#you have to fail and get yourself up and try a new way and get lost

[angrythingstarlight]

On TikTok I saw a comment where a woman said that she told her husband to pretend to be unconscious so he was dead weight to see if she could drag him out of the house in case of fire or emergency, she couldn’t even pull him off the bed and she cried so he had comfort her while dying laughing😭😭😂 reminded me of something biker Bucky and Gorgeous would do

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

A/N: Written on my phone, unbetad.

Bucky groans dramatically. "You might as well just leave me here and save yourself Gorgeous."

You keep pulling him with all your strength but he barely budges an inch. You might be able to move him if he'd stop talking.

He doesn't.

"Bury me with my bike." Bucky cracks open an eye, his lips twitching. "And a pair of your panties."

"I'm not doing that." A laugh spills past your lips before you can stop it.

You can't concentrate with him cracking jokes like this. Yeah that's the reason you're struggling to move this six foot something man. It's all his fault.

You keep laughing but the more he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea. "Matter fact, line my casket with your panties and toss in a few of those pics I have on my phone."

"Oh my god."

"I'll know if you disregarded my last wishes," he casually warns, like his massive body isn't splayed on the bedroom floor. Like he's still not budging despite the fact that you're putting your all into this.

"Shut. Up."

"Mourn me for the rest of your life," he sighs sadly, head lolling to the side. Bucky hasn't broken character once, he's fully committed to this bit. "Keep a shrine of me in our bedroom."

"Bucky I'm trying to focus," your breathless giggle lost under a grunt when you try to shove him to the side. Nothing. Damn it.

Eyeing his shirtless, tattooed body, you try new a new approach. Adjusting your grip, you hook your fingers under his upper arms. You can barely get your hands around half of his large, warm biceps. Bracing your feet on the floor, you pull so hard you feel your muscles tremble and ache. He slides up a centimeter.

"Don't even think about moving on."

"Be quiet," you start. Releasing his arms, you wince when they hit the floor with a thud. You'd have better luck moving a pile of bricks than your man. "What would you do if I did?"

You're teasing but Bucky takes you very seriously.

He doesn't play when it comes to you. Or his burial requests.

He slowly opens his eyes, his darkening gaze captures yours. "I will haunt you for the rest of your life," he states confidently. "No guy will even breathe in your direction by time I'm done with them. You're going to have a rep because of me."

There's no time to process that because his hands suddenly reach out, grabbing your ankles. You're tugged forward, turned and twisted—somehow he manages to squeeze your ass a couple of times—until you're flat on his chest, his pecs under your palms.

Bucky smiles, his hand cups the back of your head and he brings your face close to his. "If you think I'm a menace now, imagine what my ghost will be like. Just imagine what ghost me would do to you. I'd get rid of your little replacement and then you'd get all my attention. Remember ghost me isn't going to get tired."

Oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

Well maybe that could be fun. Wait.

Your eyes widen at the images his words are creating. He chuckles under his breath. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

Resting your chin on his chest, you have to admit, no man would ever measure up to your bike. And if anyone could find a way to come back and haunt someone, it would be the handsome, incorrigible man under you.

"So you want all my panties or just your favorites?"

"Gorgeous. How many times do we have to go over this? All your panties are my favorite."

"Fine," you concede, failing to hold back a smile. "But you promised me a lifetime together and I'm holding you to that."

Bucky brushes his lips across yours in one sweet, sure motion. His deep voice rolls over your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. "I have no intention of leaving you anytime soon. I got too many plans for you, Gorgeous."

All of his plans revolve around loving you, protecting you, being with you, caring for you any way you'll let him.

And he's going take his time getting through every last one of them.

[redrose10]

Something I wrote last night…

Yoongi x Female Reader

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety and mental health struggles, depression

Word Count: 2,345

🍉🍊🍉🍊🍉🍊🍉🍊🍉🍊🍉🍊🍉🍊🍉🍊🍉

Some days Yoongi gets like this. It has been happening since his teenage years. He doesn’t know how or why. From the moment he gets up and out of bed to the moment he finally lays down in that same spot at the end of the night he feels it. Anxiety, worry, guilt, and a little bit of sadness. He over thinks everything. Wonders if he’s doing too much and too little all at the same time. There is a dark cloud that follows over him the entire day causing him hardships that only he sees.

He accidentally cut off a car on his way to work. He didn’t mean to. A split second of poor judgement. There was no accident. No harm. The other person probably forgot about it seconds later, but not Yoongi. He thought about it all day, worried that the other person, a complete stranger, was still angry with him over it.

When he texted Jimin asking if he wanted to meet up for lunch he replied with a simple ‘sure what time?’ Jimin always included emojis in his texts. Always. It was annoyingly cute. Yoongi spent the rest of the morning spiraling and wondering what he did to upset his friend. In reality Jimin was running late to an appointment and just wanted to make sure he responded before he forgot because he always gets excited when Yoongi invites him out to lunch.

During these dark times his words always fail him the most. He tried working on songs that he has had in progress for months, but he got nowhere. He tried to start a new one only to spend two hours staring at a blank computer screen resulting in him just beating himself up even more. On the worst of days he’ll stop by Namjoon’s studio and hand him a piece of paper with the code to enter his own studio written on it. He’ll tell Namjoon to take whatever equipment he wants out of it and sell the rest because it’s of no use to him any more. Namjoon will smile and nod and wait for Yoongi to exit the room before tearing up the piece of paper and tossing it in the trash next to him. He doesn’t even read the numbers out of respect for his friend. He knows Yoongi will be right back there tomorrow morning ready to give it another try.

On the way back home after a long day is when Yoongi will have a realization that will cause the biggest struggle of them all.

He doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deserve to call you his wife or the love of his life.

He’s not good enough, not smart enough, not handsome enough. He’s not affectionate. He struggles greatly in these times of darkness and brings you down with him.

He’s not very romantic. Most of your dates consist of takeout and movies on the couch. He asked you to marry him on a Sunday morning while the two of you drank your coffee at the kitchen table. He didn’t even have a ring yet but you still said yes. You must have just felt pity for him.

He works hard for you. A nice house, nice cars, designer clothes, fancy vacations. He knows you could get all of that by yourself, but he wants to provide it for you. It makes him feel good, needed even. He’ll cook you an amazing dinner including dessert and will even wash every single dish afterwards, but will struggle to tell you how beautiful you look that same night.

He doesn’t know how to tell you how much he loves you. He’s tried. He can feel it in his chest so deeply it hurts, but for seem reason his brain struggles to let him say it to your face. Like his own security blanket, a way to protect his heart from getting broken once again.

So every night he waits until you’re asleep all snuggled and safe in his arms and then he’ll whisper it into your ear.

But what if that isn’t enough?

What if you want more than he can provide? What if you’re unhappy? What if you regret ever marrying him? What if you want a divorce? What if you’ve already found someone else? No one else will ever love you like he does, but someone else will be able to say they do.

Because at the end of the day he’s nothing special…he’s just Yoongi.

By the time he pulls into the parking garage he has tears spilling down his cheeks and his breathing is ragged. He parks in his assigned spot which is thankfully towards the back corner of the garage and lays the leather seat of his car back to try and calm down. He sets a timer and then uses his breathing techniques that he learned years ago to hopefully prevent his body from going into full panic mode.

After fifteen minutes the timer goes off and he starts to gather his things and heads up to your apartment.

His head is pounding and his chest aches. He knows he is moments away from crying again, but he enters your home anyways.

He knows you won’t judge him. You won’t question what’s wrong until he’s ready to talk and that only makes him feel even less worthy of having you in his life.

When Yoongi gets to the kitchen he sees an assortment of fruits and veggies spread out on the counter. It seemed like you had a good time at the local farmers market with your friend. He immediately eyes a very large basket of tangerines. A small smiles forms on his face for the first time that day.

Then he notices the watermelon sitting off to the side. It’s one of your favorites, but you have made it very clear how much you hate cutting them. The effort, the mess, the danger…he shudders at the memory of having to bandage your poor little pinkie finger after the knife slipped while you were trying to slice through the watermelon rind. Yoongi tells you all the time to just buy the precut ones from the grocery store but you refuse to spend the extra money and you also don’t want to use more plastic than necessary which he admires.

Yoongi moves around the kitchen with ease grabbing the cutting board and one of the bigger chefs knives. Silently he gets to working cutting through the watermelon making sure to get the pieces just to the size you like. He’s so focused on the task before him that he doesn’t hear you come into the kitchen and is startled when your arms wrap around his waist.

“When did you get home?”, you mumble into his back, “You should’ve came and got me.” The vibrations tickle slightly.

“Just a little bit ago.”, he smiles yet again, “I wanted to get this watermelon cut for you.”

You squeezed him a little tighter as a silent thank you. Yoongi feels his heart thud.

“Did you see the tangerines? They probably thought I was crazy buying so many of them, but I know they’re your favorite and these ones looked so ripe and juicy.”, you excitedly exclaimed already reaching for one to peel for him.

As Yoongi continues to cut away at the melon you sit on top of the counter and feed him pieces of the tangerine while he listens about your day.

Your favorite cafe has a limited time pineapple drink for the summer months, but you had already had your heart set on the hibiscus lemonade so you’ll have to try it another day. Yoongi makes a mental note to take you there for lunch tomorrow.

He finds himself genuinely laughing for the first time that day when you tell him about the bee that viciously chased after your friend causing her to run into a wall spilling her latte all over herself.

He gives you a questioning look when you tell him about the cute baby goats you saw at the farmers market. The two of you have had this conversation many times before because you refuse to accept that goats are not good pets for an apartment.

You grab a piece of the watermelon and pretend like you’re going to feed it to him just like you did with the tangerines only to pop it in your mouth at the last second instead.

“Oh we’re going to play that game huh?”, he questions playfully. Your giggles that follow sound better than any melody he’s ever written.

Then you grab another piece of the melon and this time you actually feed it to him. It’s juicy and sweet and it’s perfect just like you.

“Thank you for cutting up the watermelon. You know how much I loathe doing that.”, you say before placing a kiss on his cheek.

Yoongi grabs a piece of the melon and feeds it to you, “Any time jagiya.”, he whispers as he watches you happily enjoy the fruits of his labor.

“I’ll clean all this up. Go take a bath and get changed into something comfy.”, you say as you hop off of the counter, “I thought we could order some food tonight and start watching that new drama everyone’s talking about. Or…should I say I’ll watch the new drama while you watch the first ten minutes and then snore through the rest.”, you laugh.

Yoongi fakes offense, but deep down knows you’re 100% right so he ends up laughing with you before walking off to the bedroom.

On the bed you’ve already laid out his favorite sweats and tshirt. A new pair of fluffy lavender infused socks that you got for him at the farmers market today are next to them. In the bathroom you’ve already got his skin care put out on the counter and his favorite eucalyptus bubble bath is placed on the tub along with a brand new vanilla scented candle sitting next to it.

There’s also a new bottle of some fancy goat milk lotion you probably got at the farmers market today. A note taped to it reads, If we had our own pet goat I wouldn’t have to spend so much money on fancy lotions made by other people…Just saying.

The note makes him laugh and shake his head at the same time. He starts to get undressed until he’s hit with a wave of emotions so strong it makes him nauseated. He decides that he can’t take it any more so he goes to find you.

You’re still in the kitchen and when he calls your name you look at him with wide eyes and cheeks full of watermelon. He bites lip to keep from laughing.

He grabs your hand and pulls you back to the bathroom with him. The water is running. He adds a touch of the bubble bath and lights the candle.

Then he helps you out of your clothes before removing his own and gently guides you into the bath with him.

He takes a seat behind you ignoring the coldness of the porcelain on his back because he’s too focused on you sitting in front of him with your back firmly pressed against his chest.

Once the tub is filled up the two of you sit there in comfortable silence while he lovingly runs his fingers across your belly and thighs until you’re nearly asleep.

“Yoongi?”, you finally speak after a while. “Hmmm.”, he hums back.

“I love you.”

His heart races. Suddenly the room feels unbearably hot and is spinning. If it wasn’t for you being perched up against him he would’ve already left.

All of those bad thoughts from earlier return. Is he good enough to receive those words? What if you don’t mean that? You’re only saying it because that’s what a wife does. You deserve better than what he can provide?

His downward spiral is broken up by you continuing, “You don’t have to say it back. I know it’s not easy for you. And you tell me you love me every day in your own little ways. I just wanted to make sure I told you that today.”

Your words repeat in his head like a mantra and he relaxes back against the tub with you against him.

Maybe you are right. He may not be able to tell you in words how much he loves you and how much you mean to him, but he tries to show you in everything that he does.

Slowly as the night goes on the dark cloud that has been hanging above his head starts to dissipate.

When the bath is over the two of you fill yourselves on pizza and ice cream.

You show him pictures of goats that are up for adoption. He rolls his eyes and laughs but internally he’s panicking because he can feel his resolve breaking and he doesn’t know how many more times hes going to be able to tell you no on the goat thing, especially when you’ve been learning techniques to make puppy dog eyes from Jungkook. Yoongi just knows he’ll end up being a goat dad by the end of the year.

He manages to stay awake for a whole episode and a half of the new drama proving you wrong. It was a major struggle though.

When he does wake up you’re silently asleep on his shoulder. As comfy as it is he knows that if you both sleep on the couch you’ll be sore tomorrow so he gathers you in his arms and brings you to the bed. Moments later he’s right there next to you.

You snuggle into his side like you always do.

Yoongi takes a moment to admire your sleeping form. No matter how hard he tries he can’t believe this is his reality.

He didn’t know a love like this was possible. Maybe that is why he struggles so hard to comprehend it.

And even though he knows that he isn’t perfect and he has his dark days, he knows that it’s okay to feel like that because while he might be just Yoongi…he is your Yoongi and you are his and that’s all he will ever need in this world.

[makelifeyourbitch42]

Realism ≠ No Mansion

So I saw a confession on the Creepypasta Confessions blog and I am pissed.

First off, to be clear: I’m not trying to attack anyone personally. But I am extremely tired of people throwing around takes like this and calling it “realism” because it’s not. It’s uncreative and borderline gatekeeping.

This is gonna be a long one. Buckle up:

🚫 Saying “Jeff would kill everyone”

That’s not realism. That’s avoiding the question of why he might not. You’re dodging character complexity in favor of edge.

👁 Saying “Eyeless Jack only sees others as prey”

That’s not realistic. It’s ignoring that even monstrous characters might have nuance or boundaries, or that he might recognize other cursed beings as more than meat.

🎮 Saying “BEN Drowned only sees others as pawns”

You're writing off any chance of him forming actual relationships or attachments.

🎪 Saying “Laughing Jack sees them as entertainment”

Again, yeah… until he doesn’t. What happens when the entertainment fails? What happens when he connects? Explore that.

💋 Saying “Nina only cares about Jeff”

Okay, and what about after? What about growth? What about disappointment or found family? You’re locking her character in amber.

⏰ Saying “Clockwork and Toby are too insane to get along”

So… you’ve never heard of shared trauma bonds, dissociation, or neurodivergent kinship, huh? They're more than their instability.

👧 Saying “Sally won’t trust anyone”

Great. That’s the start of a story. What about the arc? Who does she learn to trust? What brings that wall down?

🌲 Saying “Slenderman isn’t a father figure to everyone”

Sure. But why can’t he be one to someone? Who sees him that way? What does he feel about that? Explore the dissonance, not just the denial.

🔥 “Realism” Isn’t an Excuse to Be Boring

I’m sorry you couldn’t think of ways these characters might grow, clash, bond, or just coexist without stabbing each other, but don’t act like that’s realism.

Here’s some so-called “realistic” reasons for why Slenderman might have a mansion just pulled out my ass just right now:

Maybe it’s not his, it’s just a convenient base

Maybe he built it to contain or protect his proxies

Maybe a proxy built it for him

Maybe it’s just a house from when he was human, if you roll with that theory

Why might Jane and Jeff exist in the same space?

Slenderman's forcing them to

Jane’s forgiven him, Jeff doesn't have to stay evil

She’s forgotten what he did, Slenderman gave Toby amnesia why not her?

You can write any of this in a grounded, character-driven way. “Realistic” doesn’t mean “everyone is alone and evil forever.” It means understanding why they’re not.

💡 This Mindset Hurts New Creators

What pisses me off the most is that someone who wants to write a “realistic AU” might see this garbage take and think:

“Oh… I guess I can’t do that.”

YES. YOU. CAN. If you want to write a mansion AU? Do it. If you want to make them friends, enemies, exes, reluctant roommates? Go wild.

Just ask yourself why it works. Get creative. Build the bridges. Tell the story. Stop saying "this can't work." And say, "How can this work?"

Don’t let boring people kill possibility and call it "canon."

[empaws]

Hi! I have a request for Natasha Cloud

Could you do one where Natasha and Reader are engaged and when she has a reunion with Brittney Griner at the Liberty vs Dream game she gives her an invitation to their wedding?

here u go dear 😚

-

“griner!”

natasha’s voice carries over the sea of fans dressed in turquoise, her hand clasped tightly in yours as you follow behind her.

she’s been on a roll lately, and you can see the difference in her attitude every day. with the wedding (mostly) planned and a down payment put down on your guys’ new house, she’s been on cloud nine (no pun intended). this home victory was the cherry on top of what has been a perfect week.

but there was one last pièce de résistance natasha had grilled into you yesterday, and that was that you guys had to see brittney griner, natasha’s longtime friend and old teammate.

natasha had been careful not to post anything about the engagement on social media or tell anyone who may have slipped the news to brittney, wanting to do it with you in person.

the crowds make way for you two, cameras being shoved in natasha’s face as you two weave through people. “griner!” she yells again, bouncing on her toes to see over the swarm of heads. you jump up a little too, trying to find her. it takes about two seconds before you see the back of a head that has a good six inches on the next tallest person on the court.

you two finally manage to stalk up behind her, natasha waving her hand quickly to signal you to crouch low as she follows suit, waiting a moment before natasha launched up and springs onto brittney’s back. the massive woman jumps a little and strains to turn her head, catching sight of the ends of natasha’s braids and your tinier form standing behind her before she lets out a surprised, genuine laugh.

“fuck, tasha, you scared the shit out of me! and y/n!” natasha gets off brittney as she pulls you both in for a hug, clapping her hand across natasha’s back. “god, i missed you two. how’s the power duo doing?”

you can see how natasha tries to maintain a casual expression, but ultimately fails as the edges of her lips keep cracking up in a giddy grin. “yeah, good, same old, same old, you know.”

you have to keep yourself from busting out laughing at how stupid she sounds trying to play things off. “well- we actually have something for you,” you say, taking the reins instead as you open your purse.

“a little announcement, if you may,” natasha adds, her hand coming up to cover her grinning mouth a little too obviously.

you fish the invitation from your purse, taking a breath before passing it off to brittney. she lets out a bit of an awkward laugh, unsure of what to expect. “you guys know you don’t have to give me birthday cards anymore,” she muses, huffing out a laugh as she inspects the card and the script on the front of the envelope. “hey, i appreciate the fanciness, though.”

“no, you idiot, open it,” natasha sighs dramatically, two seconds away from ripping the invitation open herself.

brittney raises an eyebrow at natasha, then you, but doesn’t argue as she slits open the top of the envelope with the edge of her nail. she slips the card out, a slight, incredulous grin on her lips as she reads the front to herself. “‘you’re invited’…?”

but then she finally opens it fully, reading the inside and not saying anything for a moment before her head shoots up, her eyes like saucers. “a-are you? are you guys fucking serious? y/n, gimme that hand,” her own hand snaps out to take your left arm, bringing it up to her face to inspect the stone on your ring finger. “shit, tasha, you fuckin’- you did that!” she exclaims enthusiastically, shaking your hand a little before letting go to pull natasha into a tight hug, clapping her large hand over your fiancée’s back again.

“congratulations, you big lovebirds,” she grins as she pulls away, looking down at the invitation again. “always thought you were too much of a pussy to actually do it,” she grins cheekily back up at natasha before her gaze flits over to you. “c’mere, wifey,” she says before also pulling you into a hug, admittedly more gentle than she and natasha’s. “shit, you guys,” she laughs when she pulls away.

“so clear your calendar for the second half of september, girl,” natasha muses, biting her bottom lip a little. “the festivities are gonna go hard. you may want to prepare your liver a few weeks in advance before coming.”

you and brittney laugh before the cameras and microphones start closing in again, disturbing your short moment. brittney lets herself be pulled away, but turns to look back at you and natasha as she waves the invitation in the air.

“hey, eight tonight! celebratory dinner, on me!” she winks before turning back, filtering back into the crowd of new york jerseys and turquoise confetti.

[donvampiro]

Can we get a Sabo with a s/o that doesn’t understand his humor as easily as others. Not in the ‘I can’t take a joke’ way but in the neurodivergent way like ‘wait- what’s wrong with my hair? You said you like it like this l-…OOOOOH I GET IT NOW. Okay yeahh that’s funny-‘ but sometimes the joke processing can take a few seconds to a few hours too. The reader and social undertones sometimes just do not get along-

hello Anon! brooo this is just so suitable for Sabo somehow?? i love it omg. hope these lil HCs will meet your expectations! :) thanks a lot for your request. Love <3

@pure-kirarin take ur sabotonin its time

MASTERLIST - Welcome

***

'Flop'

Sabo x (neurodivergent) gn!reader

whether you’re neurodivergent or neurotypical, it would never make much difference to Sabo, as long as you’re being yourself. besides, your atypicality — whatever its nature — would pose no problem for him. Sabo’s a man who is curious about different ways of thinking, patient with those he likes, eager to know what interests you and what doesn’t. no matter what happens, he’ll always try to understand you, to try to know what the world looks like through your eyes.

however, that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be confused at first when he realizes you’re not very receptive to his jokes. your smile is so dear and precious to Sabo, every opportunity to make it happen shouldn’t be wasted. your happiness means a lot to him. so, he makes a point of trying to make you laugh... but for some reason, he flops a lot — which doesn’t fail to make Koala burst out laughing btw. his embarrassed expression is just priceless.

‘ugh, this book is quite gory!’, you cringed, closing the book in question as you showed Sabo the cover. ‘can you imagine?! one of the characters has lost the entire left side of their body…!’

— ‘oh yeah?’, he raised his eyebrows in astonishment, though the ghost of a mischievous smile lingered on his lips. ‘guess they’re alright now.’

you stared at him in confusion, frowning. his tone didn’t sound serious — was he joking? but there was nothing very funny about being cut in half…? he didn’t sound too unserious either. joke, not joke? it was hard to tell.

— ‘what do you mean “alright”? have you lost your mind? their body is cut in two!’

— ‘n-no, (y/n), i mean “alright” like they’re “all right” now, you see? since they don’t have a left side anymore.’, he chuckled nervously, still smiling, but painfully adding a new flop to his list.

you rolled your eyes, sighing through your nostrils.

— ‘you’re weird, Sabo.’ was the only thing you replied, leaving him mortified as you went back to your book.

sitting further back in the room, Koala genuinely thought she should clip every single one of Sabo’s reactions during these kinds of interactions.

if you can, please explain the situation to him. Sabo will never judge you. just let him know. tell him about any difficulties you may have understanding certain humorous traits; otherwise poor top-hat guy will overthink it and believe he’s being annoying and making your life hell with his lame jokes and puns.

‘is my sense of humor really that bad, Koala?’, he’d pout, slumped against the table in a defeated expression.

— ‘yes, it is’, she’d confirm nonchalantly while reading the newspapers, not really paying attention to the blond’s lament; which immediately made him raise his head.

— ‘hey, you’re supposed to comfort me!’, he’d groan, but all his dismay would soon fade away as he’d hear you giggling a few steps away, approaching him. Sabo would quickly readjust himself in his seat, flashing you a smile and showing himself to you in his best light, as if he hadn’t just been whining for minutes. ‘oh, (y/n)! what’s up? you seem in a good mood.’

— ‘i was just thinking–’, you’d grin, before shrugging casually. ‘what you said yesterday was kinda funny! i mean, the “alright” thing.’

he probably wouldn’t remember exactly everything he said yesterday. but damn, he’d be soooo happy and giddy to know you think he’s funny. no matter how long it would take. for your smile and laughter, Sabo’s ready to wait all the time in the world. Sabo’s ready to flop, over and over, if there’s still the little possibility that you might smile at his nonsenses at some point. you have time. don’t rush, it’s okay.

Sabo will always take the time to explain his jokes so that you can try to understand them too, even when he’s in public. he also tries to help you as best he can so that, little by little, you progress on this subject. nothing makes Sabo prouder than when you can understand a joke — whether it’s his or not — on the first try.

[whispers-on-the-wind]

Sweet Soothing

You find yourself on a Island with the Chain and end up comforting Legend

The echoing sound of waves crashed into the cliff face beneath you. 

You sat on the edge of a rocky outcrop, feet dangling over. You would have never thought to do something that borders this close to recklessness before you bet the Links, but by this point you had done much more than sit by an edge. 

Salty ocean air whipped at your face, blowing your hair about in all directions. 

The sun retreated over the horizon, painting the ocean in shades of red and pink; cotton like clouds dotted the sky, the scene seemed closer to fantasy than reality– but what even was reality at this point? 

You were on an adventure with 9 heroes from Hyrule, a land previously thought fictional by you– 

You recall when you first met the chain. You naively assumed you understood them well! You, after all, had seen their adventures! Surely it could correlate well to your relationships. 

You had quickly discovered this was, in fact, false. They are complex people, and  they always have been. You had failed to consider how it would feel to genuinely experience their trauma, it shed a new light on it. You had never considered the implications when Link had found his uncle dying, you had never considered the implications of watching your sister get kidnapped and almost die, you hadn’t–

You shake your head, that was a destructive spiral you desperately wanted to avoid. 

You sit alone with your thoughts a moment more, before taking stock of the island once more. About 8 minutes from your rocky outcrop, the Chain was establishing camp in a wooded clearing. 

A portal had deposited you onto the island after a gruesome battle, and you were shocked they even allowed you to wander. Though, you reasoned, Four’s head injury was most certainly a more pressing issue than you exploring– It wasn't as if you were like Hyrule or Wild either, at least in the sense of wandering and getting lost. 

Once again, the wind assaulted your face, blowing salty air directly into your eyes and nose. You let out a loud sneeze, elbow flying up on instinct to cover your face despite being–

“Excuse you.” 

Your heart damn near leapt out of your chest, your hand flying to your hilt as you spun around only to come face to face with the strawberry haired hero, his permanent smug grin plastered on his face. 

“I- I- You–” You scramble to collect yourself, heart thundering as if you’d ran a marathon without breaks. 

“Startled?” 

“I- Yes?!” You fluster, moving your hand from your hilt and cupping your face. 

Legend stands patiently, as you not so graciously collect yourself. After a few moments, he speaks again. “Mind if I join?” You shake your head, gesturing to the space on the cliff next to you. 

You don’t look, but you can hear as he approaches, the soft grunt as he lowers himself to the floor. 

Legend doesn't speak again for awhile, if it weren't for his steady presence at your side you may have well assumed he wasn’t there at all. His silence was comforting, the cries of gulls in the distance soothing. 

You listen to the waves again, rhythmic crashing drowning out the sounds of the forest. In the distance, you can see a couple of the gulls making their way across the sky to no doubt find a safe place to rest. 

You hear legends breath hitch besides you. You try to ignore it, discreetly moving your gaze to his hands. They sat in his lap, the rings adorning them getting spun and moved with the anxious energy pouring off Legend. 

You move your gaze to his face. 

His eyes were almost glassy, fresh tears building to fall. His strawberry hair shields you from seeing the majority of his face. 

You bring your hand up, gently touching his back, gauging his reaction. Your concern only grows when he doesn't react. You rub small circles into his back, a silent comfort to the red dawning hero.

You’re not sure what to do as the hero’s breath hitches again, his breathing ragged as his buries his head into his hands. You keep rubbing his back, sympathetic eyes taking in the crying form of the hero. 

Do you ask him if he’s okay? You aren’t sure. Would he prefer you leave? 

You decide to remain by his side, silent, but ultimately decide to speak up if it gets worse. 

And worsen it does.

Legend’s soft hitches devolved into deep sobs, the legendary hero’s shoulders racked as he curled into you. You hold your hands above the hero now curled against you, unsure if you should touch him. 

Deciding after a few moments, you gently drape your arm over him, carding gentle fingers through his hair. You aren’t sure what to do, so you stay like that for a while. 

You stay like that as the sun retreats into the horizon and the first stars speckle the sky. 

You stay like that after his sobs subsided.

You stay like that until he pulls away, an embarrassed blush tinging his face. 

You both sit there in silence for a good while, before you stand. “Want to head back?” You inquire, hand extended towards the hero. He nodded, silently taking your hand and rising. 

Im gonna strive to post more, but please enjoy the fic!

[urloveangel]

you shouldn’t be doing things you don’t want/enjoy but the thing is sometimes you NEED to do things you don’t rly want to do/enjoy doing in the moment to get to the things you fkin LOVE

[faaun]

idk how to live so im going to talk to myself out loud until i do

[nezuscribe]

part one

fake dating your best friend gojo satoru is a lot harder than you imagined.

not because he's not good at the faking part, he's really good at that. in fact, he's so good that you sometimes forget it's all an act. something to get him closer to the girl he's been crushing on since freshman year, and you closer to a guy he thinks you've been crushing on for forever.

thank god he doesn't know his assumption is completely incorrect.

so, yeah, maybe agreeing to fake date the guy you've been in love with since you were playing in sandboxes wasn't your brightest idea, nor was it particularly smart to help him try to get together with the girl he likes but so what? this was probably your only chance to truly experience gojo.

your friends were all shocked when the two of you came out with the news. they looked at your with furrowed brows and parted lips, not knowing whether to say congratulations or i told you so.

and it get's even harder tyring to protect yourself as this whole scheme continues because he's just such a good fake boyfriend. like that time you flunked an exam? you could've sworn he was playing with your feelings just for fun at this point.

---

"what's wrong?" his muffled voice came out from behind your bedroom door. the two of you agreed to meet up for a "fake date" that would be plastered across your socials to make geto and suki jealous, but you had missed out on his last phone call, his plethora of texts, and weren't responding to his onslaught of questions.

you groaned into your pillow, face dry with old tears as you sat in a hunched and curled up position. you were so mentally exhausted from studying the past week and failing so miserably that you didn't even have the energy to open the door for him.

"was it that test?" gojo asked, and you just groaned louder at the thought of it, wiping at your nose.

you could hear him sigh, getting his answer from your weak excuse of a response. even when the two of you were in high school you'd kick yourself down over these sorts of things. now, in college, it seems to have gotten ten times worse.

"look...can i come in?" he knows you don't want him there, but that's the exact reason he's pushing this so much.

you swallow, sniffiling again as you raise your head from the pillow just a bit so that he could hear your groggy voice.

"i looked pooped out," you tell him, "i don't think i can make it tonight."

there's a pause,

and then he opens the door.

you groan in annoyance, looking at him from over your shoulder with a wrinkled brow and ready to berate him for being so emotionally inept when you spot the mountain of things in his arms.

snacks, food, his laptop (for movies, never anything work or school related), and that peach ice cream you love so much but is never in stock.

he lays it all out on your desk with a pleased smile, watching you roll over on your bed to take it all.

"kinda pieced it together when you didn't pick up," he explains, pointing to all the things he knew would cheer you up, "thought this would help."

you slowly lift from the position you'd been rotting in for the past three hours, going on wobbly legs as you make your way over to where he was.

fresh tears well up in your eyes because this isn't even fair, you still flunked that test, and the guy you love is acting like he actually cares about you.

at your reaction, gojo's smile drops, a worried expression taking over his face as his hand shoots up to your arms, caging you in between his strong body as you lean your head back and let out a strangled wail, one reminiscent of a cat.

"hey, hey, come on," he shushes, bringing you in for a tight hug, one reserved only for you, or so you hopelessly tell yourself, "it's okay, it's just a test."

your breathing quivers, "a really important one," you say, muffled against his chest, "a really really important one."

gojo shrugs, one hand rubbing up and down your back, the other one gingerly cradling the back of your head.

"and you'll do really really good on the next one, yeah?" he says softly, all teasing gone from his voice. you hate this, you hate that he's actually nice and not some jackass who's just using you.

you nod limply.

"maybe you could just buy the grade for me?" you say through a hiccup, looking up at him through watery eyes as his face of concern melts into a more relaxed one, rolling his eyes as he pinches your side.

"always thinking about my wallet, huh?" he chastises you, pushing you away by the flick of your forehead, shoving some chips into your outstretched hands.

"it's something good to think about," you mutter weakly, opening it as you look at the ruffled chips, rubbing at your nose as another hiccup escapes your chapped lips. it's stupid, you know that, but you can't control it.

"hey," he calls, his voice dipping a little, the one that forces you to look up at him because it means he's being serious, "it's gonna be okay. promise."

you nod, blinking slowly as you eat a chip, chewing lazily.

"besides, my crazy smart fake girlfriend can do anything she puts her mind to, right?" he says with a boyish smile, taking some chips for himself as he gives you another hug.

your shoulder sink again.

damn it.

[eraserbread]

you and your husband, nanami, have endured your fair share of struggles but, nothing held a flame to postpartum

week three of being a mother was the hardest.

all those sleepness nights between you and kento have finally caught up to you, and your body is fully, finally spent. minds are on a limb, and most days with you and your husband are spent transactionally.

it doesn't help that you woke up this morning with the worst, most painful lump in your breast. you noticed it and decided to feed baby girl on your freezer stash. going about the fast-paced morning with it in the back of your mind, deciding not to burden your husband.

he's already completely out of his element when he's cleaning up after the night shift and nursing breakfast on the stove so you can get your daughter situated. you couldn't bother him—not now.

not until you're kicked back up in bed, nursing pillow around your waist as your newborn suckles helplessly at your reddened, bruised nipple. research you've been scrolling through tells you to keep feeding from it - that the clog will come out with force, but your baby is just too gentle. gumming and suckling at your nipple did nothing but make fires erupt in your breast, face twisted up in agony as you toss your head back to the headboard.

"don't mean to interrupt." kento pushes into the bedroom with a sprawling breakfast tray in his hands. he's carrying a burp cloth on his shoulder, shirtless as he approaches you. "what's wrong?"

"think my milk duct is clogged," you reply, breathless. you've had enough of the pain, so you sit up just enough to switch your daughter to the other nipple - the nipple running on fumes, trying to keep up with the exclusive use.

kento leans over the bed, tracing his finger across his daughter's soft, suckling cheek. she has a tendency to fall asleep while nursing, letting dribbles of milk spill from her little lips. kento loves this, never understanding why you get so flustered about it. when she's asleep like this, the face she stole from him starts to fade into something reminiscent of yours.

"ju- just take her," you whine, trying to gather your composure as you massage the throbbing lump.

kento does whatever you say, now. he immediately takes your daughter into his safe, strong hands, turning and placing her at the bedside bassinet. It's a seamless maneuver; she doesn't even stir.

"i'm going to go crazy. i feel like i'm scrambling and drowning." you're starting to bead sweat at your hairline, deciding to stop in the meantime and pull your bra back up. "thank you for the food. love you so much."

"hey." kento sits down at your propped legs, massaging his hands across the covered skin. "you have me, and I know it's not very comforting to hear when you feel like this, but I will do everything I can... I love you, too."

"no, you're perfect. you're so patient and understanding - dealing with so much of my shit and still working full-time."

"you just birthed a human, give yourself some grace."

"but it's impossible when my body repeatedly fails me."

kento's seen you in many states, but the way you act regarding your daughter is a new kind of monster—a beautiful, passionate monster clawing at your skin that he can't feel; he can only see it.

so, he reaches for his safeword. "what can I do to help?"

"okay." you're shuffling in bed, sheets bunched around your body. against your propped knees he leans, giving you a reassuring kiss over your jaw. "just... just suck, please. you don't have to swallow, I'm sure a lot of milk won't come out."

"it's okay," he nods, helping you push your strap over your shoulder. you're clutching your breast, fingers ghosting over the rock-hard clog just above the nipple. he leans forward and takes it between his lips, warm lips covering the expanse as he starts sucking gently.

even his gentleness is 10x stronger than his daughters, and it makes you throw your head back in a hiss. "Ow, ow, ow, ow—keep going."

so he does. he's holding you, running his hand over your side for some comfort as he works your nipple over. you peek down to look at him, mesmerized by the hollows in his cheeks. you tangle your hand in his hair, swollen with admiration for him as his throat bobs down your milk.

he's flushed and enjoying this, and if it didn't feel like you were being branded by a hot iron, you'd enjoy it, too.

you're crying by the time you feel a pop, then instant relief. it makes you shudder out a thankful moan. "ah, keep going..." you rush, hand massaging back over the softening lump until it's fully dissipated. "ugh, iloveyousomuch, you got it."

kento pulls away with flushed lips, licking over them to bring some moisture back. you pull him into a thankful kiss, trying so hard to hold back hormonal tears when you look at him.

every time you think he cannot get any closer, he's helping you change out your postpartum underwear, standing behind you when you can't see your birth stitches and clean properly. he never mentions more than what he knows you need to hear, and that quiet, thoughtful stoicness is exactly what you need.

his unwavering patience and love were formed in the darkest of times, only to shine light on the happiest.

you two sit side by side and share a cold breakfast, no words breaking the sanctuary you created. he just wants to bite pieces of fruit between your teeth and kiss your sweetness away.

whispering as your daughter starts to stir with hunger,

"you amaze me."

[atlabeth]

bend an ear

pairing: peter parker x fem reader

summary: your boyfriend doesn't listen to you. good thing your friendly neighborhood spider-man does.

a/n: there's just something about him idk. andrew garfield spidey bc of course! look at him! this came from me playing the spider-man game after it went on sale and yearning for peter parker (will prob have to rewatch the movies bc of this) anyways hope you like it

wc: 3.6k

warning(s): reader's bf is shitty -- they argue for a while and he lowkey slut shames her. but this is basically all fluff otherwise bc childhood best friends to lovers babby!!! real yearning loverboy hours!!!

Peter just wants to go home. 

It’s been… a day. He got his ass kicked by an English test (he doesn’t have time to do the readings when he’s fighting crime), got his ass kicked by Flash Thompson (it’s not like he can fight back with his super strength and pulverize his ribs), and has spent every second since his final class ended fighting petty crimes around the city. 

Stopping ATM thefts and minor muggings feels good, sure, but on days like these, it doesn’t really make up for failing intro literature classes and getting absolutely zero sleep. He’s just thankful May is still letting him live with her while he studies at ESU—if he had to do all of this in addition to trying to make his rent? He doesn’t really want to think about it. 

So he swung his way to the roof of some random building, and he’s taking a break. Sue him, but Peter thinks he deserves it. What’s the point of living in a city like New York if you can’t have a second to yourself every once in a while? 

He’ll go home soon. Grab a bodega sandwich, maybe stop another crime, and then get home for some much needed rest. But for now, he’s just going to sit on this rooftop and relax for a second. Even Spider-man needs some peace and— 

“Babe—” 

“Why are you following me?”

Peter winces as the door slams open, an argument following close after as a girl storms out onto the roof followed by a guy speeding to keep up with her. His first instinct is to swing away as soon as possible, but for some reason, he stays. 

“Because I want to talk!”

“God, do you even hear yourself?” 

“You keep talking over me, so I really—” 

“You don’t get to babe me right now!” 

As if his day hadn’t been bad enough, now he’s accidentally made himself privy to some couple’s dispute. He’s about to web himself out of this third wheeling nightmare when the girl turns around with a groan, revealing her face, and Peter realizes who it is. 

It’s you.

This is your apartment complex. Peter came here without even realizing it, but can he really be surprised? Your name is synonymous with peace in his brain. Comes with the territory of being friends for so long—it still calms him, even when you’re being the opposite of peaceful. 

“I don’t get why you’re acting like this!” the guy exclaims, frustration clear in his voice. 

Of course. Why wouldn’t your shitty boyfriend be here too? The only reason you live here is because you scored this place together; said he didn’t want you living on campus anymore. Ethan Frey might be the bane of Peter’s existence after two and a half years of him being your boyfriend. 

“Because you and your posse are acting like complete jags in front of all my friends!” you shout back. 

He laughs in disbelief. “I’m just being myself, babe. Besides, you’re the one who said I could invite them!” 

“Because you complained about it just being my friends,” you grind out. “You weren’t even supposed to be here, Ethan! You just can’t handle the thought of me being around guys that aren’t you!” 

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to think, huh?” He gestures wildly. “You spend every second with that geek and I’m supposed to believe you’re not into him?” 

And now he’s eavesdropping on a conversation between you and your boyfriend about him. How could this get worse? 

“God, it isn’t like that at all!” you exclaim with a mirthless laugh. “Peter is my friend— my best friend since elementary school. You knew when we got together that wasn’t going to change.” 

“Yeah,” he says, nodding lazily, “but that was before I knew how obvious his hard-on for you was.” 

Peter feels his face heat beneath the mask, wants to wipe the sweat off his palms. That’s how it could get worse. 

Your nostrils flare as you turn away, your hands flexing while you shake your head. “Get out of here, Ethan.” 

“Oh, of course that’s where you draw the line,” Ethan mocks. “When I bring up fuckin’ Peter Parker.” He pauses then chuckles. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” 

Peter nearly intervenes right then and there, wanting to stop this mess before Ethan does anything to hurt you. But revealing himself sounds like the worst possible thing to do, so for once he listens to the rational part of his brain over the emotional. 

“He’s not even here!” you retort. “I live with you, not him. I’m dating you, not him. Why are you bringing him up?” 

“Because I’m not blind.” Ethan crosses his arms. “Y’know, I thought you’d get over this little thing after you let me take you out, but for some reason, it’s exactly the same. I swear you spend more time with him than me.”

Your hands clench into fists. “Get out of here.” 

He scoffs. “You want me to leave you up here?” 

“Yes,” you nod. 

“God, you’ve been acting crazy this whole night!” he complains. “You’ll freeze up here. Just get over it—we’ll go back down, I’ll get you a beer—” 

“I hate beer.” 

“Then I’ll get you a fucking apple juice,” he spits. “Just stop being so dramatic.” 

“You’re not listening to me!” you shout. “I want you to leave me alone!” 

This time he says your name, and you shake your head. 

“Go back to the apartment,” you interrupt. “Because if I have to spend another second with you, our relationship might not make it through the night.”

For once, Ethan is silent as he stares at you. You stare back with no sign of giving up. Eventually, he just huffs and shakes his head. 

“Whatever.” He starts walking towards the door. “You better cool off up here, because I’m not dealing with this shit when you come back down.” 

You stare at the door for a good twenty seconds once he closes the door—slams it, rather—before you angrily kick a stray soda can. Your childhood days of rec soccer must still be in you, because you get an arc on it. Just before it can go over the side of the building, Peter shoots a web to catch it wholly on instinct. 

Your eyes widen as you dart around, and Peter is finally spotted from his place on top of the roof door building thing. What is that even called? He doesn’t really have time to think about it. The aluminum can crunches as it flies into his hand, and you stare at him in complete shock. 

“Uh,” his mouth suddenly feels very dry, but he has to make some excuse for why he’s up here, “littering is bad.” 

Good one, Parker. 

“You’re Spider-man,” you say, eyes still wide. 

“The one and only,” he nods. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble, finally seeming to break out of your shock as you cover your mouth and turn away. “Oh my god, Spider-man just heard my relationship falling apart.” 

“I didn’t hear anything!” Peter exclaims. “I—”

You shoot him the withering look he loves so much, that was able to get his bullies to shrink on the spot in high school—it feels weird being on the receiving end of it. 

“I’m not stupid,” you say. 

“I kn—” He has to stop himself from saying I know, because realistically Spider-man has no idea who you are. “I’m sorry.” 

You huff and cross your arms. “Do your superhero duties include eavesdropping on failing couples?” 

“It was an accident,” Peter says. “I was up here before you were. So technically, you were eavesdropping on my actual superhero duties.” 

You laugh, and he smiles just at the sound of it. One benefit to wearing the mask, because it would expose him right on the spot. “Oh yeah? And what are those?” 

“Patrolling the streets,” he says. “I’ve got a very good vantage point from up here.” 

You hum, your mood turning a bit more morose as you glance away. “Well, I’m sorry you had to hear all that during your patrol.” 

“I’m sorry you had to go through it,” he says. “Your boyfriend sounds like an asshole.” 

You roll your eyes. “He’s fine, most of the time. Just had a little bit too much to drink.” 

Peter will never understand why you defend Ethan so much. You’ve been together since freshman year and he’s only gotten worse since then—maybe he hides how he is around you, because he hasn’t really shied away from showing Peter how much he hates him this past year.

“He looked pretty sober to me,” Peter says. “And trust me, I have plenty of experience fighting guys that have had too much to drink.” 

You huff. “What are you, a spider-therapist?” 

“I’m good at a lot of things,” he says. “And I’m always good for bending an ear.”

“Surely you have better things to do than listen to me complain.” 

Peter shakes his head. “My schedule’s pretty clear right now, actually.”

“Really?” you marvel. “There’s no crime in New York City at,” you check your watch, “11:37 pm?”

“Absolutely none,” he says. “I solved it all. At least for now.”

You laugh again at that and gesture with your head as you walk over to the edge of the roof. “Then I guess I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Peter jumps down and follows you over. You hoist yourself on top of the wall, legs dangling over the edge, and he feels himself frown as he leans his back against the wall and looks up at you. 

“Isn’t that a little dangerous?” 

“You’ll catch me if I fall,” you say. 

“Obviously,” Peter says. “I’m supposed to encourage safe behavior in New Yorkers, though.” 

You laugh and tilt your head up towards the night sky. The moonlight reflects in your eyes and Peter knows he could get lost in them forever. “Just this once, then.” 

“I think I can let it slide.” 

“Good.” 

A comfortable beat of silence passes between the two of you, and Peter finds himself smiling. No wonder he ended up at your place out of instinct. There’s nothing else like your company. 

“I always think it’ll be different,” you murmur. Peter glances up at you, your expression shifted to something more melancholic. “We’ll have a good day, which’ll turn into a good week and a good month, but he always does something to mess it up. It’s like it’s in his DNA.” 

He stays silent as you think. Most of the time when you rant to Peter, you just want to be heard, not given advice. At this point, he’s an expert at listening to you. It’s not like he minds. 

“I want things to work out. I— I still love him. I mean, I think I do. But everything is a fucking struggle with him. If I don’t do things the exact way he wants, if I try to do something for me instead of him, if I can’t read his fucking mind, then he loses it and we argue. And I’m so fucking tired of arguing!” 

Your voice has risen by now, and you bite down hard on your cheek. Peter doesn’t realize he’s started reaching towards you to comfort you until you look back down at him, and he runs his hand over his head in an effort to cover it up. 

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “I promise, I’m a much nicer person than this. You just caught me at the worst time.”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I know.”

Your brows rise. “Spider-man knows I’m a nice person?”

“I can just tell,” he rushes, trying to save himself. He’s doing a real good job at not revealing his identity. “I’m good at reading people.”

You chuckle and shake your head, then adjust your position so your back is towards the open air. It makes Peter nervous, he can’t lie, but it’s not like he’s not a superhero. 

“So, spider-therapist,” you say. “Any advice?” 

So this is one of the rare times you do want answers. Peter wonders if you’ll leave your boyfriend if Spider-man tells you to. 

“He doesn’t sound great,” Peter says, inclining his head. “How many times have you argued this week?” 

“Four,” you say. “Five, if you include tonight.” 

He whistles. “And it’s only Wednesday.”

You tip your shoulder. “We’re efficient.” 

“And unhappy, it sounds like.” 

“We’re not unhappy,” you defend. “We’re just…” 

“You’re up here talking to me instead of down there with him,” Peter says wryly. “That doesn’t exactly scream ‘happy couple’.” 

You shake your head with another sigh. “It’s because he can’t get over Peter.” 

He tries to act as nonchalant as possible when you bring him up. Is this an invasion of privacy? Letting you talk to him about all this when you have no idea who Spider-man actually is? 

Instead of floundering over moral qualms, he just clears his throat. “And who’s he?” 

“My best friend,” you say. “The one person who’s been by my side since the second I moved to New York. He means everything to me.”

Peter feels his heart skip a beat. “Yeah?” 

“He’s like— like the opposite of Ethan, and it’s wonderful. I guess that’s why Pete irks him so much. Y’know,” you pull out your phone and start typing in your password, “maybe I should call him. He always knows what to say.” 

“No!” Peter exclaims with a bit too much force, causing you to give him a look. “No— I mean, it’s late. He’s probably asleep. And— and it’s a school night?” 

You tilt your head, and Peter exhales when it seems to work. “True. He’s probably studying for that biochem test.” You grimace. “I should be doing that too.” 

He watches you type out a few texts and send them, and Peter’s never been more thankful to have his phone on silent. What a way that would be to blow his cover. 

You shove your phone back in your pocket with another sigh. “I just hate that my boyfriend and my best friend don’t get along. I love them both—why can’t they like each other?” 

“I mean…” Peter trails off when you look at him, and he gestures with his head. “It seems pretty obvious why they don’t get along.” 

“Yeah,” you say dryly. “Because Ethan thinks Peter likes me, and he probably thinks I have some secret crush on him too. I swear, he’s always looking for a reason to fight.” 

God, could the universe be calling him out any more? It’s honestly ridiculous how this is going. 

“Do you?” Peter asks, because he can’t help himself. “Like him, I mean.” 

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “I love Pete, I do. It’s always been the two of us no matter what. But I…”

He holds his breath as he tries not to look at you, tries not to make it too obvious that he might have stumbled his way into his simultaneous dream and nightmare scenario. 

He’s had a crush on you for what feels like forever. Since you stood up for him against his bullies in elementary school, honestly, and it’s only grown over the years as the two of you have grown. From recesses spent together and bike rides through the city; spending the night in Peter’s apartment because it was easier for your sister to let it happen than try and drag you back home; endless nights with heads bent over textbooks trying to study for tests, over college applications trying to get into the same place, and now studying and researching near every damn weekend together because you’re both unfortunate enough to try for ESU STEM degrees. 

You were there when Ben died. He’s there on every anniversary of your parents’ accident. Without knowing it, you were there when he got bit and his whole life turned upside down. 

You and Peter have been there every step of the way for each other, and it’s why he’s content with just friendship—Peter wants you in his life no matter what. But he can’t lie and say he doesn’t hope. 

No, actually. He yearns. He’s doomed to be a yearner for the rest of his life because he’ll never stop loving you. How could he? 

“I’m not sure,” you finally say with a sigh. “All I know is that I’d rather be with Pete tonight than Ethan.”

Peter wonders if your chest compressions are still as good as they were in high school, because he feels like he’s about to have a heart attack. 

You’d rather be spending tonight with him than your boyfriend of two years and seven months, and Peter isn’t even supposed to know. 

You mistake his silent freakout for nonchalance, and you clear your throat as you jump back onto solid ground. 

“Well, I’ve spilled my soul to you,” you say wryly, crossing your arms. “Anything a superhero can spill in return?”

Peter thinks for a good, long second. His hands itch to take off his mask, to do what he’s wanted to do since he got bitten by that stupid spider and show you who he really is. 

How many times has he been a total asshole, canceling plans on you because he had to go stop some supervillain from wreaking havoc in Times Square? How many times has he been late to something important to you because he was caught up stopping dime a dozen muggings? He still remembers the look on your face when he showed up just in time to miss the entirety of Les Mis’s opening night with your first lead role. 

You were a better best friend to Peter than he was to you because of this stupid mask. If he took it off, it wouldn’t make every mistake fade away, but it would sure help explain some of it. 

But Peter has been doing this since high school, and he has seen far too many times what happens to the loved ones of heroes. They’re used as leverage, used for ransom, sometimes just straight up killed.

You’ve been friends with Peter since you and your sister moved into the apartment next to May’s thirteen years ago. It doesn’t matter if you never share Peter’s feelings. You’re one of the only constants in his life, and he’s not going to lose you because he’s too selfish to keep a secret. 

Losing you would be the last straw. He couldn’t take it. 

So Peter pushes all thoughts of secret identities revealed out of his mind and tries to chuckle convincingly. 

“I’m allergic to peppermint, believe it or not.” 

You stare at him, deadpan. “That’s nowhere close to all the shit I just gave you.” 

“It’s true!” he exclaims, holding up his hands. “Happened after I got bit by the spider. They’re repelled by peppermint oil, and I guess I am too.” 

You shake your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe Spider-man is a coward.” 

“A superhero’s gotta have some secrets,” he says, and he taps the side of his head. “Otherwise this thing doesn’t do much good.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “Whatever.” 

A chill suddenly goes up Peter’s spine and he whips around—he can hear a distant scream followed by a distant gunshot, and he mentally curses. 

“Duty calls?” you ask, drawing his attention back to you. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m sorry—” 

“Don’t be.” You smile, and it’s genuine. A nice change from the state Ethan effortlessly puts you in. “You went out of your way to cheer me up. Pretty super of you.” 

“I hope it makes up for the eavesdropping,” he says. 

“More than,” you nod. “Now get out of here. Your city needs you.” 

Peter nods too, and he backflips onto his original spot. “Have a good night. You’re real special to somebody.” 

He’s gone before you can say anything else, already zipping across the rooftops to get to the scene of the crime. Peter can only think of your face as he swings through the air—all the things he’s too scared to say to you. 

The crime, which turns out to be yet another petty theft, is resolved easily enough with some punches, kicks, and a snappy one-liner. Once he’s retrieved the woman’s purse and alerted the police, he’s back in the sky. 

Peter only stops once he’s swung a couple miles away, perching on the edge of some rooftop for some actual peace and quiet. He checks around once or twice to make sure he’s not somehow back at your place, and when he’s sure it’s all clear, he pulls his phone out. He swipes past all the notifications he’s racked up until he finds the one he’s looking for: the texts from you. 

hey pete, I know you’re prob asleep rn but you were right. I really need to study for that test lol

wanna meet me at the library tomorrow after QM? I’ll buy the coffee this time i promise <3 

as long as you use your roomie’s dining dollars to get me a croissant lol 

Peter can’t help but smile, larger than anything tonight. This is why he’s okay with being nothing but your friend for the rest of his life. 

Deal. Anything to get you an A 

lol

asshole 

Never 

Try to get some sleep. No good studying on a tired brain 

Three dots appear for a good long second, enough to constitute a decent paragraph—then they disappear. In its place: 

I’ll try just for you 

night boy genius

(How could he not love you?) 

Night, girl wonder

[nochepsicodelica]

"Stop. Moving," Toji groans, sleepily, as he tightens his arms around you and buries his face into your back. This is the third time you try to wake him up by shifting on the bed and he is not having it.

"It's time to wake up, Toji. If you don't want to get up, you can stay here while I go make us breakfast."

Toji hums in disapproval. "What's the point in staying behind if you're not gonna be here? Let's just..." he sighs, nuzzling his face into your back, getting comfy, again. "...stay in bed a little longer. Let me keep you like this for a few more hours- minutes. I said minutes."

"Baby," you say, through a laugh. "It's almost ten. I know that if you could, you would stay in bed all day-"

"We would stay in bed all day," he corrects, his voice a low grumble.

"We would stay in bed all day," you repeat. "But... I want breakfast, and I know you'll want breakfast, too, once you smell all the food. I know how much you love your bacon," you add, trying to persuade him.

"Brunch sounds better," he mutters, stomping on your argument.

"No, breakfast sounds better," you argue, to which he groans, dramatically—almost childishly. "Oh my god, Toji," you say, in utter disbelief of the way he's acting.

"Shh... let's sleep," he murmurs.

You sigh, defeated. "Five minutes. That's all you get. Five more minutes." Toji doesn't even respond, too busy dozing off to make the most of these measly fives minutes, you "generously" offered. And, yes, you were generous, because five minutes became ten minutes, and then fifteen, until you reached the limit you had set—twenty minutes.

After the twenty minutes, you start moving around a little. You flip onto your back to get a look at the sleeping hulk that's been clinging to you. He just adjusts to the new position, not bothered in the slightest as he rests his head on your shoulder.

"Toji," you call, softly, waiting a few seconds to see if he reacts. When his steady breathing is still all you hear, you decide to try again. "Bear," you call, dragging your fingertip along the slope of his nose. "Wake up," you murmur when his brows pull together. "Hi, baby," you coo, smiling when he just blinks his sleep-ridden eyes.

"That didn't feel like five minutes," he mumbles, his voice raspy.

"It was twenty," you respond, a soft laugh following. You press a kiss to the top of his head and watch the way he subtly eases up a little more. The crease between his brows is gone, now. "Let's go have breakfast, alright? Some coffee will do you good."

"Fine," he grumbles, before rising slowly from where he lays on you, like he weighs tons.

You turn over to see the subtle jut of his lips, a small detail that never fails to make you laugh when he doesn't get what he wants.

"What's that thing you always say to me? 'If you keep pouting, I'm gonna kiss you'," you say, mimicking his voice.

"I'm gonna kiss you," he mutters under his breath, like the grumpiest bear.

"Ooo, I'm sooo scared," you say, your voice doused with sarcasm. "Please, don't do it. I definitely don't want you to kiss me," you jest, smiling to yourself as you walk towards the door. Your hand doesn't even reach the doorknob, before you're caged against the wooden slab. Two enormous hands rest on the door, preventing you from getting it open. He's discovered a loophole that gets you to be the one who wants to kiss him.

"Pay the Toji Tax," he murmurs, tiredly.

"Now, why would I do that? I haven't asked you for help with anything," you argue.

"You need my help getting the door open," he says, matter-of-factly.

"I don't need your help getting the door open. You just need to move out of the way so that I can open it."

"So, ask me to move. Simple, no?"

"Can you pretty please, with a cherry on top move so that I can open the door and make us breakfast?" You plead, your voice monotonous.

"Sure, for three kisses," he says, naming his price.

"It's unfair to Toji Tax me when you're the one keeping both of us from getting out."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, but you either pay the price or you rot in here with me until your precious little breakfast time turns into brunch, or even lunch time. Hell, dinner time might even roll around."

You turn around, slowly, your expression contemplative. A hum, just as mindful, reaches Toji's ears.

"You'd starve both of us for three kisses?" You question, your expression unchanging from its depiction of disbelief.

"Shamelessly and repeatedly. You wanna make it seem like kissing me is a job, I can play along and treat it that way. You can't go until you finish your task, and if you do it wrong, you get to do it again."

"Tojiii," you whine.

"Babyyy," he mocks, smirking at your rising impatience.

"Fine," you agree, bending to his will. You reach out to cup his face, but Toji takes a step back before you can touch him.

"What did I just say about getting it wrong? You really don't wanna kiss me, do you?"

"I do," you argue.

"Well, it doesn't feel like it. Seems like you just wanna get it over with so that i'll let you open the door."

"I'm sorry. I do wanna kiss you."

"How bad?" He pokes, loving the way you tilt your head, your expression unamused. "Plead your case, ma. How bad do you wanna kiss me?"

"So bad," you utter.

"Don't believe it," he responds, not moved enough by your words.

"Toji, I wanna kiss you so bad," you repeat.

"No, you don't," he denies. "I'm not feeling how much you wanna kiss me."

"Baby," you start, your voice exaggeratedly sentimental, your gaze filled with a saccharine amount of love. "I wanna kiss you so damn bad. It's not even funny."

"The way you're making it up is funny, though," he fires back. He's having a ball with this, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from cracking. Then, he sees you powering up, getting ready to go full siren. "You got it," he says, encouraging your theatrics.

With a deep inhale, the show commences.

"Pleaseeee! Oh god, please, please, the prettiest of pleases," you cry out. "If you love me—shit—if you value puppy lives... Oh my goodness, I can't even get it out. It's... it's too much. My desire-" you break out of your own drama scene to release a cackle at your word choice. "My... desire to kiss you..." you press your lips together, finding it difficult to hold it together when you see how entertained Toji looks. You use it to your advantage, adding a little head shake and dragging yourself down on the door, appearing to have crumbled to the ground. "I can't contain it. I just... I can't. Please," you whisper, weakly, looking up at Toji, pathetically, from where you sit on the floor.

Toji is very familiar with your dramatic fits, but this one takes the cake. You stunned him for a solid ten seconds. He peers down at you, his hands still planted on the door.

"And you called me dramatic earlier. Did you hear yourself just now? All that for some kisses?"

"Not just any kisses. Your kisses," you respond, with a satisfied smile and a nod.

"Get up," he commands, offering you his hands for assistance in standing up. You take them and push yourself up and off the ground, smiling softly when your hands remain in Toji's. He loves when you look at him like that—with your eyes all shiny and that smile on your lips that expresses the joy you find in these ridiculous moments with him. In one fell swoop, you pull his arms around you and reciprocate the gesture, giving him a big squeeze. Obviously, to him, it's anything but a big squeeze, but it brings a smile to his face anyway.

"Please, let me make you breakfast," you plead.

"You still have to kiss me," he insists.

You smile as you take half a step back to be able to see him. Stubborn as ever, he still really wants his kisses.

"Come here, baby," you call, your voice so sweet that it's almost a coo. You outstretch your hands in preparation for cupping his cheeks.

"Mmm... I like that," he murmurs, lips pulled into a smirk as he tightens his arms around you a little more and starts leaning in. "Three kisses, pretty, but you know I won't complain if you want to give me more."

"We'll see," you tease, smiling as your lips connect for the first kiss. Your hands gently mold into the softness of his cheeks, your fingertips grazing his jaw. It's soft, sweet, a little impatient on both ends, but controlled for the most part. Like you're kissing without a limit, that second kiss is easily melted into and attained, leading you to the third and supposed final one.

Once that one concludes, you decide to be nice and reward him with a bonus kiss. This one lasts longer, and you hum into it, like kissing him is your favorite thing to do in the world. Your thumbs stroke his cheeks a couple times, before you release him with a loud "mmmwah!" and step back, releasing an irrepressible giggle.

"Give me another one, just like that," he requests, taking that step towards you, again. "Come on," he pleads, grabbing your hands and pulling them up to place them on his face. "One more, doll?" His hands lower to your waist, and when you smile and roll your eyes, he knows he's won.

"Alright, only one more, bear," you comply, standing on your tippy toes to meet his lips one. last. time.

Once your lips brush against his, you hold them there for a few seconds. No movement, nothing crazy, just warm softness. You can feel yourself wanting to laugh, but you hold it together for a few a couple more seconds. After you do the same "mmmwah!" sound, you finally let your soft laugh out.

Toji smirks, his gaze darting between your eyes and the lips he just kissed, as he unwinds his arms from your waist and steps back, giving you the space to open the door and let both of you out.

"Toji Tax paid. You can open the door now," he says, grinning contentedly at the way you press your lips together in amusement, before turning around and pulling the door open.

Breakfast would be yet another task and a half for you to complete. With Toji trailing back and forth after you in the small kitchen area, refusing to be anywhere you weren't, you're surprised nothing ended up burning.

[watch-out-it-bites]

I am. SO being fucked over by my school 24/7 but if I take extra classes I get to graduate early..

[partiallysame]

Price's lil wife and how Poly!141 began

Price knew the conversation was going to happen the second he saw the way his men looked at you and the blush it caused on your cheeks. Insatiable was always a word he’d use to describe his sweet wife, so you asking for his men to join in the bedroom was truly no surprise. John Price trusted the 141 with his life and it wasn’t a big jump to also trust them with his wife. The only thing that made him nervous was you getting too attached. They had a dangerous job and more often than not, soldiers don’t come back home. The thought of your face when he’d have to deliver the news to you that one of them was gone, terrified him. But what shook him to his core was him not returning to you. He printed out his letter of resignation everytime the thought crossed his mind but he’s yet to turn it in. However the idea of you having his men, a support system, people to love you the way he did if he were to ever not return to you was all the convincing he needed.

You and Price discussed how to talk to the 141 about what you wanted. You thought Price should bring it up with them and he thought it needed to come from you. Weeks of you trying to hint that you wanted them to fuck you failed. Lingering touches, bedroom eyes, innuendos, anything you could think of to get them to touch you without just coming out to say it and you were getting frustrated. Begging your husband to talk to his team. Safe to say he was reluctant. They are a team, yes, but they don’t talk about feelings and shit like that. What's he even supposed to say?  So it came out awkward and harsh and accusatory. The 141 sitting in Price’s truck on their way to their weekly dinner at your house and he just blurts out

“Do you wanna fuck my wife?” The chorus of “No captain” was immediate, the men panicking, clutching their pearls thinking Price was going to drive them off a cliff because, yes they did. It was all they thought about. You underneath each of them, moaning their names like they’ve heard you moan Price’s. 

“Oh.” Price let out a small sigh. “The Missus is going to be real disappointed then.” Wait what? No one knew how to respond. Thoughts racing about the last few months of you practically throwing yourself at them. They could have acted on that????? Why didn’t you tell them? 

“You wanna elaborate on that Cap’n?” Ghost broke the silence. 

“Nope. Gonna make the Missus do that” 

The second they entered your home, you knew they knew. Three sets of predatory eyes on you, but somehow also looking genuinely surprised. Price walked up to give you a small kiss on your lips before stepping behind you, hands on your waist. “Go ‘head tell ‘em what you want.” 

There you were picture of fucking perfection, sweetest look on your face as you tell them that you don’t like when they leave and how you want them to stay. How you want them to touch you. How you want to make them feel good, feel loved, both in and out of the bedroom. Each of their eyes darting from you to Price. This has to be a cruel fucking joke right. There’s no way he’d share his wife. But their captain is looking at you like you’re his whole world (because you are) and agreeing with everything you’re saying. You finished your speech, half scared the men would run from you, never to be seen again. They all just stood silent until Price added

“Want her taken care of when I’m not here.” To you that meant when he was away but they knew exactly what he meant. This was real. Price let go of you to push you towards the men standing in your living room.  “Our lil Missus eh? Like the sound of that”

Price's lil wife Masterlist

[salemwasnteverhere]

How the Hashira men react to your neighbor asking you to be quiet

Characters: Tengen, Sanemi, Rengoku, Obanai, Gyomei, Giyuu,

Additional shit: Swearing, Sanemi fighting said neighbor, Rengoku being blunt, mentions of sex, ooc mot likely :p

Tengen

He couldn't care less

His whole thing is being flashy and loud so he wants you to be loud

Like it's not his fault that dick is magical

After he shoos your neighbor away he makes sure to be as loud as possible that night

He's pounding into your cunt and you swear your gonna break when he whispers "okay now scream exactly how big my dick is. Don't forget the tip color-"

He gets cut off by you hitting him with the pillow

Way to ruin the mood

But that doesn't stop him and instead he goes harder, making sure the bed creaks loud ASF for your neighbor

"Not my fault he doesn't know how to please a woman." Is his main reason for doing so

He really wants you to scream his name so it's imbedded in your neighbors head

"Morning N/N!" Him to your neighbor from the balcony while your trying to get out of bed and failing

"Actually die." Both you and your neighbor to Tengen

Sanemi

Cares alot

Why the fuck is that limp dick biscuit talking to you and him? Who does he think he is?

You were the one who broke the news to him thankfully cause if Sanemi was the one who opened the door then you'd have to see your husband through glass in a prison

Just kidding. The Slayer corp would get him out of trouble if he didn't do it himself.

Anyways

Sanemi made it his goal to piss your neighbor off as much as possible

Your under him, practically creaming on his cock, and he's slamming the wall yelling "This loud enough yet?! Huh!?"

Not kidding I can see him doing that

He quite literally had you against a window where your neighbors could see him destroying you just to make them mad or uncomfortable, hopefully both.

But then he'd get pissed someone else would see you all naked and fucked out so he settled for the wall next to the window

One day your neighbor, finally having enough, bangs on your door yelling and guess who opens it...Sanemi!!

Good Lord was he waiting for this

It took one punch and the guy was out

Kinda what happens when you put a normal dude against a guy who kills demons for a living

Rengoku

He's a good neutral between caring and not caring

Like he doesn't wanna make your neighbors mad but he also loves hearing your screams

So he tries to keep you quiet during sex but fails since he gets to into it to give a fuck

The next days his loud ass voice wakes you up

"IM SORRY FOR MAKING INCREDIBLE LOVE TO MY WIFE!" He's not being sarcastic thats his genuine apology

Your facepalming and you want to die when you see your neighbor and she can't look at you

"PERHAPS SHES MAD BECAUSE HER HUSBAND CANNOT PLEASE HER!" Rengoku says casually and you know she can hear you from outside in her garden

"Inside voices!" You place your hands over his mouth to try and shut him up.

It works for a bit before he's yelling again

You love your husband but holy shit you wish he would speak normally sometimes

He's actually quiet in bed though

So your the problem (real)

Obanai

I'm not an Obanai fan so forgive me for how bad his section will be

Obanai is a quiet mf, and you're not even that loud

It's your neighbor who was the problem

A little old man whose hearing aids apparently had the power of 67 suns

You and Obanai found this out when he was outside training and your neighbor came over

He was so sweet and polite and even chuckled at Obanai's redness

Obanai cared at first but got over it

You? You make sure to not make a PEEP in bed

Okay that pisses Obanai off but he understands your reasons

At least make a gasp or sum cause he's over here like "Wait does this feel good? Can she feel it? Did I forget where the clit is?"

Brother is STRESSING

Then you cum and he's like "ah"

Then he's like "Did you take it?"

You have to keep yourself from murdering him cause how tf would you fake squirting

Gyomei

Babe I'm not gonna lie, you're a screamer

Gyomei is built like a house and your telling me your just gonna whine and whimper?

NO

Your over here crying and screaming into his chest, neck, the pillow, anything.

And Gyomei loves it!

He can't see your reactions so hearing and feeling them let's him know he's doing good

Gyomei isn't loud but he's not quiet

He'll grunt and moan and praise you, but he's not gonna cry out.

Well he'll cry but you can never tell from what

When the pussy so good you start crying 😭🙏

When your neighbor politely asked you to be a tad bit quieter Gyomei actually laughed

Not in a 'nah we'll keep being loud' way but more of a 'sorry we'll be quiet' way. He also found it hilarious how you actually died of embarrassment.

Don't worry he thinks its endearing

Yet it was kinda hard for him since he enjoyed hearing you

But your touches and now quieter moans made that better

And then there's also you literally drawing blood from his back you were scratching so hard

Giyuu

Holy shit you have never seen him so embarrassed

Like you could shade match his Haori to him and get the exact same color

He was the one your neighbor told and he stopped working when 'loud' and 'moaning' left their lips

If a demon doesn't kill him then his own actions will

Giyuu isn't loud, and he loves that he can make you feel so good that your loud for him.

But he didn't want your neighbor back over at your house so he tried to keep you quiet

You were super confused when he held his hand over your mouth in bed and he just pointed to your neighbors house. Then you got it.

So you nod and try to keep quiet.

You know in school when the teacher tells you and a friend to shut up but they look at you funny and you break?

Yeah that was you

You were riding Giyuu one night and you were loud so he was like "holy shit I love you but please- I can't look our neighbor in the eyes anymore."

And you couldn't help but laugh

Like howling

You calmed down obviously but sex was very giggle filled after that

You've never seen Giyuu so panicked

But give him a week and he'll stop caring

[rindreamery]

to be loved is to be seen.

the little things that the blue lock men do for you as their way of saying, "i love you." featuring: itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser, oliver aiku ─ content: fluff

note. spreading down bad bllk men agenda 🫦 finals is this week, so that means i will not be able to write at all for 3-4 days, so i just wanted to pop this out rlly quickly (event fics will be written as soon as i wrap up this sem, PROMISE)

itoshi rin picks out the things you don't like in your food.

not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but rin has a folder in his notes app about you— things you like, things you dislike, and every little thing you’ve mentioned to him in passing. he wants to know every little detail about you, to write it down and memorize it until the knowledge becomes stuck in the back of his head. to the point that it becomes like common sense to him (if there were ever a pop quiz on facts about you, he would pass with flying colors.) at the end of every date, or every time he hangs out with you, he’ll update his notes with another little thing he’d learned. you will never catch him admitting it out loud, but it definitely shows in how he treats you.

there is one thing he’d memorized about you, by now, though. it’s written in bold, italicized, and underlined in his notes: you hate mushrooms. 

rin catches himself looking at the ingredients of certain meals whenever the two of you would eat at a new restaurant, or order food from an unfamiliar place. it’s not that he’s necessarily a picky eater because, frankly, he really doesn’t care. but he wants you to enjoy it, he wants you to be able to eat without stressing about having to pick it out. his eyes are always scanning through the print, actively checking if mushrooms are one of the ingredients listed. 

but, there are times when the ingredients aren’t listed, and there are times when you end up ordering something with mushrooms in it. 

he may be dense in certain aspects, but it’s hard for him to miss the disappointed look on your face. the way your expression falls ever so slightly, and your smile falters for half a second. before you could dig in, before you could even put yourself through five minutes of digging through the food— he’s swiftly grabbing it from you. 

truthfully, he does it without thinking. he’s acting on his thoughts before he could even process what he’s doing. rin tries to fight the blush that threatens to form on his cheeks, the way the heat crawls up his neck and to his face at the realization of what he’d done, and he fails. but he’s committed to the act now, and he’s not going to give it back to you until he’s done what he needed to do.

he tries to ignore the somewhat perplexed look on your face, and the way you watch him closely as his fingers make quick work of moving the mushrooms from your plate to his. (he tries to sneak in some of your favorite food from his plate to yours, but he’s not slick, and you definitely notice.)

“here,” he says, pushing the plate closer to you after a few minutes. “you can eat it now.”

he sees you glance at the plate, and then back up at him— he looks away as you beam at him with a grateful smile, trying to ignore his ever-increasing heart rate. 

itoshi sae remembers the small details about your routine.

it is almost guaranteed that sae will wake up before you do. his alarm is set to go off at the crack of dawn, right as the sun starts to peek through the horizon, and he's starting his day while you're still in deep sleep. there’s a set routine that he follows, to a tee: wake up (and then contemplate staying in bed, just to cuddle with you a little longer), stretch, do morning yoga, and then go on a jog. it’s something he’d been doing for years, and he has never gone out of his way to add anything new to his routine— that is, until one morning. 

at first, it started with a random thought. as he was getting ready to leave the house, to go for his morning jog, he had unsystematically decided to set out your favorite mug and go-to morning snack. 

sae didn’t think it would be that significant to you, and he, initially, had no plans of doing it again. he simply had extra time to spare, and he knew that making your morning drink was always the first part to your routine, so he decided to get the first step out of the way for you.

truly, he wasn’t planning to make a habit out of this. but then, you told him, “that was a sweet way to start off my morning,” with that sleepy, morning smile of yours. he tries to not pay attention to the way his heart softens at the sight, and the realization that that had made him happy. yet now, he does it every time.

from then on, his alarm was always set to go off two minutes earlier. it’s rewarding, in his opinion, to come home to you— sitting at the dining table, messy hair and still in your pajamas, eyes half-lidded from sleep, with a smile on your face as you take a sip from the mug. and then you greet him with a thank you and a kiss, without fail, even when he tries to lightly guide you away because he’s sweaty.

it never works, because he folds the second you tell him, “g’morning. i missed you.” and he finds himself adding another part to his schedule. 

before sae’s even aware of it, much of his daily habits had been molded to fit with yours. 

on days where he’s far from home, in another country, he finds that his morning just never feels right without you. it feels weird not having to set out your favorite mug, and it feels even weirder not having you there to smother him in kisses. his routine had always determined his mood, and without you, he’s extra sour. 

“i miss you,” he ends up texting you. (that, too, becomes part of his routine when he’s far from you.)

michael kaiser has all your subtle behaviors memorized.

if kaiser were to be asked to name one annoying habit of yours, it would be the fact that you, sometimes, say things that contradict how you truly feel. he calls you pesky, he tells you that he’ll take your word for it and not read too deeply into whatever you’re saying— but, in a way, he’s contradicting himself too by saying that. he’ll always read into it; he’ll always analyze you, gaze narrowed, and watching for every subtle sign in your body language. he knows you, all too well. 

but there’s one thing you always say, one contradictory statement that you always make, that he’d memorized at this point. “it’s okay, i’m not cold,” even when you visibly are.

it irks him to no end. he doesn’t understand why you would say that even when there are goosebumps scattered all over your skin, when you have your arms wrapped around yourself, and you’re visibly trembling. he can practically see the bones under your skin, rattling, making some comical, cartoony noise in his head. you know that he can see you, and yet, you still lie to him.

and, at times, he does this on purpose— he puts the air conditioning in the car on full blast, all vents pointed at you, just to see how far you’re willing to go. and every time, it’s always the same, with the same answer.

kaiser isn’t completely cruel, however. he’s tucked one of his spare hoodies (your favorite, actually) into the backseat, existing purely for your use. first, he’ll scoff at you, roll his eyes, and let you suffer for a few more minutes. but eventually, the guilt will catch up to him, and he’ll constantly be glancing at you through his periphery, shaking and looking absolutely miserable in your seat.

he’ll think to himself for a second, as if contemplating whether he’ll actually help you out (he always does, he does not want you to actually suffer). and then, he’ll internally sigh, before speaking up. “stupid,” he mutters under his breath. “i have a spare hoodie in the back, take it.”

it’s almost laughable, the way you quickly turn your body around to reach for the backseat, visibly seeking warmth. he sees the look of pure joy in your eyes when you realize that it’s your favorite, and he smiles to himself.

“you’re the best,” you always tell him, as you pull the fabric over your head, and he's content. 

he doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t reprimand you— he lets you do this, every single time.

oliver aiku is always willing to listen to you ramble.

it doesn’t matter if aiku’s had an exceptionally long day, it doesn’t matter if he feels as if he’s on the verge of succumbing to sleep— he will always make time for you. he will never pass up a chance to call you, to listen to you talk about whatever you want, whenever you want. you could talk for hours, going on and on about something that he doesn’t quite understand, and not a single complaint will slip past his lips. then again, he thinks to himself, why would he complain? hearing your voice is the best part of any day, good or bad. and every night, he finds himself waiting by his phone, waiting for your contact to appear on his screen.

he finds no shame at the speed in which he accepts your call, which is immediately, nor does he try to mask the anticipation in his voice.

and if he were to look into a mirror at that exact moment, he would also see the lovesick smile that had started to tug on the corners of his lips. you can’t see him, but he’s sure you can hear it in his voice. the way it softens, the way it loses its rough edges and lightens up ever so slightly, when he greets you. you probably know he’s grinning from ear-to-ear. (he doesn’t think he is, but when it comes to you, he’s completely transparent.)

it doesn’t take long before you’re divulging into another one of your endless tangents. but aiku’s attention remains undivided, only for you. he sits on the other side of the phone, silently, only responding when you want him to. it doesn’t matter if his own thoughts are clouded with exhaustion, his mind racing with the weight of the day—when you call, everything else fades into nothingness.

“did you know that venus is an evening star for 263 days out of the year?” he can hear the excitement in your voice, he can practically see the sparkle in your eyes, even without seeing you. it’s been three hours, and he’s sure that he should’ve been in bed one hour ago. but you’re still as energetic as ever, so he fights the way his body craves for sleep. he locks his jaw, and bites back a yawn, and listens. “and then, the fact that it disappears from the sky for 50 days, before returning as a morning star?”

there’s silence on your end, and aiku takes that as his cue to talk. “no,” he responds, and there’s an amused lilt in his tone. “i didn’t, actually. you should tell me more.” and you do. 

one look at the clock to his side tells him that, at this point, he won’t be getting enough sleep. he’s sure he’s going to be exhausted when he wakes up in the morning— though, he doesn’t really care, and he’s sure he won’t regret it. he’ll let you ramble about the stars for as long as you want, even when the stars themselves start to fade into the morning sky. 

© rindreamery, 2024