#working two jobs is stupidly draining

[wurmje]

Messy oc sketch cause burnout be hitting hard T^T

[rinhaler]

Not me being an absolute slut for step dad Gojo and Uncle Nanami!?!? 😩 sharing is caring!

-Very Much Embarrassed Anon🫂

PERHAPS i got carried away but i hope u enjoy this !! luxe write something under 1k challenge: impossible x

warnings: 18+ MDNI, step/incest, fem!reader, step dad!gojo, uncle!nanamin, implied virgin!reader, threesome, vaginal sex, oral (m receiving), fingering, tit sucking, possessive!gojo, daddy kink, praise, pull out method, orgasm denial, noncon photo taking, slight oral fixation, hair pulling, face fucking.

words: 2.7k

“You know you’re too young for boys, right?” your step-father reminds you, like it’s a mantra he’s told you again and again for years. It isn’t a suggestion or a thought he’s choosing to share. It’s an instruction. “I don’t want you to think because you’re all grown up and going to college now that you can be reckless.”

“I- I know, Satoru.” you smile at him.

Both of your attention is stolen as you hear your uncle, Kento, laugh out a scoff. He tries to conceal it as he ruffles his newspaper and drinks his coffee. You see your step-dad’s brows furrow in annoyance. Or, anger. He looks at you, again, and his expression softens.

“I know you’re a good girl, sweetheart.” he tells you, wrapping his arms around your form and placing a kiss atop your head. Nanami’s eyes peer over his newspaper, locking with yours. A knowing glance to each other before a smirk finds his features. He raises his newspaper, shielding his face completely as he tries to focus on reading.

He lets you go, reluctantly, as you pick up your college bag and grab your phone.

His expression sours as he sees you reach for your phone, smiling at a text message you received. He shouldn’t pry. He knows he shouldn’t pry. But he can’t seem to stop himself as he finds himself leaning across the kitchen island and snatching your phone from your hands. And now he scoffs, scrolling through your messages and looking at the name at the top.

“What did I just say?” he speaks, only an octave away from yelling at you. Your lip wobbles, and he keeps your phone at arm’s length as you try to grab for it. He tosses it towards the kitchen table so Kento can look for himself.

“He was just asking if I needed picking up for my classes, Satoru! You don’t need to worry…” you tell him. Of course this would happen. He’s always been stupidly over protective.

“Well you don’t, do you? That’s what I’m here for. Hell, I’m sure even Nanami would be happy to take you since he came all of this way to spend his off time visiting you.” Gojo reminds you. And you feel a slight pang of guilt at that. You know how hard your poor uncle Nanamin works. He could be on vacation, somewhere tropical, unwinding from the humdrum of his boring office job. But here he is, sitting reading the newspaper and listening to you two argue with each other. “In fact, you’re grounded. I’m keeping your phone and you can forget about going to class today.”

“But—!”

“Don’t whine, I’ll write you a note.” he adds, walking around the counterspace to collect your phone from Nanami. He finishes scrolling, locking it, though he keeps hold of it. “Go upstairs.”

You huff, but grab your bag and do as you’re told. It’s not like he can stop you from being online. You can talk to people on your laptop, after all. Though given the mood he’s in you suppose you’ll have to be stealthy about it.

“You’re too harsh on her.” Kento tells Satoru, earning another disgruntled glance from him. He closes his newspaper and rests an ankle over his knee as he leans back and drinks the remainder of his coffee. “She’s curious, you can’t do anything about that. It’s not like she’ll stay a virgin forever.”

“Tch. Spare me.” he laughs lightly. “You think I don’t know why you’re here? I hear you, you know, when you sneak into her room at night.”

And Gojo revels in how the colour drains from Nanami’s face. He sits upright, his back stiffened straight and he starts to loosen his tie. He should have known, really, it was too good to be true. He should have known he’d always get caught eventually. But by Satoru Gojo of all people?

“I haven’t…” he clears his throat. “It’s not what you think.”

“Sure.” Satoru rolls his eyes. “If I’m bein’ honest… I don’t really care. Who am I to stop you? I’m not blood… like you. Sick fuck.” he laughs, sitting down at the table and looking into Nanami’s panic-stricken eyes.

Your uncle rests his elbows on the table and holds his head in his hands. What is Gojo plotting? Blackmail of some kind, maybe. It’s not like he’s concealed his disapproval for his sisters relationship with him. He’s tolerated him, sure, but he’s a nuisance he thinks his family would be better off without.

“I don’t like this either.” he throws your phone towards the white-haired man and sighs. “But she doesn’t respect you, Satoru. She doesn’t even call you dad. I think she sees you as temporary, so of course she isn’t going to listen to you. Not really.”

“But…” he leans over the table with a smug grin. “She respects you, doesn’t she? Her favourite uncle. I don’t like college guys, I remember what we were like in college, I don’t want her around that.”

“No… maybe she won’t go searching for it if she’s better educated.”

Gojo’s brow quirks in intrigue, a sadistic smile soon follows.

“Who knew a corporate goon could be such a sick fuck, hah?” Gojo laughs, picking up Nanami’s coffee mug for him and walking it to the sink to clean. Nanami rolls his eyes, burying his reddening face in his newspaper again.

You feel a surge of fear stab through you as you hear footsteps climb up the stairs. You hide your laptop back into your bag and turn on your TV, hurrying to find something to watch as a cover. But when you hear a knock, you relax, Satoru never knocks.

“Come in!” you speak, happily, welcoming your favourite and only uncle Nanamin into your room. Though your heart sinks as your step-father follows, crossing your arms across your chest as you huff and pout petulantly.

“Don’t be like that…” Nanami speaks softly, sitting on the edge of your bed and resting his hand on your thigh. “We need to talk to you. And we want to ask you something.” he continues. Your pout fades, then, a slight feeling of anxiety creeps into you as you wonder if something serious has happened.

And Satoru sits on the edge of the bed, too, his beaming blue eyes almost pierce through your heart as he begins to explain. How he’s just worried about you because he knows from experience how college guys can be. How he’s your dad no matter what and he just wants the best for you. And he thinks you need a little help in the right direction on your journey of self-discovery.

“I know you’re a woman now, sweetheart, but you’re still daddy’s little girl. Yeah? So, let daddy help.”

“He- with what?” you blink at him, dumbly, and the delighted snarl on his face almost chills you to the bone. He doesn’t speak right away, so you look at Nanami. But it’s like he can’t bear to look at you as he sinks his head low with shame. “With what?” you ask again.

 “Well, Nanami said you’re curious. So he’s been fucking you, right?”

“No!” you and your uncle yell simultaneously. Did he really tell your insufferable step-father something so personal?

“I told you, I haven’t slept with her. Don’t tease her or you’ll make things worse.” Nanami clarifies before he focuses his attention on you. “But you are curious, aren’t you? You’re getting attention from boys and you’re enjoying it, clearly. They aren’t good for you though, princess. They don’t know how to treat girls right.”

You hum, softly, as he pushes your legs apart, revealing your pink cotton panties to the two of them as they continue to talk you through their thought process. And the touch of your uncle Nanamin is your ultimate weakness. They both get a live response to his action as your pretty pussy starts to gift your panties with a dark, sticky patch between your dewy folds.

“Boys that age, sweetheart, they don’t know what they’re doing. Do you touch yourself? ‘m sure you do, I’m not naïve enough to think otherwise. But that means you like to cum, yeah? These college guys don’t care about that. They just want a little hole to cum in and defile. And we think you deserve better than that.” Satoru explains, his inquisitive fingers begin to prod at your puffy cunt, though you trap his hand between your plush thighs.

“Satoru…” you respond, bashfully.

“No.” he speaks, grabbing your thighs and pulling you down the bed and towards himself. He looks mad, but there’s no real malice behind it. Still your heart is pounding. “I’m your dad like he is your uncle. I’m not Satoru. Who am I?” he asks, reaching under your skirt to pull down your panties.

“D-Daddy… you’re daddy. ‘m sorry.” you whimper. Your eyes flutter as his long fingers invade your pretty, virgin walls. “Hng—!”

“Gooood girl.” he smiles as he begins to curl them upwards. “I slipped right on in, has uncle Kento gotten you used to taking his fingers?”

“Mhmm…” you blush. The man in question bends down to kiss you.

It’s sweet, though you find yourself grabby and desperate as you follow his lead. He pulls away to undress you, unbuttoning your shirt and then his own after throwing away his tie. He helps you out of your bra, and you instinctively go to cover your nipples as you remember who you’re actually in the company of. But Nanami doesn’t want that. He locks his fingers with yours, holding your hands above your head as he begins to suckle on them until they’re both puckered and raw.

“Sit her up, and sit behind her.” Satoru tells his brother-in-law. And of course he acquiesces. You’re moved like you’re weightless as your uncle sits behind you, his clothed cock pressing angrily into the curve of your spine as he continues to torment your tits. Satoru pulls his fingers out of your cunt and sucks them clean, smiling at how your eyes begin to sparkle with wonder as he puts on such a display. “Do not tell your mother about this, understand?”

You nod, obediently. You wouldn’t dream of telling her something so scandalous. Though it does fill you with a slight sense of pride as your Satoru makes it abundantly clear how desperately he’d longed to be the first person to explore your untouched core. He pulls down his trousers and you moan at his smooth, pink cockhead. Though right now it’s closer to an angry shade of red.

He really is desperate.

You wince, slightly, as he pushes his tip inside. Though he retracts it, coating his head in your wetness.

“Fuuuuck, you weren’t lyin’. You really never fucked her, huh Nanami?” Gojo chuckles as he pushes in deeper and deeper. Nanami slots his fingers into your mouth to suck on as you accommodate to the length. “Relax, baby. Clampin’ so much you’re gonna push me out.” he laughs shallowly, his thrusts matching as he begins to work you open.

“D-Daddy!” you gasp, back arching against Nanami’s chest before he pulls you back towards him.

“We’re so proud of you, princess.” Nanami shushes you, placing a kiss to your temple. You look at him with wide, trusting eyes, though he can’t really concentrate as his own fixate on the way your tits bounce with each thrust Gojo inflicts onto you. “Why don’t you show your dad how I taught you to suck cock, hm?”

“Oh? Now that I’d like to see.” Gojo smiles, pulling out of you briefly. The sound of your sticky walls echoes through the room as he pulls out. The men help you onto all fours, and your daddy slots himself right back into your tight heat. The adjusted angle makes you fall forward, your head lolling as he finds a nice little trigger inside of you. “Oh… there, huh? Okay, baby. I’ll fuck you right there.” Satoru tells you as he begins to fuck into you before slowing down.

Nanami takes his cock out of his briefs, tapping the tip against your swollen lips. They open, obediently, and you lick the precum he’s spilling directly from the source. Your hole flutters as he hisses, enamoured by the sensation.

“Perfect, princess. Such a good little girl for me.” Kento comments, and your heart beats harder. You’re almost robbed of all sense as Gojo pistons his hips into you, and he leans forward to grab your hair and wrap it into a makeshift ponytail.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, Kento, maybe we should teach her how college boys fuck. Since she wanted that experience so badly.” Satoru proposes, and Nanami considers it. He really considers it. And Gojo chuckles at that. “Go on… show her.”

Nanami nods, grabbing the sides of your head and fucking your face like you’re his own personal cocksleeve.

It’s relentless and dizzying and you don’t know how to settle. You can’t possibly as you’re ruined from both ends. There’s no reprieve, there’s no way to relax. You’re trembling and moaning and fuck you never knew sex could be so intense. Nanami is always calm and patient with you. But this isn’t that.

They’ve ran out of patience with you.

It doesn’t matter which way you try to retreat, you’re only encouraging the other one. More of Nanami’s cock down your throat and more of Gojo’s hitting your g-spot.

“W-We’ll have to get you on the pill, sweetheart.” Gojo tells you, but it’s more like he’s telling himself. He knows he can’t cum inside. He can’t, but fuck, he wants to. He fucking needs to. “College guys, they like- leaving their- mark.” he thrusts again and again until he’s on the very brink of blowing his load. But his life won’t be worth living if he knocks his cute little daughter up. His marriage will be over. He’ll lose everything.

And with that, he pulls out and coats your pussy lips with his sperm. The loss of feeling from inside makes you cry out around Nanami’s length, though you still can’t pull away from him as he continues to use your mouth as his own personal toy. You never knew your uncle Nanamin had this side to him.

He’s usually so sweet and patient.

He pulls out, too, depriving you of the taste of his cum and the chance to prove what a good girl you are. Though you take his load beautifully as he shoots soupy ropes across your pretty face. His heart skips a beat as your false lashes flutter and he realises a heavy glob stuck to them.

“College guys, sweetheart, might take pictures of you like this.” Satoru pulls his phone from his back pocket and takes a few photos of your quivering cunt. You’ve been neglected in the worst way, and it’s dawning on you now what he had meant by giving you the college experience. He tosses his phone to Nanami, encouraging him to do the same. Your innocent and betrayed face is captured so perfectly through the lens of the phone, Nanami’s pearly seed is the perfect colour for your complexion.

“College guys would send these around to their friends too, you know.” Nanami warns you.

“But we’ll just keep these between ourselves.” Satoru promises you. “I think it’s only fair we didn’t let you cum this time since you were so intent on disobeying your daddy.”

“I think she’s learnt her lesson, though, Satoru.” Nanami speaks, pulling your hair so that you can look up at him and he can identify if you dare to lie to him. “Fucking college boys doesn’t sound that fun anymore, does it? Say sorry, princess. Your dad might let you cum next time if you’re a good girl.”

You sniff, and hiccup, unsure of where to look.

“’m s-sorry, daddy.” you sniffle, Nanami releases your hair and allows you to look back at Gojo, a wild grin on his face.

“Awe… sweet.” Gojo smiles, circling the bed so he’s standing beside Nanami, both of their eyes bore down at you with an intensity you’ve never felt before. “I think we’re owed a thank you, we took the time to teach you such an important lesson, after all.”

“T-Thank you,” you sniff, again, “Thank you, d-daddy. Thank you, uncle Nanamin.”

© 2023 rinitxshi

[glotoru]

ooh baby, ooh baby, i’m in love | eren jaeger.

the note 𐦍 i’ve recently been thinking about a successful, older (early to mid thirties), soft spoken eren who lives to spoil the woman of his dreams—so i’m gonna share this with y’all too. i’m actually just projecting our relationship. not proud of the ending but wtv. part two here. inspired by west coast, lana del rey.

contains 𐦍 nsfw, fem!reader, stupidly rich!eren, established relationship, vaginal sex, mating press, cervix kisses, use of pet names (princess, baby, my wife, the usual yk), unprotected sex, breeding, squirting, softie eren, mild body worship, size kink, hand on stomach while fucking mhm, i love you’s exchanged, praise kink, eren talks to your pussy while he’s in it, i’m thinking black reader but it’s all subjective babes: if you like it, read it!!

truth be told, eren jaeger doesn’t believe he has much to live for.

he’s kept his circle small for all of these ongoing years; with the occasional extension of acquaintances from work dinners, or christmas parties—though, he preferred to slip away from such events when eyes weren’t so…watchful. he likes to think his social battery has drained over the course of his life. looking back at his angstful teenage years, fourteen year old most likely wouldn’t recognize the person he is today.

his once intense nature that resembled an overbearing presence of loud determination turned calm—steadfast and slow to visible anger (with the exception of a passive aggressive comment here and there from simple annoyance). the short hair that once barely covered his nape now fell to his broad shoulders, however, he preferred to keep it up—maintaining appearances while keeping it convenient. the smaller five foot six body grew to an intimidating lean six foot four instead.

however, those things were quite trivial; he knew such changes happened with growth and eventual maturity.

but for a significant chunk of his life, eren was never the greatest with women. he was oblivious—blind to the wandering eyes full of admiration from girls in his classes and workplace—and nose deep in his books. he wouldn’t rest until he was on top of his grades; which he had no problem with. His emphasis on success failed him when it came to the dating scene; to say the least he was shy—and married to his work as well.

but on top of all this, eren was a patient man, and good things always comes to those who wait.

and when a dangerously beautiful woman comes wandering into his life on the street outside of an office dinner he gracefully slipped away from, asking him for an extra five dollars to help pay for her cab home from a no-show date—a woman that has him battling the slew of warning alarms sounding away in his usually zen mind and redefining what he thought was himself—he knows that he’s waited long enough.

simply put, he’s a man of his craft; dedicated to two things. his work, and his wife.

His wife—the phrase has his brain melting into pure grey matter that spills out his body in the form of love. To even think he has the opportunity to refer to you as such is priceless in itself. eren didn’t believe he could love—let alone love this hard. you ask him to run, he’ll say how far; jump—how high?

you’ve changed him—ever since he offered to drop you off in his sleek black mercedes benz parked somewhere by the valet and you giggled in response, saying ‘i’m not usually so trusting of strangers’ will the slightest glint of curiosity in your bright eyes.

and somewhere in between the months, his ten hour workdays turned to six, important software development meetings got pushed back for convenience, the accumulating days of paid time off started being used, for once, his assistant could do their job, and his new focus was you.

diamonds and pearls, nails and hair, dinners on boats and vacations on beaches, shopping sprees on his black card and all of his devotion towards you—only you.

eren…he’s a worshipper—it doesn’t take much for him to get on his knees for you. he’s not ashamed, if anything, he’s proud. he likes to say that anything that’s his, is yours; so who are you to deny what he gives you?

that’s another thing he oh so loves about you—you readily take everything he can offer. you let him take care of you, and he wouldn’t want it any other way; you’re his wife after all.

his wife, his wife.

“my wife…” eren mumbles to himself as he buries his face into the crook of your perfumed neck. the pronounced scent makes his head spin, you can’t fathom how in love with you this man is. as his large hands engulf your own, he’s met with the texture of your wedding ring that cost him over twenty grand, the one you cried over when you saw it in his hands offering it to you—but eren doesn’t think it does his adoration for you enough justice.

he prefers to show you.

while there’s no doubt that material items and dream homes are things you like to receive—there’s nothing better than the way he has you now, one leg resting atop his shoulder and the other barely slung around his waist as he steadily ruts his hips into your own.

oh, how could you be so beautiful? splayed out on the bed like a wicked man’s deepest desires and dreams; the one he secretly lusts for from across the room with no hopes to introduce himself because you’re just so out of his league. your hair is messily draped over the silk pillows, all remnants of your lipgloss/lipstick gone from your parted lips and instead smudged on his own, the gold necklace with his diamond initial was falling into the dip in your neck, and you were gazing at him with need. pure, heartfelt need.

your body arches towards him, manicured hands trailing towards your own chest to play with your nipples that hardened from the low temperature of the room. “i need you eren, make me feel you—i want it.” your voice is smooth, accompanied with a small whine that reminds him just how spoiled you are, and how it’s all his fault.

but he couldn’t care less—you deserve it for wandering into his life to make you his own.

“i know princess, i know.” he knows damn well you need him, he knows, he knows—he’s repeating it as he peppers a kiss to your jewelled ankle before pressing down on the back of your thigh to steady himself.

eren fucks like he loves—endlessly and hard.

maybe that’s why the way he bullies your pussy while bottoming out has you grasping at the threads of the sheets and chanting his name like a hymn followed by prayer. he lets your cunt feel every bit of him, the ridges—veins, down to the last inch. he’s terrifyingly big, another thing you love about him.

his dick feels like it’s mushing your insides, curving up against your spongy walls that oh so desperately tighten around him. every thrust is harder than his last, and the way the trimmed hair resting above his base brushes against your clit provides all the extra stimulation that has your head rolling to the side. your uncontrolled moans turn to sobs when you feel his tip tickle your cervix—and boy does it make him a rejuvenated man.

“look at me.” his words barely register as syllables in your clouded mind—you keep your head turned, eyes focused shut as your body shakes upwards from the fervour of his unrelenting tempo. there’s a lot of things eren can have, and you not watching the way his slick covered dick slips in and out of your weeping pussy isn’t one of them. “you have to look at me pretty girl.” his tone is soft but firm, thick fingers taking your chin in his hands and turning you towards him once again.

“see how well you’re taking me? all of it.” he gives you a million dollar smile, hinting for you to watch where the two of you connect. “your pretty cunt just wants it so bad, right?”

“oh, eren…” it’s always a sudden surprise how soiled his mouth can get at times like this. heeding his request, you watch his cock disappear in your folds—and you sight of it has you fluttering around him like a whore.

“you were made for me, weren’t you? prettiest sight i’ve ever seen.” you’ve heard his praises a multitude of times, having him ramble on about fucking you so much your walls moulded to fit him like a tight glove, only that now, he’s saying it to your pussy instead.

“only you ‘ren, was made just for you.” you babble out, feverishly bucking your hips up to meet his ruts.

when your eyes finally rip away from below and back up to his face, the look he wears has your cunt melting like putty. with furrowed brows, a dip in his forehead and a bitten lip, he watches your body move with each fuck. even in such a sinful position, you were just so divine.

almost subconsciously, his ringed hand moves from your hip and over to your torso, gliding over your pierced belly and stopped at your lower stomach, “I’m right here baby.” gently, he applies pressure to the spot, making your eyes blow open as you moan in response. the feeling gives you butterflies—ones that go straight to your clit and stimulate the nerves in your shaky legs.

“cummin—eren i’m cumming!” you’re rambling, scrambling to push his hand away from your belly, but it’s all too late, and eren knows that well. how could he not? your body is a temple, he’s explored every inch of it, and the sudden vice grip your walls have you him and periodic throb of your cunt is all too telling. your orgasm is drawn out, legs spazzing around your entranced husband, “mm, oh-fuck! yesyesyes eren, don’t stop!”

oh, aren’t you just perfect. his eyes soften when he watches how your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, only to capture it in a languid and sloppy kiss, teeth grazing your plump lips and sucking on them like a sweet. you whine he pulls himself away from your body completely, instead he takes the time to tack his thumb to your puffy clit, rubbing feint circles and the occasional attempted heart on the bud. he always does this, coaxing out the last of your orgasm with nimble fingers that you dream about

“you gonna let me take good care of you?” he asks softly between hushed breaths while grabbing hold of both your legs and hoisting them over his shoulders. helplessly, all you can do is nod; you’re in a trance at the very sight of him. his defined torso is illuminated by the back light of one of the many lamps in your bedroom, his hair is slipping from its captive elastic band, the grip of his hands on your ankles sends searing hot pulses straight to your sensitive clit.

he gives himself a few good pumps, sliding his length between your folds. your wetness aids him in bottoming out once again, but your sensitivity has you squirming in his hold. “gotta stay put baby.” he marvels, talking you into submission, “that’s my girl.”

his praises are followed by the shift of his hands down to the back of your thighs, they gently rub the plush skin before pushing them down to meet your chest. while there are some circumstances where looking down at you sparks something within him, eren likes to be eye to eye with you when he’s balls deep—turns him on even more being in such close proximity with such a captivating woman.

you squeal from the uncomfortable burn in your hamstring from being folded in half with the additional feeling of eren’s body weight on your own. you swear that you can feel your heart palpitating in your ears as you feverishly clench around him. “it’s too much! can’t take it, can’t take it!”

“of course you can, you know you can, your pussy takes everything i give it.” eren speaks between juts, pressing your knees to your shoulder blades as he pistons into you without any regard for decency. his thrust feel like a hammer, knocking your body into the memory foam mattress you begged him to buy.

stars cloud your eyes as he wraps himself tighter around you, head in the side of your neck as he peppers kisses across your skin. your pants and gasps are loud, amplifying the sounds of slapping skin and balls hitting the fat of your ass. his favourite part is when you dig your nails into his back, leaving cresent shaped imprints and jagged lines across it like a painter with a canvas; scars of your love.

deep groans fill your ear, soft and sweet; all eren can ramble about is you—how good you feel, how quick you can make him unravel like a ball of string, how lucky he is to have you in his life—the list goes on.

“i love you—fuck, i love you so much baby, you treat me so well.” with his declaration of love, his pace seems to increase, fucking you dumb and leaving you to heave for whatever air is left to breathe.

“i love you too, so much.” your eyes scramble around in your haywire brain, overloaded by the repeated feeling of the jackhammering going on in your walls and the non-stop cervix kisses he gives you. “it’s all yours, eren; you deserve it, you deserve this pussy. you married this, have it.”

eren jaeger doesn’t believe he’s deserving of much; has he earned things? yes. but you…laying beneath him, telling him he deserves you? it makes him never want to leave—not that he would dream of doing so in the first place.

he does deserve it—your words make his brain malfunction. he deserves it. fuck, you might just be the death of him.

you’re crying for him, grasping at any part of his body possible to get him closer to you than physically possible. your tighten around his base once more, and your hand flies down to messily prod at your clit in an attempt to play with it.

meanwhile, eren’s unrelenting pace falters; that man knows he’s going to cum soon, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do it with you. so he pleads with you to give him one more—telling you that you’ve got another one bundled up in there for him. to say it’s true is unknown, but your body listens to eren, and miraculously whatever he believes will happen comes to fruition.

but your body is delicate—everyone knows delicate things break under pressure. with the unrelenting strain and stretch his dick gives your walls, the tight feeling in your core, and aching numbness in your legs, your buildup feels much more violent—ready to release all built up tension given to you by your husband.

“eren—keep on going like this and i’m gonna make a mess!” you fuss around, hand reaching to gently push his torso away in fear you may soil the freshly made sheets.

“that’s the goal.” he states as a matter of factly, brows furrowing as a suppressed groan bubbles up from his chest at the thought: pretty little face going stupid and clawing at anything within reach as you writhe and cum all over his torso and lower body. you can’t make him budge now that he’s a determined man.

his strokes grow sloppy but powerful, curved cock repeatedly ramming into your spongy spot that force your plush walls to grip around him, “you’re eating me up here, love.” he mumbles, moaning into your mouth in the disguise of a messy kiss.

the last roll that tips you over the rocky edge is a shaky one, the last one he could give before emptying himself into you. it’s thick and hot and you feel it fill you as you twitch underneath him and cover his abdomen with your juices. wordlessly, his hands reach for yours as he stills; soft lips peppering the lining of skin on your cheek.

eren jaeger knows that change is inevitable—it comes with time. but eren jaeger also knows one thing will stay the same; his love and adoration for the pretty girl laying below him.

[san8ny]

robber ellie falling in love with victim reader😭

Something.

?: tried experimenting with angst / Older!Divorced!Reader x Younger!Robber!Ellie / Bi!Reader

“and you decided on here of all places?” You ask for what seems like the hundredth time, cleaver in your hold waving in the air all too closely for Ellie’s liking.

“Fuck— yes, lady, like I said, I just get paid to do this shit.” She groans, struggling against the ropes you had her embraced in, “What kind of knots even are these?..”

“Now, i’ve never really had to use this up until now..”

She feels her eyes widen, color draining from her face at the implication, “Woah! H-hey, you wouldn’t need to. We can find a compromise—

“You tried stealing my father’s urn.

Ellie’s winces at the weight of your words, her soiled plan gone to waste, “I thought it was a regular vase.. but— but with that being said, I didn’t succeed so you don’t need to be so brutal! Eh?‘Whaddya say?”

You stare at her for a rather long time before taking the knife and inching it towards her,

Ellie’s entire body tenses up, teeth clenching and her eyes shutting to prep for her seemingly inevitable demise—

Instead, you lightly poke her chest with the knife experimentally, “You’ve got like, no boobs.”

“WHAT THE FUCK? O-oh my god, you’re a pervert..”

“You’re in my house.”

“THAT DOESN’T JUSTIFY IT!”

“Back on topic! Why my place?”

“Needed the cash, how else?” She spits, gaze still never meeting yours fully

“That bad?”

“Wouldn’t be robbing people if I didn’t, would I?” She snaps aggressively, though it was expected

“You know, you should be nicer to me.” You say, reaching over back for your knife threateningly. She seems to quiet down at that, relaxing her shoulders as she obediently nods,

“I think i’d rather you just call the police at this poin, lady..” Ellie whispers, not having the willpower to deal with your manical interrogations, “My dad is sick, alright? He’s on the verge of dying, and I need that money for his treatment. Content now?”

After a brief pause, you speak up,

“Tell you what, you give me proof of this.. and I might be graceful enough to do something for you.” You thumb her bangs, separating each strand to reveal the glistening beads of sweat that pool at her auburn hairline.

“Huh, why?” Her head raises at your all-too gracious proposal, what exactly were you playing at? Pay the person trying to rob you? It’s laughable.

“Well..” you tilt your head, “You’re interesting”

Eventually, you do let her go, informing her of an easier way out than she came in. However, a deep pit in her stomach tells her she’d had been safer with cops than with whatever you were.

The following week, she’s being put to absolute work once she’d validated her father’s bills with you— from scrubbing floors to literally helping you wash your hair in that stupidly huge bathtub you have— she wants to hate you. no, she does! She hates you with every fiber in her. So, why does she feel so strongly opposed to seeing you interact with your husband everytime he’s back from his job? Maybe she hates him too? Yeah, that must be! Ellie hates everything to do with you by proxy, including your husband.

“Have you ever considered marriage, Eleanor?” You ask out of the blue, politely cutting your steak as you two sit across from each other at the dinner table, your husband not being present, per usual, not like he ever is. “My name is Ellie, not..whatever that is.”

You grin at her response, “Aren’t you too old to be going by a nickname though? Especially one as infantile as Ellie? It sounds like a pet-name if i’m being honest.”

She feels a vein threatening to pop as she points her fork at you, “Well, it’s my name so either call me it or not.”

There it is. The way you stare at her even when she’s slightly out of line. It’s a mixture of both amusement and surprise. Like she was some sort of entertainment for you.

“Ellie it is.” You softly say, smiling as you chew your food.

She hates the way it rolls off your tongue smoothly, no sign of condescension in it despite your previous words.

She hates how she feels something else stirring other than supposed hatred.

The other time she’s noticed this odd-feeling of hers rear it’s ugly head, was when you two had visited a bath-house, you stripping with ease as you walk the small steps they have before relaxing into the steamy water. Ellie stands there awkwardly, watching as you let your hair-bun down, all stress exiting your body once the sensations of the water settle around you.

“Well, aren’t you joining me, Ellie?”

She bites her bottom lip in an anxious fashion, almost fighting herself whether or not she’d let herself get that close to you. Regardless, one overpowers the other so she, like you, quickly sheds her clothing, stepping into the pool experimentally, however, she maintains a moderate space inbetween you two, careful not to ever let her body even touch a bristle of hair on yours.

Facing across from you, she studies the way your eyes are closed, soft crows feet at the corners— you were only 31 as she learnt, and already seemed so tired of the life you lived, having to run an entire estate while your— fuck, she couldn’t even recall his name— husband, ran business elsewhere. Ellie saw and took care of you more than she’d ever seen him done. I mean, what did you even see in him— ..what is she saying?

At the realization, she turns her gaze away from your face, eyes instead busying themselves with the small ripples the water makes.

“You never answered my answer.”

She doesn’t seem to want to avert her gaze from the water just yet, but speaks, “I don’t answer alot of the questions you ask if you haven’t noticed.”

“So will you answer one if I ask now?”

“Why should I?” She scoffs at your bluntness, if she didn’t want to answer a question, it’s not like you’d force it out of her.

“I see.” You say, before standing up to dry yourself off with a towel. At this, Ellie seems alarmed. What happened? Why’d you leave so suddenly? Why— why does she seem to care recently more than she’d like?

A reasonable amount of time had passed since the bathhouse, and you seemed to forget about it reasonably quicker. Almost immediately, actually. Currently, you were hauled up in your study while Ellie sweeped the hallway flooring. Upon arrival to your door, she’s met with a quick ‘I’d like to be alone, thank you!’ She rolls her eyes, knocking again. When ignored again, she opts for a 3rd time, before you open the door in irritation, “What— Oh, it’s you, Ellie! Hello!”

“Yes, yes, it’s me, can I come in? I have to tidy up this room before I can clock it for the night.” She says briefly, attempting to enter the room before you block her way with a nervous smile, “I don’t think this room is obligatory, you can just skip it and leave.”

“Uh, no, I’d like to it now rather than have it pile up tomorrow.”

“That’s really not necessary, I mean it, i’ll clean it even.” You try one last time of persuasion. However, this earns you a blank state and an occasional eye-twitch.

Sighing, you step to the side, “If you insist..”

Ellie looks around as you return to your desk, massaging your temples as you seem focused on a slight-stack of documents. I mean, she hadn’t seen you this stressed since the time you were told the oak-tree in the grand-garden had to be cut down because the neighbors were complaining about it obstructing sunlight to their meek vegtable plants. You went though with it, with the help of Ellie’s shoulder and a couple of shirts she had to run through each time you soaked them with your tears.

“I thought you said you had an accountant for taxing?” she asks, dusting the bookshelves, “I do,” You say, biting the cap of your pen as you twirl yourself in the swivel-chair, “these are divorce papers.”

It’s almost like time itself stops when those words dawn on Ellie. You’re..divorcing whatshisname? It’s like a fever dream. Almost surreal. Sure, you two never seemed all that in-love but you had your moments like when you’d kiss his cheek before he departs for whatever country he had shit to do in, I mean, that’s..romantic, right?

“12 years i’ll never get back down the drain. This, is why I ask you if you’d ever marry. Could you ever dedicate your life to another for it to be wasted like this?” You snap your fingers to signify time, bitterly laughing at Ellie’s solemn expression, “Don’t look at me like that, I liked you better than the others because we mutually agreed not to pity eachother.”

There it is, that feeling she faces when these moments spring up on her.

It’s not pity, it’s more like understanding where you’re coming from— but that’d be sympathy. Ellie doesn’t feel quite sympathetic about it, I mean, rich people don’t exactly feel that anyways but, she wants you to be the exception. You’re not like whatever the bunch are. You don’t frequent country clubs and you don’t go seeking elaborate affairs to spice your life. You’re an unsatisfied woman.

“I was young, you know? When my family heard of the marriage, they immediately called me mentally unwell— his family? Even worse. Guess what they immediately came to as reasoning? Witchcraft. It’s comical, isn’t? Me using spells to make a man of all things want me. If I did that, i’d be with Christian Bale, I tell ‘ya! I should’ve taken my signs then when he wouldn’t defend me, but I chalked it up to his fear of confrontation. ” You share, sipping your tea, “Older Men do nothing but leech off your youth. Don’t be like me, Ellie.”

“I won’t.” She finally says, though her throat tightens up, making her voice extra quivery rather than the assertion she was going for.

“Oh dear, don’t tell me my cautionary tale scared you?”

“No! No! It didn’t. I was just wondering, does your rule .. also apply to women?”

A brow is raised in response to the question, “I’d say so, though it’s a more common practice among that accursed other gender.” You kid, smiling. Ellie’s lips slightly pull into their own smile, her worrying expression now relaxing when she thinks you hadn’t caught onto her words yet.

“Do you like older women?”

At that question, Ellie feels the embarrassment return double the amount, slightly ruffling her short hair as she feels the hotness reach her cheeks, “I’m indifferent.”

Ah.

You look out the window before looking at your ring, “I don’t suppose your answer is supposed to imply dual-affection?”

She sighs, continuing to sweep, “I only like women, miss.”

…

“I suppose a women as a lover would be nice.”

Ellie’s heart races at this, is..this an opening? What exactly were you trying to do by saying this?

“Have you ever been with one, Ellie?” You tease lightly

Oh, how she wished the ground would swallow her whole.

After a brief pausing to catch both her breath and recollection of thoughts “..No, ma’am.”

“Want me to be your first?”

How this turnt into many illustrious nights with Ellie warming your the bed had become something both of you couldn’t come with an answer for other transactional sex.

How scandalous would this be if it got out? A well known older, recent divorcee seeking comfort in the arms of her 20 something year old house-hand. It would only intensify rumors, not that you ever cared, but..

“I won’t let you ruin yourself.” You softly whisper, sweeping a light tucking of hair behind her ear, “You’re too sweet for your own good, Ellie..”

That night, while Ellie slumbers, you pull together her seemingly last paycheck, wads of cash together into an envelope that could easily total above 20,000 as you place them near her pillow.

When she does awake, she’s brought to the empty idea of you, slot next to her feeling cold and empty. Where did you go?

Instead of a verbal answer, she’s given one in the form of payment and a brief letter:

‘Will be enough for your father’s bill. Collect your stuff at once and leave.’

Even when she does leave— she says nothing, catching a glimpse of you sat on the stump of the old oak-tree in what seems to be deep thought.

As per usual, Ellie’s last to saying everything

“Anyone could have seen she wasn’t in the right of mind.” The elderly ladies exchange amongst themselves, “I just didn’t expect it to be in such bad taste. Nobody is going to buy that home.’

Ellie’s fingertips brush against the ‘SELLING HOME’ sign they’ve posted up, the other 20 she’s ran off with clearly not stopping the process of this house being sold.

How long has it been since you left her behind again?

[leqonsluv3r]

picnic date with Leon 🥺

love

re2!leon kennedy x f!reader

— a oneshot (request)

warnings: so much fluff it’s kinda gross, a little touching, mentions of sex, reader is female and uses (she/her) pronouns, leon is the best boyfriend ever and we love him for that, no physical description of reader except that she has hair, pet names (baby, sweet girl, etc.) based heavily on love by lana del rey (leon is lana coded bc i say so).

“she didn’t know what else to expect to her already worse work week, besides the papers that always seemed to pile up on her desk and swarm her like a colony of hungry bees. she hated her job, wanted to slap her boss and her co-workers. so how could this week get any worse? she thinks it will when her phone buzzes with a text from leon, only to find out if she wants to go on a picnic date this weekend. suddenly, her week just got better by a thousand percent.”

— or reader is having a terrible week and leon decides to spoil his favorite girl

an: thank you for the request, i loved writing something that wasn’t pure smut for once. did include a little seggsy tho (i can’t resist). gave my overworked brain a little vacation lol. i took your idea and ran with it, hope you enjoy <3

masterlist taglist

she actually hated her boss. hated him.

aside from spilling coffee on herself this morning before she left for the office, she had a thousand reports on her desks and emails flooding her work inbox. her boss went on a rant about her work performance and the fact that he was almost using his superiority as a manager to make her feel belittled was enough to send her blood pumping through her veins.

but mindlessly, she tried to get through her day. taking deep breaths and trying not to freak out on her boss. only did her day get worse when she overheard gossip in the break room.

“i hear she’s like some prude. her boyfriend only touches her when he’s drunk.”

she listens in on the gossip, pouring herself some coffee that hopefully won’t make its way onto her pencil skirt again. she wondered who they could possibly be talking about so openly in the middle of the day in the break room.

the other voice goes on, one of her coworkers that she knew from working here so many years, “that’s not true. i know her personally. she told me she’s waiting for marriage.”

her ears perk up at this, all the blood draining from her face, she knew they were talking about her now. her worst fears have been confirmed. she should’ve never stupidly trusted someone she worked with to keep such information about her relationship with leon, private.

she felt so stupid. but they kept going and she kept listening. the other women who she didn’t know opened her mouth again, “still, how much of a prude do you have to be to wait until marriage? like just fuck and get it over with already. unless he’s ugly…”

she feels anger rise in her like tsunami. leon? ugly? he could never be ugly. he was so fucking beautiful. how could this random woman even say that about her and her relationship without even knowing her? she kept her back turned and waited for the coworker she was more familiar with to say something.

“he’s actually quite a looker. shame she got her hands on him, if i had a man like that. i would fuck him until he couldn’t see straight.” she fisted her porcelain coffee cup with white knuckles, almost fuming and waiting for steam to pour out of her ears. jesus, she wanted to smack this woman silly, she considered them friends and now she was just so openly bragging to another woman of the company…that she wanted to fuck her boyfriend of two years.

she fumed and briskly left the break room with her coffee, slamming the door to the room shut behind her as she briskly walked back to her office, trying to keep up a demeanor that was professional and meanwhile she was seething on the inside.

she finally reached her office and went inside, slamming the door as she rounded her desk and sat her cup of coffee down on it. she leaned her elbows on her desk, burying her hands into her hands.

she wanted to cry, this week had been terrible and today was one of the worst out of all of them. and she needed to manage to get through it until after tomorrow.

thanking god it was thursday, one more day and she wouldn’t have to think of this place for a solid 48 hours. she took shaky breaths, trying to calm herself so she didn’t cry at her desk at work. she was still fuming from hearing that conversation in the break room about her personal life.

eventually, her phone buzzed on her desk and she looked down at her phone. she sighs and shakes her head, praying it’s not another report or upset client. she can’t handle anymore of that today, or this week for that matter.

she grabs her phone and looks at the contact, it was leon, she sighs in relief and smiles as she opens the text thread, looking at the screen.

LEON <3 : hey baby, just wanted to check in on my break. hope your doing okay, know it’s been a rough one for u.

besides wanting to cry at my desk all morning. first my boss says my reports are useless and utter shit. then i hear two of my coworkers gossiping in the break room about me like it’s no big deal. i hate this place, this week has sucked :(

LEON <3 : whoa, what? oh my god. are you okay? i know that’s so stupid to ask considering everything u just told me but…god. i’m so sorry.

no, i’m humiliated. i feel like stabbing my eyes out with my pencils at my desk. i hate this place, i hate everyone. minus u ofc <3

but seriously, i can’t wait to get through tomorrow and just be done with this place. even if it’s for two days.

LEON <3 : hmmm, that reminds me. do you still plan on coming over on friday night?

uhhh, yeah. considering i haven’t seen you all week. unless your canceling on me. which just makes me wanna cry more :,)

LEON <3 : oh god no, fuck that. i would never cancel on you baby. i just have an idea. and i was wondering if you would like it, considering how stressful and overwhelming your week has been.

i’m listening….

LEON <3 : you still come over on friday night, you pack a change of clothes and we go for a picnic on saturday. i know a good spot. and plus, im a good cook.

you don’t have to…

LEON <3 : but i WANT too. i wanna make my girl happy after having such an awful week. you need this baby. don’t bother arguing with me >:)

fineeee i suppose i could pack an overnight bag, stay the whole weekend at your place. go on a little picnic and ACTUALLY enjoy myself for once.

LEON <3 : that’s the spirit my love :). don’t worry, i’ll take care of you this weekend. don’t stress and don’t worry. trust in your amazing boyfriend ;)

you are an amazing boyfriend. don’t let that boost your already enormous ego though lol. god, i miss you so much. i can’t wait to see you. :,)

LEON <3 : you only have a little less then 48 hours to go before you see my handsome face again. don’t worry your pretty head baby, i’ll make you forget all about this week. spoil the absolute shit out of you. <3

okay, i gotta get back to work before my boss comes in to belittle me some more about phone usage at work :,). i’ll see you soon babe, i love you.

LEON <3 : see you soon beautiful girl, i love you too. gotta go bust some criminals lol. ttyl :)

she sighs in content, a lovesick grin on her features. she felt so much better, just talking to him through text even. it was enough to make her heart swell with love and forget all about the incidents this week.

she couldn’t wait to see him on friday night, then go on a picnic on saturday like he promised. she needed him like air sometimes. and he had been pulling shifts so frequently at the station that she barely ever saw him.

it sucked, yes. but when they did get to see each other it was absolutely worth it. she knew that he was gonna stay true to his word like he always did. make her happy, spoil her and make her forget all about her sucky week at work.

she loved him so much, it was almost consuming sometimes. overwhelming to think that before she met him two years ago, she had never known love or that men like him could even exist.

god, she was praying for this weekend to come sooner. and hopefully, it would.

eventually she made it to friday, she managed to get through the day, working as hard as she could. she dealt with clients, dodged the lecturing of her boss and the gossiping of her coworkers.

she slipped out early, not really giving a fuck because all her work was finished as far as she was concerned. she had better places to be. like leon’s apartment for example.

she had packed an overnight bag that morning, watered her plants and made sure she had everything. she had kept her overnight bag stored in her car just so when she got off work, she could head straight over.

she sent him a text that she was off and she was heading over early, putting the car in reverse and leaving her works parking lot.

she drove down the familiar streets and roads until she made it to leon’s apartment, parking her car in the guest parking spot. she got out, grabbing her overnight bag and everything else she needed as she locked the car behind her.

she walked over to the gate to enter the complex, typing in the numbers and once it buzzed, she opened it and let herself in. she made her way up to the second floor, walking over to where his apartment was. she slipped her key to his apartment, unlocking the door and slipping off her shoes.

“baby? you home?” she calls out as she drops her overnight bag by her shoes, dropping her keys on the coffee table. she looks around, she feels a buzzing in her hand where her phone is. she looks at the text from leon saying he was on his way home from his shift.

she sighed and looked around his apartment, looking down at the coffee table where she sat her keys in front of his couch. she saw something sticking out from in between the pages of a book he was reading. “what the…?” she opened the book and looked in the book.

a piece of paper with scribbled writing over it, leon’s from what she recognized. she started to read the crumpled up piece of paper.

[READER],

ever since i’ve known you, i’ve loved you. i’ve never wanted anyone more then i’ve wanted you. i’m not just doing this in the hopes you’ll say yes, i’m doing this with the intention that you’ll let me love you for as long as we’re both alive.

i’m not doing it like this to be cliche, i know how much you think im corny. how hard i try to make sure you’re not laughing at me (even though i love your laugh more than anything.) i want you to know that i love you. i always have, i always will.

with that, will you please do me the honor of being my wife?

it would be my greatest achievement as man, as your boyfriend and future husband if you’ll let me.

she feels her eyes well up with subtle tears, wiping at her eyes as she looked down at the crumpled up notebook paper with a small smile, even though the letter didn’t say much, it said enough.

this was just more then a simple picnic, she knew now. why he was so keen on taking care of her this weekend. taking her out for a picnic tomorrow. she can’t believe he wanted to marry her, she wasn’t shocked but she was…she wanted to cry. it was almost like a dream come true.

she was about to re-read the note to make sure she wasn’t dreaming until she heard the lock on his front door click. she scrambled to put the crumpled up piece of paper back into the book where she found it, effectively slipping it in and standing up straight just in time as he entered the door.

“hey, honey.” he says with a small smile, kicking off his shoes. he wore his police uniform still, all pristine in pale blue and navy. she swallowed and wiped at her eyes, “hey.” she shuffles towards him and wraps her arms tightly around him.

he noticed the sniffling and the watery eyes, he craned his neck down to look at her face that was pressed into his chest, rubbing his hands up and down her back in a soothing gesture.

“are you okay? your eyes are red.” he says softly, his voice dripping with such concern it just almost made her heart melt in her chest. she nods and squeezes her arms tighter around him, “i’m okay. i just missed you.” she lies a little, she did miss him, but that wasn’t the true reason for the red eyes.

“okay, baby. it’s okay though, we’re gonna have a good weekend and your not even gonna think about work.” he says softly as he continues to rub her back up and down in a gentle gesture, smiling down at her with a soft grin. she nods, “okay, i’d like that.” she says with her cheek pressed against his chest, sniffling.

she knew she wouldn’t think about work, work was the furthest thing from her mind right now. the only thing on her mind was the picnic tomorrow and the note she had found.

she knew he was going to purpose, she wasn’t even trying to snoop, but now she knew. she loved him even more for it. if that was even possible.

the next day, the morning light would peak through the curtains of leon’s bedroom window. it casted both of them in a glow that was more then just a simple glow of the morning but a new day.

she loves waking up beside him, especially today when the promises of their future hang right over her head. a promise that he’s intending to keep.

she rolls over onto him as he lays on his back, giggling as she does. she presses a small kiss to his chest and then makes a path up to his collarbone, pressing a kiss to his neck. she felt herself growing more aroused by the minute.

she wasn’t a virgin, she had dated plenty of shitty guys before leon. and it isn’t like she didn’t not want to have sex with him, they just decided to wait until marriage. but now that she knew he was going to purpose today, she forgot all about that little promise she made with him.

she presses her lips to his jaw, hearing him mumble something sleepily as she grins against his skin. she leans towards his ear, “wake up.” she mumbles as she moves her hips to sit on his covered dick in his boxers beneath the sheets. her panty clad frame gently moving her hips lightly against his as she adjusts.

she feels him slightly move again, moving in his sleep so she moves her hips more firmly on him again, feeling him grow harder against the fabric that separated them. he mumbles something and she pulls her face out of his neck, bracing her palms flat on his chest.

he slowly opens his blue eyes to meet hers, his dirty blonde hair messily on the pillow. she smiles down at him with a small grin, “morning sleeping beauty.” she chuckles as she leans down to his face and presses a kiss to his lips.

his half-asleep frame is still waking up and trying to wrap his mind around everything. “what are you doing?” he chuckles with a lazy opening and closing of his blue eyes.

“what does it look like im doing?” she says with a small smirk, moving her hips again. he had no idea where this was coming from, they had agreed to wait until marriage and now…

she was straddling his waist, her wet core on top of his morning wood, there were the barriers between them but still, he could feel everything. she tilts her head innocently at him, his blue eyes looking up at her, “why are you so…? what’s gotten into you?” he says with a small furrow of his brows as he leans up on the bed, his elbows propped up behind him.

she bites her lip and looks at him, “why am i what?” she says as she bats her eyelashes at him, feigning innocence. he struggles and takes a shaky breath, “why are you like…all over me? like, we didn’t…i thought you wanted to wait.” he manages to get out with another shaky inhale.

she sighs and rubs her palms over his chest, “i want you, i’ve waited long enough. married or not, i want you.” she says with a small look, letting his blue eyes latch onto hers. she needed him to know she was serious, that this mattered.

she knew he was going to purpose soon anyways, so what was the big deal? that’s what she thought anyways. she didn’t see it as this huge thing, it would be their first time together. but…she was ready.

“unless…your not?” she says with a small sigh as she looks down at him, her palms pressed flat on his bare chest as she looked down at him. he shook his head so fast, his hair flopping as he did, “no, i want it.” he replies as he looks up into her eyes.

“anything that you want from me, i wanna be able to give it to you. even this.” she hears him say as his blue eyes never stray from his gaze on her. she smiles widely and sniffles, “god, i love you.” she whispers as she leans down and presses a kiss to his lips.

it starts slow, his hands holding onto her waist as the kiss grows more intense and passionate. her hips moving against his erection. she doesn’t fear it now, not when she knows what will happen.

not when she can trust him. she knows he’s different, he’s not like the others. she wants to give him all of her, every single part. she wants to give him marriage, her soul, her body. she wants him to have it all.

so as the kisses and the touches escalate, she feels herself trusting in him, letting his love consume her body and mind in a way she had never known before. his kisses were like rain, falling on her skin and soaking there. his touch was like fire, spreading over her body.

it was beautiful, she couldn’t wait to have him with her forever.

the picnic was beautiful.

leon, really knew how to make her forget about her shitty work week. whether it be a picnic, their first time having sex together earlier that morning, or the proposal that has yet to happen.

he really outdid himself. just like he promised, he had cooked and packed a lunch for them by a small pond in a park. it was about a 20 minute drive from his place, how she never knew it was there, she had no idea.

it was beautiful, some swans were in the pond swimming around with their babies, made her smile and think of how leon had made this so perfect without even trying. he spread out a blanket for them, sitting the food down in the picnic basket.

she brushes her hands over her purple sundress, looking at him as he sat down and began to spread out the food for them. “wow, baby. you really thought of everything didn’t you?” she chuckles as she sits down next to him on the picnic blanket.

“of course, anything for my girl.” he says with a sweet smile in her direction as he gets wine out of the basket and two glasses. my girl…jesus, if he’s trying to make me melt, it’s working. she thinks as she watches him uncork the wine bottle, and pour them both red wine into the glasses.

“i know, you spoil me, leon. but still…” she trails off as she looks over at him, she reaches over the blanket and grabs onto his hand. she watches as the subtle breeze blows his dirty blonde hair over his blue eyes and his forehead.

he rolls his eyes playfully and scoots closer to her on the blanket, squeezing her hand back. “don’t argue with me. it’s in your best interest.” he says with a small lopsided smirk as he hands her one of the glasses of wine. she accepts and smiles back at him, sipping on the wine in her free hand.

“fine. i won’t.” she says with a small roll of her eyes, grinning at him as she swallowed the wine. letting it slide down her throat. they stayed in silence for a while, just enjoying the sounds of nature, the breeze that blowed softly and made the leaves rustle in the trees above them.

she let him dote on her a little more, still feeling that anxious bubbling in her stomach that had been occurring since last night. the note, the proposal that had yet to happen. she felt her body get amped up and she was trying not to give her hopes up.

she sipped on her wine, looking over at him as he stared off into the pond a little ways in front of them. she admired him like this, when he wasn’t looking at her. he was deep in thought, in his head and she could almost see the gears turning in his mind.

“thank you, leon.” she says as she snaps out of her daze of staring at him. she didn’t think she could ever not want to stare, admire him like a piece of art in a museum. he lets his head turn her way, looking directly at her, a gentle smile on his boyish features.

“no need to thank me. i wanted to do something special for you.” he says as he reaches across the blanket and rubs his hand over her bare knee. she nods and swallows more nerves, “i don’t need to thank you, but im going to anyways.” she giggles.

he just shakes his head with a teasing grin on his face, he doesn’t mind this. sitting here with her and knowing where it’s going. he almost feels like this can’t be real, sitting here with her. the weather’s perfect and this day is even better.

they continue to just sit together on the picnic blanket, eating and sipping on their wine. they just talk and snuggle up next to each other on the blanket.

eventually the sun starts to set, painting the sky in a beautiful pink and red hue. it almost looks like a painting and she watches it with almost admiration. he knows this is the time, the ring in his pocket burning a hole through his jeans.

she keeps her gaze trained on the sky, not even noticing that he’s staring at her with admiration. he swallows his fears, his nerves and everything that could potentially stop him from doing this.

“your so beautiful, you know that?” he starts as he looks over her features. her gaze only temporarily looking over at him, a blush coating her cheeks. this isn’t how he had planned it, but he’s gonna do this differently.

“of course you know that, i tell you all the time how amazing, beautiful and sweet you are. even to people who don’t deserve your kindness.” he says as his blue eyes stay trained on her, she smiles and bites her lip in bashfulness.

she knows something is happening, but she lets it happen. she doesn’t care…not if it’s a promise to make her happy for the rest of their lives.

“your the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he continues as he looks at her, turning his body a little towards her on the picnic blanket. the ring feels like an anchor in his pocket, keeping him tethered to the moment here with her.

“and i don’t think i’ll ever find anyone better then you, that’s honesty. your the best that’s ever going to happen to me.” he says as he looks deep into her eyes, her eyes blinking back at him as she feels her heart start to pound in her ribcage.

“and i would be a fucking fool if i went on another two years and didn’t show you how much you mean to me.” he says as he fists the ring in his pocket. she feels her heart swell and her eyes water. the smile spreading on her face is the rare kind.

“what are you…?” she says with a small look of disbelief on her face, her smile widening and the crystal of her eyes staring back at him.

he smiles with a small blink of his blue eyes that are now crystallizing over as well, he pulls his palm out of his pocket, opening it up between them to brandish a engagement ring.

she blinks her tears away, raising a hand over her mouth, trying to somewhat hide her shock. “leon…” she looks between the ring in his palm and then his eyes. this was much better then what was written on that crumpled sheet of paper.

“i love you so fucking much, i would do anything for you, to you and with you. only if you’ll let me, forever. please marry me. let me love you forever, let me wake up to you every morning. it would be the greatest honor i could ever have.” he says as he gestures the ring in his outstretched palm.

he looks at her with hopeful and love filled eyes as he does this. she doesn’t even have words, she expected it. but not like this…

this was definitely better.

and he was the love of her life, she couldn’t say no to him, not in a million years. she couldn’t dream of turning him down. of declining his proposal because he’s her happiness. even from two years ago when they met to now…

her body and mind want him the same, love him the same. she knows it will never change. not when it comes to him and just everything he does for her.

“yes…” she says as she sniffles away tears, feeling the breeze in the park billow her hair. the swans swimming idly in the pond in front of them. the sun setting in a beautiful sunset that paints the sky. he blinks at her, he doesn’t think he heard her right for a second.

“did you say…?” she laughs and looks at him, “i said yes. i’ll marry you.” she says as she feels more tears leak down her flushed cheeks. he smiles widely and grabs her hand shakily, his face coated in tears of happiness too.

he slips the ring onto her ring finger and strokes his thumb over her knuckles. he slides his free hand up to cup her jaw, rubbing the tears that slid from her eyes. “oh god, i love you.” he says in a trance as he looks at her.

“i love you too.” she says back to him, catching him in his trance of looking at her. she feels the ring on her ring finger, making its home there. she feels like she’s on cloud nine right now. he pulls her face towards him and presses a kiss to her lips.

she returns it and kisses him back, her hand, now ring clad, holds onto his face as she deepens the kiss. she doesn’t think she could ever be happier then she was right now.

in this moment with him. not a thing matters and her mind and body are full of him. she feels so consumed by him and his love that she can’t even explain it.

she’ll be wrapped in him forever and she can’t bring herself to care if she is. because at least she’s happy, happy and in love.

forever.

leons letter:

taglist: @heartsforvin

(go to this post to join the taglist, pls reblog and follow for more, my asks are open in my bio. i love you all <3)

[suplicyy]

[Prompt Series pt.4]

Tanaka and you sucking helium

— Summary: Tanaka and you sucking helium and talking in very high-pitched voices.

— Fluff, comedy

— Gn!Reader

You had to do everything for your perfect plan to work. Everything was already going exactly as planned... until a distraction makes your whole plan go down the drain.

You got a part-time job at an amusement park, with the aim of selling balloons to the local children. But why were you doing this?

It had been 5 months since you had been in a relationship with Tanaka, and for this special date you wanted to buy him a perfect gift! You still didn't know exactly what you were going to buy for the boy, but to get gifts you obviously needed money.

So that's why right now you're selling balloons in the amusement park full of smiling families on a very hot Sunday, love requires some sacrifices after all. 'All for the present...!' You thought as a way to try to cheer you up, but that unbearable sun seemed to be trying to kill you. The amount of money you had earned in the last few days actually exceeded your expectations, so just a little more work and you would complete the goal of the amount of money you set and thus be able to buy the gift you dreamed of.

Your boss always gave you a certain amount of balloons that would last you a whole day to blow up, so there were almost never any balloons left at the end of the day. And you wanted to stay there until you sold the last balloon, which will probably make you leave a little later.

But it seems the universe has other plans for you.

"[NAME]!!!" You heard a very familiar voice calling you. But before you could turn around to see who was calling you, you felt someone hug you tightly.

"R-Ryu!? What are you doing here??" "I'm here to see you of course!! I couldn't let my goddess melt alone in this heat!!" he says dramatically.

Tanaka knew you were working, but he had no idea you were doing it to buy him a gift. So you knew that one time or another he would come to your workplace and keep you company.

"Well... it's almost time for my break, so why don't you buy us some snacks while I gather my things?" you say as you check the time on your phone, seeing that there are only 4 minutes left for you to have a little rest until you go back to work again. "Of course my dear, ALL FOR YOU!" and in the same second Tanaka runs towards a food stall.

You sigh at the boy's exaggerated reaction, but then you give a small smile.

The two of you are now sitting in a place a little away from the entire amusement park crowd, as you finish eating your snack that Tanaka bought. But something was wrong.

Everything was quiet. Too quiet.

He is known for being a very noisy person, so if he is present in a room and the whole place is quiet, it means that something is not right.

Then you turn to look at your partner, but as you do so you can see him silently picking up a balloon and trying to reach the helium gas cylinder. "Ryu what do you think you're doing!?" When he hears your voice, he jumps in fright and quickly turns to you.

"I just wanted to test something! Let me do it please!!" And before you can respond, he has already taken the balloon and put it in the air outlet of the cylinder, filling the balloon with gas. After filling the balloon completely, he holds the tip of the balloon and places it in the mouth, sucking out some of the helium gas.

You watched the boy's actions in horror, wondering why he had these kinds of ideas. But the second he opened his mouth to speak, you knew his idiocy had paid off.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

His voice was high-pitched.Very high-pitched.

I don't think you've ever laughed as much as you do now. Anyone passing by would think a murder was taking place because your laughter was so scandalous at that time. And when Tanaka started laughing with you along with his stupidly thin voice, you laughed even harder – if this was really still possible – It got to be suffocating for you to keep laughing, but you couldn't stop when he opened his mouth to speak.

"L-Let me try too...!" You said, breathless from the incessant laughter. Taking another balloon, you repeat the same process that Tanaka did, filling the balloon with gas and then placing it in your mouth, sucking out some of the air.

"Do...Do you know why are snails slow...? B-Because they're carrying a house on their back!!"

You and Tanaka laughed even harder, but not because of the stupid joke you told, but because of your voice, which was now the same as his. And you continued doing this until almost the end of your break.

You turned to pick up another balloon, but all you could do was feel around the floor, which now had no more balloons.

"Oh..."

Your only reaction was to alternate your gaze from the empty floor to Tanaka, who was also silent about the situation. Now you would have to explain to your boss why the balloons ran out and why you and your boyfriend had extremely high-pitched voices.

A/N — My exams start next week, so I don't know if I'll be active here these days...😭

But when they are finished I will be sure to post everything here!!

— Prompt chosen for this post: Person A and Person B sucking helium and talking in very high-pitched voices.

[Prompt Series Masterlist]

[sourbites]

Bruise

"Stop messing with it," Lars smacked your hand away, giving you a glare out of the corner of his eye. Your brows furrowed defensively.

The atmosphere in the recording studio is wirily tense. It's late at night, quiet, and so overwhelmingly empty. There's so much tension weighing down on your temples. Your jaw clenches, a tightness of agitation against your teeth. Stubbornly, you keep your hand fixed to the mixer.

"Is that how you ask?" You sneer, shoving his hand away with your own.

Lars turned to you, "Wasn't asking." He gives your hand another shove with the side of his palm.

This back-and-forth has been going on for months now. Since you came onto the producing team, Lars has fought you (literally and figuratively) every step of the way. It's infuriating. Tonight taps a gun to your skull and demands you be everything you're not.

"How about this," You clear your throat, hoping that sense of clarity will go to your scrambled, over-cooked brain. "You let me do my job?"

"I would if you could do it right," Lars immediately huffs out, his pink lips forming a little frown. He's not sad, though. Just smug. So stupidly smug.

This nasty bitterness in your stomach isn't from sleep deprivation or stress. "I guess we both need to work on stuff. My producing, your drumming." You say, bitingly. You know you're being snarky. And justifiably so— Lars deserves to be knocked down a peg or two.

"You don't appreciate good sound. That's obvious by the mess you've turned this song into."

You physically turn in your seat to actually, properly stare holes through Lars. Defensively, you wring your hands. "Ride The Lightning is the title track, dumbass, it needs to be memorable. And right now, there's nothing real about it to make it stick." You point out. Maybe you're being a bit blunt about it. But, like... are you wrong? No. No, you're not. Lars probably knows that. Deep down. That's probably why he's being so snooty with you right now. He's just looking for a fight. Like always.

"Real?" He echoes mockingly. Incredulously, Lars continues to run his stupid mouth. "You wouldn't know real sound if it hit you in that pretty face of yours. That's why you're stuck as a producer instead of actually making the song. Stop trying to commercialise what we stand for. Just do your job."

"Yeah? Well, I fucking quit."

You're not sure why you said it. As soon as the words left your mouth, you wanted to pluck them from the atmosphere and shred them up. It's just... it's late, and you're so, so tired. You're sick of fighting with Lars— not to be confused with intending to make peace with him. You loathe him with every drumstick flick. You loathe him with every breath you draw in your body. But constantly squabbling is certainly draining. Especially when it's so late at night, and all you truly want to do is wrap up in your cosy bed at home. Regardless of whether you meant it or not, you're too stubborn (and unwilling to be embarrassed) to take it back.

Hesitantly, like you're being controlled by someone else, you rise from your seat. You hear Lars scoff in disbelief behind you. The sight of the door gets closer and closer.

"What do you think you're doing?" Metal chair legs scrape against the floor. Lars catches you, barely quick enough to latch onto the side of your shirt.

"Leaving." You mutter, rendered monosyllabic from just how fast your heart writhes in your chest. Quitting shouldn't be this intimidating, should it? You'd find another job somewhere.

"You're such a fucking coward." He hisses, hooking his fingers into your shirt; the fabric pulled taut from the tension.

You twist around to face him, supercharged with irritation and frustration. And hatred. Mostly hatred. "You are the most difficult, stuck-up brat that I have ever worked with. You listen to nothing, absolutely nothing that I suggest to you. Why'd I stick around? For sleepless nights and insults? Fuck you, Lars. Fuck you!" You draw in a deep breath that goes smoothly down your chest. "You don't get to talk to me like that." You add, your voice a little more even, less manic than that episode of pure fury needling down your spine. Although, it still sounds like you're snarling.

Lars is still for a few moments. He blinks. Once, twice. A sick, sweet feeling of pride blooms within you. Finally, he listens. Finally, he shuts his mouth. Finally, he takes you seriously. In this strange purgatory of wordlessness, you get a good look at him. Your eyes search his. Are they blue or green? He looks tired. Maybe that's just because he's under the gory yellow lighting of the studio. Lars' mouth forms a line. He looks almost shell-shocked — is that because of you? What, never been yelled at before?

You give him a look.

"You want me to give you something real? Fine. Just don't fucking ruin it this time." He rasps, huffing, his tone biting.

At full tilt, Lars bee-lines into you, half dragging you into him and half scuffling his shoes on the floor to meet you. He rips you through the air towards him by your wrists. If your head wasn't spinning, maybe you'd realise that his hands tremble around you, his mouth watering. Your lips smack together, matching in a twistedly tender overlap of his top lip between yours, your bottom lip between his. Your hands fist into the collar of his dumb shirt, one of those ones where the neckline's gone in some botched DIY job. His nose bumps yours, teeth clashing in your mouth, and you find yourself allowing the kiss, letting your eyes close. Although he still makes you steam with rage.

You swallow awkwardly when the kiss is broken. You stare at him. "Well," You take in a breath, still feeling the warmth of him on your lips, "I suppose you think that makes up for your attitude?"

Lars scoffs again, glaring down his straight nose bridge at you. "Yeah, I wasn't apologising. Did nothing wrong." His hands slide up your wrists, up your arms, then slope down your sides, cupping you by the hips.

You don't like Lars. You truly don't. He's stubborn and blunt and argumentative and crass. You glare at him through your brows. But you'd be a fool to deny that he's pretty. "Yeah, you did," You laugh humourlessly. "You're always whining."

"Because you always ruin the songs." He snaps back, his hands tightening on your hips. He looks like a parent telling off a little kid: that condescending, patronising tone of voice. He's so fucking patronising. God, you want to strangle him.

You roll your eyes. Lars taps your cheek a few times, enough to feel it tingle on your skin. "Don't you give me that." His eyes burn like cigarettes, smoking with pure heat. His voice — his glare, hits something deep inside you, nothing but nerves. You've never seen him like this before. You chew your lower lip nervously. It excites you. It shouldn't excite you.

Stupefied, the only thing you manage is: "You're such a fucking dick." You meant it as some snarky zinger, but it comes out so breathless, so caramel, and so velvety.

God, you want him. You don't want to want him. It's been so long since someone's kissed you moon-struck, traced their palms down your sides, held you close...

You're staring. He's staring. Grinning, actually. You shift from foot to anxious foot. A quiet, dirty-minded smile softens up his pink lips. "Play nice, sweetheart." Lars hums, thumbing your hip through your shirt. Um.

Screw it. You shove both hands into Lars' shirt, twisting and tugging. He lands in a chair with a whoosh, gazing up at you wordlessly. Just a stupidly pleased grin and those perfect eyes. His hands squeeze you at the waist, yanking you into his lap, the air whuffed out of you.

"I can't fucking stand you," You mutter, yanking up his shirt. You hear the fabric crackle as it's stretched. You don't care. Lars dips his head down to your neck, kissing and mouthing at the delicate skin, unrelentless, your throat glosses with hickeys, spackled red and blooming blue. He bites, licks, sucks, mouthing at your pulse until it hurts, as if he's got you by the neck and he's desperate to bite until your pulse fizzes out.

"Shut the fuck up," Lars hisses into your neck, his fingers gauging into your sides, rattling your clothes around you as you're fighting to stay steady on his lap. God, can't he ever let anything be gentle? He forces his words out in choppy pieces, biting at your skin with his teeth, grazing over your thumping pulse, developing a taste for your flesh. You laugh dryly, winding your fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck, yanking it back, tugging his insatiable, watering mouth from your throat.

"What did you say to me earlier? Play nice, sweetheart. I could easily walk away from this right now." You threaten, your eyes glowering like steel into his ocean of irises. Lars' hand tugs at your jeans again, his knuckles prodding into the softness of your belly as his hand is half-shoved down into the waistband. All while you're staring at each other with so much intensity, so much heat, that your skin feels like it's on backwards. You think you've been gulping down his hate potion by the gallon. He controls your very mind, twisting in the lust-fog daze of your brain, swirling and coaxing you to be just as hard-edged, just as snappy.

His hands slowly, almost cautiously, undo you. If I'm going down, you're coming with me. You lean in, transfixed, and graze your own teeth over his lip. His jaw. Earlobe. You taste the good and the bad in his mouth, and you want both. Insatiably, you want him. He sighs quietly into your hair, straining and wrestling your jeans down. The petal-soft skin of your inner thighs grate against the denim of his own jeans. Your panties are rearranged across your hips awkwardly, thanks to the way Lars fleeced your jeans from you so aggressively. You eye the growing bulge nestled almost uncomfortably snugly between his legs. Fucking pervert.

"How do you want it?" Lars asks as he undoes his belt, with only a little meddling from you. He leans back in his seat. On your throne (his lap), you're pulled into him of your own accord this time, following him like a magnet, scraping your hands along the sharp angles of his shoulders. You feel your slit gush in your panties. It was like leaning into the sun with him. Just heat everywhere, fire licking at your tenderised flesh, stripping you down to the bone. Rational thoughts rise like steam, abandoning you.

You're manoeuvred around for a few moments while Lars pushes down his jeans just to reveal that perfectly tented bulge. He cups your thighs in gulpfulls, shoves your legs apart, and presses you down, so your hips carve against his, groping you into grinding on his hard cock. The weight in your chest intensifies. You stab your hooked fingers into the enragingly perfect sharp cut of his shoulders, anchoring yourself as he rocks you against him. Now you know how the Titanic felt. You're going down, deep into his cold ocean.

All fucking month Lars has been chipping away at you. Days of quips and jabs and nudges. You're half surprised he didn't try putting gum in your hair or something. Childish little fuck. "Just like this is fine," You say, maybe with too much teeth, gritting out the words as if you don't want to give him the satisfaction of a somewhat peaceful conversation. This earns a deep, rumbling chuckle from within his chest.

"Fine," He echoes, rolling the word around in his mouth. "Not for long. You'll be singing my praises soon."

God, you wish you could take him down a peg or two. The vicious volcanic lava bubbling with hate in your gut quickly swaps with this aching emptiness, this vacuum of space that's yearning to be filled with heat again. Lars presses a tingling-with-heat palm flat to your belly, slowly sliding down, plucking the waistband of your panties as if it's a string, before releasing. He's smirking. You flinch, and those whittled-down shards of loathing come back tenfold. To break even, you shove a hand into his boxers and tug, his blushing cockhead springing out to smack against his happy trail.

The pair of you sit there, watching his cock stand proudly, leaky and snug between your pelvises. Your chest heaves. Lars peels your panties off to the side, tracing the pad of his thumb along your slicked, puffy slit. The breaths in your belly ripples. Your head is spinning. You fist Lars' dick, white-knuckled, handling him with all the bruising tenderness you need just to get it out of your system. His big eyes glisten over with lust. You squirm in your seat on his thighs. He scrapes you up closer, steering you by the hips. His palms smother into your hipbones until it hurts. Everything within you tightens at his touch, your breath hitching.

Lars' whispering is whiskey-warm as you swing your hips forward, pelvis-first, impaling yourself on his thick cock. It pushes a noise out of you. Eyelids drooping, lashes fluttering, you look almost drunk. Your arousal rolls down his shaft, slow and molasses-thick. You take a fistful of Lars' hair, ruining how he styled it in that seventies-esque look. Your sopping wet slit engulfs him, choking him down. Through his despising you, his hands settle on the small of your back and splay at the angled juncture where hip meets thigh, encouraging you — more eager to bottom out in your cunt more than anything else.

Your hole splits raw on him, a cry rippling through you. Embarrassed, you quickly hiss out: "Fuckin' hate you." Just for good measure. Just to remind him. Your flesh burns, sticky with sweat. The rippling squeeze of you around him is too close to paradise to be real. The gnawing in your head never ceases. As he entered you, he became your intense hunger. Lars rocks you across his lap at a vicious pace, in an animal tempo that makes you suspect he's bringing you to the slaughter. You almost want to close your legs as his tip bites into your cervix again and again and again, rolling and rippling as your cunt squelches in cries around him, slick bleeding out between you.

He sinks between your legs again and again, your tits bouncing in your shirt with each salacious stroke and hip bump upwards. Cries and insults die on your tongue, thoughts fuzzing away like angry bees trapped in their sticky beehives. "Spoilt," Lars hisses, the bluntness of his nails digging into the swell of your hips. He shoves his head into your neck and loses it. "Getting the best fuck of your life and you're still complaining." His breath scalds your clammy skin. You squirm. His hair rasps against the underside of your chin.

Lars leans back to fuck you in powerfully furious strokes, your skin hot and tingling with every slapping-sounding impact. He gathers you up in gently bulging biceps and veined forearms. You're folded into his chest, his breaths coming out in frantic puffs that warm you through your shirt. You absorb every pump helplessly, clinging to his shoulders and clawing at his skin until your nails leave red-hot roadmaps over every dip of muscle and bone.

"God," You cry hoarsely, curling your back into him and shuddering as the heavy, coiled knots in your guts settle and rattle against your slit. "Do you ever shut up?" You smoosh a flushed cheek into his soft hair, leaning on him for support. Your skin is beaded in sweat. You jolt, pelvis cramping as he finds your poor, swollen clit, and presses a burning fingertip into it. You feel the brush of his lips in a smirk against your throat. Your hair sticks to the back of your neck.

You want to tear him apart. He wants to split you open. He stuffs you with bullets. You burn with gunsmoke. Lars prods his knuckles into your arched back, keeping you there. He kisses your pulse surprisingly tenderly. Then, he remedies it with a bite. Does that hurt, too?

"Could ask you the same thing," Lars grunts, pawing and palming at your flesh until it aches. He is a fever you are learning to coexist with. He stains you with every touch. He drives his hips forward, feeling your slicked sex tear apart and split open on his hilt. He licks his lips, hungry — remembering how sweet your mouth tasted when it was too busy spilling out insults.

"Shut up shut up shut up." You hiss, squeezing your eyes shut. You can feel your cunt stretched around him, your flesh sizzling. The tissue in your body pulls taut. Lars plants sloppy, wet kisses down your neck. It's delicious agony. Who knew heaven was a place for sinners — because you're certain that the flashes of white behind your eyes are salvation. You brace yourself, shoes creased as you push the tip-toed soles into the floor. Lars smooshes a groan between his lips and your collarbone, soaking up every sharp, wild clamp of your pussy as he drags his cock deep and slows within your battered, tender walls.

Your orgasm comes jagged and spiked, pouring out and squelching between the both of you, skin slick with you. When does a war end? When the spoils are irrelevant? Lars, the evil fucker he is, fucks you through your orgasm. He steers you to sink onto him in long strokes. He rolls his hips and coos condescendingly, "That feel good?"

In frenzied sobs and manic pulses of your cunt, wet heat pools and lingers and feels so disgustingly good that you shudder, your spine still forced into that deep arch. Lars' knuckles have just enough room to fit against the shape of your vertebrae that lie beneath your singeing skin. The dull, happy throb of your orgasm hasn't died down yet, and Lars is spilling into you with vicious, vehement whacks of his hips that even manage to rip a shaky groan from his own throat.

Then, you're smooshed to his chest, your skin sticking together like wet sugar that caramelises in the grooves of your fingertips.

"Two stars," You mutter pridefully, breathless, as if that wasn't the best lay of your life. Lars gives a warning smack to the globe of your ass.

"Then I suppose we'll have to keep practising."

[gatheringbones]

[“There is not one banking sector. There are two—one for the poor and one for the rest of us—just as there are two housing markets and two labor markets. The duality of American life can make it difficult for some of us who benefit from the current arrangement to remember that the poor are exploited laborers, exploited consumers, and exploited borrowers, precisely because we are not. Many features of our society are not broken, just bifurcated. For some, a home creates wealth; for others, a home drains it. For some, access to credit extends financial power; for others, it destroys it.

It is quite understandable, then, that well-fed Americans can be perplexed by the poor, even disappointed in them, believing that they accept stupidly bad deals on impulse or because they don’t know any better. But what if those deals are the only ones on offer? What good is financial literacy training for people forced to choose the best bad option?

Poverty isn’t simply the condition of not having enough money. It’s the condition of not having enough choice and being taken advantage of because of that. When we ignore the role that exploitation plays in trapping people in poverty, we end up designing policy that is weak at best and ineffective at worst. When legislation lifts incomes at the bottom—say, by expanding the Child Tax Credit or by raising the minimum wage—without addressing the housing crisis, those gains are often recouped by landlords, not wholly by the families the legislation was intended to help. A 2019 study conducted by the Federal Reserve Bank of Philadelphia found that when states raised minimum wages, families found it easier to pay rent. But landlords quickly responded to the wage bumps by increasing rents, which diluted the effect of the policy. (This happened after the COVID-19 rescue packages, too, but commentators preferred discussing the matter using the bloodless language of inflation.)

In Tommy Orange’s début novel, There There, a man trying to describe the problem of suicides on Native American reservations says, “Kids are jumping out the windows of burning buildings, falling to their deaths. And we think the problem is that they’re jumping.” The poverty debate has suffered from a similar kind of myopia. For the past half century, we’ve approached the poverty question by attending to the poor themselves—posing questions about their work ethic, say, or their welfare benefits—when we should have been focusing on the fire. The question that should serve as a looping incantation, the one we should ask every time we drive past a tent encampment, those tarped American slums smelling of asphalt and bodies, every time we see someone asleep on the bus, slumped over in work clothes, is simply: Who benefits? Not Why don’t you find a better job? or Why don’t you move? or Why don’t you stop taking out such bad loans? but Who is feeding off this?”]

matthew desmond, from poverty: by america, 2023

[bloody-bee-tea]

24 Days of MHA 2024 Day 11 - Unknown force

Hitoshi is exhausted and and it has everything to do with the mission he’s on and the people he has to work with.

Hitoshi like his underground work because it’s underground and out of the spotlight. Teaming up with some lime-light big shot heroes is not the worst because it means he’s doing his job right, thank you very much, but being paired with this particular agency just sucks ass.

Of course Hitoshi has made friends during his time in Class 1-A and of course he’s kept in contact with them, but they, too, are exhausting.

There are too many sunshine people in Class 1-A, people who are now still as painfully optimistic and bright as they were years ago and it’s draining every last bit of Hitoshi’s energy.

Bakugo Katsuki is not a sunshine person, not by a long shot, but by the gods is he exhausting.

“What the fuck is wrong with your face, troll doll?” Bakugo asks in just that moment as if he’s dead set on proving Hitoshi right and Hitoshi drops his face into his arms, praying to get at least a moment of peace before this debriefing starts. “Hiding it does nothing, it’s burned into my fucking retina,” Bakugo grumbles and Hitoshi tilts his head just enough to be able to look at him.

“Excuse me, for hurting your delicate sensibilities by simply existing,” he drawls out and hopes that contact between the two of them will be kept to a minimum.

Hitoshi usually doesn’t report back to the lead hero of a mission after all, and there’s no doubt that Bakugo is going to be exactly that. Hitoshi doubts he would allow himself to be anything but the main player of this.

“You don’t seem surprised to see me here,” Hitoshi mutters after a moment and decides to pick his face out of his arms if only so he can throw back his cup of coffee as if it were a shot of something much stronger.

“That’s because I requested you, you stupid fucker, of course I’m not surprised you’re here.”

“You—requested me,” Hitoshi repeats because that is news to him.

“I asked for the best underground hero they have and I know that’s you,” Bakugo replies as if he’s not yanking out the floor right underneath Hitoshi’s feet with that.

It’s one thing to be good at your job—and Hitoshi is very good, thank you very much—but to hear the current Number One hero say that, to know that his work has been recognised even though he’s not in the spotlight is different.

It feels as if Hitoshi’s entire world just shifted, because praise from Bakugo is like an eighth wonder of the world.

“I see,” he almost stupidly says and Bakugo smirks at him, clearly knowing what his words have done.

“Now look alive, zombie face, we’re about to kick this missions’ ass,” Bakugo cheerfully says and Hitoshi remembers who he’s talking to.

Right. Not quite a sunshine person but so, so draining to be around.

~*~*~

They are not working together, not quite, not really, because that’s just not what Hitoshi’s job description is all about, but they have to see each other much more often during the course of the mission than Hitoshi would like.

He’s still reporting to a handler, most of the time, because he is working undercover and cannot be seen with fucking Dynamight of all people but Bakugo Katsuki has a penchant for blending in when he really, really wants to.

And he clearly wants to ace this mission, because Hitoshi meets him at a coffee shop for the third time in about as many weeks.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Hitoshi jokes first thing and Bakugo levels him with a glare that not even his dressed down look can soften.

“What’s going on?” he asks instead of indulging Hitoshi and Hitoshi sighs before he gives Bakugo the run down of the latest developments.

The mission is coming to a close, they both know it and so this time is even more crucial than all the preparation they did beforehand.

“You think it’ll work?” Bakugo asks him when Hitoshi lays out his slightly adjusted plan, because he’s undercover for a reason and it’s to provide the attack team with precise locations and headcounts.

And things can change a whole lot over three weeks in organisations like the one they are trying to take down.

“I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise,” Hitoshi stiffly gives back and Bakugo nods.

“Alright. We’ll proceed with your plan then,” he decides and he doesn’t question Hitoshi further, doesn’t challenge his expertise on this and Hitoshi feels entirely caught off guard by it.

He thought Bakugo was straight-forward as hell, go in and explode the bad guys, and he always knows everything best but working with him has shown Hitoshi that while all of that is still true, Bakugo also values the input of people he thinks are capable.

He’s not here to suffer idiots but when someone has his respect Bakugo is surprisingly willing to compromise on his own ideas and isn’t that strange, to think that Bakugo respects Hitoshi and the work he does.

“You good?” Bakugo asks, clearly more amused than worried and he takes his coffee as he stands up before Hitoshi can even say something, so he clearly can’t care all that much.

Hitoshi fights the urge to flip him off but only just.

~*~*~

The mission has been over for a few weeks now—everything went exactly according to plan, meaning they got to take out one of the biggest organised crime families out there, Bakugo got all the public praise, Hitoshi got all the not so public praise and things are going back to normal.

Except for how Hitoshi keeps running into Bakugo.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Hitoshi mutters when he steps into his usual grocery store and finds Bakugo weighing some vegetables in his hands as if the weight alone could convince him of their quality.

“The fuck,” Bakugo mutters right back when he sees him and for a moment they just stand there and stare at each other.

It’s been years since they graduated from U.A. and they haven’t run into each other even once in all that time when it wasn’t premeditated by work so this is strange.

It’s just strange.

“You’re not allowed to shop here,” Hitoshi then decides because this is his grocery store and he likes it silent and quiet and anonymous and if Bakugo is being seen here it won’t be any of these things anymore because Bakugo’s fans are crazy.

“As if you get to decide that, troll doll,” Bakugo shoots back and stuffs one of the vegetables into his basket. “I can damn well shop wherever the fuck I please and it just so happens to be here.”

With that he turns around on his heels and walks deeper into the store, leaving Hitoshi gaping after him and Hitoshi decides that his groceries are not quite that important today. He can totally live off instant ramen one more day.

It’s not a problem at all, because this is just a fluke and nothing more.

~*~*~

“I’m going to murder you,” is the first thing Hitoshi hears when he steps into a new noodle shop he’s been wanting to try out for a while now and it’s enough to make him freeze in resignation.

“Please, no,” he whispers, not to Bakugo, but to whatever higher power is playing this stupidly idiotic prank on him.

“Begging won’t help you,” Bakugo hisses and Hitoshi can’t help himself, he just can’t.

“Aw, but I beg so prettily,” he says with a sweet smile and watches how Bakugo goes a little bit pale in the face before he mimes gagging.

“Do not talk to me,” Bakugo decisively tells him once he stops and then busies himself with his noodles again.

They are an alarming shade of red and Hitoshi moves along before Bakugo’s crazy infects him, too.

Surely it has to stop here now.

~*~*~

Hitoshi eyes the bakery across the street with some paranoia. It’s not a place he would frequent, but he’s craving something and he’s afraid of running into Bakugo if he goes to any of his usual haunts.

With most of his options taken out of his hand Hitoshi takes a deep breath and walks into the bakery, ready to simply grab whatever catches his eye first and be out in under a minute.

Except. Except what catches his eye first is a mop of ash blond hair and piercing red eyes.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Bakugo mutters and storms up to Hitoshi. “What the fuck are you doing here? Be honest, mind fuck, are you following me?”

“You wish,” Hitoshi shoots back, “I’m looking for some peace and quiet from you and I would pay half of my wage to not have to see you for another month.”

They stare at each other for a long, tense moment before Bakugo deflates.

“Good,” he simply says and then shoulders past Hitoshi out of the shop.

Well. That haunt is ruined, but Hitoshi is going to get his stupid pastry. It’s the least he deserves.

~*~*~

Hitoshi drove the train two precincts over to get his coffee just to avoid Bakugo—not that he’s ever going to admit that—so when he spots him sitting idly in a booth with a slice of cake and a coffee in front of him, he lets out a long, measured breath before he makes up his mind.

Bakugo hasn’t spotted him yet it seems and so Hitoshi goes and orders his own cake and coffee and then slides into Bakugo’s booth.

“What did I do to deserve this,” Bakugo mutters, clearly not even surprised enough to muster some anger and Hitoshi shrugs.

“I’ve been wondering the same,” he gives back and then briefly leaves again to get his things.

Bakugo is still there when he comes back and Hitoshi counts it as a win and it will also, probably, make the next part a little easier if Bakugo is not dead-set on fleeing his presence.

“Listen,” Hitoshi starts and points between Bakugo and himself, “I know it’s stupid but there’s something going on. I’m not following you and you’re not following me, so there must be a reason why we keep running into each other.”

“And what the fuck would that be?”

“Some unknown force, trying to bring us together. Maybe we should let it.”

Bakugo is silent for a long time after that and Hitoshi is content to wait him out, lets him work through whatever goes on in that thick-headed skull of his.

“What do you think it wants?” Bakugo finally asks and Hitoshi is surprised that he simply rolls with it.

“For us to be together, clearly,” Hitoshi shrugs. “As friends or setting us up, no clue, but I’m tired of running into you all the time when I’m not expecting it.”

“Hard same, mind freak,” Bakugo agrees and then narrows his eyes at him. “You seem—surprisingly okay with this.”

Hitoshi presses his lips together but then figures if this is what fate or the universe wants then Bakugo is going to find out eventually anyway.

“It’s not the first time this is happening to me,” Hitoshi admits and now that seems to catch Bakugo’s attention.

“Some—force tried to set you up before?” He almost doesn’t sound as if he’s mocking Hitoshi at all.

“Not with a—” he waves at Bakugo instead of explaining himself better, “but with my dads.”

“How does that work?”

“I’ve been in foster care for a long time,” Hitoshi tells him, “and with my quirk, it wasn’t great. Went through one abusive family after the next, and I got really good at hiding shit. I was still good at hiding shit when I attended U.A.”

“By hiding shit you mean—”

“Bruises, lacerations, broken bones sometimes,” Hitoshi nods. “General neglect, malnourishment. Any kind of mistreatment you can imagine, I probably went through.”

“Shit,” Bakugo mutters and it’s not pitying for which Hitoshi is glad, it’s simply an acknowledgement of the situation.

“Yeah. So I got good at hiding things, at pretending as if everything was fine. And then Aizawa took me on as his personal student and suddenly all of it was just gone.”

“What do you mean?”

Hitoshi lets out a little laugh because now in hindsight it’s almost funny.

“Somehow Aizawa was always there when shit was real bad. It was a lot like with us, actually. I would go out after being beaten within an inch of my life, just trying to get an ice-pack or something actual peace and bam. Aizawa was there. I couldn’t go anywhere without him being there, seeing me at my lowest every damn time.”

“Bet he loved that,” Bakugo mutters because now they all know Aizawa had one hell of a soft spot for the kids in his care.

“Oh, he was ecstatic,” Hitoshi drily agrees. “So ecstatic in fact that he somehow got Yamada involved into our training as well and then I suddenly had two teachers showing up randomly everywhere I went.”

“You tried to fool them?”

“Course I did. I learned early on that authority figures are shit and teachers are especially bad, but of course nothing worked. Until one day I just—broke down, I guess. I told them everything and not even three days later I was living with them, all of my previous foster families investigated, all of my caseworkers fired and four months later I had official adoption papers to my name.”

“They sure work quick,” Bakugo appreciatively says and Hitoshi nods.

“I managed to keep them at bay for much longer than it took for everything to be sorted out and I’m in no rush to do that again,” Hitoshi brings the topic back to their starting point. “Something clearly wants us to interact, and I’m not going to fight that power.”

“So you’re gay,” Bakugo simply states, seemingly rolling with the punches now and Hitoshi shrugs.

“I can be gay for you,” he replies and doesn’t squirm under Bakugo’s gaze.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means it’s complicated,” Hitoshi gives back and frowns when Bakugo rolls his eyes.

“What, you demi or some shit?”

“How do you even know that term?” Hitoshi sighs out but in all honesty, he’s glad for it.

Means he doesn’t have to explain it.

“You think someone who is friends with Mina has the privilege of staying ignorant about all kinds of sexual and romantic orientations? Or genders, for that matter?”

“Valid point,” Hitoshi nods, because he sometimes forgets Mina is one of the most openly queer heroes out there who is doing a whole of a lot of public events on the matter as well. “And yes, I’m demi, bot romantic and sexual, so I might as well just try for you, right?”

“Flattering,” Bakugo sarcastically says. “I’m gay.”

“Great, so the groundwork is already laid out,” Hitoshi mumbles and takes a sip of his rapidly cooling coffee.

“We’re trying for friends, first,” Bakugo decides and taps his fingers on the table. “I’m not looking for a relationship.”

Hitoshi bites back the urge to remind him what his sexual and romantic orientation actually means, because duh, of course they are trying for friends first, but in all honesty, Hitoshi has no hope that it’s going to stay that way.

He’s learned to listen to fate and what he hears is as terrifying as it’s exciting because it’s saying that Bakugo Katsuki and he are supposed to end up together.

And isn’t that a match made in hell, Hitoshi thinks with some delight because he can just imagine their friend groups groaning about this.

“What are you smiling about?” Bakugo wants to know and Hitoshi allows his smile to widen.

“Our friends are going to hate this,” he gleefully says and he sees some of the same delight on Bakugo’s face when the realisation hits him, too.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” he says and raises his cup of coffee at Hitoshi. “To unnerving everyone around us.”

“Cheers.”

(Hitoshi has never made a friend faster than he has with Bakugo and that’s saying something because Midoriya was a force to be reckoned with, but Bakugo has him beat by almost two months. They have their first kiss two weeks after acknowledging that they are friends for the first time and four months after that, they move in together. Everyone thinks they are moving too fast, but Hitoshi and Katsuki know better. This is exactly what fate wanted after all.)

[rvllybllply2014]

Flower shop, coffee shop au this how about a donut shop au? Totally not inspired by my nightmares from working at a donut shop for almost 6 years and through the pandemic. Also the fact that it’s coming up on the ten year anniversary for that shit job.

Tully donuts is the most popular donut shop in the river lands, Oscar Tully works there part time and has to watch Davos and Aeron dance around the fact that they both want to fuck each other. Davos works the production shift, getting up at 3:00 am sucks but it really sucks when he doesn’t get to see Aeron until 6:00, and Davos has to stay through everyone else’s breaks.

Davos always loved the night but after working at the donut shop for years he’s begun to love the mornings, well Aeron is like a ray of sunshine to Davos. Without fail Aeron walks into the shop and it’s like the sunshine is specifically shinning on Aeron and just barely gracing Davos with its warmth. But since Davos is a Blackwood and Aeron is a Bracken he has to keep his feelings hidden. Unfortunately for him Oscar is a pretty observant teen, he sees how Davos insults, or tries to insult Aeron in a flirtatious way.

Oscars had enough of Davos shit attempts at flirting with Aeron, if he hates Aeron so much why does he constantly go back to the break table to talk to him? Anyway there’s an opening in production with a pay raise and Oscar knows that Aeron could use the money, just last week Aeron was complaining about the cost of his textbooks. Oscar asks Aeron if he’d be willing to switch from just the morning shift to production, he will have to wake up 3 hours earlier but it will be a nice pay raise. Aeron agrees automatically, it doesn’t matter that he’ll be working a lot more with Davos. Aeron needs the money and he doesn’t want to have to work a second job.

Davos is the one that has to train Aeron on how to ice the donuts, and decorate them. He starts Aeron out on the easiest thing, the chocolate machine. All Aeron has to do is take the tray filled with donuts put it in the slot that holds the tray, flip the wired part that keeps the donuts from falling in to the chocolate over the tray, and then flip all of that into the chocolate; pull the lever that makes the chocolate rise and then pat the donuts into the chocolate. After those steps Aeron just needs to let the lever go and let the donuts drain upside down for a moment and then flip them all over. Should be easy but this is the first time Davos has been this close to Aeron and his stupidly beautiful eyes and kissable lips and fucks it up royally.

Needless to say the manager for production only allows two trays to be fucked up before he tells Davos to show him how to ice the pink/white/carmel donuts. It’s slightly more complicated, since it’s hand dipped and involves twirling your wrist to get rid of excess icing. It’s going good until Aeron is told to go ahead and try it, Aeron does really well, but all Davos can think about is Aeron using that twirling technique on his dick. After 20 restroom breaks in 20 minutes, Davos kept having to go there to calm his dick down, the manager decides to have Aeron tray up donut holes while Davos finishes icing donuts.

Aeron already knows how to flip the screens holding the donut holes onto the tray so Davos doesn’t need to show Aeron how. But Davos still distracts himself by thinking about what other balls Aeron can handle well. Once that’s finished Aeron is told to fill the bismarks and some long johns. Again Davos is told to keep icing the donuts since Aeron already knows how to fill bismarks and long johns, and once again Davos can’t help but think about how Aeron could fill him up or how he could fill Aeron up.

Davos still insults Aeron, saying that he doesn’t know what he’s doing and he’s terrible at the job. Aeron doesn’t care he knows that he’s good at his job. Anyway Aerons car breaks down before work, so he calls the manager who says they’ll send someone to get him. Oscar had already told the manager to send Davos to pick Aeron up if he’s ever had car trouble. So that’s how Davos spent 15 minutes alone with Aeron in a car, how he also confessed to Aeron that he actually really likes him.

Aeron just laughs and says he knows, Davos maybe shit at flirting because he still flirts like an elementary school kid. Davos was never as subtle as he thought he was. Aeron also says that Davos would never dare to ask him out, but since he’s finally gotten his head out of his ass would he like to go on a date sometime? Davos is so surprised that he almost crashes the car but agrees to a date.

When Oscar comes in later that day Aeron thanks him for putting him on production, and he also says that Oscar lost their bet. Oscar gives Aeron $5 while saying congratulations on asking Davos out, but he really thought Davos would’ve been the one to do the asking. And that’s how Oscar kept the sanity and peace of the donut shop, by forcing Davos to confront the fact that he really was in love with a Bracken. Oscar also gets to tell the story years later at Davos and Aerons wedding.

[fizzingwizard]

something I hear Sims Youtubers say sometimes which is 100% so untrue for me:

"the Sims gets boring because you use cheats to give them money and keep their needs high. you remove the challenge when you cheat these things away and that's why you're bored"

totally my personal opinion but for me it is the exact opposite. Having to constantly worry about money in the game is what's boring. Going to a rabbit hole job, or an active career full of repetitive, meaningless tasks in order to be able to make garden salad for dinner is boring. Not having the funds to buy gameplay objects is boring, because I like variety, not watching my Sim "read a random book" for the fifteenth time today.

Sims becoming Uncomfortable every two minutes because of how fast their needs drain makes me feel like a bad parent, lol, which I know is unreasonable but it's true! I don't enjoy grumpy sims. I like them to be any other emotion than Uncomfortable. "it's part of the challenge" but it's NOT challenging - the fixes for this is usually very very simple, just eat some food! - i mean realistic but still frustrating.

It's also that... like, avoiding cheats does NOT make the game more challenging if you have even a vague sense of what to do. Because if your sim is in the wrong emotional state, all you gotta do is light some incense. Sick? Drink some green tea, no need to go to the doctor. So many of the "challenges" in the game are alleviated almost as easily without cheats as with. On top of that, they don't even feel like challenges! Again, they're mostly small, repetitive, and meaningless. There's no sense of accomplishment because I made sure my sim got to the toilet before they peed on themself. Besides, they'll surely almost wet themself again soon. (And if I happen to be in a public venue where people are constantly talking and my sim can't extricate themself from the "chat" queue in a timely manner, even my best efforts won't save their underwear! Hmm, you know what works in that scenario? TELEPORT CHEAT.)

I have tried playing rags to riches with no cheats. I didn't quit because it was too hard. (I play on long life span, aka easy mode lol!) I quit because I was BORED TO TEARS. The minute I made my sims millionaires and bought them every skill-building activity there is, I was having a lot more fun, because watching nonexistent simulated people go to sleep, use the bathroom, eat, go to work, complain about low needs, go to sleep, use the bathroom, eat, go to work OVER and OVER and OVER again is NOT FUN. I've watched rags to riches let's plays where after "beating" the challenge, the player just continued playing as a rich sim! Like they didn't suddenly get bored and go "gee I wanna be poor again, let's donate everything to charity and start over."

So yeah I have no doubt some people love rags to riches and maybe there really are some players who eschew cheats no matter what. But that is noooot going to cut it for me, not ever. Not with this game. The one thing that makes Sims 4 still playable for me is variety and that's why I don't want packs like Lovestruck, which, come on guys, it's just new dressing to gameplay that already exists. I like packs that actually bring new activities and new goals and skills. I like packs (rare as they are) that expand on existing activities, like when Island Living gave us new fish to catch and the ability to build on waterfront lots (which is STILL stupidly restricted to Sulani, WHY). I like the silliness of Cottage Living's obsidian chicken. I like watching my sims wipeout on the snowboard. And climbing Mt Komorebi, while IMO actually not challenging enough (because I beat it at level 5/6 - without cheats I should mention - when the max is 10 but there's no greater challenge from there so I haven't been motivated to finish building the skill).

I do NOT like rabbit holes or endlessly grumpy sims or ugly houses or repetitive gameplay. My sims are always traveling and always doing something new. I literally gave my sims family infinite money just so I could move them to a different lot every other week and build them a new house so I'll have something new to look at. (btw I used to struggle because I'd set these lots as generic, since you can't own multiple homes, but then they would be invaded by townies... I've since learned that if you set your McMansion to "national park," no one will bother you at all bahahahaha!)

yeah anyway. Sims 4 play styles are as diverse as humans. I don't envy the Sims team the job of trying to engage as many of us as possible lol. But I do think, for me at least, it's relatively simple: 1) add something new, 2) let it look good (gawd those fugly eyelashes!), 3) let it FUNCTION PROPERLY. don't make it too complicated okay. Don't make, for example, a Finchwick fair in which only one guy besides my sim will participate, and somehow his "normal" quality apple pie wins over my "excellent" quality one lol. Multiple times I might add x'D (But also don't make a mountain that can be successfully summited at level 5 but the rock climbing skill has 10 levels)

[myririad]

Aoiris Introduction ͙͘͡★

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ⋆

┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆

┊ ┊ ★⋆

┊ ◦

★⋆ ┊ . ˚

˚★

A paranormal investigator duo? Hmmmhmmm. How awfully scandalous. An introduction to the chaos, if you would so indulge?

There's a certain method to the madness that connects the two between the dire vitriols included in their job descriptions: what else would you expect from a job called Paranormal Investigator? As sanity easily wanes on the job, a particular Catheris Orial finds himself far more susceptible to the mindbreak.

He doesn't come to the job for cash, not the – it's not what you can do while working for the government but it’s what working for the government can do for you – not even because he’s genuinely interested in the field: It’s answers to his soul-crippling possession case.

That’s right. Catheris works on his own case. But as a newbie suddenly thrown into this rather elusive field, he knows… nothing, as the average civilian should. So who to turn to?

Simple. The guy he’s been forcibly paired with.

Mr. Beo is your average I don't know 6’4 dude and his guide. He’s stupid, awfully stupid. He goes around just winging everything with his awfully stupid smile and laughs everything off. What is he even teaching Catheris? What a fucking himbo. Watching him hurts his head. Did he mention that he’s awfully pathetic too??? Gets caught acting suspicious and suddenly, he’s begging for mercy, or at least your lenience, please? His nonchalant attitude makes for an interesting dynamic when clashing with the type of oh-so-serious dud Catheris is. Like good cop and bad cop, except that’s just his fuckass coworker.

Oh saintesses. Pray for me that I’ll be able to tolerate him for a bit longer…

He’s annoying, stupid, stupidly tall and finds that they share Catheris’ personal space (they don't.)

But he’s… somewhat endearing. Keyword: Somewhat.

The way he soothes his fracked conscience during guiding is fuuucking addicting. Catheris’ ability usage absolutely drains his ink and his mind melts into incoherent ramblings of the damned invading his head as he’s turned into a mindless weapon with an inch of control. The way he cradles Catheris’ head in his palm during these brief moments of respite makes him never want to stop feeling like he’s falling. And oh gods he’s so considerate and so soft and.. kind of cute.

It's a bit dangerous. He feels like… prey?

Tldr: my sentinel and guide babies !!! ✶⋆.˚

[industria-adastra]

[Vampire Knight] - If I'm to be reborn, I'll find you (again, again, again) - CHAPTER TWO: ruler of my heart (you outburn the sun)

Prev | Next

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Summary: He hates her, he loves her, he hates her. He misses her. (The only place he can have her is in his dreams)

Note: Hopefully I'm getting better at this updating consistently thing but yeah zero's chapter. Next chapter is going to be kaname/yume focused again sorry zero or zeki enjoyers.

------

He’s not the first one to hear of the news. In fact, he’s neither the second, nor third (and so on) recipient of the fact that Kuran Yuuki is dead. Zero doesn’t hear it from the Chairman, his teacher, Kaito, or even from one of the vampires. In hindsight, perhaps he should have been more suspicious, should have questioned the way paperwork always found its way to his desk unceasingly—leaving him with no time to focus on the outside world.

Zero simply hears of it in passing whilst heading out for lunch, through a conversation between two nameless hunters—discussing it like changes in the weather.

“Did you hear? Kuran Yuuki is dead.”

“Another pureblood gone, huh… Wonder if it was her brother that did her in?”

“The rapidly decreasing execution missions would likely clue you into the answer.”

“Right, right.”

It’s hysterically, laughably casual in the way such information comes to him.

(It can’t be real. It can’t be real. It can’t be real—)

The world seems to stop on its axis, and Zero wonders if he should’ve simply ignored his desire for shio ramen today. After all, it’s not like he has an appetite now. His stomach roils with discomfort at the thought of food, and his throat itches for a scant few seconds before it burns. A sandstorm swirls and tears at his flesh. Mind blank, Zero goes where his feet wish to travel, content to let his mind stay in a haze.

He ends up in the association bathrooms, throwing up nothing but paltry strings of bile and choking on his spit.

-

There is too much work to be done. The vampire world, for one, was going through a massive societal upheaval. Zero simply couldn't do anything more than throw up into an association toilet before being fed an ungodly amount of paperwork as if he were some humanoid paper shredder.

And maybe it's because more than four years ago, just over a year ago—with Ichiru dead in his arms—he's finally refined a true and tried method for every loss he's been through. Every thought of her is locked behind a glass vault, buried six feet under,  the key left behind to collect dust. Zero works through papers and decimates his targets with the same ease. Every stroke of his pen is enforced with the explosive sound of his gun, of ashes in the wind. Rinse and repeat, his days all blur together in their sameness.

Months later, on a job just like any other, Zero walks into a department store and sees a long coat, hanging neatly from the racks. Stupidly, he thinks, ‘Yuuki would probably say I should get it if she saw it.’ And then, oh, how it hits him at that very moment.

Yuuki is dead.

Yuuki is dead.

Yuuki is dead.

-

Apparently, it had been the pureblood Shirabuki Sara. A pureblood through and through, she’d sent pawns to do her dirty work.

But she’d miscalculated the consequences of her actions, as all those high up on their thrones of arrogance were prone to doing so.

So she too, is dead, consumed by the pureblood king Kuran Kaname—he’s slaughtered more influential vampires than any hunter ever would in their lifetime. In the privacy of his thoughts, Zero thinks that had he the power and madness to do so, he would’ve too.

Sanity is both a blessing and a curse, because there is nothing else for Zero to turn to but his thoughts alone.

-

Roaring water fills his ears, and Zero sits, unmoving on the wet shower tiles. Steam fogs up the room, blurring his vision. He watches the water run down the drain for hours, washing the grime caked on his body until his fingers are all pruned and his skin is red with heat. His stomach is growling at him, and the water bill is for sure going to shoot up with this, but Zero can’t bring himself to care much about the future right now. 

(Any second now, she might barge into the bathroom to demand usage of the shower, to dramatically proclaim that he’s spent too long hogging it, to threaten to turn off the hot water in a minute even if she never ends up doing it.

But this apartment houses only him, and is far away from that Academy, far away from all those precious yet painful memories. The tiles aren’t even the right colour, beige, off-white, and an intense white that could be comparable to that of a strobe light. The shampoo and body wash he’s bought—the same one she always used in the Academy, a subtle floral scent of roses—only serve to highlight all the differences he can find between his current bathroom and the one in his memories.)

The doorbell suddenly rings, insistent and unfaltering like a military march. Zero is sure it’s been modified because there’s no way a regular doorbell could be so annoyingly loud like the one he has. With the way it’s blaring in his ears every second, it’s clear that whoever’s behind the door won’t take his silent refusal as an answer. 

The water continues to flow into the drain, taking with it the numerous dissolving blood tablets strewn across the wet floor.  

For a moment, Zero allows himself to be deluded by the idea that it’s her behind the door—-she’d always been as stubborn as a mule when she put her mind to it. But it is the sound of the doorbell that echoes in his ears, not an annoyed rat-a-tat-tat followed by the creak of an opening door. What follows is sandy blond hair and the glint of spectacles. They stare at each other for a moment, the headmaster and him. Nearby, the water continues to flow.

Even now, Zero can never truly parse the emotion behind those glasses of his.

“You know she wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

And even now, the headmaster’s words are as precise as his killing blows. Hearing them, Zero flinches. They stab into him, tearing open wounds until the pain is nothing but white numbness. But the mention of her, as always, pushes him to move on the legs of a shambling corpse. His hand slams against the bathroom tiles; the force of it is always degrees lower than it could be.

“How do you know what she would’ve wanted?” His words are acrid, angry in a way he doesn’t want to explain. “She’s gone. She’s not coming back.” Zero grits his teeth, looking straight at Kaien Cross’s eyes before he spits out a final bout of venom. “She’s been dead ever since she became one of them.”

Yet like always, the headmaster’s calm never wavers. “You know, that it’s always been her. No matter if Yuuki,” the sound of her name, said aloud, led to the tiles cracking under his hands, “stayed human or not, She’ll always be Yuuki. Maybe she changed and grew up a little—faster than I would’ve wanted or liked—but at her core, she was always, always Yuuki. She didn’t die that day. You knew that fact as well as I did.” And here, Zero feels the weight of the executioner’s blade above him, about to drop. “Otherwise, why do you try so hard to keep them as separate entities, even now, when she’s truly dead and gone?”

Zero drops to his knees painfully, leaving marks of destruction behind on the walls. He covers part of his face with a hand, contemplating further denial with the truth laid out so plainly before him.

“I never…”

“You never told her your true feelings, and now she’s gone. Because it was easier to accept it if you felt as if you'd already mourned beforehand.” The headmaster’s voice is soft, almost as if reminiscing a similar scene.  He crouches down and puts a hand on Zero’s shoulder. “Let it out, Zero. It’s only me and you now.”

There are no tears left for him to cry, but his throat tightens, and Zero hiccups out words all the same.

“I loved her. But she chose him.”

A ragged breath cuts his words short before Zero finds the strength to continue.

“I still loved her, even to the very end.”

-

The sky glows with a mix of different vibrant, brilliant colours—it’s an intensely beautiful scene, so much so that Zero wants to throw up. A cacophony of emotions welled up in him, knowing that such a view would be forever denied to the girl who was the most like the sun. He almost wishes that a storm would suddenly start, right at that moment. 

But the sun continues to glow with a detestable radiance, and the days continue to go by relentlessly. The world does not wait for one man’s grief.

He goes back into his bedroom and sits on his bed. Afterwards, he brings out Bloody Rose.

A click, and he watches as the empty magazine drops to the ground with a heavy thunk. Mechanically, Zero goes through the familiar motions of reloading Bloody Rose. The gun hangs loose in his hands. When it’s done, still holding Bloody Rose, his arm raises, up, up. Its silver muzzle points under his exposed chin without even the slightest tremor, pressing firmly into the soft flesh. 

He thinks about a girl, who, long ago, had rushed into a different room and wrenched this very gun out of his hands. Thinks of a life preserved for reasons he refused to believe was out of love. Thinks of a life, gone because it was loved so dearly.

The sunlight pierces through haphazardly closed curtains. A clock ticks in the background. He lets both the gun and himself fall on the bed.

His door is still closed.

(She’d wanted him to live)

-

Her blood still resides within him. But it lies, still, silent. Not a single iota of warmth flows in his body; it is ice in his veins in contrast to Kuran’s acidic poison. Were Zero to close his eyes and attempt to delude himself, he would simply fail from the get-go. Because Zero has always been faced with hard truths; so many times, he sees them over and over again—in the mirror, in the way he used to bite himself by accident and in the hunter’s bracelet on his desk.

She is gone and he must swallow down that bitter truth like the way he mindlessly consumes blood tablets.

(They scrape his throat, going down and making it uncomfortably dry; it tastes of overly sugared cough syrup; and he doesn’t want to, doesn’t wish to accept a world without her in it.

But her blood still lies.) 

-

He dreams of her. Not always, but sometimes he does. On those days, when he wakes up, Zero can’t seem to muster up the strength to get out of bed. It’s easier to bask in the what-ifs and could-beens, or the has-beens and bygone halcyon days. Breathing is easier, living feels easier, being carried by fantasies and memories. He always has to stop himself from getting too carried away—because ultimately the world does not care. Time continues to march forward, the Earth continues to spin on its axis and around the sun.

Sometimes Zero wants to curse at her. Because no matter how easy it was at that moment, reality would always settle in as an infinite weight, caving his lungs beneath him. But he could never stay angry at her, no matter what she did, or what she became. Before, he had sworn to kill her—but really, he wouldn’t have minded had she put him to rest instead.

-

"Zero? Did you fall asleep in the stables again? Geez, what's with you always showing up late for the transition periods!" She punches him forcefully in the back a couple of times, unrelenting even in the face of his annoyance and mild pain. (He wouldn’t have it any other way)

“Ow, ow, ow, ow—! Oi, would you quit it already?” He turns to slap a large hand over her forehead, pushing her away from him with great resistance on her part. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” Zero doesn’t say it, but her puffed cheeks and flailing limbs make her look as ridiculous as she is cute, and he’s almost tempted to flick her in the forehead for good measure.

“Yes, yes, alright now stop pushing me!” She glares up at him, arms folded in annoyance. “Don’t forget that as the prefects, we have an important job to do—which means, stop being late!” 

“By important job, you mean stopping a bunch of idiot classmates from throwing themselves into the slavering jaws of humanoid beasts?” Zero raises a wry eyebrow, watching her face gain a mildly exasperated look. When he turns to jab at the inevitable mass of lovesick, occasionally fanatic day-class students to further make a point, Zero finds that there’s no one there.

Right.

He turns back to look for her, but there’s no one there.

-

When Zero cooks breakfast for his birthday, he takes care to watch his food burn, forces it down his throat and makes sure it stays put. The eggs are rubbery, the toast is burnt, and the bacon is like chewing wood, but somehow he devours it with as much eagerness as a regular bowl of shio ramen.

She used to make such god-awful food.

(Zero finds vials of blood on his doorstep that day.

He practically guzzles  the pills instead.)

-

"Hey Zero, I think this would look pretty good on you." She takes out the long coat with a flourish, holding it up next to him with a contemplative expression. Zero stares back blankly at her, knowing little about the intricacies of what was his “colour”, or what “went well with his eyes”. Sure, he has some preferences, but he finds that he doesn’t mind watching her pick out his clothes for it.

(It’s oddly domestic in that way, and he dreams of what could’ve been—had they been normal, had they not had destiny and duty looping around their necks like a noose)

The next day, he goes and buys himself another coat. Staring at its dark colours and its simple design, Zero wonders if this could’ve been something she would’ve chosen for him.

(He never wears it. Dust collects on the cloth, tints the fibres grey and overrides the fresh store-bought scent, but he never wears it.)

-

"Zero, we can stay together for the night, just like before—I’ll watch over your dreams, and you can watch over mine, ok?" Under the warm covers, she whispers this to him, and their fingers intertwine together. Her hands have always run colder than his,  but even so, her hands are freezing—as cold as the dead.

When he wakes up, the space beside him on the bed is cold.

It has always been cold.

-

There is no grave, no stone marker, but he supposes that the Kuran Manor serves well enough as a reminder. The rumours don’t paint a pretty picture—the king of beasts, almost mad in his sobriety; the king of beasts, living only for memories and promises; the king of beasts, someone who’d crush you underfoot for his dreams without a second thought.

Standing in front of the tall, dark and rusting iron gates, Zero can almost choke on the overpowering scent of roses. They’re everywhere, in full bloom, mere buds, wilting or decayed. It’s a smell that only reminds him of what could have been, and what he let go of, of that fateful night in the academy. 

Were it him, he would’ve planted sunflowers instead. 

(Zero doesn’t enter. He knows how much Kuran hated him entering any space deemed as his own. It wouldn’t change now, half-mad as they both were.)

-

Violence is, perhaps, the only outlet that Zero knows will never let him down. There is release to be found when he hunts down level Es; there is no need for emotion, only cold, pure logic in which he can execute his duty as a protector (that he’d already failed so many times before). With every shot of his gun, every blast of the hunter’s sigil and every vampiric body blown apart into dust and ash, Zero puts to rest the grievances of so many others—but never his own.

Kaito no longer makes any sort of comment about such trips, only there to stop him from presumably losing his head and forcing the association to find yet another leader (or so he says, but they both know part of the association would be thrilled to find a reason to off him). Sure, Kaito mindlessly chatters about the surroundings and his day, but they both know that saying anything about her—no matter how sound his reasoning could be—would create a one-way ticket to the end of their friendship.

He tried, once. (“You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You have to accept the fact that she’s gone and that she didn’t choose you.” He’d paused then, reproach evident in his face before he continued. “She was a pureblood first.”

“She had been human.”

“Had.”

“And so had I been, once.”

“…Just don’t get yourself killed.”)

It’s nice to have someone stay. But he’ll never say it. People can’t stay simply because you want them to. Their decisions have always been their own.

-

Perhaps the universe had an ironic sense of humour if he was back to teach Cross Academy’s Day Class ethics of all things. The headmaster clearly made a mistake in forcing him to do what he flippantly called a “much-needed change of perspective”. Somehow Yagari, of all people, seemed to think that it’d be good for him to take up such a position in addition to his duties as both a hunter and the president of the hunter’s association.  

“You’re a good kid, but you need a better head on your shoulders,” is all Yagari says on that matter, and off Zero goes into once more dealing with teenagers—this time as an adult rather than one of their peers. He half expects it to be just like before.

But it’s not.

Revealing the truth of the Night Class to the Day Class means that there are no more barriers between the vampires and humans of Cross Academy. Without the distance, there is not enough room for worship, and what is left are only two kinds of being, all simply trying to live in a new world.

Teaching ethics really means “filling in the gaps” so that vampire-human relations will go more smoothly. Unlike his mentor though, Zero thankfully doesn’t need to use either express or implied threats of violence to get his students to listen. And he finds that, with the truth revealed, the Day Class students now behave in much calmer ways—ironically, the truth had perhaps “humanised” the vampires for them.

They listen carefully to his teachings; Zero does his utmost to drill them into their heads, complete with drawings that are only marginally better than her toddler scribbles. He’s sure that when he’s out of sight and earshot, they laugh about it, just as they laugh alongside the vampires they’d once thought of as unreachable. 

Watching it all from a distance, it almost feels unbearably nostalgic yet melancholic—because this had not been his world. Had she and Zero never been torn apart from the natural way of things, reborn and reforged in blood, they would have never met. 

(He wonders if he would’ve dismissed her as nothing but a monster. If their old classmates would have thought of her as another pseudo-goddess to worship.)

Zero watches two worlds meld, and is not quite at peace, but at the very least, the memories, the “what ifs” here do not hurt.

However, it doesn’t take long for him to resign. In the end, Zero is better cut out for other things, rather than becoming another face in the crowd of the headmaster’s rampant eccentrics that he calls teachers. But, sometimes, seeing the world that she wished for, finally, slowly, starts to be created… The air is a little lighter, even as his throat aches. She would’ve liked to watch the two different classes fumble through cooking on their own.

Maybe he’ll make ginger pork stir fry tonight.

-

It’s years before he meets Wakaba Sayori again. Zero nearly forgets about her wedding, were it not for the Headmaster’s, and Kaito’s constant, unceasing reminders via letters and spoken words. The final nail in the coffin is the wedding invitation itself. If he doesn’t attend the wedding, he’s sure that someone will come to physically strong-arm him to the event.

The wedding itself is a rather small affair, given Sayori’s background and what he remembers of Aidou’s proclivity for dramatics. Maybe it was Sayori who’d wanted it. Or maybe it was a joint agreement. Zero doesn’t know either of them well enough to say, but he prefers it this way.

Staring at the happy couple—in the back of his mind—Zero morbidly wonders if death will also do them part earlier than expected. He’s quick to shut down that train of thought as soon as it appears. He wouldn’t wish such a feeling on anyone.

-

After the event, Zero keeps his copy of the wedding photo, keeping it safe with the other one that marked his first year of high school. Against the glossy sheen of the new photo, that one looks all the more faded; the new photo always feels as if it’s missing something.

She would’ve loved to see the wedding; would’ve been the maid of honour, lovely in gentle pinks and a happy blush on her cheeks.

He startles at the vision, dropping the photo book with an unceremonious thud.

-

The burn in his throat has never gone away since that fateful night of snow. But it’s now a familiar constant, easily relegated to the back of his mind. What does it mean? Zero doesn’t know, only watching as society changes, and as people grow to create a world where there could be true peace.

But it feels easier to breathe for himself, even as he continues to breathe for her. Zero isn’t sure if he’ll ever stop breathing—living—for her. It’s alright this way, and the dreams now leave him feeling more…fond rather than wanting.

-

It’s only a glimpse, but years and years later, Zero gets a chance to see how Kuran Kaname now fares in this still unfamiliar world. Despite his achievements and the iron-clad grip he has on the rest of the vampires—key in fostering the new partnership between humans and vampires—he rarely shows his face. Does the smell of roses, in its various stages of life, cling to him like a parasite? Or maybe it’s the other way around, with roses built within everything he owns, everything that he is.

As Zero contemplates, he thinks back to the regularly replaced sunflowers in his office and his flat.

When he sees him, Zero gets his answer. 

Lounging on his throne, the smell of blood, dust and decay is attached to him like that of a rose with its thorns. Kaname Kuran stares emptily at everyone and nowhere, only occasionally opening his mouth to send orders. Within his hands is a resin-encased rose, looking worn and smooth from the years. His clothes don’t quite fit what he’s supposed to be, refined King of the Vampires. Rather, dressed in loose clothing, the apathy in his gaze, Kuran almost reminds him of—

(Zero tries not to think about it)

After so long, even hate will cool. They both loved, they both lost. It is a reality of the world that they live in. That she could not ever see the dream she wished for come to reality. In fact, looking at this sombre, cold, alone figure… He almost pities him. Kaname Kuran, top of the world but with no one left.

Could they see what Zero sees? The old Night Class no longer stands nearby, but at polite distances, looking almost weary. It was the kind of weariness that he was most familiar with. 

After all, the hunter association had always looked at him this way.

Zero at least has the headmaster, has Kaito, has his teacher. Kuran has no one at all.

Even beasts could be pitiable.

(Yuuki knew that best, didn’t she)

-

Maybe it’s only fitting that he’ll die from protecting a child who looks so much like Yuuki. Not quite in the flesh, but more so in spirit—and wasn’t that the most important, most beautiful quality about her? Especially now, memory half-baked and succumbing to erosion over the years. In the face of time, it all crumbles to dust, just like his body is now; not even sure whether it is his or the bodies of mad vampires he’s slain. 

Zero can see her crying, tears wetting his shirt, mixing with the dust in a way that he’d be mildly disgusted by were he not currently dying. “It’s alright,” he says, reaching out with hands that only smear more dust into her hair. Zero isn’t sure if the garbled sounds reaching his ears are truly words or not. Maybe the girl is speaking, maybe the girl is simply sobbing.

Or maybe he is already dead.

When he closes his eyes, Kiryuu Zero dies before a young girl’s eyes, leaving nothing but a pile of empty clothes and a silver gun.

-

The incessant ringing of an alarm is loud and annoying enough to cave metaphorically his skull in with its shrill noise alone. Grumbling, Zero burrows deeper into his blankets, covering himself fully in an attempt to block out the noise. It doesn’t fully work, but a partial solution is better than no solution at all, so Zero gets right back to falling asleep.

The heavyweight landing unceremoniously on top of his body puts an abrupt stop to that. “Zeeroo! We’re gonna be late for school again!” Ichiru whines, digging his pointy elbows right into Zero’s sides, knowing full well the exact location of his arms. He’s lucky that Zero loves him.

“Gerroff me, Ichiru,” he groans, the sound muffled by the blankets, gently shoving away at the incessant prodding. “We don’t even have to wake up until ten minutes later.”

“How do you even know that?” Questions Ichiru, switching up his tactics and physically smothering Zero in another attempt to force him out of bed.

“I pay attention in class rather than daydream about the divorced neighbour next door.”

Just as Ichiru is about to retaliate with a few choice words, the bedroom door bursts open to herald another arrival. “Zero! Get up, we're gonna be late!’ Kuran Yuuki rushes over to drag him out of bed with strength contrary to her small size. “Get up you lazy bum!” She promptly drops him on the ground, ignoring his affronted yell and Ichiru’s snickering in favour of rifling through his wardrobe.

“Good morning Yuuki!” Ichiru cheerily waves at her from Zero’s bed, delighting in the extra chaos and suffering added to his brother’s normal routine. 

“Morning Ichiru!” She absent-mindedly chirps back, piling the different pieces of Zero’s uniform onto one arm. Halfway through, Yuuki looks back at Zero. “Oi, get up Zero! Aren’t you supposed to be the one with the best attendance record out of all of us?”

“I shouldn’t have messed with your alarm,” Zero grumpily mutters, not bothering to get up from the floor. From above, Ichiru barely attempts to stifle his laughter. “Stop laughing, Ichiru.”

Unfortunately for Zero, Yuuki could hear him perfectly well. Her body snaps around just in time for Yuuki to let out an outraged cry of, “You what?!”

At that, Zero groans, and Ichiru only laughs louder and harder.

(He wouldn’t trade this for anything else in the world)

[gaoau]

Illustrations drenched in the ink of all the doubts and nightmares I create

Raison d'Être warnings — none. word count — 1.9k

prev. — next.

Four days later, [Name] regretted all her decisions as she physically felt the confidence drain from her body. She stood in her living-room, glaring daggers into the canvas standing at nearly two meters tall. Where the genuine fuck had she actually plucked the courage to order a piece of white so disgustingly ginormous from? What was she thinking? She couldn't possibly ever work her way around so much disturbing, jarring, over-the-top white.

Her job in art—her only talent, perhaps—had always been to fit black around all the white to create something out of sheer, painful nothing. She would never dare use white to go over anything. Of course, she had really disliked working with white since the first time she picked up a pencil, but working on it was a completely different story.

Just not this much. Not all of this white. Not so terrifyingly much. She couldn't do that. It was horrifying, she just couldn't do it and she was regretting ever having the impulse to buy this stupidly huge canvas.

Ai watched her in her distress as she remained seemingly frozen in time and space. He was a tiny, little puppy, but even he could tell this poor soul was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Still, he was a tiny, little puppy, not the answer to her problems, and he was running low on food. His claws tapped on the tiled floor while he reached over to [Name] and scratched at her calves for attention.

She didn't dare pry her eyes away from the canvas before her. A flitting glance at Ai was all she could muster, mumbling, "What's it, boy?" although it was incoherent. She was sure, one hundred per cent sure, that the moment she averted her attention from the two-meter, pristine white monstrosity right in front of her, it would murder her in a split second.

After a month of coexisting with Ai in the same home, [Name] knew and understood all of his attempts at communication. He was a smart boy, and even though very vocal, he was quiet.

So when he barked to demand her attention, it pierced into her eardrums and bounced in echoes around her brain. Her shoulders jolted and she startled out of her despair, whipping towards the frustrated dog. "What? What's wrong? What is it? What happ—Oh!" Her eyes flickered between Ai and her surroundings to figure out what—oh, his food bowl was empty again.

She shook her head at herself; a month had gone by and she still left his bowl to run empty. Yes, maybe she should have just set a time to give him dinner, but she knew better than to leave his nutrition in the hands of a schedule she would never follow. With one more frightened glimpse at the canvas waiting to devour her, [Name] dutifully poured more dog food into Ai's bowl until the bag was completely empty.

Her fingers scratched behind his ears while he dug in eagerly. An exhausted sigh drifted into the quiet of the apartment. He enjoyed his meal as she gazed at him lovingly but with lips pursed in hesitation.

She really allowed Ai to run out of food completely, didn't she?

"I'm sorry you're stuck with me, bubs."

She rose from the ground with a spring to reach for her keys. Well, at least she now got to drop by XJ Land after a while.

When she stepped into the familiar store, Chifuyu's voice wrapped around her in a practiced greeting. He didn't actually register her until he finished up with the customer at the counter. But then his eyes drifted to assess who had entered his shop and he instinctively lit up at the sight of her. She walked towards the food aisle instantly and he was content with seeing she was properly taking care of Ai with all of her efforts. Another customer approached him to ring up their items—he managed the formalities on instinct while watching [Name] bump into Kazutora.

She offered him a smile and words Chifuyu couldn't catch. Panic clouded over Kazutora's eyes the instant her gaze pierced through him. He mustered a bow before scurrying away, leaving [Name] to stare dumbfounded at his retreating figure. The last customer left with their bagged goods, and before he could approach [Name] to strike up a friendly conversation, Kazutora blocked his field of vision with furrowed brows.

He blinked at the jittering man. "What is it?"

With a flickering glance at [Name], he wrung his hands nervously. "Nothing, she startled me."

Chifuyu really didn't mean to laugh. "She greeted you, Kazutora-kun."

"She puts me off." The feeling of her eyes, her many, many eyes, her far too many eyes, her one single pair of eyes absorbing all of his visual information unnerved him greatly. He couldn't explain why, but he didn't like the way she didn't look at him while looking at him.

And Chifuyu could understand what he meant to some degree; [Name] caught visions of the world in a completely different way, including people as visually interesting as she had mentioned Kazutora being. He found it fascinating rather than disturbing. To each their own, but it sparked more curiosity than it triggered his fight or flight response.

Speaking of flight, [Name] snuck up behind Kazutora before either of them could realize, holding a few bags of dog food for puppies in her arms. "Good evening, Chifuyu-san," she started, announcing her presence to the whispering men. Almost instantly, Kazutora's shoulders jolted and he excused himself with a short bow. Now, running away when they first met was reasonable, doing it a second time by just having her say hello was odd, but a third time got the message across loud and clear. "I guess Hanemiya-san doesn't really like me?"

Chifuyu followed her gaze towards the poor man fleeing to hide in the storage room. "He takes a while to warm up. I'm sure it's not personal."

[Name] chuckled light-heartedly, "I don't blame him." She knew better than anyone that people didn't like being looked at; especially when it was by her. Maybe holding off from looking at him would allow him to relax. She needed to stop analyzing everything in his appearance every time he was near. It was fun and interesting, but understandingly concerning.

"I'll give him some time and then see if I can get him to let you draw him."

It made her laugh almost with her whole chest. It wasn't necessarily funny, but her feet felt weightless and smiling felt lighter. She couldn't help the way her whole mood lifted by just finding the intense blue of Chifuyu's eyes. She was happy, simple and easy. She was happy to be chortling away right there in the shop with him. Her head couldn't completely wrap around all of her thoughts, but she had a hunch, a feeling, a sensation that everything was and would be alright as long as someone like Chifuyu stayed in her life.

As he rang up the bags of food, he innocently grinned at her. "So, about that commission, [Name]-san." Well, never mind. Her face fell. "I was thinking of a cat, have you ever drawn a cat?"

She averted her gaze away from him with a sigh. "I've tried. Cat anatomy is… extremely weird, to put it simply."

He exchanged the products for her money, bagging them up so she could take them home. His forearms rested on the counter while he leaned in towards her. "Do you like a challenge?" he proposed with a cheeky smile.

"I don't know," [Name] muttered, shrugging, "Do you like throwing your money down the drain?" She felt her confidence deflating the more his expectations inflated.

Then a frown soiled his features. The quirking of his lips vanished in an instant as his brows met in a knot. "Don't talk about your work like that, [Name]-san. I think you're really talented. Your skill is worth it."

She blinked back at him like a gawking fish. His words traveled into her ears and down her spine like reverberating shivers. Was this what whiplash felt like? "Oh… Okay, sorry," her voice grew meek in the face of Chifuyu's revelations, "I'm sorry. No, you're right. A cat? Yeah, I can try. What kind of cat?" So she moved past it, tucking it away in the corner of her brain for later. She couldn't think like him—she couldn't think at all.

"A close-up of a black cat, with a focus on the eyes." His signature grin returned as if he hadn't felt genuinely insulted by [Name] talking shit about her own abilities. It was the art he enjoyed the one which she was putting down, after all. 

It meant something. She didn't know what, but his request meant more to him than he was letting on. And she wanted to know. She was so curious about him that any bit of information was valuable. The cogs in her brain turned at record speed as she hummed, "…Could I borrow pen and paper?"

Chifuyu didn't question her while sliding some scrap paper towards her, handing her the pen from his apron. His eyes zeroed in on her working hands, tracing strokes of blue ink on the jarringly white surface of the paper. A circle, two lines, faint, fading. Her wrist moved with skill he could only achieve after years of training. Scribbles here, some more there, depth and contrast and it wasn't perfect but it resembled a cat. She used sharp, surprisingly straight lines to define the frame.

In a matter of seconds, she'd sketched a cat. It was a cat. It was what he wanted.

"How's this?" [Name] asked, hesitating between meeting his intense eyes or staring at the disproportionate creature she'd created. She apologized to all the cats in the store and in the world.

Chifuyu delicately picked up the drawing, raising it up to his face so he could inspect it closely. He seemed to sparkle when he excitedly beamed at her, "It's perfect!"

She almost choked on her own spit. "Oh—Okay, I'll see what I can do. What, uh, what size are we talking about?"

"Something that fits over there." He guided her line of vision towards the empty wall beside the storage room door. They both caught a glimpse of Kazutora's hair disappearing from sight, but chose not to mention it.

They shared a laugh as [Name] estimated the dimensions of the canvas she would need. Scribbling down the numbers off the top of her head, she glanced up into his irises. "Black cat, okay. Eye color?"

"How about blue?"

Blue.

The weight of reality made her gulp when it sank in. "Okay, you got it," she spoke regardless, donning confidence she didn't know where it had come from.

Probably from Chifuyu's trust. He was trusting her. He was trusting her to get the job done. He was trusting she would produce results. Fill the white with black and create a piece fitting to sit at his shop for others to appreciate as decoration. He was setting his trust on her and she couldn't explain how fulfilling it felt to know someone wanted her.

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

As I Lay Awake | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends! This is yet another fic inspired by my sister and her husband and their stupidly perfect, adorable relationship. 🙄

If you like what you read, throw me a reblog so that others can find my stuff 🥰

--------------------------------

Bucky’s arms snaked around you, lifting you from the couch despite your spirited protests, and he laughed at your feeble struggle against his super soldier strength. Why you fought him about going to bed every night was beyond his comprehension. Your job was draining- early mornings, late nights, mountains of work, and endless meetings sunk you into what seemed like a permanent state of exhaustion- both mental and physical.

And yet, you never wanted to go to sleep. All he wanted was for his best girl to get the rest she needed. His heart ached as he watch you resist sleep each night, knowing deep down that the exhaustion was crushing you.

“Baby, come on, you know you’re tired…” Bucky set you down on your side of the bed, watching you fight the exhaustion that weighed your eyelids down. With a labored groan, you sat up, quirking an eyebrow at your boyfriend.

“It’s only like, eleven. I’m not tired, Buck. Come on, let’s go watch a few more episodes of Supernatural”. You tried to escape from the bed, but Bucky wasn’t having it.

He rolled his eyes at your resistance to rest as his hands rested on your shoulders, gently laying you back down. “Why do you do this, sweets? You fight me about going to bed every night”, his cold hand found your cheek, resting gently against your warm skin. “You get up so early and work such long hours- you need your sleep. Why won’t you just let yourself rest?” He was right, and you hated it. In all honesty, you were tired- exhausted, actually.

You didn’t want to admit the truth, but when he stared you down with those icy blue eyes, your resolve crumbled. “It’s just that…I- I work a lot, Buck. And so when I’m home, I wanna stay up as late as I can so that I can spend time with you- as much time as possible”. Your words warmed Bucky’s heart and broke it at the same time. He loved spending time with you; If he could, he’d spend every second with you for the rest of his life- but he didn’t want you sacrificing the rest you so desperately needed.

“Sweetheart…God, you’re adorable. But you can’t do that to yourself- you need your rest. If I were refusing to sleep just so that I could spend time with you, would you be okay with that?” He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, staring down at you with a faux frown. He couldn’t help but laugh at the dramatic huff that accompanied your quiet “no”.

With a victorious chuckle, Bucky got you settled in bed and took his spot next to you, wrapping his body protectively around yours like he did every night. The two of you laid together in the dark stillness of your bedroom, relishing in the warmth of one another. With your head resting on Bucky’s chest, resisting sleep became impossible. The steady sound of his heartbeat and the cozy embrace of his arms sent you drifting off into dreamland in no time at all. Bucky listened to your steady breathing, happy to know that his best girl was finally getting some sleep.

But he couldn’t stop himself from worrying about you. He knew he’d be leaving for a mission in just two days, meaning that you’d be left to your own devices. He could see you staying up till all hours of the night without him there to make you go to sleep. He resolved to have a talk with you about it the following evening when you returned from work and surrendered to sleep himself, wrapping his arms around you just a bit tighter as he drifted off.

But his plans to talk to you were dashed by an emergency call from Rhodey at 10 am. Things had grown dicey at the Hydra base they’d been planning to infiltrate and they needed to get there as soon as possible. Bucky shoved clothes into his duffel bag and hopped on his motorcycle, stopping by your office on his way to the compound.

The screeching tires of Bucky’s bike drew the attention of everyone in your building. His frantic form rushed through the doors in search of you, scanning the offices and coming up empty. He was in a massive hurry, and knew he had to get to the compound ASAP, but he had to say goodbye. He only allotted himself five minutes to see you, and if he couldn’t find you in time, he’d have to leave without saying goodbye- and that was not acceptable. Anxiety pushed him onward, desperately searching the building for you as quickly as he could.

The sweet sound of your voice set his mind at ease. He flew to you, pulling you into his arms without paying any mind to your staring coworkers. You tried to ask what he was doing running around your office like a madman, but he cut you off.

“I don’t have a lot of time- I have to leave. Rhodes just called” he took your face in his hands, memorizing each feature just in case he never made it home. “Things went sideways- we’re leaving right now”.

The information sent your mind spinning, leaving you feeling like the rug had been ripped out from under you. The 48 hours that you thought you had left with Bucky were stolen from you just like that, leaving you heartbroken.

“I just needed to come say goodbye” he crushed your lips with his, pouring every ounce of his love into the embrace. “I love you. I love you so much, doll. Take care of yourself while I’m gone- I’m gonna try my best to keep you updated, okay?”

You nodded. Tears welled in your eyes and slipped down your cheeks, leaving mascara-tinged tracks on your skin. Your coworkers looked on, but you couldn’t have cared less- Bucky was leaving, and that’s all that mattered.

“I- okay. I love you, Buck. Be careful. Please”. You leaned into him, deeply inhaling his warm scent, “I need you to come home- I need you here with me”.

He squeezed you as tight as he could without snapping your spine, promising not to take any unnecessary risks. “Promise me that you’ll actually sleep while I’m gone, okay?” He breathed a sigh of relief when you nodded against his chest, and felt a tiny fraction of his anxiety recede.

With one last deep kiss, Bucky was gone. He left you standing in the hallway, teary-eyed and brokenhearted. He was off on yet another dangerous mission, and you had to somehow focus on the rest of your workday.

All Bucky asked of you was that you take care of yourself and get some rest while he was away, but it proved easier said than done. Without Bucky at home waiting for you to return from work, it grew easier to stay at the office later and later. The building fell quiet around you as your coworkers trickled out one by one, going home for an evening of rest and relaxation- but you remained.

It spawned into an unhealthy habit that kept you at work until past nine every night. There was nothing to look forward to upon your return home, only your dark, empty apartment- void of your favorite person. Only when you thought you were going to die of starvation did you head home to make a quick dinner and shower.

You found yourself on the couch each night, wrapped in Bucky’s favorite blanket and sitting alone in front of the tv. If you could focus on a show or a movie, you could avoid falling asleep just a little bit longer. Only when it became physically impossible to stay awake did you let the exhaustion win, falling asleep on the couch instead of the bed you shared with Bucky. Your phone always rested on your chest as you slept, just in case Bucky got a spare moment to send you a text- but your phone remained silent.

It was disheartening to wake each morning without a message from Bucky, but part of you was glad. If you woke up to a text from him, it would mean that you’d missed the opportunity to talk to him, and that was worse than sleep deprivation. Getting in touch with him while he was on a mission was damn near impossible, and if you weren’t able to respond to him in a timely manner, it might be days before he was able to contact you again.

Fatigue plagued your body, leaving you feeling empty and half-dead. Never in your life had you experienced such aggressive exhaustion. A dull ache lived in your head constantly and a thick fog wrapped around your brain, making everything fuzzy. A few coworkers pulled you aside in the breakroom on the fifth day of Bucky’s absence, asking if you were okay. They told you how concerned they were about you, noting the dark circles under your eyes, long hours at the office, and your alarming lack of energy.

The desperate need to stay awake in case Bucky called, paired with the intense worry about his safety swirled into a perfect storm of sleepless nights. Your coworkers could never understand what you were going through, and explaining it was emotional labor that you didn’t have the strength for.

On your thirteenth late night without Bucky, you sat awake in the living room while endless episodes of iZombie played without your attention. Worries about Bucky’s safety plagued you, sending sharp pangs of anxiety through your chest. Your fingers itched to text him, but contacting him while he was on a mission always made you nervous- what if your text was the sound that gave away his location and got him killed? But the pact you’d made with yourself to refrain from contacting him crumbled at your feet as you shot Bucky a quick text.

“Please come home safe. I love you. I miss you so much.”

On the fourteenth day since Bucky’s departure, your phone rang. A quick apology to your coworkers excused you from your meeting, giving you the opportunity to answer Bucky’s call.

“Bucky?” you breathed into the phone, praying that everything was okay. He recognized the worry in your voice and set your anxiety at ease, telling you that he was on his way home.

“Baby, why did I get a text from you at 3:26am?” his expectant tone signaled trouble for you. A sharp cringe twisted your features- shit, you hadn’t thought about the timestamp.

“Relax, Buck. I woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and missed you. That’s all”. His silence unnerved you. He knew you were lying and wasn’t happy about it, but told himself to save that conversation for later.

As soon as you possibly could, you ditched your office. Bucky said he’d be home by 8, and you weren’t going to miss out on even a second with him. When you arrived home at 7:49, you sped around the apartment, cleaning and tidying the space for Bucky’s homecoming. The sound of his keys in the door sent your heart leaping into your throat.

“Bucky!” was all you could say as you sped toward the door and launched your body into his waiting arms.

“Sweetheart…” he whispered against your hair, nuzzling his face into your neck with desperation. A comforting warmth bloomed in Bucky’s chest, spreading through his body as he held you close.

“I missed you…”

“I missed you more, Buck”.

He pulled away from your embrace, taking your face in his hands and drinking you in. A frown tugged his features downward as he looked you over, your tired eyes breaking his heart. “Did you get any sleep while I was gone?”

Technically, the answer was yes. You did, in fact, sleep every night that Bucky was gone, just not enough. “Yes, I slept. I promise”, but he wasn’t buying it.

He scooped you up and carried you to the couch, flopping down against the cushions with a sigh. “Alright, this is serious. I need you to talk to me, baby”, he swept a thumb over your cheek, waiting for you to open up- but you didn’t.

“I wasn’t even here, doll,” he let out an exasperated sigh, “You said you don’t like to go to sleep because you want to spend time with me, but I was gone- you could’ve gone to sleep the second you got home from work. I just- I need you to tell me what’s going on”.

Your lips found his neck, sucking at his pulse and sending goosebumps over his skin. His head fell back in ecstasy as you worked slowly over the length of his neck, driving him crazy- until he stopped you.

“Hey, no- come on. You can’t distract me, sweets,” he gently removed your lips from his neck, “talk to me”. With a dramatic sigh, you let your head fall against his shoulder. The truth was embarrassing, and maybe even pathetic.

“When you’re here, I don’t want to waste a second of my time with you, so I don’t want to sleep,” he nodded, “but when you’re gone, I miss you. I um, I stay at work late so that I don’t have to be here in our home without you, and then I stay awake on the couch as late as physically possible. I don’t like being in our bed without you. So I just- I sit out here, waiting to hear from you. I- I don’t want to risk missing a text or a call- even though I know they’re rare...”

Bucky sighed. His hands stroked up and down the length of your spine, bringing you some much needed comfort. “Baby, that’s- that’s very sweet. I mean, it’s good to know that you miss me so much…” he joked, “but you can’t do that to yourself”.

An apathetic shrug raised your shoulders. As far as you were concerned, you’d stay awake until the end of time- no matter how miserable you were- if it meant you got to spend time with Bucky.

“Hey, come on, I need you to listen to me”, he lifted your head from his shoulder and stared into your eyes with a fierce intensity. “When I didn’t want to go to sleep because of my nightmares, you begged me to. All you kept saying was how important sleep is- how if you don’t get enough you could actually die. It’s just not healthy, doll.”

“But I wanna spend time with you…” your voice cracked ever so slightly, betraying just how desperate you were for him, “I miss you. I miss you all the time. And if I have to give up some sleep in order to be with you, I’m fine with that”.

Bucky’s expression grew stern. His brow furrowed and his jaw tensed as he let your words wash over him. “But I’m not”, he argued, “If you don’t sleep, you can have memory issues; it fucks up your judgement and coordination- baby, it’s dangerous. And if you wreck your car or something because you refuse to sleep and I lose you, I’ll- I can’t lose you. You wanna spend time with me, but you can’t do that if you aren’t here…”

Very real anxiety colored Bucky’s voice. His arms encircled your waist and pulled you closer, forcing your body against his with an unmatched desperation.

“I just need you to take care of yourself, sweetheart. Can you please do that? For me?”

You promised without hesitation. You’d never thought about how your bad habit would affect him, and mentally chastised yourself for making him worry. “I’m sorry, Buck. I love you…”

“I love you, too, baby. That’s why I need you to take care of yourself- so I can keep you around for as long as possible”. You snuggled into him, taking in his warm scent and listening to his heartbeat. The weight of his absence fell from your shoulders as the two of you sat there, fit together like puzzle pieces.

“Okay, it’s 8:39 right now. I need a shower and something to eat, but then it's time for bed- for both of us. Deal?” Bucky stared down at you with a stern gaze, only breaking his domineering façade when you agreed to go to sleep.

He got cleaned up from his mission while you changed into pajamas and made a quick dinner for the two of you to share. When the food was decimated and the dishes clean, Bucky carried your fatigued body to bed.

For the first time, you didn’t fight him- you didn’t protest or argue. You allowed him to wrap you snug under the blankets with the utmost care in the way he’d always wanted to. The two of you settled into bed, tangling your limbs together and relishing in the feeling of being reunited.

With your head on Bucky’s chest and his arms wrapped tight around your back, you allowed the strong grasp of sleep to drag you under. Just as you were about to surrender completely, your head lifted from Bucky’s chest. He tried to protest your sudden jolt of energy, but stopped when he heard what you had to say.

“Thank you for taking care of me…I love you, Buck. I’m so glad you’re home”. He leaned upward and met your lips with his in the darkness of your room, whispering an “I love you” right back.

You settled your head back in its rightful place atop Bucky’s chest, placing a light kiss to the scar that fused flesh to metal. With the love of your life home safe, you finally let yourself get the rest you so desperately needed, dreaming of him all night long.

——————————————-

Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @mrsdrysdale18 @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @cwbucky @duchessoftheheart @seitmai @itvy5601 @hisxsoulmate @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @themorningsunshine 💜

[harrysweasleys]

lonely is a man without love // s.g

summary: part two of lovin’ arms to hold me

warnings: typical moon knight stuff, maybe language, maybe a few spelling errors lol

word count: 3.2k

a/n: (gif by @nightofthecreeps)

Saturdays were the absolute worst, weren’t they?

Well, maybe not if you had time off and got to sleep in, rest up, have a cheat meal day, catch up on some telly while doing absolutely nothing.

That was fine. But working in public on a Saturday? Absolutely not. You had been yelled at and scolded more times than you could count on both hands and you were more than ready to toss your name tag and quit on the spot.

This is why you didn’t want to bloody work weekends.

The crowds, the chaos, the fact that Donna seemed to have a stick shoved so far up her ass that —

No.

You weren’t going to sit here and seethe even more or else you’d quite literally melt into a pile of your own burning anger.

It didn’t help that the one person who usually shared a Saturday shift with you had vanished off of the face of the Earth.

Yes, Steven.

After he hadn’t shown up for work on Friday, you assumed the worst. That he’d regretted what he said to you, realized he made a mistake by giving you hope, and “called in sick” to avoid saying it to your face. Of course, Steven was nicer than that and it was a bit of a harsh assumption on your part, but it was hard not to be so suddenly overcome with insecurities after noticing his absence.

But that insecurity died quickly when J.B had mentioned he didn’t call in sick, nor had he requested the day off. He just… didn’t show. And that, my friends, that was unlike Steven. He valued his job and his hopes for a promotion so dearly, there was no way he’d just dip without a word.

The only time he hadn’t come into work — you remember the day so clearly — he had texted you saying he wasn’t feeling well and that he was sorry he wouldn’t be there to accompany you. You also remembered feeling stupidly giddy that he thought of texting you to let you know.

So for him to have just not shown up yesterday with absolutely zero news was off-putting, to say the least.

You had been so preoccupied with thinking about his confession on Thursday and the fact that your unending worry seemed to grow by the second that you had been caught off guard by Dylan asking you where Steven was because, bollocks, you forgot he was supposed to cancel their date yesterday. You had, in all honesty, forgotten he’d even asked her out. But since he didn’t show on Friday to tell her the plans were off, she was outwardly ticked off about being stood up.

What a mess.

It got even stranger after you sent him a quick text, typing “hope you’re feeling alright x” and sending it before you could overthink it, only to get no response. Nothing. It didn’t even get read.

There was no word from Steven at all on Friday, nor Saturday.

You had woken this morning with a jolt, checking your phone like it was your lifeline to see if Steven had replied.

The screen was blank.

So, not only was today miserable in the sense that work was quite possibly draining the last remaining bit of life and energy from you, but it was also miserable because you were overcome with a sense of worry and unease at Steven’s disappearance.

Was he alright? Did this qualify for a missing persons?

You were well aware you were being a bit dramatic. Sometimes people just need time off, away from work and phones and the hustle of every day life. Maybe Steven finally managed to get a proper night’s sleep and decided to just shut off his alarm and enjoy it.

But you couldn’t stop thinking of his fingers laced with yours, the softness of the words in his confession, the way his eyes looked into yours as you bid each other goodnight. Steven wasn’t that good of an actor — in fact, he wasn’t an actor at all.

So if he had been telling you the truth on Thursday, what the hell happened?

Too caught up in your jumbled mess of thoughts, you nearly charged right into the janitor on your way out of the museum. He grunted, moving out of the way as you mumbled a quick apology, just wanting nothing more than to go home and probably not sleep.

Thankfully, the museum closed earlier on weekends, so you managed to finish up your shift while there was still a bit of daylight. The walk to the bus and then to your apartment was quick, under fifteen minutes, and it took approximately fifteen seconds for you to toss off your bag, jacket, and throw yourself down on the couch.

Dinner wasn’t even on your mind, too drained to do so much as take a cutting board out of the cupboards. It would have to be a leftovers kind of night.

You looked to your left, the spot where Steven had been sitting just two evenings prior, wishing more than anything that he could be sitting here right now.

It felt terribly empty, quiet, and lonely as you stared down at your phone screen, still without word from Steven.

Should you call? Yeah, maybe you should. He wasn’t supposed to be working tomorrow — and thankfully you weren’t either — so you weren’t expecting to hear from him then. Maybe it was best to reach out now.

You dialled and waited, the hum of the phone call signalling that it was indeed going through — that his phone wasn’t off. For some reason, you hadn’t expected that.

You also hadn’t expected him to pick up. Which is why you were at a loss for words when the other line picked up, quiet breathing being the only thing you could hear.

“Uh — hello? Hi? Steven?” your voice sounded nervous, which you guessed wasn’t exactly out of place. Last you had spoken he planned a date with you and it had been nearly two full days since you had last had contact.

There was no answer on the other end before the line went completely dead.

Did he…?

“What the —?” you pulled the phone away from your ear to look at the screen, “Did you — hello? Steven?” But when you tapped on the phone, it showed the call was no longer active.

“Damn it,” you closed your eyes, tossing the phone to the side. Whatever was going on with Steven, it was incredibly strange and you didn’t like it. Not one bit.

You knew his address — you’d never been, but you knew where he lived. Would it be ridiculously creepy for you to go over tomorrow and check in on him? Yes. But was it what you were willing to do to make sure he was okay? Also yes.

Trying to distract yourself, you took a shower and heated up some leftover pasta before calling it a night at exactly 9:24. Early, yes, but what else were you going to do for the evening?

The laundry bin in the corner of the room seemed to glare at you, as if saying ‘hey, you could clean me’, and you glared back with equal force, ‘not bloody likely.’

All of the little things would simply have to wait as you had more pressing matters at hand.

And those stupid pressing matters kept you up all night.

God, Steven’s apartment building was the physical definition of dingy and worn down.

It was hard for you to imagine Steven living here, with his books and his little fish and his charming personality. You guessed that if you really looked deeply, the building would have some sort of character. But it just wasn’t really appearing to you.

You knocked on his door before you could even register the motion, thankful for it because you just knew you’d overthink and run straight back into the elevator in a heartbeat.

“Wait — coming! — oof,” you heard Steven’s voice on the other side of the door and nearly bolted on the spot. He was here, he was okay.

What the hell would you say?

You heard the sound of peeling and clicking before the door was unlocked, your eyes meeting Steven’s through the small cracked opening. He seemed taken aback, eyes widening as he opened the door a tad more.

“Y/N?”

A light laugh left you, awkward and breathy as you fidgeted with your hands, “Steven? Are you okay?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “I — yeah, I’m okay. Why? Is everything — oh, bollocks, sorry,” he moved out of the way to let you in, and you hesitated for a second before stepping inside, “dunno why I just left you standing out there.”

You looked around his apartment, slightly impressed by the look of it. He had rows and rows of books, filled with all sorts of different texts and literatures next to large windows that overlooked the neighbourhood. The ceiling was tall, which made sense being on the top floor. His goldfish swam mindlessly in its tank, unaware as to any disturbances in the flat.

It was cozy. Slightly messy, but cozy.

Then you turned to face Steven. He looked… okay? His hair was disheveled and he had bags under his eyes, but he didn’t look like anything traumatic had happened in the last two days.

“What happened? Are you okay? I was worried sick,” you spoke up to break the tense silence, placing your hands on Steven’s arms. He seemed to like your touch, leaning a bit closer after the contact.

“I’m — why? I’m okay. I didn’t sleep too great last night, shocker, but I’m… I think I’m doing okay,” he didn’t seem thrown off or like he was trying to hide anything, his hands coming up to meet yours, “Are you feeling okay?”

You had to fight back a scoff, “Me? I’m bloody fine, Steven. You’re the one who vanished for two days.”

He stilled under your touch.

You swore you felt his blood turn to ice as his hands froze against yours, entire body stiff.

“What?”

Furrowing your eyebrows and stepping closer, you continued, “I haven’t heard from you since Thursday. I was worried sick about you. I thought something bad had happened.”

He shook his head, stepping back for a second, but not far enough to lose your touch, “Wait, why’d you say two days? It’s Friday, innit?” he looked towards the window before bringing his gaze back to you, “It’s Friday.”

Letting out a humourless, unsure laugh, you shook your head at him, “It’s Sunday.” You couldn’t tell if he was pulling your leg, but he looked so utterly confused and at a loss for words. Once again, Steven wasn’t that good of an actor.

He was quiet for a few good moments, hands still frozen against yours and eyes unblinking.

“How is that possible?” his voice was low, so low you could barely hear him.

Shrugging, you scanned his face for any signs or giveaways, “Well, I don’t know, Sunday comes after Saturday, which comes after Friday,” you lifted your hand from his arm and grabbed your phone from your pocket — which flashed the date and time — and showed it to him, “Are you telling me you missed two whole days?”

Steven pulled away from you, not in anger or because he was uncomfortable, but because he was in disbelief. He walked slowly towards his bed, hands on his head, with you following not too far behind. As he sat on the edge of the mattress, you stopped in your tracks as you noticed what was around the bed.

Sand.

And an ankle restraint.

“Steven… what’s, uh, what’s all this?” you waved your hand around, not exactly wanting to put him on the spot but your curiosity had got the best of you.

His eyes widened and he he became slightly pale, “It’s not what you think,” he stood up, moving closer to you with his hands out, “I swear. I just… how do I put this? I have a sleeping disorder. I, uh, I sleepwalk. I just want to make sure I, y’know, stay put during the night.”

Your heart sank a little for him, for how it all made sense now. How he was often sleep deprived, the way you’d caught him taking power naps in the break room during lunch, the way his eyes were darker and more sunken in today — it kind of clicked in your head and you felt terrible for not noticing it before.

He must hate going to sleep. Hate the way he didn’t know what was going to happen, if he’d just wander around the apartment or down the hall. How it seemed he was so terrified of sleepwalking that he tied himself to his bed.

“Oh, Steven,” you stepped closer, putting your hands on either side of his neck, “I’m so sorry.” You were sorry for a lot of things — prying being one of them. He looked so uncomfortable speaking about his sleeping issues and you felt awful for even bringing it up.

“I’m always here to help, you know?” he nodded lightly as you spoke, eyes finally lifting off the ground to meet yours, “I won’t pry, I swear. If you want to talk, I’m here. If you just want to take your mind off of things, I’m here. No questions asked.” If you hadn’t been staring him in the eyes the whole time you spoke, trying to emphasize your point, you would have missed the way the corner of his lips curled up in the tiniest of ways.

“I can’t believe it’s Sunday,” the tiny smile vanished and was replaced by a look of just… pure heartbreak, “That means I didn’t show up to work Friday for breakfast…,” the puzzle piece seemed to click in his head, “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, no,” you sat him down on the bed, keeping your hands on his; he seemed to like the contact, and you didn’t want him to feel like he was alone, “Don’t apologize. You’re okay, that’s all that matters. Truly. I just.. I’m worried about you. Of course I am.”

He shook his head, one of his fingers beginning to draw small figures on the back of your hand, “We had plans Friday.”

You leaned forwards, giving him a look of are you serious, before speaking up, “That doesn’t matter. I’m not mad or upset with you, Steven. I want to help you. I don’t want you to go through this alone — or ever again, really.”

He let out a shaky breath, nodding his head, “Yeah, me neither.”

It was silent for a little while, your hand rubbing up and down his arm as he let out a few deep breaths, clearly still trying to gather his thoughts. You didn’t poke, letting him have a bit of silence for a while. And he seemed to appreciate it, slouching backwards and letting himself fall into the bed. He almost dragged you down with him, but you managed to stay up.

“I’m bloody exhausted,” he spoke up after a good minute of silence, slowly sitting back up and running one of his hands through his hair before it rested against yours once again.

You gave a small pout, “I wish I could help in some way.”

He shook his head, eyes meeting yours, “Oh, believe me, just by being here you’re helping. You — yeah, you help me relax.”

Thankfully, he couldn’t see the fact that your heart grew about seven sizes larger at his words. Your chest felt warm, the rush of heat going through your entire body. You hated how his small words made you feel so fuzzy, especially when he looked so defeated and you really shouldn’t be feeling giddy right about now.

“Do you want me to stay for the day?” you asked, trying to keep your voice calm and straight though your heart was running about seven thousand miles an hour.

He nodded, “Yes,” he said it without hesitation and he seemed to notice, slightly embarrassed, “I mean, only if you want. I don’t want to keep you here if you’ve got, like, other plans or something. It’s up to you.”

You grabbed his hand, angling your face so he was looking straight at you, “Hey, I’m here. I’ll stay for the day. We can take it easy, relax, whatever you want.”

This time, he didn’t hide the smile. It caused small lines to appear around his eyes — the warm, dark eyes that you had grown so fond of. The eyes you so desperately hoped you’d never lose.

“Thank you,” he lifted one of your hands, bringing it close to his cheek and resting it against the underside of his jaw. He loved the little touches, this you could tell. Even at work, if ever you brushed your hands or helped him adjust his name tag, he’d linger towards your touch for as long as he could.

It was no secret that Steven was touch starved, which is why you took every chance you possibly could, Thursday and today, to feel his skin against yours. Your wanted nothing more than to feel the way he’d relax under your hands, the way you’d run your fingers along his arms or through his hair to soothe him.

You didn’t think you were at that stage yet, but you truly couldn’t wait to be there.

“Hey, Steven?” you broke the comfortable silence once more.

He opened his eyes — you only just realized that they were slowly fluttering shut — and raised an eyebrow, “Yeah?”

You fought a smile as his fingers lingered on your wrist, the sensitivity of the touch driving you up the bloody wall, “What’s a mummy’s favourite genre of music?”

He stopped his movements, eyes snapping up to meet yours, a smile on his lips. A smile. A true, genuine, eye-warming smile. You hadn’t even gotten to the punch line of the joke yet, but god, you’d be happy to die looking at that smile all day if possible.

Guess you’d have to come up with some clever jokes.

It was a thing you did, the little jokes. He’d always pull them out of nowhere at work to make you laugh, especially on rough days. It was only fair you’d return the favour and try to cheer him up now.

“What?” he asked, eyes looking so deeply into yours it was like you were the only thing he could see in the room. Like everything else faded away and you were the light he was clinging on to.

“Wrap music.”

taglist

(i also tagged everyone who commented for a part 2!)

@eshbadesh @neptunes-curse @youmatteralways @full-time-make-believer @multifandomsw @imagineyourworld @moon-poe @bambi-laufeyson @dopeqff @seattleiite @later-gators12 @chrisycrisp22 @themistressofzeus