#Exam cracker

[rajansmoorthy]

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[thenightmareofyourdrems]

tomorrow i will finally write, i;ve missed u all so much

[mishkakagehishka]

I have a stomachache but i'm being so brave ab it

[woodfrogs]

i want red wine and cheese and crackers and fruit so bad......... my ancestors 15 generations ago newly emigrated from france are speaking through me

[petalbcrnes]

❀﹒﹒⇅﹒𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐃𝐀𝐘﹒∿

⤷   🥝 ﹒ the bat-boys taking care of you when you’re sick !!

　　﹕   (✿˘͈ᵕ˘͈)   ┈ #directory #rules .

　　┊   ♡   ﹒  my throat hurt this morning and all i wanted to do was curl up in small ball and sleep all day,,, but alas i have exams :⁠-⁠( i managed to write general hcs for the bat-boys today <3 i use medicine jargon here, i’m not sure it’s correct so don’t get mad at me </3 i tried to use as many sources as i could.

↦   ⟡   ∬ incl  ﹒  jason, dick, damian, tim & duke.

❛   ꜝ   ┈   ✺ cw  ﹒  sfw all the way. of course there is being sick described and also some prescriptions + meds.

𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀You’re sick with a nasty cold that’s left you feeling miserable and exhausted. What started as a scratchy throat yesterday has turned into full-blown congestion, aches, and that foggy-headed feeling that makes even watching TV seem like too much effort. You’ve been trying to tough it out, but when your boyfriend finds out you’re unwell, he immediately springs into action. ✶

. 　 ✺ 　 ⁺ 𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃 ︶︶

Panics internally but tries to play it cool externally. Jason’s top priority is you and your comfort. The moment he hears your sniffles and coughs a switch is flipped in his brain. Getting sick is not something to freak out about— he knows that, but he just can’t help but worry so much.

Googles your symptoms obsessively and convinces himself you’re dying three separate times. He’s surfing the web for any kind of information to make you feel better. He mjght freak himself out a little by the information he finds, but for you he tells himself to get jt together.

Shows up with comfort food from your favorite places instead of medicine. Not that he doesn’t understand the importance of taking the correct medication. He just wants you to feel comfortable while recovering.

┄　🗨️　So I got your favorite soup, some of those crackers you like, and—... okay, I may have bought out the entire bakery section because I didn’t know what you’d want.

Reads to you in his deep, soothing voice until you fall asleep. You might have mentioned how his voice helps you relax. He remembers everything you tell him so he tries to use every way to soothe you— one of them being his voice. He’ll have his hand softly caressing you to bring you comfort as well.

Hovers awkwardly because he wants to help but doesn't want to overwhelm you. He’s trying. He really is. To Jason, all of this is fairly new— the domestic feeling of making someone tea to warm them up, tucking them in bed and checking their temperature. It’s new territory in the relationship.

Makes surprisingly good tea because Alfred taught all the boys basic care skills. Even if Jason might lack skill in making more detailed and harder dishes, simple tea he can do.

He gets in contact with Alfred. Jason asks him for advice— which blend of tea should he use? Any particular medicine he should buy? Alfred indulges him. It’s all very soft.

Jason gets genuinely upset that he can’t fight your illness for you. He’s used to dealing with his problems quickly and efficiently. Now he needs patience. It’s all different with you. He cant afford to have you in any more discomfort.

┄　🗨️　I just—... I hate that you’re hurting and I can’t do anything about it. I can fight criminals but I can’t punch a virus.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　

. 　 ✺ 　 ⁺ 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 ︶︶

Goes full mother hen mode and calls in sick to work immediately. Detective Grayson? Oh, he’s not available. Nightwing? He’s getting someone else to protect Blüdhaven tonight. You need him right now and he’s not leaving.

Shows up with half of CVS pharmacy because he wasn’t sure what kind of sick you were. He’s making sure he has all the medicine you need. He buys all sorts of medicinal tea blends— even though those test awful, he’s reminding you how much you need it and how it’ll help you recover.

┄　🗨️　Okay, I got DayQuil, NyQuil, regular Tylenol, extra strength Tylenol, throat lozenges, and—... wait, do you think you need a humidifier?

Attempts to make chicken soup from scratch despite never cooking anything more complex than cereal. Listen, he’s trying. Trying so hard for you.

┄　🗨️　The recipe says 'simmer gently' but I don't know what that means so I just... made it really hot? Why is it bubbling like that?

Keeps checking your temperature every twenty minutes “just to be sure.” He’s always near you, hovering over you and watching every twitch and move.

Insists on helping you move or just straight up carrying you everywhere, even just to the bathroom, because “you need to conserve energy.”

┄　🗨️　No, no, don’t get up! I’ll carry you. What if you get dizzy? What if you fall? I’m not risking it.

Puts on your favorite comfort movies but talks through all of them because he’s worried about you. He wants you to distract yourself from the sickness. At the same time his anxiety is through the roof. To calm down he talks to you.

Tucks you in so tightly you can barely move, claiming it's “maximum comfort optimization.” You’ll look like those blanket burritos after he’s done.

Texts the family group chat asking for medical advice and gets 47 different contradictory responses. Gives up and just calls Alfred or Bruce.

Falls asleep sitting up in a chair next to your bed because he refuses to leave your side.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　

. 　 ✺ 　 ⁺ 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 ︶︶

Damian might be more reserved when it comes to freely showing his feelings, but in this situation he’s not afraid to show how much he cares. It all comes naturally to him— he knows every step he needs to take to make sure you are recovering.

Brings you homemade remedies that are actually surprisingly effective. He made them himself. His knowledge of medicine might surprise you a little.

┄　🗨️　This is a traditional remedy. Not only does it taste good, it is affective as well. No, you don’t get to refuse it.

Sits stiffly in a chair nearby, claiming he’s “just reading” but clearly watching you. You feel his gaze. It’s like a comforting blanket.

┄　🗨️　I’m not ‘hovering,’ I’m simply ensuring you follow proper recovery steps. There’s a difference

Alfred the cat somehow ends up curled up with you because Damian thinks pets are therapeutic. He’d let Titus join in too, but the bed’s getting a little crowded. He leaves Titus with you, trusting him to be on alert.

Makes you traditional healing teas his mother taught him about. For example: Chamomile (bābūnaj) for reducing stress and anxiety, alleviating pain and discomfort, and also improving sleep and insomnia; Cardamom (hāl) is said to help digestion and increase saliva flow. Pretty expensive as well. But only the best for you.

He makes you get-well cards but leaves them on your nightstand without saying anything. Listen, he’s showing you his affection for you in everyway. Plus, the cards are beautifully done.

Insists you follow his very specific recovery regimen because “I know what's best.” He’s well versed in this type of situation and knows how to help best.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　

. 　 ✺ 　 ⁺ 𝐓𝐈𝐌 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐄 ︶︶

Creates a detailed spreadsheet of your symptoms, medications, and recovery timeline. He has everything planned out. A little overboard, but still collected about it all.

┄　🗨️　Your fever peaked at 38.6°C at 3:47 AM but it’s down to 38.1°C now, which suggests the acetaminophen is working effectively.

Sets seventeen different alarms to remind you to take medicine, drink water, eat, etc. He understands if you feel to tired for it all, but he still reminds you the importance of it all and is right next to you everytime you take your medication.

Researches your illness so thoroughly he could write a medical paper about it. Tim is already smart. He’s even more invested in this topic because it concerns you.

┄　🗨️　So, I’ve cross-referenced your symptoms with twelve medical databases and created an optimal recovery schedule. Medicine every four hours, fluids every thirty minutes. Seems easy enough.

Brings his laptop to work from your bedside so he can monitor you constantly. He’ll work while keeping an eye on you.

Orders everything you could possibly need online for same-day delivery. He’s making sure you two have everything. Nothing is overlooked.

Makes you the perfect cup of tea/coffee because he’s memorized exactly how you like it.

Tries to stays up all night watching you sleep to make sure you’re breathing okay. He does fall asleep, of course. It’s endearing, but it worries you because he might not be getting enough sleep. He relents after you ask him to rest.

Documents everything “for future reference” in case you get sick again. He’s making sure the two of you are 100% ready to take care of eachother if any of you get sick again.

┄　🗨️　what if I miss something important? What if you get worse because I wasn’t paying attention?

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　

. 　 ✺ 　 ⁺ 𝐃𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐒 ︶︶

Brings sunshine energy to your sick day, literally and figuratively. He’s probably the most collected bat-boy in this situation alongside Damian. He’s not freaking out. He knows you need him right now.

Shows up with your favorite comfort snacks and a playlist of feel-good movies. Your comfort is number one on his list of his so called ‘very affective recovery plan.’

┄　🗨️　I brought comedies, but also some documentaries in case you want something low-key. And snacks! Lots of snacks.

Uses his light powers to create soft, warm lighting that doesn’t hurt your head. His light feels so warm and soft. It isn’t too much. It’s just the right amount.

┄　🗨️　I can adjust the lighting if it’s too bright. Perks of dating someone with light powers, right?

Tells you funny stories and jokes to keep your spirits up. Makes you laugh even when you feel terrible, which somehow makes you feel better.

┄　🗨️　You laughed! That’s the first time you've smiled all day. See? Laughter really is the best medicine.

Brings you flowers or plants because “they brighten up the room.” In reality he’s the one lighting up the room.

Checks in via text constantly when he can’t be there in person. Feels a little guilty he can’t be with you all the time. The check-ins soothe his worry abit.

Makes sure you’re getting enough vitamin D by opening all the curtains. He’s making sure you’re getting some clean air as well. There’s fresh water by your bedside table all the time.

His genuine concern and sweet nature makes being sick almost worth it. Celebrates with you when you start feeling better like you've won a major victory.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　

﹒   ♪   ┊ INBOX OPEN.⠀⠀feel free to send me asks and suggestions in my inbox. ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

˖ `· . 𓏵 © 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐂𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒 don’t use my work without my consent. ... ⏤ㅤ Ⳋ ⊹

[cherrieshalo]

Princess Bath ⋆⭒˚.⋆

k.bakugo x fem!reader | fluff | slightly ooc? | 653 words

Katsuki was exhausted after a long day of classes, coming home to your shared apartment in the evening excited to finally stop and take a break from the world around him. He locked the door behind him and hung up his coat, hearing faint music playing. Based on previous patterns, Katuski figured you were most likely taking a bath. He knew that you only took baths when you had a rough day, so he took off his shoes and rushed to the bathroom with a goofy grin on his face. 

He wanted to comfort you, as he needed that same comfort right now, too. 

"Good evening, my pretty princess," Katsuki cooed softly as he stepped into the fragrant bathroom, sinking to his knees next to the bathtub and patting your head. He rested his big arms against the tub. "Such a pretty girl enjoying her little princess bath, huh?" 

Bubbles of all sizes nearly over-flowed out of the tub, a sweet aroma filling the air. The steam from the now lukewarm water fogged up the glass and the small window, evidence of the hot water of your bath being present just moments before. It was a relaxing vibe, perfect for the long day you had. 

A classical music piece played from Spotify’s ‘Recommended Songs’ playlist to enhance the relaxing mood, a fluffy towel waiting for you once you stepped out. 

You nodded, a content smile on your face. “Had a long day…and an exam.”

“Damn, I know. Me too. But at least it’s over now, yeah?” he gently ran his thumb over your cheek. You nodded once more, leaning into his touch. 

You just looked too cute to him. Katsuki looked around the dimly-lit bathroom to see if you had everything you needed. A towel, and a spare one just in case, your pajamas and undergarments already laid out, and your favourite pair of slippers. It seemed to him that you already had everything you needed. 

“I’ll be right back, pretty,” Katsuki kissed your forehead softly before standing up and exiting the bathroom. Sure you had everything you needed, but why not give you more?

He situated himself in the kitchen, grabbing a pack of strawberries from the fridge and cutting off their stems and into smaller pieces. He arranged them on your favourite plate and added some crackers before trailing back into the bathroom. He had to treat his girl, after all. 

“Aye, don’t get sleepy on me,” Katsuki huffed, closing the bathroom door with his foot and setting the plate down on the edge of the tub. “Your fingers will get all pruney and then you’ll be bitchin’ and moanin’ to me about it. Again.”

“You’d still love me anyway,” you hummed as you took a cracker off the plate and mumbled out a small thanks. 

“Unfortunately. Now, eat up. I know you don’t eat when you’re stressed so who knows the last time you fucking ate.” 

“Right now, duh.” 

“Not funny,” Katsuki rolled his eyes, sitting down cross-legged on the bathmat. 

You held out a strawberry for him to take into his mouth and he leaned in to reluctantly do so. “Maybe a little funny.” 

“Nope. Nuh-uh. Not fucking funny. Eat all of that before getting out. I’m making dinner and you’ll eat that too, you hear me?” You knew your boyfriend meant his words, he always did. He cared about your health, even if it meant being a little shithead about it. 

“I will, I promise.” 

“Good. Enjoy your bath, pretty girl. I’ll go get started on dinner,” Katsuki kissed your forehead once more before leaving the bathroom for a second time. 

You took both a cracker and strawberry into your. What a romantic your boyfriend was, even if he didn’t show them off in the most conventional ways. The warmth of your princess bath could wait, for you wanted to be in the warmth of Katsuki’s arms instead. 

© property of cherrieshalo 2025 - please do not steal or copy my work to post elsewhere

[mrsfancyferrari]

Distract You

Summary: FC43 + "Let me distract you."

Song: The Boy Is Mine · Brandy & Monica

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 5.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

The fluorescent light of your desk lamp hummed, a monotonous soundtrack to the chaos of papers spread before you. The looming university exam felt like a monstrous wave about to crash over you, threatening to drag you under the weight of differential equations and historical dates.

You chewed on the end of your pen, the taste of plastic doing little to soothe the gnawing anxiety in your stomach. Another practice problem stared back at you, mocking your inability to solve it for the tenth time.

You were determined, bordering on stubborn. This exam was everything. Good grades meant a scholarship, the scholarship meant a future, and you were not about to compromise.

Sleep was a luxury, socializing a distant memory, and food something hastily scarfed down between chapters.

A soft knock echoed through your small apartment. You ignored it, willing the person to go away. But the knocking persisted, growing more insistent.

"Just a minute!" you snapped, your voice tight with frustration. You reluctantly pushed back your chair, the screech against the wooden floor grating on your already frayed nerves.

You yanked the door open to find Franco standing there, a goofy grin plastered on his face. He was Argentinian, a whirlwind of warmth and chaotic energy who had somehow become your best friend.

He was sunshine on legs, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside you.

"Hola, estrella!" he greeted you, his accent thick and comforting. "Mind if I intrude on your scholarly pursuits?"

"Franco, I told you, I'm studying," you said, your voice sharper than you intended. "I really can't afford any distractions right now."

His smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered. He held up a brown paper bag. "I come bearing gifts! Alfajores and Argentine coffee. Figured you could use a little… fueling up."

You hesitated. The aroma of the sweet cookies and rich coffee was undeniably tempting. Your stomach rumbled in protest against the constant diet of instant noodles and stale crackers.

"Franco…" you started, then sighed. "I really shouldn't. Every minute counts."

"Every minute of staring at these dusty books is making you crazy," he countered, his eyes twinkling. "Come on, let's take a break. Just fifteen minutes. For your sanity, if not for me."

He edged his way past you, placing the bag on your cluttered desk. He surveyed the scene with a concerned frown. "Dios mio, this looks like a battlefield. You haven't slept, have you?"

"Sleep is for the weak," you mumbled, turning back to your desk.

He chuckled. "Says the woman who’s about to faint from exhaustion. Look, I get it. You’re stressed. But burning yourself out isn’t going to help. Let me distract you."

You wanted to argue, to shove him out the door and bury yourself back in your books. But the truth was, you were teetering on the edge of a breakdown. The pressure was suffocating, and Franco, with his easy laughter and genuine concern, was a welcome lifeline.

"Fifteen minutes," you conceded, pointing a finger at him. "And then you leave. No arguments."

"Deal!" He clapped his hands together, his enthusiasm infectious. He poured you a cup of coffee, the dark liquid steaming in the dim light. He unwrapped an alfajor, the sweet dulce de leche oozing from between the two delicate cookies.

You took a tentative sip of the coffee, the rich flavor instantly melting away some of the tension in your shoulders. You bit into the alfajor, the sweetness a comforting balm to your frayed nerves.

"Okay," you said, your voice slightly softer. "You have my attention. Distract me."

Franco grinned, settling onto the edge of your bed. "So, tell me about this exam. What's got you so freaked out?"

You hesitated, then found yourself pouring out your anxieties, explaining the importance of the scholarship, the pressure to succeed, the fear of failing.

Franco listened patiently, nodding occasionally, his eyes filled with understanding.

"You're putting too much pressure on yourself," he said gently when you finally ran out of steam. "You're smart, you're dedicated. You'll do fine."

"Easy for you to say," you muttered. "You're an f1 driver. You don't have to worry about things like scholarships and GPAs."

"That's true," he conceded. "But I have my own stresses, you know? Driving fast, not crashing… it's not always a picnic." He paused, then a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes.

"But that’s not the point! The point is, you need to relax. Come on, tell me something fun. What’s been making you laugh lately?"

You thought for a moment. It was hard to remember the last time you had truly laughed, but you forced yourself to think. "Okay, well, Mrs. Peterson in accounting tripped over a box in the hallway the other day and landed in a pile of paperwork. It was… kind of funny."

Franco chuckled. "See? There's still joy in the world! Now, tell me something else. Something…spicier."

You blushed, suddenly aware of how close he was sitting. You'd known Franco for years, but lately, something had shifted. The comfortable friendship was tinged with a new awareness, a fluttering in your stomach whenever he was near.

You had feelings for him, ridiculous, inconvenient feelings that you had been desperately trying to ignore.

"Um… I don't know," you stammered, suddenly flustered.

He raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Oh, come on. There must be something. A cute guy in your history class? A scandalous rumor about the dean?"

You bit your lip, your heart pounding in your chest. "There's… someone," you admitted softly. "But it's complicated."

"Complicated how?" he asked, his voice suddenly serious.

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "He's… a friend. A really good friend. And I don't want to ruin our friendship."

"Ah," Franco said softly. "I see."

An awkward silence hung in the air, broken only by the ticking of the clock. You knew you had to say something, to break the tension.

"Okay, time's up," you said, standing abruptly. "Fifteen minutes is over. Back to the books."

Franco stood as well, his expression unreadable. He picked up the empty coffee cup and the paper bag. "Alright. But promise me you'll take a real break tonight. Watch a movie, listen to music, something. Don't let this exam consume you."

"I promise," you lied, knowing full well you would probably be studying until dawn.

He walked towards the door, then paused, turning back to you. "Estrella," he said, his voice low. "Don't be afraid to take a chance. Sometimes, the best things in life are worth risking a little discomfort for."

He left, leaving you standing in your messy apartment, your head spinning. His words echoed in your mind, a confusing mix of encouragement and… something else.

You tried to focus on your studies, but Franco's face kept flashing in your mind. You replayed the conversation, analyzing every word, every gesture.

Was he hinting at something? Was he aware of your feelings? Or were you just reading too much into everything?

Hours passed, filled with more equations and historical dates, but your concentration was shot. You couldn't shake the feeling that you were missing something, that you were so focused on the future that you were ignoring the present.

The present, which included a certain Argentinian with a captivating smile and a heart of gold.

Finally, exhaustion won. You pushed back from your desk, your eyes burning, your head throbbing. You knew you couldn't study anymore, not tonight.

You grabbed your phone and scrolled through your contacts, your finger hovering over Franco's name.

What would you say? What could you say?

You took a deep breath and typed a simple message: "Movie tonight?"

The reply came almost instantly: "Pick you up in ten?"

A smile spread across your face. Maybe, just maybe, Franco was right. Maybe it was time to take a chance. Maybe, just maybe, something beautiful could bloom from the chaos of your life.

Maybe a little distraction was exactly what you needed, not just from your studies, but from the fear that had been holding you back for so long.

And as you waited for him, you realized that the biggest exam you were facing wasn't the one in your textbooks, but the one in your heart.

What had possessed you to ask him to the movies? You were a sleep-deprived, stressed-out student, and he… he was Franco. Argentinian, effortlessly cool, and possessed of a smile that could melt glaciers. What could he possibly see in you?

You splashed some water on your face, trying to look at least marginally more alive.

Ten minutes later, a gentle knock echoed through the apartment. You smoothed down your hair, took another deep breath, and opened the door.

Franco stood there, his smile even brighter than before. He was wearing a worn leather jacket and a simple white t-shirt that somehow looked impossibly stylish on him.

He had a small bouquet of vibrant sunflowers in his hand. “Ready for some movie magic, Estrella?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Ready.”

He led you downstairs and into his new charming, vintage car. The interior smelled faintly of leather and something indefinably him. As he drove, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him.

The streetlights cast long shadows across his face, highlighting the curve of his jaw and the sparkle in his eyes.

“So,” you said, trying to sound casual, “what are we seeing?”

“Ah, that’s a surprise,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. “But I promise you, it’s something you’ll enjoy.”

He pulled up to a small, independent cinema that you had never noticed before. The marquee was advertising a classic Argentinian film, "El Secreto de Sus Ojos."

“Franco,” you said, surprised, “this is… perfect.”

He grinned. “I thought you might like it. It's a bit of home, for me. And maybe a chance for you to see a little bit of my world.”

Inside, the cinema was cozy and dimly lit, smelling faintly of popcorn and old velvet. You settled into the worn seats, the anticipation buzzing between you. As the opening credits rolled, Franco leaned close and whispered, "Get ready. This is a masterpiece."

And it was. The movie was captivating, a complex and emotional story of love, loss, and justice set against the backdrop of Argentina's turbulent past.

You found yourself completely absorbed, forgetting about your exams and your anxieties. The subtitles flew by, but you barely noticed, caught in the raw emotion and the stunning visuals.

You glanced at Franco. He was completely engrossed, his face illuminated by the flickering light of the screen. A small smile played on his lips as he watched, a nostalgic warmth radiating from him.

You felt a connection to him, a sense of understanding that went beyond friendship. But the week of sleepless nights and caffeine pills caught up with you, and your eyelids started to droop.

The rhythmic dialogue, the soft darkness of the cinema, it was all too much. You found yourself drifting off, your head instinctively tilting towards Franco's shoulder.

The last thing you remembered was the comforting solidity of his presence beside you before you succumbed to sleep.

You woke up slowly, disoriented. The movie was still playing, but the credits were rolling. The theater was mostly empty, the only other occupants a couple huddled in the back row.

You blinked, trying to shake off the grogginess. Franco's hand was on your shoulder, rubbing it slowly and gently. His coat was draped over you.

He was whispering something in Spanish, his voice low and laced with concern.

"... Mi vida, tienes que cuidarte. Te amo demasiado para que te tires por la borda."

"What?" you muttered, your voice thick with sleep.

Franco froze. His hand stilled on your shoulder. His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of panic crossing his face. He seemed to realize that you were awake and had heard him.

The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the final strains of the movie's score.

"What did you say?" you asked again, your heart pounding in your chest.

He cleared his throat, his gaze darting away from yours. "I… I was just saying you should take care of yourself. You look tired. The exams… they are hard. You have to rest."

His explanation sounded rushed, unconvincing. You knew he was hiding something. The words he had spoken in Spanish, the tenderness in his voice, the look on his face – it all pointed to something more than just concern.

"No," you said, shaking your head. "Before that. You said something else. In Spanish."

He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "It was nothing. Just… worry."

"Franco," you said, your voice soft but firm. "Tell me."

He looked at you, his dark eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and something else you couldn't quite decipher. He hesitated, then seemed to make a decision.

"Okay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I said… 'My life, you better take care of yourself, I love you too much for you to throw yourself away.'"

The words hung in the air, electric and undeniable. Your breath caught in your throat. You stared at him, your mind reeling.

"You… you love me?" you managed to stammer.

He looked down, his cheeks flushed, the color contrasting starkly with his olive skin. He picked at a loose thread on his jeans. "Yes," he said, his voice low, almost ashamed. "It's stupid, I know. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Stupid? Why stupid?" you asked, bewildered. A thousand questions swirled in your head, but that one felt the most pressing.

He finally looked up at you again, his eyes filled with a raw honesty that made your stomach flip. "Because… because nothing can come of it, right? You're you. You're… magnificent. And I'm just… me."

You frowned. "Franco, that's ridiculous. You're amazing."

"Yeah, amazing at fixing your broken laptop and translating confusing Spanish homework," he said with a self-deprecating chuckle, but the humor didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Not exactly boyfriend material."

"That's not true!" you protested, the words bursting out of you before you could even think. "You're kind, you're funny, you're incredibly smart… and you're always there for me. That’s more than I can say for most people."

He looked at you, searching your face for any sign of insincerity. "But... we're friends. Best friends. I didn't want to ruin that."

"And you thought blurting out a declaration of undying love in a near-empty movie theater was the best way to preserve our friendship?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, trying to inject some levity into the situation.

He winced. "Okay, maybe the timing wasn't ideal." He paused, then added, "And maybe... maybe I hoped you felt something too. It just kind of… slipped out."

You looked away, your own emotions a tangled knot in your chest. You had always valued Franco’s friendship, relied on it even.

He was your rock in a sea of uncertainty, the one person who always understood you, who always knew how to make you laugh, even when you felt like crying.

But romance? Had you ever considered him in that way?

A memory surfaced, unbidden: a late-night study session in his tiny apartment, the air thick with the smell of coffee and burnt toast. You were huddled together on his worn couch, poring over textbooks, his arm brushing against yours.

You had felt a spark then, a fleeting awareness of him as something more than just a friend. But you had dismissed it, chalking it up to stress and sleep deprivation.

"I... I don't know what to say," you finally admitted, the honesty feeling like a weight lifted from your shoulders. "I'm just… surprised. I never thought…"

"I know," he said softly, interrupting you. "And that's okay. You don't have to say anything. Just… forget I said anything, if that's what you want. We can just go back to being friends."

The thought of going back to how things were, pretending this hadn't happened, felt unbearable. You didn't want to lose his friendship, but the idea of ignoring this newfound truth, of burying your own feelings, felt even worse.

"That's the thing, Franco," you said, turning back to him, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't think I can just forget it."

He looked at you, hope flickering in his eyes. "So… you're saying… maybe…" He trailed off, afraid to voice his expectations.

You took a deep breath. "I'm saying that you're not just my friend, Franco. You're… you're important to me. And maybe, just maybe, there could be something more."

You hesitated, then admitted the truth that had been slowly dawning on you. "I think… I think I might love you, too."

His eyes widened, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Really? You mean it?"

You nodded, a nervous smile mirroring his. "Really."

He reached out and took your hand, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. "I've been in love with you for years," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. "Ever since you helped me move into my first apartment and accidentally dropped that box of mate all over the floor."

You laughed, remembering the incident vividly. "I was so embarrassed! You just laughed and made me a cup."

"How could I not? You looked so horrified," he said, squeezing your hand. "That's when I knew. You're clumsy, and a little bit chaotic, but you have the biggest heart of anyone I know."

"And you're stubborn, and you always think you're right, but you're the most loyal and supportive person in the world," you countered, playfully nudging his shoulder.

A comfortable silence fell between you, filled only with the unspoken emotions that had finally found their way to the surface. The theater emptied around you, the cleaning crew beginning to sweep the aisles, but you didn't notice.

You were lost in each other's gaze, the world outside fading away.

"So… what now?" you asked, breaking the silence.

Franco grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Now? Now, I think we need a proper Argentinian date. Empanadas, dulce de leche, maybe even some tango lessons."

"Tango lessons? That's a little ambitious, don't you think?" you teased.

"Only if you don't trust my lead," he retorted, winking. "Besides, I'm sure I can convince my abuela to give us a few private lessons. She's a tango queen."

"Okay, okay, you've convinced me," you said, laughing. "But if I step on your toes, don't say I didn't warn you."

He stood up, pulling you up with him. "Come on," he said, his hand still holding yours. "Let's get out of here. I know a place that makes the best empanadas in the city."

As you walked out of the theater, hand in hand, the city lights seemed to shine a little brighter, the air felt a little warmer.

The world, which had always felt familiar and comfortable with Franco by your side, now felt vibrant and full of possibilities. . . .

[thenightmareofyourdrems]

|| i suddenly want to do Gen v stuff

[kira-fluff]

hello! if its okay with you, i’d like to request fluff/comfort with mikey from tr. i’ve been in a mental slump lately and contrary to the whole “worst boyfriend” ranking, i feel like he’d be great at comfort if we gave him the chance :3

whatever you need - mikey sano x fem!reader

after getting let go, you'd been struggling. thank goodness for boyfriends. (fluff/comfort) tw: language, mental health struggles, getting fired a/n: i hope you've been feeling better as of late. just finished my last exam, i have a presentation tomorrow, but i'm not worried about it. thankfully finals are mostly over so i have time to write! thanks for requesting. i love me some mikey. worst boyfriend slander will not be tolerated!! i gotchu

you couldn't seem to catch a break. just when you thought you were crawling out of this hole you didn't even dig yourself, something (or someone) would push you down further. was there really a way out? nope. clearly not. of course you were fired. well, "let go" as he said. your asshole of a boss sat you in his office and said, "i'm afraid we're gonna have to let you go." like it was this sad, reluctant choice he simply had to make. a sacrifice. but you could tell by his expression he was anything but remorseful. the worst part was that the company was flooded with cash, and you'd not be prideful to say you were a major contributor in that success. so why were you let go? because the business was "expanding" and therefore, there needed to be "reprioritizations" made. which basically just means you weren't worth keeping on board the ship. probably because you're a woman and god forbid any female succeed in the workplace. whatever. fuck him. it was all so overwhelming anyway. your sleep schedule was - is - fucked. all the work you're putting in and was it even worth it?

you ignored the sense of dread pooling in your stomach whenever your eyes happened a glance on your bank app. funds weren't going to be coming in any time soon. sighing, you powered off your phone, chucking it to the side of your bed. before you realized it, a week had passed. a week of productivity? no. a week of bed-rotting. a week of napping, getting up to eat a few crackers, and then trudging back to sleep. it's what you deserved for busting your ass for an ungrateful corporation and an ungrateful piece of shit boss. you just wanted to close your eyes forever and forget about the world for a little bit. was that so wrong? mikey was gone visiting takemichi, so it's not like you needed to try to look cute. just a little longer. just a little longer.

-

you heard a faint thudding sound. you groaned and rolled over on your bed, covers twisted around your form, your hair tangled and knotted. the sound was getting louder. were you getting robbed? eh, what does it matter. it wasn't like you had anything of value in here anyway. covering your ears with your pillow, you burrowed deeper into your blankets, basking in their warmth. thankfully, the thudding noise stopped. it was probably just your dryer, which you're fairly certain is possessed by satan (not that you'd done laundry in... awhile.) your peace was short lived. suddenly, you heard a sound that was suspiciously akin to the bolt of your front door being unlocked. your eyes shot open, but you were too scared to move as you heard your front door burst open. maybe they won't know i'm here if i just lie still. maybe they'll think i'm dead. loud steps made a beeline for your room - a voice getting closer, mumbling something under their breath. if you got up now, the intruder would surely know. throwing the covers over your face, you hoped maybe they'd mistake you as some extremely large body pillow. the thief stopped at the entrance to your room. you held your breath, hoping he'd move on and maybe steal your microwave instead. could this month get any worse? there was an exasperated sigh. "what are you doing." it wasn't a question, more just a statement. and you recognized that voice. shit. what's the date today? the mystery intruder, you realized, was actually your boyfriend mikey. but he sounded kind of pissed. so... you decided to play dead a little longer. the loud thumps of his boots came closer to you and without warning, he ripped the covers off of your body before returning his hands to his pockets. his eyebrow raised in a mix of confusion and perhaps a bit of concern. he repeated, "what are you doing, y/n?" you blinked up at him slowly, your eyes trailing up and down his body. "you look nice. back from takemichi's?" he moved closer. "you weren't answering any of my calls or texts. couldn't even find your location. did you turn off your phone?" your brows furrowed in puzzlement. you looked around your room, realizing it had been at least a couple days since you'd last seen your phone, much less heard from it. you were shocked to find it lying next to you. pressing the power button, you watched the screen ignite back to life. "oh. sorry. turned it off. i was tired." his voice rose in frustration, "for how long? i tried to text you on monday and you didn't answer." you paused. "...what day is it today...?" mikey's eyebrows rose in worry. "it's sunday. i've been trying to get ahold of you for almost a week. y/n, what's going on?" you frowned, biting your lip to stop it from quivering and shook your head. don't cry. don't cry. don't cry.

"got fired. yay..." you said with no enthusiasm, your voice breaking at the end of your sentence. he blinked. "what? when?" "last friday. well, last last friday, i guess." his shoulders lowered and he let out a deep sigh, running his fingers through his hair. "shit, i was so worried i sounded like such an asshole just now. 'm sorry babe." slowly, he sat down next to you on your bed, shucking off his boots. "he didn't even give me a good reason. like, they're "expanding"?? doesn't that mean you can afford to keep your most loyal workers??" "i always fuckin' hated that guy." "i just--" you tried (and failed) to hold back a sob, "i just don't know what i could've done differently!" you cried, tears streaking down your cheeks. "it's not a 'you' problem, babe, it's their fucking loss." "but there had to have been something i did wrong!" "there isn't." "maybe i should've--" "hey, look at me. please?" you stopped midsentence, adjusting your gaze to meet his eyes for the first time. cupping your cheek in his palm he smiled sadly, "sometimes it's not you. sometimes there's nothing you coulda done better in a situation because you weren't the problem to begin with. and that's ok, because you don't deserve to be around piece of shit people like that anyway, ya know?" "i know, but--" "but nothing. i know i can't convince you, but i want you to know that i think you deserve the fucking moon. i'd get it for you if you asked. somehow." you laughed wetly, "well, you do have connections." a corner of his mouth turned up. "yeah." his voice was uncharacteristically soft as he pulled a strand of your hair back behind your ear. "and 'm gonna take care of you know, you know that. whatever you want. whatever you need tonight. i'll make it happen, ok?" "it's just... what i need is a job, and i've just been lazing around all week and i don't even know where to start..." without a moments hesitation he said, "work for me." "but wouldn't that be--" "i'm the boss, i make my own rules. shit, you don't even have to work. like i said, i'll take care of you." "no, no i want to work. but i'm probably not qualified enough to work for you..." "who says?" "well, you haven't even looked at my resume...isn't that, i don't know, kind of nepotism-ish?" mikey grinned. "yeah, because everyone else that works for me got their jobs through hard work." "ok, ok, but...thank you. ok." you sighed. "it's gonna be ok. 'm here now."

-

mikey truly meant it when he said he'd take care of you. as soon as he helped dry your tears, he got your into your bathtub and helped you wash up, gently massaging shampoo and conditioner into your scalp while you scrubbed soap on your arms. he sprinkled light kisses on your forehead and cheeks as he helped you dry off. when you finally settled back into bed, cozy and clean, mikey was right there by your side. not ten minutes later, your favorite chocolate and ice cream was delivered to your door. when you turned back to say thank you, he waved you off, gesturing you to come back to your bed so you both could watch a movie. in the best way, mikey helped you forget. or at least let go. in a way. you spend the rest of the weekend binging your favorite shows. what others might not suspect is just how physical mikey is in his affection. he was showed more than told, and it was the same in his love for you. in those moments you spent together, he clung to your side, as if he had to have at least some part of his body touching yours at all times. when at last he had to leave to go back to his penthouse to "make some calls" (you suspected he had mountains of work to do), he'd already tried to convince you at least a dozen times to move in with him, which you staunchly refused because 1) you can't afford to help pay for whatever the hell he pays to live in a fucking penthouse and 2) you're not about to freeload. but as he said his final goodbye with a chaste kiss on your lips, you wondered if maybe you could finally give in and let someone take a little more care of you, after all, he'd shown you just what it felt like to not have to worry so much about your own needs.

-

back at his penthouse, mikey quickly dialed a familiar number. "hey. it's me. yeah. think you can take care of it for me?" there was a pause. "i don't care what you do to him so long as it's painful." another pause. "make sure to keep this underwraps. remember, it's all an 'accident'. if you can't do it, i'll go take care of it myself. bye."

a/n: mmm protective mikey y'all

[nina-ya]

Law Helping You Study (NSFW)

Pairing: Law x AFAB Reader CW: Oral (reader receiving), fingering, uh i think thats it??? WC: 2.5k A/N: This was meant to be a self indulgent Law helping you study thing but idk what happened I blacked out and now its NSFW lol. I might write a part 2 with what happens after the end of this one but for now here have this <3 Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

“Wrong”  Law's deep voice declared from across from you, causing you to look up, irritation flashing through you.

“What? No, I can’t be wrong.” you insisted, narrowing your gaze at the man in front of you.

Law raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide the amused smirk playing on his lips “Your flashcards don’t lie” 

“Well the flashcards are wrong.” you retorted, crossing your arms defensively.

Law leaned back, studying you with a bemused expression. “But you made them.” 

You let out a frustrated groan, tossing yourself back onto the bed, and running your hands across your face. The stress of the upcoming exam was getting to you, and it seemed Law was enjoying the spectacle.

“You need a break.” Law suggested, putting the flashcards to the side. 

You shot him a skeptical look as you responded, “since when are you one to take breaks?”

“Since I can practically see the steam pouring out of your ears.” he deadpanned, gesturing to your visibly agitated state. 

You sighed deeply and rolled your eyes. Law was right, and you knew it. You needed some sort of destresser before you blew up. You propped yourself onto your elbows and looked at Law. “Fine, a break,” you conceded. “But only a short one.”

Law nodded and got up, putting all of the study materials aside and walking away from your study area. He gestured for you to follow him. You reluctantly got up from the comfort of the bed and followed as he led you into the kitchen. He found himself digging through the fridge, pulling out some random ingredients.

“You could’ve just said you were hungry.” You said as you observed the items he was pulling out of the fridge. 

“It’s not for me, It's for you.” he stated matter-of-factly. “Three cups of coffee, an energy drink, and some cheese and crackers is not proper sustenance.” 

“I don't know, that feels like more than enough sustenance to me.” you retorted, a playful smile forming on your lips. 

“Ahuh, sure. Sit.” He said, gesturing for you to take a seat at the small kitchen table, and you complied. You watched as he threw together a simple sandwich for you, placing it on a plate and pushing it towards you along with a glass of water. You seemed to relax as you took the sandwich in your hand, taking small bites out of it. 

As you made your way through your sandwich, Law leaned forward on the counter, looking at you as he stated, “You seem to be struggling.”

“Excellent observation, Sherlock.” You retorted, finishing the last bits of your sandwich. 

“Still snippy. I thought food was supposed to calm you or something.” He said with amusement, shrugging as he pulled the plate from in front of you, putting it in the sink. 

“There’s nothing calming about feeling like I’ll never understand this subject.” You whined out, dropping your head onto the counter as you let out a groan of frustration. 

Law looked at your state of despair and watched as you lost hope. He suddenly spoke up. “Maybe you need to look at it in a different direction.”

“Huh?” You asked, lifting your head up from the counter to make eye contact with him.

“You need to switch up your studying. Change something in your routine to make studying more tolerable, and hopefully enjoyable.” He said thoughtfully.

“Enjoyable? You severely overestimate just how enjoyable studying can be.” You countered with a groan, clearly not wanting to hear him out.

“Humor me.” he stated plainly. He walked out of the kitchen and waited for you to follow, leading you back to your study area.

You sat down on the bed once more, feet dangling off the edge as Law took a seat in a small chair across from you. He pulled out the study materials, sorting through them as he started, “Studying won't do you any good if you aren’t motivated. You look at each of these flash cards as if they are the enemy.” He waved the flash cards in front of you for emphasis as he continued, “How does a reward system sound?”

“Rewards?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the thought, “Like what?” you asked.

He leaned over to a nearby drawer and rummaged around. As he did so he started to explain, “Let’s say for every 5 questions in a row you get right, you get to take a 5 minute break or…” he trailed off as he seemed to be looking for something. Then, he sat back up, a plastic bag in hand as he continued, “I knew you had these,” he muttered to himself triumphantly. He held up the plastic bag, and in that moment, you realized it was your stash of chocolates, “How about, for every question you get right, you get a piece of chocolate?” 

“This is stupid.” You say with a deep sigh, the motivation to study having evaded you hours ago.

Law continued, trying to convince you to give his idea a shot. “It’s not stupid, It’s basic psychology. Do you have any better ideas anyways?”

You stared at him for a moment before sighing in defeat. He smirked at this small victory as he placed the bag of chocolates in his lap, getting into a comfortable position to start with your new study session.

Law held the flash card in your face, and your eyes scanned over the question, reading it carefully. You thought for a moment and perked up as you nearly shouted out an answer. A smirk spread across Law's lips as he placed the flash card down and grabbed a piece of chocolate, tossing it to you. 

The next flash card is up. You thought hard for a moment once more and recited another correct answer. Once again, he grabbed a piece of chocolate, tossing it to you.

Next question. He held the flashcard up and you thought over the content before starting to slowly and unsurely speak. As the wrong answer spilled from your lips, Law’s eyebrows raised as to indicate that you are on the wrong track. You noticed this and hesitantly changed your answer, this time saying the right one.

He nodded his head at you and pulled out another chocolate. This time, being a little more brave as he leaned forward and held the chocolate in front of your mouth. Your eyes flickered between the chocolate and his eyes, your brain stopping momentarily at the action. Nevertheless, you leaned forward and accepted the chocolate, taking it from his fingers. Your tongue ran against the tip of his fingers and  your lips enveloped the digits as you did. When he pulled his fingers away, a small string of saliva connected your lips to his fingers for a moment before it snapped. His eyes grew darker as they fixated on your dampened lips before pulling his hand back towards him.

This action did not go unnoticed by you, as your breathing deepened slightly, heart starting to thump harder in your chest and a slight heat building in your core. You simply stared at him, shifting slightly as you instinctively rubbed your thighs together, seeking any friction of sorts to relieve yourself of this sudden rise in tension. 

He pulled out another flash card and held it in front of you, the fingers that were just in your mouth seconds ago dampening the card underneath. You had to forcefully rip your eyes from his gold ones in order to focus on the question in front of you. 

‘I wonder what he tastes like… wait, that's not what the flash card says… those fingers, that hand, what would that look like around my throat?... Shit! Get yourself together!’

“Having trouble there?” Your heart raced as Law’s voice broke your swirling thoughts, bringing you back into the present moment. You blinked rapidly, trying to regain your composure as you tore your gaze from his intense stare.

“Uh, no, I’m fine,” you stammered, attempting to regain focus on the flashcard in front of you. Your mind was still reeling from the unexpected intimacy of moments ago. The question seemed to wash away before your eyes, the words blurring together as you grappled with the sudden rise in this unexpected desire.

With a shaky breath, you managed to refocus, mentally berating yourself for letting your intrusive thoughts take over. 

“What's the answer?” Law prompted, his tone colored with amusement as he watched you struggle to conceal your emotions.

You forced yourself to ignore the lingering sensations as you recited the correct response. Relief washed over you as Law nodded in approval, his expression rather unreadable at this point. He reached for another piece of chocolate and held it out to you. You hesitated, heart racing as you looked at the compromising position you are once again in with his tattooed fingers delicately holding out the chocolate to your lips.

Without thinking, you leaned forward, parting your lips to accept the offering. As the chocolate met your tongue, you closed your eyes briefly, savoring the sweetness that flooded your senses. Your eyes fluttered open to the feeling of Law’s hand moving, his hand now gently cupping your chin with his thumb resting on your bottom lip. 

You locked eyes with him and you froze, most of the chocolate still poking out of your mouth, being held in place by your teeth as you dared not move. Heat rose to your face and your breathing quickened as his gaze bore into yours, dark and intense. 

Without a word, he closed the remaining distance between you two, his lips parting to meet yours. He gently bit down on the chocolate as his lips brushed against yours with a soft touch, sending shivers down your spine. 

You gasped softly, your heart pounding in your chest as his lips pressed more firmly against yours, the kiss growing more insistent with each passing second. His hand slid from your chin to the curve of your jaw, holding you in place. Your lips parted instinctively, allowing him access as his tongue slipped past, tasting the remaining remnants of chocolate on your tongue.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you surrendered to the intoxicating sensation, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss with desire. Without breaking the kiss, Law rose from his chair, his hands finding their way to your shoulders, gently urging you back onto the bed. You complied without hesitation, sinking into the softness of the mattress as he hovered over you. 

His hands roamed freely, tracing your body, gently touching and grabbing everything within his reach. His lips began to trail down your neck, each press of his lips onto your skin sending your mind into a haze with a desire that bordered on intoxication.

You arched into his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips as his hands explored every inch of your skin. Law’s hands roamed under the fabric of your shirt, and with a desperate touch, he guided the shirt over your head, discarding it with a sense of urgency.

Exposed and vulnerable beneath his gaze, you watched as he leaned down, and you sharply gasped when his lips started trailing down your chest, each touch growing that feeling in your core. You arched into his touch; every caress left you yearning for more, aching with a need only he could satisfy.

Laws hand reached behind your back, his fingers working at the clasp of your bra, releasing it with ease. He tossed the garment aside, not particularly caring about where it ended up. You gasped as his hands met your bare chest, his touch sending shivers down your spin as he grabbed and squeezed at the skin. His fingers teasingly ran over your hardened nipples, chuckling lightly at the reaction he pulled from you when he gave one of them a squeeze.

Your breathing shuttered as his lips closed around one of your buds, his tongue flicking and teasing with a skill that left you trembling with pleasure. Each movement sent waves of ecstasy crashing over you.  

Law's lips traveled lower, leaving a trail of kisses along your abdomen, the feeling of pleasure coiling tightly in the pit of your stomach. Your breath hitched as his hands slid lower, tracing your hips with a light touch.

He lets out a low groan of desire as he pressed his lips against the skin just above the waistband of your pants, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. You whimpered out at the sensation, your breath shaky as he teased you.

In one smooth motion, he rid you of your pants and underwear, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable beneath his gaze. His eyes bore into you with complete and utter desire as he took in the sight of you. He closed the gap, and his mouth found its way onto your dripping core, having you moan out in utter pleasure at the feeling. Your fingers dug into the sheets as he worked his tongue on you. Each flick of his tongue around your sensitive bud had you trembling.

You writhed under his touch, your body involuntary moving as the pleasure threatened to consume you whole. But Law held you down, his hands gripping your hips firmly. “Stop squirming,” he murmured his voice low and commanding as he continued his relentless assault.

Law wasn’t content with just his mouth, he wanted to drive you to the edge with the help of his fingers as well. He slipped two of his fishers between your thighs, the digits easily sliding in with the help of your wetness, and soon the ‘E’ and the ‘A’ of his knuckle tattoos disappeared deep within you as he explored your depths. You moaned out, back arching as his fingers and his tongue tortured you, tightening that coil that's threatening to snap with each passing moment. You cried out his name, your voice a desperate plea for release as he brought you closer and closer to answering your prayers. 

With a final thrust of his fingers, he sent you hurdling over the edge, your body convulsing, thighs clenching around his head as a tidal wave of pleasure washed over you. He lapped up your dripping desire with hunger, riding you through your orgasm. Your heart raced and your chest heaved as you lay spent and breathless beneath him. 

He brought his head up from between your thighs, your essence dripping from his chin as he stared at you with a shit-eating grin. He wiped away your arousal with his fingers, popping them into his mouth to lick them clean.

Law was not content with just tasting you; he wanted to feel you. He discarded his shirt, revealing the large tattoo that adorned his chest. His gaze burned with hunger as he leaned down to kiss you once more, his hips planting themselves between your legs, grinding against you as he chased any sort of friction to release his own pent up desires. 

What was meant to be a simple study session has quickly faded into a moment filled with complete and utter desire. Sounds of shared pleasure soon fill the room, studying being the last thing on anyone's mind as you two get lost in the feeling of absolute bliss.

[yuukoviejackal]

Here are comforting headcanons for Lilia Vanrouge x Reader with ARFID, in both platonic and romantic tones:

🦇 Platonic Comfort Headcanons

He Doesn’t Judge. Ever. Lilia has lived for centuries. He’s seen strange eating habits, otherworldly diets, and customs far beyond NRC’s scope. When you tell him about your ARFID, he immediately understands it’s not “just picky eating.”

Lilia Turns It Into a Game: He offers small portions of foods you already like in cute shapes, playful arrangements, or themed around little jokes. “Ah, so we meet again, Mighty Toast Warrior. Shall we attempt battle?” He always keeps it lighthearted to ease pressure.

Protects You from Peer Pressure: If anyone teases you during lunch or makes a comment like, “You’re eating that again?” Lilia appears behind them with a sweet smile and softly says, “How very brave of you to criticize someone else’s survival. Shall I cook your next meal?” That shuts them up.

Always Makes Sure You’re Fed: He checks in during long days or exams to make sure you’ve had something — even if it’s just a safe snack. He’ll bring you crackers, dry cereal, or something comforting and say, “I thought this might help you feel more like yourself.”

Gives You Control: He never pushes. He always asks, “Would this be okay?” or “Is today a ‘no food’ day?” And if it is, he just nods and quietly stays nearby to keep you company anyway.

💜 Romantic Comfort Headcanons

Gentle, Patient, Endlessly Supportive: When you open up about ARFID, Lilia doesn’t flinch or misunderstand. He smiles softly, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and says, “Thank you for trusting me with something so personal, little bat.”

Cooks With You (but Not For You at First): Knowing his cooking is famously awful, he asks you to guide him through your safe recipes. It’s less about the food and more about being beside you, laughing at his “absolute culinary restraint.”

Affection Over Expectation: Even on days when eating is out of the question, he still gives you forehead kisses, wraps you in his arms, and sways you gently to music. “Your body’s just as worthy of love when it’s struggling,” he reminds you.

Praises Small Victories: If you try a new food or even manage to think about trying, he’s genuinely proud. “My brave darling,” he whispers, voice full of reverence. “You’ve won a quiet battle today, and I’m honored to witness it.”

Lilia Notices the Signs: If you start showing signs of shutdown or food anxiety (avoiding the dining hall, getting overwhelmed), he gently takes your hand and whisks you away to a quiet courtyard or your room, where he already has your favorite snacks or drinks waiting.

Physical Comfort Always Available: On days when the guilt hits hard, or your stomach hurts from eating too fast, or you just need to cry about how frustrating it is — Lilia holds you close, hums low lullabies from Briar Valley, and whispers that you are so much more than what you can or can’t eat.

[withlovemark]

all of the moments that led me to you.

warning: steve's black eye (nothing new), violence, mentions of blood, a fight between steve x billy

pairing: steve x reader, light billy x reader (not really, this isn't a love triangle lol)

words: 4.5k+

summary: the title speaks for itself -- a series of moments with steve harrington

an: i was going to post everything as one fic but i kind of hit writer's block in the middle of year 1985 so i'll post this for now instead and hopefully gain some inspiration to continue :)

-

yr. 1984

i. the first meeting ft. dustin henderson

the words “code red” hitting your ears every five seconds, the stomping of feet running around the house, the back door opening and closing several times - babysitting is weird. not one kid is ever the same, some are easy-going, others can be a real pain in the ass. 

you hoped you got an easy kid today. one that just stays in front of the television, binging on crackers and occasionally asking for your help. obviously, you were wrong. 

if it wasn’t for the fact that it pays well while simultaneously allowing you to do some of your own studies and looking good on your college resume, you wouldn’t even be here.

but you are here. seated inside the henderson household. 

“hey y/n, can you please drive me to my friend mike’s house?,” dustin runs into the living room, an exasperated expression on his face, interrupting your reading. 

“are you okay?” you ask, worried about the kid you just met when his mother called an hour ago trailing on about how she saw your babysitting flyer some time back. and even though she knew that she had to book a date at least two days beforehand, she still asked if you could watch over her son. 

“just for today” she said, as she needed to look for her missing cat. her promise of double pay, convincing you to accept her request. 

“i’m fine, i just really need you to drive me to mike’s,” dustin says hurriedly, eyes hopeful that you wouldn’t ask anymore questions. 

“why?” you ask and the boy’s shoulder slumps, doing his best to not roll his eyes at your persistence. he’s obviously not used to  asking for permission. 

“i uhm forgot my book there and i really, really need it to study for my exam tomorrow,” he sends you a toothy grin, trying to convince you that that was all there is to it. you’re no fool. you notice the slight change in his voice, his fingers anxiously playing with his pockets, right leg slightly bouncing up and down - indications that he’s lying.

“you know your mom’s not paying for my gas, right?” you reason, not wanting to give in to his request and hoping you could just have a calm afternoon.

dustin sighs, his smile disappearing, “fine. i’ll just go behind your back and bike there and if i end up missing or in a ditch somewhere then it’ll be your fault,” he counters, personality quickly switching from the boy who said “please.” 

you sat there, flabbergasted, “are you…blackmailing me right now?” an eyebrow raising, you couldn’t believe how diabolical the curly headed boy is. 

“i’m not blackmailing you. i’m simply telling you what's going to happen if you don’t drive me,” he smiles, an almost devilish smile, tone hardening with every word and you truly do not know whether you’re terrified or impressed. 

letting out a quiet chuckle, you shake your head, “alright, c’mon kid,” you say, grabbing your car keys off the table, “but we’re going back as soon as you get it.”

——

you should’ve known not to trust him, finding yourself hurriedly getting into the back seat of the car of the last person you ever expected to interact with - steve harrington. 

pushing his forgotten red roses towards the other end of the car, you take your seat in the middle. 

“wh-what are you doing?” dustin turns from the passenger seat, facing you as steve takes in your presence, eyes on his rearview mirror, a confused expression evident on his face. 

“y/n l/n?,” he questions, finally remembering where he has seen you before, “you’re in nancy’s grade?,” he asks, more a question for himself than you. 

you nod, “steve harrington,” acknowledging his presence for the first time. 

 “why are you with dustin?” he wonders. he didn’t know much about you. only that you and nancy were sometimes studying in the library together. she’s told him before that you always get the top grades in class and she wanted to be around more motivated people like you. 

“i’m his babysitter and i’m coming with,” you simply answer his question, keeping the explanation short. it’s weird enough that you were inside the car of hawkin high’s famous “king.”

“since when did you have a babysitter dude,” steve reverts his attention back to dustin. 

“i'll explain later,” dustin reassures him quickly before turning back to you,  “and uhm, you don’t have to come, i have steve now,” he points to the guy in the driver seat like you don’t see him. 

from what you’ve heard about steve, you’re not sure you trust leaving the young boy with him. he’s known for being notorious, having bad company and overall, just a guy with the money, the looks and the popularity that somehow has every girl wanting him and every boy wanting to be him. you’re not sure how that guy can be trusted with kids.

subconsciously, you eye steve suspiciously, causing him to put two hands up in surrender “hey, i have no idea what’s happening either,” he defends, shrugging nonchalantly. 

snapping out of your daze, you focused your attention back on dustin, “look dustin, steve isn’t the one being paid to watch you right now,” you start to explain.

“hold on, you’re getting paid for this?” the older boy interrupted.

you ignore him, attention still on dustin, “if something were to happen to you, your mom would be looking for me. i’m responsible for you kid, i-,”

“fine! there’s no time,” he cuts you off, obviously in a rush. 

“you can come, just,” dustin contemplates, already regretting the words that slipped from his lips, “just don’t blame me for getting you into this thing.”

at that, steve snaps back to reality, “wait, wait, wait, if this ‘thing’ is about ‘that’ then she definitely can NOT come,” steve declared, his voice laced with a seriousness you didn’t think he could have. 

“well, are you going to drag her out of the car so she doesn’t find out about this thing?,” the younger boy replies, a sarcastic tone evident on his lips. 

“guys, i can hear you,” you piped in, eyes going back and forth between the two boys, having absolutely no clue what they’re referring to. 

“dustin, im not joking ok!,” steve ignores you, “we can’t tell people about this,” a serious expression appearing on his face, one you’ve never seen on him before, “we’ll get in trouble, you know that. besides, we shouldn’t involve anyone else into this anyway!,” he protested. 

he didn’t sound like the steve you would hear about at school. he sounded responsible, protective. he sounded like…a babysitter. 

“i know that steve, that’s why i told her to leave!,” dustin shouted. 

“well, she’s clearly still sitting in the backseat of my car!,” steve’s voice raises with every syllable. 

“can someone just explain what’s happening?” you try butting in, rolling your eyes, completely fading into the background as they continue their bickering.

“i don’t see YOU trying to do anything about it!,” dustin throws the argument back to steve, his patience on thin ice.

“she’s YOUR babysitter!,” steve points out yet again, ears turning red, veins popping and finally pushing the young boys’ limit. 

“fuCK!, we don’t have time for this steve, we really have to go NOW!” dustin shouts, losing his temper. 

steve, ready to reprimand him, before you decide you’ve had enough.

the series of “thing” and “this” has your mind spinning and your curiosity getting the best of you.  

“SHUT UP!” gaining the two boys’ attention, their bodies turning towards you, “both of you. shut. up.” you enunciate, loud and clear.  

“i promise i won’t blame you…or you,” glancing at the two boys, “for whatever the hell this thing is…just put your seatbelts on and drive,” ending their argument as you sat behind the passenger seat, clicking your own seatbelt into place. 

steve gives up, letting out a sigh, “fuck it,” before finally stepping on the gas. 

ii. the babysitters and an angry billy hargrove

you should have never picked up mrs. henderson’s call and you definitely shouldn’t have agreed to babysitting. what was the point of having your own terms and conditions when you didn’t even follow them yourself?

you should, however, have listened to steve and dustin when they told you to leave.

the day isn’t even over yet and you’re already questioning everything you knew. in a span of a couple of hours, you have been introduced to a world you couldn’t even imagine. having to pinch yourself a couple of times to make sure you weren’t just dreaming. 

everything was strange. 

you’ve spent the whole afternoon dropping meat, trying to bait something called a demogorgon. met steve’s spiked bat. got questioned regarding your relationship with billy hargrove from his very own red headed step-sister. came face to face with the said demogorgon, who, by the way, had demogorgon friends and were actually a pack of demodogs. almost died in a junkyard. walked in the dark woods just to end up in a creepy laboratory. felt the awkward tension between steve, nancy and jonathan. understood why will byers was called the zombie boy. stood behind steve while holding a random kitchen knife you grabbed from the byers’ kitchen — and to top it all off, encountered a little girl who flung the finally, very dead demogorgon through the window then unlocked the front door, all using only her mind. 

in conclusion, monsters and superpowers aren’t just a thing people read in their comic books.

“how are you holding up?” steve breaks you out of your thoughts, your eyes snapping to his voice. 

everyone else has left, leaving you the only two teenagers to act as the adults once again. 

the strangest thing of all of this was somehow, steve harrington went from being the popular jock to a guy whose simple presence can provide you comfort. everything you knew about him has changed. 

it’s amazing what shared trauma could do. 

you shoot him a small smile, “well, i definitely wasn’t expecting all this,” you look around the mess around you, “to be a part of that thing” you refer back to the boys’ banter, trying to keep the energy light despite everything that happened. 

he gives you a sheepish smile,  almost like he was sorry, regretting that he allowed you to be a part of this. 

“it’s not your fault. i chose to come,” you say, reading his thoughts and putting an end to them. 

“where did you put the demogorgon?” you continue, changing the subject, reassuring him that you were ok. at least, as much as anyone could be ok in this situation. 

“we stuffed it in the fridge,” he shakes his head, arms crossing, like he couldn't believe it himself, “‘for science’ dustin said,” steve quotes the younger boy with a grin.  

“right, of course, all the important things,” you chuckled, matching his grin as the two of you continued to clean the broken fragments that have scattered around the house. 

you thought it was over, that you could all just wait for everything else to unfold in peace but after a few minutes of silence, the kids were back on their feet, ready to "get off the bench.” you’re not sure how steve has the energy to continue arguing with them when you’re completely exhausted. 

the sound of an engine brings a silence to the house, max running towards the blinds recognizing the car that has made an appearance in the driveway, “shit, it’s billy, he can’t see me,” she says frantically, eyes meeting yours, a silent call for help. 

“i got it, just hide,” you hushly ordered, quickly making your way to the front porch. steve tried pulling you back but you were out the door before anyone could protest, resulting in him looking through the peephole. 

billy’s momentarily confused expression at your arrival wasn’t lost on you and if you were in his shoes you’d probably have the same one on, “hey sweetheart, what are you doing here?,” his husky voice taking up space in the cold, night air.

standing a couple steps away from him, his hand immediately finds a spot on your waist, pulling you closer. you placed a hand on his chest to keep some distance between the two of you, aware of the audience you have, “i’m babysitting a kid, his friend lives here,” you explain, smiling sweetly at him, hoping that he won’t suspect anything and leave as soon as he came. 

“have you seen my sister?” he asks breathily, face inching closer and closer to yours, a smirk on his lips. if it was any other day, you would have enjoyed his attention, maybe even be up for some fun. right now though, you just want him as far from max as possible. 

“no, why would she be here?,” feigning innocence, you hope he believes your lie. 

“she’s been hanging out with a couple of kids here, a bunch of bad influences,” he huffed, eyes quickly glancing around you before pulling you even closer.

“i haven’t seen her, she’s probably at the arcade, have you checked?,” you hope he doesn’t hear the shakiness in your voice. 

“you know what i like about you sweetheart?,” he muttered, placing a harsh kiss below your ear, his grip on your waist starting to dig into your skin. you know he has caught you. 

“you can’t lie for shit,” pulling you away from him, gaze darkening, he howled with laughter as you followed his line of vision, seeing four kids peeking through the window — one, with very bright red hair. 

frustrated curses slip from your lips as you shoot them an angry glance before billy grabs your wrist, dragging you right behind him as he pounded on the door, coming face to face with steve. 

“harrington, am i dreaming or is that you?,” he mocks, his hold on your wrist tightening. 

“yeah it’s me, don’t cream your pants,” steve rolls his eyes, hands on his hips like a disappointed mother. 

steve notices you wince under billy’s hold, “let her go man,” he orders, taking a step towards the wider boy. 

billy focuses his attention back on you, for a second you see a feeling of betrayal flash through his eyes but that was quickly replaced with a snarled expression, like he was completely disgusted with the thought of you. 

“is there a reason why you both are here alone?” his dark voice causes goosebumps to rise throughout your body. 

you’ve heard of how violent he can be but until right now, he has never shown that side to you. 

“what are you saying?,” you almost couldn’t recognize him anymore, breath hitching in your throat. 

“are you fucking him behind my back, sweetheart?,” billy’s voice grew menacing, “you know i don’t like to share,” he continued accusing you, his free hand coming in contact with your neck, forcing you to look at him. 

“dude, no. we’re babysitting,” steve answers for you and motioning towards the kids like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.  

“you’re hurting her,” he emphasized, “just let her go,” gently stepping closer, steve has his arms slowly reaching for you, hands up, a signal that he comes in peace. 

steve hopes billy will focus his attention on him instead, just wanting to get you out of there. he feels responsible for your safety and well-being. 

“gladly…” billy shot him an evil smirk, “you can’t trust bitches anyways right, harrington?,” he scowled, violently throwing you against the wall. 

your head makes a direct impact with the concrete, causing you to fall to the ground, a whimper slipping through your lips. you hear the kids' screams and a punch being thrown as you feel your vision slipping between darkness and light.  

you make out dustin running towards you and grabbing your hand, trying to get you to sit up. a couple of unsuccessful tries, he pleads “i’ll come back okay, just stay alive,” as he makes his way back to his friends. 

the proceeding events were all a blur and it felt like you were watching it through static television. one moment you can hear victorious cheers. the next moment, you hear something break and steve is suddenly lying on the floor a couple feet away from you, bloody faced and barely breathing. billy continuously throws his punches and the kids scream in fear. you try to get up but your body betrays you, only allowing you to reach out your arm towards the brown haired boy. 

somehow, the sound of the punches halted and billy fell to the ground. a sigh of relief escapes from your lips while the slow rise and fall of steve harrington’s chest becomes the last thing you see as you completely fade into the darkness.

—

the next time you open your eyes is to another set of screams, waking you up from your much needed slumber, if you can even call it that. you ignore the pounding in your head as you try to regain your vision. the first thing you feel are the strong arms in front of you, acting as your seatbelt, as you try to piece it all together. 

a couple minutes of confusion later, you finally recognize what’s happening, joining steve in full babysitter mode. the yelling of “no’s!,” and “stop the car’s!,” filling the tiny vehicle. 

“great, now they’re both awake!, i told you we should have just left them!,” mike cursed dustin annoyingly. 

“we were not going to leave them there, mike!,” dustin retorted, “c’mon guys i promised you’ll be cool, okay? just calm. down,” he softly ordered, like he was the babysitter and you two were his children. 

you scoff, “dustin, don’t fucking tell me to calm down!,” somehow fearing for your life now more than ever. 

“everyone just shut up, i’m trying to focus!,” max yells as lucas yells the directions in her ear. 

max makes a harsh turn causing a chorus of screams to rise. your hand immediately clutching around steve’s arm, face burrowing in his neck, seeking for protection, afraid of the crash that luckily never came. 

you’re not even too sure what happened the rest of the night but somehow you all made it out unscathed, besides the fact that you and steve are probably suffering matching concussions. 

iii. the heart-to-heart

in the tiny bathroom of the byer’s house, you find yourself standing in between steve harrington’s legs. his body feels familiar now, especially after you seeked comfort in each other in the dark tunnel, the two of you thinking it would be your last breaths. in some way, the miracle happened and the screeching demogorgons ran straight past the two of you, like you weren’t even there. 

you remember looking up at his golden, brown eyes. being that close to him, you noticed how beautiful they actually are and finally understood how he has charmed every girl at school. 

‘i guess it wouldn’t have been too bad dying in steve harrington’s arms.’ you thought to yourself.  

brushing those thoughts away, you bask in the moment of solitude within the commotion that is taking place behind the bathroom door. everyone reunited here, checking up on each other.

“does it hurt?” you ask him as you gently pat the alcohol covered cotton pad around his eye, cleaning up the bits of red that have stained them.

he slightly winces, hoping you didn’t notice, “i’m fine, this isn’t my first rodeo,” he assures, sending you a wink before completely regretting the tiny action, a frown briskly replacing his smile, causing small chuckles to slip between your lips. 

“you know, you should really stop getting into fights, i could’ve sworn you had a black eye just a year ago,” you remember it like it was yesterday - steve harrington walking the halls of hawkins high without his two minions for the first time, looking like he had fallen off his throne as the hushed whispers grew louder until they finally made its way throughout the school in a matter of minutes. 

you could tell he wasn’t at all the person he was trying to be and for a second, you saw yourself in him. you wanted to get to know that steve. the steve that may understand you. but that second didn’t last long. 

“so you were watchin me?” he teases, a smirk on his lips resulting in a playful shove and an eye roll from you.

gently grabbing his chin, you stare straight into his eyes, “of course i was. you’re steve harrington,” you remind him, “everyone watches you,” stating the facts before letting go and going back to removing all the dried up blood from his pretty face. 

he clears his throat, shrugging his shoulders, playing it cool, “yeah, i guess you’re right,” he says dumbfoundedly, making you laugh. 

“you’re ridiculous,” you quietly comment, a smile still on your lips. steve focuses on your light touches, trying not to wince every time you get near his open wounds. you notice his knuckles going white, gripping the toilet seat he was sitting on and ever so gently, hurried your actions. 

“there, all clean,” you softly declare as you slip from his space, turning around and putting all mrs. byer’s first aid kit back into place. he quietly thanks you, leaning his head back a bit to rest, his eyes shutting for a second. 

“thanks, by the way,” you break the silence “for protecting me earlier… with billy and all the upside down things,” you explain, looking at steve through the mirror. he nods, not entirely sure he’s deserving of your gratitude. you protected him as much as he protected you. 

“is he always that violent with you?” steve asks, an eyebrow going up. 

you immediately shake your head,  “no, he’s never laid a hand on me, i don’t know what came over him,” you say honestly. 

“why billy hargrove?” he asks, causing you to pause your actions, paying attention to him.

“what do you mean?” you reply, turning around to face him once again, your back against the tiny kitchen sink. 

“well, you didn’t leave dustin alone even though you just started babysitting him today, you care about having seatbelts on, you immediately covered up for max and just now, you took care of me when you should be taking care of yourself,” he points out, “you’re responsible and kind and you care and, well, billy is just a huge dick,” he finished, a hand flailing in the air as you stare at him, stunned at his observations.

you compose your thoughts for a while, not at all ready to have a heart to heart with steve harrington in a bathroom. 

instead, you throw the question back at him, “why nancy wheeler?” 

“you cannot possibly be comparing billy to nancy,” he replies quickly, a disapproving tone laced in his voice.

“i’m not,” you say defensively, “i’m just saying, she hurt you too but you’re still with her, you-”

“i-i don’t know if we’re actually still together,” he sadly replies, cutting you off, eyes dropping to the floor and you think back to the woods earlier that night — nancy emerging with jonathan right by her side. 

“but you still love her,” you continue, “even though she’s hurt you, you still love her,” you finish, trying to make a point.

“so, you’re in love with billy?” he concludes.

you scoff, wanting to say yes and finally drop the subject but the mere thought of agreeing with that sentence makes you visibly wince. 

“god no, i’ve been on a couple dates with the guy, it’s far from love,” earning an even more confused steve to face you. 

“i don’t know if it’s because i got my brains punched out or i really am just dumb but i completely lost you there,” he admit, a tiny smile on his lips and all you could do is sigh. 

heart to heart talk it is. 

“you’re not dumb, i just-” taking a deep breath, you prepare yourself.

“we all have our own reasons why were with someone,” you begin, “i’m just so tired of the perfect good girl image that has been imposed on me, it's like people just see me as that and nothing else,” as soon as you start, the dam breaks, flowing. 

you find yourself entrusting your deepest thoughts to him, “i can’t be fun because good girls aren’t supposed to be, i go to parties and people are confused that i'm there. you know, i even joined the cheerleading team so people can see me as something more? but all that does is fuel the assumption that i can do everything and still get shit done...that im not capable of mistakes and bad decisions. that i’ll turn out to be something great when really i’m just so damn scared all the time,” your voice breaks but before he could comment, you cleared your throat and continued. 

“i guess being with him makes people finally see me out of my stereotype” you confess, waiting for him to say something. the silence becomes overbearing and you feel completely vulnerable under his gaze. 

“oh,” steve responds, before bursting into laughter and you feel like a complete idiot, eyebrows shifting downward. god, you’re so ready to dramatically walk out of this bathroom and slam the door against his face but before you could do that, he notices.

“hey wait,” he says, gently grabbing your arm, asking you to stay as he arranges his thoughts.

“i’m sorry, i’m just relieved that you’re not actually in love with him because you deserve a lot better than billy hargrove,” he says charmingly, his cool facade still on display. 

“i know,” you agree, stopping yourself from rolling your eyes, “is that all?” you ask, still annoyed. 

“yeah,” steve starts, “i-no,” you give him time. you know that he’s having a war in his mind right now, the same one you just had. 

he avoids your gaze, thinking to himself, until finally, he puts his defenses down, “i understand you,” he confesses. 

“if it makes you feel better, it’s not at all greener on this side, i wished people looked at me less, i wish i didn’t have to go to all these parties just for people to respect me,” steve rattled on, feeling the weight fall off his shoulders with every word that falls off his lips, his facade disappearing bit by bit.

“i completely gave up on school because everyone has already expected me to fail and i started to believe them…it’s tiring having to pretend i’m this ‘king’ steve,” he quotes, “when really i am spiraling and have no fucking clue what i even want in life...i’ll probably just end up having a stupid job i hate and being as bitter as my father,” he sadly chuckles.  

“i’m just as scared as you,” he ends with a small smile, eyes meeting yours. he feels lighter after having said it all out loud for the first time and he can’t quite comprehend how he feels so safe sharing his saddest truths with you. 

but as you cast him a kind smile, the words “fuck stereotypes,” making its way to his ears, he can’t help but be thankful for the spilled truths and ajar doors. 

steve mirrors your expression and you’re glad you finally got to meet him. not “playboy” steve harrington and definitely not steve “the king” harrington. 

just steve. 

-

next: yr. 1985

an: a lil bridgerton reference there hehe ... thank you for reading! let me know if you're interested in reading the other moments i had planned :)

feel free to inspire me by dropping your thoughts, comments, suggestions, etc. here <3

[kitkatstu-dies]

Day 88/100 [02/11/2025]

Took an immunology quiz -> pretty sure I bombed it (What I studied wasn't on the test :,()

Finished chemistry post-lab & went to chemistry lab (doing mass spectrometry)

Went to print a bunch of things at one of my research offices & there was a guide to IRB studies?? This is exactly what I need right now so I took a copy & the director gave me some Belvita crackers (I love her)

Studied for chemistry exam!

[star-reaper]

Bob Floyd x Reader Drabble

Golden Evenings

Synopsis: You've had a rough week; one inconvenience after another which has gradually built up to a storm of frustration and exhaustion. So, you take a day off to recuperate and laze around the house that you have all to yourself until Bob returns from work. When he does, he can't seem to resist sharing the warm sheets and evening glow all wrapped up with you.

fluff, fem!reader technically but I tried to keep it pretty neutral, teacher/civilian reader, established relationship, snuggles, lazy kisses, some vague talk of mental health, really just a short and sweet comfort fic :)

It's around seven o'clock when the summer thunderstorm finally gives way to a vibrant, golden sunset. The rain drops—illuminated in dusty pinks, oranges, and golds—still cling to your bedroom window, racing gently down the paned glass.

It was hours ago that you told yourself when the rain stops you would finally get up from bed and get some fresh air, but your new excuse lies in the fact that it's simply too late now. The sun waited until dusk to finally make its appearance in the sky, just in time to settle beneath the horizon for night to arrive. You suppose you would do the same.

You only feel vaguely guilty about your day-long laziness, but you know you needed the rest. This entire week has proven to be the week from hell; endless exams to grade, rowdy students, angry-parent emails, and useless after school meetings that only successfully raised your blood pressure and wasted your evenings. You just needed a break. A well-deserved three day weekend to recuperate and relax. So, you took the day off and spent it lounging in bed, reading and watching the storm pass, relishing in the cool breeze kissing your skin from the open bay window. You can't count on one hand how many times you considered turning this newfound three day weekend into a forever weekend and never returning to work. Summer break is just around the corner, but this year has felt endless.

A forgotten cup of tea sits cold on your bedside table, but the smell of the peppermint still wafts through the room pleasantly. Next to it, the empty box of crackers and the plate of cheese that you have no regrets of finishing for your afternoon snack. Soon. Soon you would get up and clean your mess and do something productive for the remainder of the evening. But what if you just stayed in bed for the rest of the night? There's always tomorrow, after all . . .

Sighing, you shuffle back down into the sheets and flip your pillow to the cool side, curling onto your side towards the window and sighing deep into the mattress, content. The sun shines like molten ore through the dark, parting clouds, casting its glow into your bedroom and blanketing you in its gentle warmth. The sunset views from your bedroom were by far your favorite part of the house.

It isn't long before you feel yourself dozing off for the hundredth time today, but you can't find it on you to care. Bob would be home soon and you knew at the very least he would rouse you to say goodnight. Maybe make fun of you for going to bed so early but you'd get to kiss him in that uniform and curl up next to him freshly showered and have no other care in the world.

—

Bob sees your car in the driveway when he pulls in and knows you're home. Left you there himself this morning when you announced you were calling out for the day and kissed you goodbye on his way out. His legs felt like lead as he had carried himself out of the house, fighting desperately against the urge to stay curled up with you on such a dismal and dreary day.

What he doesn't expect is the heap of you still laying exactly how he left you twelve hours ago, engulfed in your comforter and hair sprawled out in a halo around your head.

He can't fight the smile curling softly at the edge of his lips as he unties and slips off his boots and pads across the bedroom to you.

"Hey, honey." He's whispering, nimble fingers sliding down the expanse of your arm and shaking you gently, urging you to roll over to face him.

Your eyes flutter open sleepily, glimmering with affection, "Just what I was dreaming of," you smile and he rolls his eyes at your cheesiness, "Hi, handsome."

You reach up to cup his jaw, drawing him in for a gentle kiss that has him humming against you softly.

"Hold on, lemme just," He murmurs against your lips as he cranes down for another kiss, "Let me get out of my uniform."

"You could just stay like this." You whisper. He's well aware the uniform is quite possibly your favorite look. You run your hands down the lapels of the tan shirt, fingers playing with the buttons down the front as you hum your appreciation.

Bob chuckles, grinning, "No, I probably smell, and I gotta get this gel out of my hair, and all I want besides being next to you is to be in my pajama pants." You let go of him reluctantly, raking your eyes over the expanse of his body as he turns to take out all of his pins and assort them onto the dresser. "Quick shower, honey." He promises.

He certainly is quick. You manage to pull out your phone from beneath the pillow to reply to a singular work email (not without the addition of an eye roll and a scoff) before you hear the water turn off and the shower curtain pull back. Moments later, Bob is emerging from the bathroom, towel in hand as he dries his hair and bare torso adorned with his favorite pajama pants - the cornflower blue and cream colored plaid ones, the pant legs too long for him, the hem worn and frayed at his heels.

He hangs his towel on the hook and practically dives for the bed, the mattress springs whining under his assault and a sound of contentment coming from his throat.

He's kissing every inch of your face, brushing gently at the stray hairs curling at your jaw as you open your arm for him to lay his head on your shoulder.

"Did you stay in bed all day?" Bob asks, leaning back to look you in the eyes.

You smile sheepishly, "Maybe . . . don't judge."

"I would never. I'm pretty jealous actually. Wanted to be back here with you all day."

Bob leans over your chest to gaze at the sky outside your window, shifting his weight halfway across you as he peers at the sliver of bright orange sun nearing the horizon. His right hand slips beneath your shirt absentmindedly and he grazes his knuckles across your abdomen, back and forth, goosebumps rising on your skin in his wake.

"That bad today?"

Bob shrugs, "Eh. We were grounded all day from the storm so we just briefed and went over boring procedures and paperwork all day. Would've rather been with you."

You go quiet admiring his features, twirling a wet strand of his hair around your index finger and gazing into those pretty storm blue eyes. It doesn't seem to matter that you live with him, wake up next to him, and see him every single day of the past three years, you could never get tired of looking at your annoyingly perfect boyfriend.

Bob's brows furrow as he directs his attention back to you, searching for something in your own eyes.

"You feeling okay?" He asks dotingly. "Have you had a meal today?"

You unfurl the strand of hair you had wrapped around your finger into a perfect spiraling curl before tugging gently on it to watch it bounce back against his forehead.

"I'm okay." you assure, "Just a hard week. I had a few snacks, I'm sorry I probably should have made dinner for us—I hadn't thought of it."

"I'll order something, sweetheart, don't worry about it." Bob kisses you tentatively, "Just wanted to make sure you were doing okay."

Your lips press together into a smile, "Thank you. But really, I'm okay. Just ready for summer and a new batch of kids next year," you sigh, "and I missed you today."

"Missed you too, honey. Always."

With the last glimmer of gold waning from the edges of your shared bedroom, Bob wraps himself tight in your essence, enveloping his senses in your touch, your smell, you. His skin is warm against yours, your limbs entangling as you fall into a quiet conversation, speaking of nothing and everything all at once, drifting away in your sea of sheets.

There's no where either of you would rather be.

—

Like, reblog, comment! Help a girl out!! Hope you enjoyed, I know it's nothing special but who doesn't love a simple, sweet drabble with yours truly? Have a lovely rest of your day (or night)!

p.s. I haven't properly proofread this yet lol, someone let me know if there's any truly dreadful mistakes I need to fix asap

[vomitspit2]

concept with jade leech

there is no dire-beast inside the mirror chamber, and there are no ghosts inhabiting ramshackle. it is simply: you, alone in a rundown building, after the headmaster leaves.

you have been pinching yourself through the day. little crescent marks litter your wrist.

for the past six or so hours, you have been trying really hard to wake up from this dream. nothing is working. desolate, you take to wandering the house.

you know your imagination is strong but an entire college, idiosyncratic characters, and an entire furnished building is a bit complex. still, you card through the squabble, hoping to unearth some mistake in physics that will tell you that this is a dream. that search ends abruptly when you find a loose floorboard and the fragile wood underneath you gives out like a snapped cracker.

you land hard.

ten feet down in the basement, lying on your back.

blinking away dust, your eyes land upon the piece of wood speared cleanly through your abdomen.

the pain tells you this is too much to be a dream.

it is a full two hours you lie there immobile. you try rolling on your side, hoping to at least stand up, but each motion is anguish in an ineffable amount. you wrap your hands around the red wood and try to pull; it leads to your eyeballs rolling so far back you see new colors. skin shining with generous sweat and dipping in and out of consciousness, you lie there and bid limited time until someone from this new world comes to find you. the headmaster will eventually come back, right?

you think about a multitude of things.

you think about how if your corpse withers here, the puss running out your orifices will look like cream cheese.

you think about how the glittering wands those students held might work, is it like harry potter or a unique universe.

you think about how you still had to go to work tomorrow in your own original universe, attend classes, hope plans with friends don’t fall through so you laugh carefree without lungfuls of blood.

your last slip from consciousness to eternal unconsciousness, you think about home. the bed you slept in, the books read and films watched, the snack wrappers on the sheets, what a comforting waste.

you drift off, expecting to be jolted awake again by your own feverish mind, and die, bleeding out on ramshackle’s basement floor.

it takes azul awhile to gain ramshackle’s dorm.

the one new student he saw during the opening ceremony apparently stayed there one night and fled the next morning. as the headmaster’s report goes, crowley found no one living there when he went to check the following day. however, the usage of ramshackle by that magicless student opened up a gate of opportunity and azul did not let it go to waste.

the negotiations took awhile and the proper refurbishment will have to be done. but just before winter exams, azul has managed to secure himself a second location for mostro lounge.

first, damages have to be assessed.

the building is disgusting, rundown, and simply inhabitable. busy with the 250 students he has under contract, azul assigns jade to spend a november afternoon there and make note of what they need to start repairing first.

azul really hopes the plumbing is salvageable. the cost would be through the roof if otherwise.

so jade, hand over his heart, promises to survey ramshackle the next day and outline a list of high priority repairs to stuff they can skimp upon in the budget.

jade’s excited. the mountains he treks are northwest and ramshackle is northeast; this will provide him a new opportunity to see what kind of mushroom may lie on that side of the island. …oh, and he supposes he will also assist azul in his endeavor as well.

the next day, he spends half of the allotted time foraging outside of ramshackle before he actually walks into the building. i should make this quick and efficient. i only have thirty minutes left. notepad in hand, he starts to investigate the wreckage.

uninhabited and ugly. those are the two words that rise to jade’s mind first. truly, it is a lovely space and it would be a disgrace to see it painted in shades of lilac and oceanic decor. but, it will be entertaining nonetheless to see azul’s business expand.

yet, as he’s walking down the halls, jade cannot help but think he is hearing a second pair of footsteps just behind him.

yes, ramshackle is ugly but it does not seem to be as uninhabited as he thought. how intriguing.

so, sadistic grin blooming, jade decides to play a game. he will ignore this secondary person and continue on, waiting anxiously to see what will happen. he marks down his observations, all while feeling a pair of eyes upon his neck. lighting on the first floor needs fixing. the water runs orange in the upstairs sink. nothing entirely formidable has happen yet, but he hopes it will.

jade cannot wait to see if this ghost can turn his skin inside out, or perhaps drop a floorboard on top of his head, the possibilities are endless. it all has jade’s toes squirming in his dress shoes in anticipation.

however, his thirty minutes are up before he can descend the basement stairs and nothing has happened yet.

which is disappointing.

he’ll be back again tomorrow so there is always a chance for something then.

however, he had hoped for something to happen now.

just as jade is walking out the door, list and bag of mushrooms in hand, something ice cold tickles the hairs on his neck. frigid like home. he barely gets a chance to dwell on it before five frozen fingers wrap themselves around his throat and shove him down the porch steps.

the door to ramshackle slams shut.

sprawled on the ground, jade reaches his hand up to the idents on the column of skin, the previous touch thawing out.

he cannot help the deep blush that comes up to his face.

with a deep breath, his own gloves fingers still hovering over the lost embrace, jade stands up and pats himself down. he looks upon the closed door with a hunger in his eyes.

yes, tomorrow he will be back.

and he hopes this ghost will act up again because they have so much more allure to jade than a second mostro lounge.

[st0nesnglitter]

Coriolanus Snow and his reminders for you to breathe.

When you’re stressed before an exam, cramming information until the last minute. Trying to read from two books at the same time, eyebrows knitted together in a deep frown. He’d place his hand over the text and remind you to breathe.

Before the two of you are going to an important gala, silently obsessing over every detail of your appearance. Standing in front of the large mirror and fixing your makeup, hair, smoothing out your dress, stomping a little in frustration when your eyebrows won’t lay in the way you want. He’d come up behind you and press a peck against your hairline and remind you to breathe.

As you’re about to host your first dinner as a married couple, in your mansion, with some very important guests. You’re running around fixating over the smallest details in your home, turning a cracker over multiple times before settling on the way it was originally. He’d come up, taking your hand away from the plate, to remind you to breathe.

With you on your knees on the expensive floor, the framing pieces of your hair a total mess. The rest of your hands rested in a lazy makeshift ponytail in Coriolanus’ hand as he thrusted into your mouth. His blood red suit jacket was discarded on the bed, his snow white shirt unbuttoned a sinful amount, his pretty cock released from the confines of his pants as his grunts of pleasure got louder. As a particular harsh gag came from your mouth Coryo smirked down onto you and he reminded you to try and breathe.