been all this time? I get that you have your whole superhero thing goin' on, but nothing's kept you away for this long."

"Nowhere." He answered dryly as he put a hand on his face.

You took a deep breath and sighed at his response. "Miguel O'Hara, you have got to talk to me, not just respond. Gimme somethin' to work with." You protested.

Your friend was going through something. You let your excitement to see him and annoyance at him being a brick wall get to you. Thinking he died tragically without a trace made it seem valid. You took a second to get yourself together before you walked to his bed, joining him. Your own weight made the bed mattress seep, moving him slightly. He didn't grant you not a second of a glance.

He wasn't always the most vocal about how he was mentally. It had always been a thing you wanted to get into with him. Having deep coversations about life once a bluemoon had opened a window of oppurtunity.

One night, the two of you were talking about childhood and other endeavors that sculpted out how you turned out. You spilled some details about the past and he was surprised about how you seemed so vastly different compared to how you were brought up. That surprise came with validation when he was somewhat relating to you. Everyone who wasn't sheltered as much had suffered through some form of childhood trauma, that's obvious. However, with Miguel, going through his neglectful and troublesome past, he was stuck on the fence of reaching out when he truly needed help.

“… Miguel. What’s going on?" You asked him, your voice now lacking the fierceness you once had, just filled with worry.

Miguel stared down at the floor. His mind was flipping through the pages of a book on how to even explain. The pain he felt these past couple weeks crept back through him like a cryiptic plague.

"... I'm sorry." He spoke gravely. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything." He closed his eyes as if it would make it easier for him. "I... I went through something that really... Troubled me..." He confessed slowly.

"That's fine, that is alright, Miguel." You reassured him. "Just..."

You looked down his lap. His fingers tightly gripping his pants as his forearms shivered. You looked at his face with only your eyes. He was trying so desperately to keep himself together.

"... I hate myself for this." He grieved, his eyes were tightly shut. "I made a horrible mistake." He confessed.

He wanted to speak more, but it wasn't coming out. He knew you deserved a better explanation, but he didn't know how'd you see him after he foolishly let a whole universe blow away into oblivion. All because he wanted a family, to take care of a daughter that wasn't even his. Who makes that seem so innocent. Anyone could find that immoral, but he couldn't just let her be on her own. He wouldn't be able to bear it. Yet, he would have much rather her go through it alone now instead of her not being here at all. He couldn't think of a reason to care for himself, or even look at his own reflection. He only saw someone who was naive, someone he didn't deserve much more than a passing glance.

During his attempts at trying to speak, his lips remained parted to only spill nothing. His breath was shaking with anticipation, that was when a horse sob broke past his guard.

"Hey, hey." You placed an arm on his shoulder, rubbing it. "Look, you can talk about it later. Okay?" You told him with a gentle tone.

Silence reigned when he looked at you.

It was a sight you never thought of seeing.

He was on the brink of breaking down right in front of you.

This was not like him.

That's what broke your heart.

You went in and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry." You said.

That was when he finally broke down in your arms, hugging you tightly. His painful sobs ripped through his throat as tears ran down his cheeks like faucets, wetting your shoulder. All the pain he's gone through up till this point was finally being let out.

You pat his back gently, gasping and panting, catching his breath. The sounds of his despair made it harder for you to keep it together yourself. You nearly caved when, through sobs, he spoke about how much he despised himself. Treating himself like someone that committed the worst crime. He gripped onto your top tightly.

You spoke against it, knowing this was all just things saying out of spite of himself. You didn't want him to keep up with this mindset. You started to give him soft and gentle kisses on the cheek. You spoke words of reassurance and small truths that was able to break him out of his shell of self-hatred.

He was beginning to find ease, taking you in, he didn't loosen his grip around you however. His breathing hitching as you rubbed his back.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

There was never a time in your life where he was even close to shedding a tear. However now, he was completely vulnerable.

.

.

.

.

.

got a little rushed in the end so i apologize.

comforting miguel is so nice so why not write about it??

[mayearies]

SZNS CHANGE ★⭑ ——— jotw

<- prev part | next part ->

that was weeks ago. things changed since then, and not equally on both sides. you and miles started drifting apart as you wouldnt bother to see him and the rest of your friendgroup as much. your new boyfriend was your top priority. miles stayed behind and all would brew inside him was loneliness and jealousy. but you still made an effort to see him.

you would come over on weekends like you usually did, only that it was different. sometimes you wouldn’t even stay a full day, and when you were around you would talk about your relationship with him. he listened, but he slowly was getting sick of hearing his name over and over again. you expressed the ups and downs, how you would break up every two days and be back the next. he knew it was healthy, you just thought of it as trial and error.

“mr. morales!” the professor’s voice stopped his train of thought, next thing he knew all eyes were on him. “are you gonna keep staring into space, or actually participate?” she went back to writing on the chalkboard as snickers were heard around him.

a member of your friendgroup scooted her desk closer to him, “you seem stressed. is it about her?”

he nodded with a face of discomfort. she had already knew about his unrequited love, and felt pity for him. she didnt hold it against you because you somehow didnt know, even if it was quite obvious. miles felt the same. “you wanna talk about it after class?”

“there’s nothing to talk about. it’s not like there’s gonna be a guarantee she’ll like me or understand. she couldn’t even keep her promise.” he shrugged his shoulders and the rhythmic taps of his pencil became louder.

“hey. if it don’t work out, im always available!” miles scoffed, “you play too much. my answer is still no.”

“your loss.”

you felt your heart drop everytime you saw miles in the hallways with your friends. well, not-so friends at the moment. you didnt see them often, remember? something about not seeing him like you used to made you ache.

your boyfriend dropped you off at class, until he saw your face and gave a confused look, “what’s up with you?”

“nothing. i’ll get over it.”

“if its about last night, i apologised already-”

“its not-!” your voice raised a little, “its not about that. i’m over it. shit happens.”

yeah, it does.

miles wasn’t a violent person from what you knew. the daily trial of fighting villians was all you thought he did. you never thought it got to this. when you heard the news, you rushed to the nurses office during your study hall break. what had come over him? your boyfriend sat in the chair outside with a icepack taped to his eye and bandages on his knuckles. they were bloody. 

you knew a video of the fight was going around, and the first person it was sent to was you. it claimed that your boyfriend started it, with his normal snarky remarks. he never likes miles, if anything he would talk shit every chance he got. he tried to get you to drop him several times but you refused. but now you were seriously reconsidering that thought.

miles sat across the room, just staring at the wall. according to the nurse, he had initiated the fight. and he had also hit the hardest. the injuries he suffered was a mild hematoma on his forehead and some minor bruises on his chest and face. you stepped towards him, your boyfriend’s eyes wandering. “miles-“

“miles, your mom is here to take you home.” the nurse inturrupted, “make sure to take some tylenol to ease the pain, keep some ice on it.” he nodded and left, without batting an eye towards you as he bumped into your shoulder.

“you told him about us?” his tone turned cold, but you were used to it.

“no! i didnt tell him about- that.”

he huffed, giving you a glare. “then how does he know? if you didn’t say anything?”

you might’ve let something slip.

@ mayearies , no swiping!

[nuka-cherries]

MY FIRST POOLVERINE/DEADCLAWS FANFIC AND IT IS MY 69TH PUBLISHED FANFIC ON AO3 OVERALL!!! NICE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you @gossippool for enabling me and cheering me on! I appreciate it so much!

Spotify soundtrack for the fic here!

Pinterest board here!

Chapter under the cut because AO3 is down lol some diffs here and there, but it is what it is.

gay as FUCK

Eventually, they managed to get a larger apartment in the same neighborhood with more space for Althea to move about, with her keeping the largest bedroom and a proper medical bed set up in her room. She said she was fine and did not need to get an adjustable bed, and her chronic pain was nothing a little cocaine can’t fix, but Wade fretted. 

He couldn’t lie. He fretted over his friends. He loved his friends. He always begged and prayed every time that Althea wheezed, that it was not cancer to the voices in his head, even though it wasn’t logical. Althea had no history of cancer in her family. He would know; he filled out all her medical forms in the waiting rooms, went to all her appointments and was her power of attorney. Friends who did cocaine together went to medical appointments together. 

Well, cocaine was out of the question now. Looks like the House of Mouse always wins. 

Go fuck yourself, Disney Plus. 

We’ll get your ass someday.

Dogpool was still so weirdly cute and slept in the living room with Logan. He loved that dog, no matter how many times he grumbled about how weird looking she was and how her barks were grating. Wade said the smartass comment of “Like adamantium nails on chalkboard?” and Logan rolled his eyes.

Logan picked up a job at a construction site outside of the city, saying that the gig was something he was familiar with. No one bothered him. It kept him busy. Had him in flannel 25/8, something that Wade was eternally grateful for. Now that autumn had arrived, it meant it was cozy sad girl season. Wade’s favorite!

Logan still stayed in the living room on the pull out couch-bed, commented that he liked to have the television on at night and it would bug Wade. Wade declined that allegation, that he loved the televisions and appreciated the white noise it made, with the comfort of paid programming lulling him to sleep. All but saying please sleep with me, I don’t mind sharing, hahaha, what if there was only one bed 🥺 and it was cold and our clothes were on the floor — 

But of course, Wade did not unpack allllllllllllll of thaaaaaat. Or surprisingly, say all of that. He was getting better about boundaries, and what he had come to learn is that Logan had barriers. Barriers and barriers and plenty to spare. He tried to be cold. He tried to be distant. But he heard the ways that he laughed with Althea, the times he played with Dogpool and how on family nights, he would remain at the table and help clean up afterward.

Logan had barriers. Logan had tragedy. But unlike Wade, he did not joke about it. 

“You’ll hate me one day,” Logan said to Wade once they were done moving in and the new paint had finally dried in the kitchen. 

“Babycakes, nothing in this world can make me hate you.”

“You say that now.”

“Wrong, I say that always,” Wade said. He leaned on the kitchen island and gently tapped Logan’s nose. “You’re stuck with me, baby girl. I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”

Logan wrinkled his nose in reaction.

Wade merely laughed and hopped off the counter. 

“C’mon, babygirl, I want these paint fumes to last.”

He slid his hand down to Logan’s wrist and led him to the hallway, where the next bucket of white paint sat along with the brushes and roller.

Wade tried to not think about why Logan’s hand slightly shook the moment he let go.

\\\\\\\\\\\\

Wade knew what this must look like; why is he not being an obnoxious chronic yapper as usual?

First, he was too elated and manic to get chopped up again and he had a lot of tasks to do with going back to work, try to not get killed, try to make sure his friends were okay, and above all, try to adjust to a new future with a new gorgeous broody bisexual roommate and their little dog. He did not exactly have time to be as much of a yapper as usual. 

\\\

 Okay ladies, ready? :me😘

🧚🏼‍♀️Yukio: Hi Wade, me and Ellie are ready!

🌸 Laura: Ready!

🌸 Laura: WE'RE OUTSIDE!

\\\\\\\

“Don’t wait up for me, peanut, I’m going to be home late.”

“You’re going out?”

“Yeah, the Chappell Roan concert.”

“That’s tonight?”

“Yes! It’s gonna be a nice Saturday girl’s night out and it’s going to be a lot of fun,” Wade said.

“A girl’s night out?” 

“Yes, honey, a girl’s night out. Me, Yukio, Ells and Laura. Can’t help that I’m one of the girls. And what’s that tone for? I was invited,” Wade remarked. “You only listen to divorced dad music and I’m the one with better taste. What’s your Spotify wrap look like? Nevermind that. Chin up, buttercup, it gets better.”

“Well, that’s my cue.” Suddenly, Wade kissed the top of Logan’s head before he could chicken out and kill himself. “See ya!”

And he skedaddled out of the room before anyone could say anything else.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

The metal detector was going to be a problem.

Laura somehow thought ahead and got the medical authorization waiver she somehow got her claws on professionally and legtimizately signed off. Something, something, something about how she had a metal joint replacement because of playing sportsball. The security guard understood and let her pass and the detector went off. But no one blinked as it did. She had the formed signed and folded into her wallet wristlet.

They made it to their seats without much struggle, with the loud pre-concert music blasting. 

“Soda run,” Laura said. “C’mon.”

“Um, no! I’m not gonna buy no ten dollar soda,” Wade scoffed. “Especially one that doesn’t give free refills.”

“Don’t worry about the price.”

“What, did you extort Paradox for money?”

With a loud laugh, Laura pulled out a TVA credit card from her wristlet wallet. “Obviously!”

“Girl, you should have said so earlier! Diet Coke, no ice.”

“I’m not carrying all that. Come with me.”

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

“Wade? Are you good?” Ellie asked him.

“Absolutely.”

Wade was not going to have a panic attack, no matter what. Not when he was out with his literal girlfriends at a Chappell Roan concert. A Chappell Roan concert! He had never thought that he would manage to get tickets for her, let alone that she would ever visit his city. No reason to think about how he was a worthless human mutated being and that every dirty look was deserved. 

So he sang. He danced. And he ignored the tears down his face as he became a scarred faceless face in the crowd.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

He got home late, throat sore from singing and body weary from dancing. He had fun. He didn't get drunk, but the girls kind of did. He was designated driver and they sang in the car on the way home to their respective households. Ellie moved out of the X-Mansion and lived with Yukio in a studio apartment. Laura lived with Elektra and Blade, with Gambit out and about. Wade wasn't sure what that quite meant. 

For now, they stopped to get tacos. Yukio was a little too drunk to be eloquent about her order, so Laura took control and patiently read off the menu in Spanish to the greatly amused cashier at the taco joint. Learning that Laura was Mexican, born in the motherland and all, was one of the night’s greatest surprises for Wade. 

He got into the apartment at an unreasonable hour. Dogpool was asleep in Althea’s room after all, since she did not come to the door barking her ass off like there’s no tomorrow. 

The living room lamp was on when Wade came in and the television was on as well to the Roku screensaver. 

“I told you not to wait up for me,” Wade said to Logan. 

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Wade went to the kitchen to wash his hands and returned to the living room to sit next to Logan on the pull-out couch. He settled into his side, and tried not to think about how Logan…let him. 

“I brought tacos for you and Al,” Wade supplied.

“I’ll eat them in the morning.” He handed Wade the small Roku controller. “Put something on.”

“Pornhub it is.”

“No.”

“I’m kidding,” Wade said. M, not E, sickos. “Let’s just watch SVU.”

“Did you have fun?”

Wade hesitated. He did have fun. But he had a panic attack that he was going to not talk about.

“I did! I’m just…tired.”

“So go to bed.”

“No, I’m fine here.”

Wade loaded up Peacock and found his profile with the little bird icon. He went to the episode he last left on and hit play. 

He pulled the fleece blanket over them both. 

“I’m perfectly fine here.”

“Hm.”

But Logan did not shove him away. 

[foreverrandomwritings]

🍨Bowl of ice cream: rooster and peach

Just Peachy

Summary: Bradley visits you at work and stumbles upon you in a peach sized predicament.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x afab!Reader

Warnings:Super fluffy, brief mention of frisky business, one curse word, that's all?

Word count: 1105

Masterlist Taste of Twenty-Five Masterlist

The sweet smell of peach was the first thing Bradley noticed when he walked into the little bakery. He stood by the door scanning the shop as he tucked his aviators into his old academy shirt that was a bit too small on him but made his biceps look devine so he refused to part with it. He took in a deep breath through his nose, closing his eyes briefly the smell of all the different sweets overtaking his senses. 

“She’s in the back you weirdo.” The brass voice of your younger sister flew his way. His eyes snapped open glancing in the eighteen year olds direction. He felt the smirk coming upon his lips as he sauntered around the customers that were milling about the store. He lifted the counter top and slipped through the opening before speaking to her.

“You’re mighty bold today I see.” He and your sister had a nice back and forth relationship. The closest thing to a sibling bond he’s ever had. She had been working in your bakery for a couple months now, needing some money and a part time job while in college. 

“You were scaring off all the customers standing by the door with your creepy pornstache.” She kept her voice low and gestured towards the door of the shop with the hand that wasn’t writing on a small chalkboard sign. He glanced at the words briefly, noticing something about peaches but not really focusing on what it said. 

“Hey, you said the stache looked just fine.” He held a hand over his heart and she rolled her eyes dramatically. The dramatic eye roll was one of the things you both had in common. 

“Get out of here, I’m sick of looking at your face.” He scoffed but did as she said, turning around and finding his way into the kitchen. He spotted your form quickly, huddled over a cutting board, knife in hand. He was quiet as he snuck up behind you, his arms wrapping around your middle as he pressed himself into your back. 

“How are you doing today, hot stuff?” His nose was buried in your neck before you could respond. You giggled lightly at the feeling of his mustache tickling your neck. 

“I am just peachy.” You giggled at your own joke as you looked down at the peach in your hand. He peered over your shoulder and let out a small laugh as well. 

“Not that I’m not happy to see you but I thought you were working late today.” You had set down the knife and the peach in your hand. You grabbed the towel tucked into your apron and wiped your hands off quickly. Bradley stepped back a foot letting you turn around. You leaned your back against the counter and gave him a sweet smile. 

“I did work late, it's already seven.” His eyes flicked to the clock hanging on the wall across the room. Your eyes got wide in return quickly flipping your wrist over to check the time on your watch. The bakery didn’t close for another hour and a half but you were still surprised at the time. 

“Oh my. I didn’t even realize it was getting so late. I’ve been trying to figure out what to do with all these peaches for hours.” You gestured around the room and that’s when Bradley noticed the insane amount of peaches crowding the space. 

“This is an awful lot of peaches babe.” He held his lips together tightly trying to hold in a laugh at the bewildered look on your face. 

“I’ve already made like ten peach pies, a couple dozen muffins, two cakes and a dozen scones.” You threw your hands up in emphasis, eyes widening every so slightly.

“Is there a reason you have so many peaches?” He was genuinely curious, typically when you had a big order of anything you’d let him know. He however hadn’t heard of any big orders involving peaches from you recently. 

“If someone hadn’t distracted me while I was ordering produce last week I wouldn’t have ordered this many.” Your eyes narrowed at him, cheeks heating at the memory of last week, shifting on your feet. 

“You weren’t complaining last week.” He had a cheshire grin on his lips now. You had been in the office when he came in last week. Clad in his flight suit and a black t-shirt that hugged him in all the right ways. Things had gotten a little heated and had left you distracted while you were putting in your orders for the week. So instead of the twenty peaches you wanted to order for a few muffins and scones you had planned to bake you had received two hundred peaches. 

“Since you’re the one that put me into this mess you are gonna help me out of it.” It was your turn to have a large smile on your face. His eyebrows shoot up at the mischievous look in your eye. 

“Go wash your hands and grab an apron. You're gonna help me cut up some of these to freeze.” He groaned loudly as the words left your mouth. He didn’t actually mind helping however, it reminded him of all the times he would help his mom and grandmother in the kitchen growing up.

“Can I at least have a kiss first?” He puckered his lips at you and you looked as though you were contemplating whether or not you were gonna kiss him. He was about to complain before you stood on your tiptoes to land a quick kiss upon his lips. 

“Now get to work.” He gave a mock salute and made his way to grab an apron hung up by the sink. He tied it quickly before washing his hands and coming to stand beside you again. 

“How’d I get lucky enough to get such a take charge girlfriend?” The question was rhetorical and you both knew it but that didn’t stop you from answering him as you passed him his own cutting board, knife and bowl, the carton of peaches sat between you. 

“You have a really nice ass is all.” You shrugged at him nonchalantly giggling at the way his nose scrunched up. 

“Good to know that’s all you needed.” He looked at you however and instead of the smell of peaches taking over his senses it was the way you were looking at him. Your eyes held so much love and adoration it was all consuming. There would never be a day that he wouldn’t remind you just how lucky he was to call you his. 

A/N:This has taken forever to write and I am so sorry. I am hoping to get to the rest very soon. Thank you all for reading, likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

Tags(open): @wkndwlff @sylviebell @kmc1989 @eternallyvenus @loving-and-dreaming

[haee-elia]

spence-tober: day 3 - florist

pairing: florist!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which you are having a rather down day and you go to buy flowers to cheer yourself up

word count: 1539

warnings: none, just lots of fluff and a meet cute

spence-tober masterlist

It had been an absolutely dreadful day at work. It was one of those days where it wasn’t just a singular thing that made you want to rip out your hair from your head. It wasn’t even one of those days where everything went wrong. 

You had just woke up and slept through your first alarm, having to rush through your morning routine and barely made it in time for work where every single little thing seemed to add to your annoyance and grate on your nerves.

You were extremely glad to be done with the work day and was hoping for a quiet, indulgent night in where you would watch your guilty pleasure show in your apartment with the ultimate girl dinner and dessert to go with it. 

It was these times where you were happy that you didn’t own a car. You didn’t particularly need one living in D.C. and although it was a little unbearable to walk in the heat of the summer, these walks home from work definitely helped you unwind from the stressful day.

You could tell your mood was already lifting just from the nice cool early evening air and the nice surroundings of your route to home. 

Perhaps thats why you decided to randomly enter a colorful shop which you assumed sold flowers by the display around the shopfront. 

The windows in the front were filled to the brim with different flora and the lighting was warm yet not too bright for your eyes after the tiring day. Buckets and baskets of flowers filled the space around the store in a neat yet controlled chaos look. The counter was decorated with different arranged bouquets and had various books on different flora on it.  

There was also no one behind the counter. 

You doubled back and checked the door again. It was unlocked and the lights in the shop were still on and there was no sign to show that it was closed, so you shrugged to yourself and wandered about the shop, looking at the different flowers and arrangements.

A coughing noise sounded behind you while you were thumbing the petals of a beautiful set of poppies. You turned your head at the noise and hadn’t realized that the shopkeep had returned from a backroom and stood at the counter now.

“Oh hello,” You say shyly, feeling as though you were caught doing something you shouldn’t have, “The door was open,” You say gesturing to the said front entrance behind you, “I didn’t see a sign to say that you’re closed.”

The man behind the counter couldn’t have been but a few years older than you perhaps. His hair was a little messy, but didn’t have the length to go over his eyes. It was just above his ears. You noted that his face was incredibly chiseled and his lips were rather pink. You admitted in your mind that he was in fact, rather handsome. 

He smiled at you, “No worries. I was just about to close, but feel free to look around.” He explains, he shows you a sign on the top of the counter, one that he had just brought out from somewhere else. It was one of those signs you flipped back and forth between ‘open’ and ‘closed’.  It was on a chalkboard and had small designs of flowers decorated around the words. 

You shook your head, “Oh, no.” You say, embarrassed that you were keeping this man from leaving, “I don’t want to keep you from going home.” You say, bashfully.

He shakes his head as well, “It’s totally fine. It’s, uh, my shop.” He explains, “And I just live upstairs so you’re fine.” He assures.

“My name’s Spencer.” He introduces, “Can I help you with anything?” He asks kindly.

You smile at him, “I’m just looking for a nice bouquet.”

Spencer returns your smile, “Okay, are you searching for a certain flower?” He asks.

“No, nothing in particular.”

“Alright,” He says as he walks around the counter and joins you, standing at the baskets of flowers. “Is this for a special someone? Loved one?” 

You shake your head once again, “No, just thought I’d pick up some flowers for myself.”

A blush comes to your face, “It sounds kind of weird.” Spencer looks at you confused so you further explain yourself, “Getting flowers for myself.” 

“Not at all,” Spencer assures you. He reaches over your shoulder and grabs a few of the poppies that you had been admiring, you hope that he can’t see the blush forming on your cheeks. 

“Buying flowers for yourself can actually be a form of self care.” Spencer says to you, “It has shown to boost self-esteem and add to feelings of empowerment. In fact, a study conducted by the AFE and the SAF in 2016 found that 22% of people who buy flowers buy them for themselves.”

“Thats really neat,” You compliment, you smile to yourself, “I like to get some flowers to cheer myself up every once and a while.” You explain.

Spencer nods along with you, then gestures to the poppies in his hand, “Are these poppies okay?” He moves towards the counter at your nod, “Would you like an arrangement with these?”

You smile at him, “Sure, that would be lovely. Anything that you could put together would be great.”

You watch as Spencer expertly moves around the room, plucking flowers from the rest of their places in the room and grabbing a spare vase from the shelf behind him. His nimble fingers place the flowers quickly and delicately, being careful not to bend or break any part of the flower.

“So,” you say, trying to make some small talk, “You really know your stuff.” You try to compliment.

“I mean, I guess knowing about flowers comes with the job, but being able to recite facts and statistics from a study? You must really like flowers.” You say.

Spencer smiles widely. It’s a smile, you note, that shows real genuine joy. 

“It started as a hobby,” He says, rearranging a few flowers before scrutinizing it under his gaze, “Then it became my passion. Flowers can tell a story without saying any words. Giving flowers has been a sign of love for centuries.”

“That’s beautiful, Spencer.” You say. “It’s a really beautiful look on flowers.” You compliment.

Under your gaze you think you can see a hint of a blush coming to the surface of his skin. You also see a grin as he works on the flowers.

Spencer grabs a roll of twine from, you suppose, underneath the counter on a shelf and wraps it around the bouquet he’s finished for you. After a few moments of ensuring none of the flowers will move out of place, he takes them out of the vase and wraps it in brown paper, securing it with another wrap of twine.

“How’s this?” Spencer asks, showing you the bouquet, all finished and wrapped up nicely.

The arrangement that he’s made is absolutely stunning. The red poppies stand out in color around the dusty green stems and branches he’s added in. The red also compliments the small, sparsely located white flowers he’s thrown in for a stunning bouquet. 

You can’t help the smile that comes to your face when Spencer reveals the flowers to you. 

“It’s perfect,” You say, only taking your eyes away from the assortment of flowers to ruffle your hand around in your purse to find your wallet.

Spencer, with his long, lanky, arms, reaches across the counter and blooming bouquet to place his hand on your arm gently and non-forcefully. 

“Don’t worry about paying.” Spencer says, “It’s on me.” There, again, is a slight blush on his cheeks, but you don’t comment on it.

Instead you protest a little, “Spencer-” You shake your head and bring out your wallet once again.

He shakes his head at you and smiles, a wisp of something playful in his eyes, “I mean it.”

“Spencer, I can’t let you just give me these flowers for free.” You argue lightly, “I’m a customer.” You remind.

“I know,” Spencer says. 

Theres a look to his expression that’s so carefree and confident. In the back of your mind, you know you’re not going to win this small battle. 

“But,” He starts to say, again making no move to accept any form of payment from you, “I also know that about two-thirds of people feel special when receiving flowers from someone. Everyone deserves to feel special. So, consider this my gift to you. I just hope it makes your day a little brighter.” Spencer explains.

You sigh and put your wallet away in your purse, you smile at Spencer, “Is that from the same study?” You ask. “The one by the-”

“American Floral Endowment and Society of American Flowers.” Spencer finishes your sentence and nods, still wearing that smile. “Yeah.”

“Fine, then.” You say, letting Spencer hand you the wrapped up bouquet, “But I’m going to come back here and you will let me pay next time.” You say assertively.

Spencer’s smile grows wider and you share a look communicated between your eyes. Silent, but communicative. Just like flowers, you muse to yourself.

“Next time, then.”

a/n: i'm quite happy with this. there's no kiss or true romance in it, but it's a nice meet cute and i hope it puts a smile on your face or convinces you to buy someone or yourself some flowers :)

[sweaterkittensahoy]

this is soooooo insanely self indulgent but for fic prompts could u write something where bucky is so attracted to buck’s brain to the point where it’s literally a turn on but buck is used to people not caring (his shitty parents) so he doesn’t really get it

The biggest trick any unit has to learn is what to do with downtime. There's things to do in Boise, but it's important to not just let the boys loose every day and night they aren't training.

Lectures are semi-popular. Buck offers up a few on science. High-school level stuff explaining physics and chemistry. Things a lot of the boys already know a little about and want to know more.

Bucky slips into the back of the room for one of them, standing against the wall because there's no free space to sit. It makes him smile. Buck's whole face lights up when he figures out a good topic for a lecture, and Bucky's glad to see how many seem to like them.

Buck steps up to the lectern and grins at the boys. "Who wants to figure out the best order to lose all four engines and survive?" he asks.

"Can we figure it out the other way, too?" Hambone asks, which makes everyone laugh, even Buck.

"Sure," he says. "But I'll let anyone who doesn't want that knowledge cut out before we talk about it."

Bucky chuckles as Buck turns towards the chalkboard and someone sends a paper airplane through the air, hitting Buck in the back.

"Douglass, that's five demerits," Buck says.

There's a few moments of tussling around Douglass as his friends give him grief, but they all go quiet when Buck turns to face the room again and says, "Okay, let's talk gravity."

Bucky follows the lecture easily. He and Buck have had these conversations before, Buck breaking down the science when Bucky can't follow, making sure he can explain it back to him before he picks up again. It means he can relax and simply watch Buck.

Buck's got the room's attention, his deep voice carrying easily, and the loose-limbed way he moves keeping everyone's attention. He walks the boys through equations and illustrations, drawing a full layout of the fuel line hosing from memory to help the discussion about how gravity and mass and velocity all wrap together to affect which engine has the best chance of running the longest even if the fuel pressure drops.

Bucky shifts his hat, moving it from under his arm to hold in both hands in front of his belt to hide the fact that his dick is half-hard. Buck's face is bright and relaxed as he answers a question about the equation. Bucky watches the pilot who asked the question nod along as he makes sense of Buck's answer.

He's so goddamn smart, Buck is. It makes Bucky feel like his insides are sparking when it's on display like this. Buck knows so much and explains it all so well. He's so open with what he knows and never tires at questions or confusion. Watching him be happy to share makes Bucky want to cut the lecture short so he can kiss him silly, taste the chalk dust that's settled on him, and tell him how amazing he is.

The lecture ends, and the room empties out. Bucky stays put, nodding to a few of the boys who say hello. Buck stays up at the front of the room, looking at the chalkboard like he's appreciating his own work.

"Another sold out show," Bucky says once they're alone.

Buck turns and ducks his head. "I think I'm the only show on today."

"That's not true, and you know it," Bucky replies, pushing off the wall and walking slowly up the center aisle to Buck. "You had them eating out of your hand, like always."

"It's just about finding the right way to explain it," Buck says. "That's not hard."

Bucky stops close enough to Buck that their buttons brush together. "You are so goddamn smart it makes me crazy," he says. "You know all this stuff, and you can explain it, and you can figure out how to make it interesting for anyone."

Buck slips a hand over Bucky's hip and shifts so he can slip a leg between Bucky's. "Did I get you riled up again, Major?"

"You rile me up every fucking second," Bucky says, cupping the side of Buck's neck. "But, yeah, watching you work that big brain in front of a crowd really gets me going."

Buck huffs a laugh and brushes his mouth against Bucky's. Bucky tastes the chalk dust and bites his lip so he doesn't moan. "Only you," he says, and it's deeply affectionate.

"Come on," Bucky says, tilting his head to one side. "Let me suck you off while you rattle off geometry proofs."

Buck snorts and shoves at Bucky, but then he reels him right back in and kisses him properly, a slow, steady movement of their mouths matched with an easy glide of their tongues. "I may be the brains of the operation, but you're the romantic," he says.

Bucky laughs and rocks against Bucky's thigh, sighing when Bucky shifts so there's more pressure on his cock. "Come on," he says, "Let's go find a spot to fuck my brains out."

"Only yours?" Buck asks.

Bucky shivers at the challenge in Buck's tone. "I'll never manage, but I will wear myself out trying."

Buck grins at him and takes one step back, grabbing Bucky's hand and pulling him along. "An equal amount of pressure on both sides," he says. "That's physics."

"Uh-huh," Bucky replies. "Keep talking dirty."