#( hey but yenno )

[supernaturallyedsheeran]

Lost & Found

SYNOPSIS: After a day spent on the road with Dean, confessions of love shared between you, you find yourself injured, and unaware of who he is, or where you are.

WORD COUNT: 2951

PAIRING: Reader x Dean

WARNING: Blood, pain, fluff, memory loss

CHARACTERS: Dean x fem!reader

FANDOM: Supernatural

You sit in the Impala, the summer sun beating down relentlessly on the worn seats, the leather sticking to your skin. The air inside is thick with the scent of old vinyl and memories—this car, Dean Winchester's car, holds stories and adventures you could only imagine. You fidget, impatiently tapping your fingers on the dashboard waiting for Dean to return.

Just when you're about to roll down the window to let in some air, the driver door creaks open. Dean slides in beside you, his trademark smirk lighting up his rugged features. "Hey there, sweetheart," he drawls, leaning back comfortably in the seat.

"Finally," you tease, giving him a playful shove. "Took you long enough. What were you doing?"

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Just checking something out. You know, keeping an eye on things." His eyes meet yours briefly, a hint of something more lingering in his gaze.

"You gonna tell me what you were checking out?" You ask, pressing for information.

The heat seems to intensify as you sit there, a charged silence settling between you. Dean clears his throat, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. "Hey so I wanted to ask you something"

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Way to avoid the question; It's sweltering. Can we drive and talk so I can get some air?"

Dean nods, his gaze drifting out the windshield for a moment before returning to you. "Yeah, let's drive." His voice softens, a rare vulnerability peeking through his tough exterior.

"Everything ok?" You shift your attention to him as the Impala roars to life, pulling out of the gravel. Deans demeanor had changed - something was weighing on him

Taking a deep breath, and licking his lips he spoke softly "I wanted to talk about us. Where we're headed you know - "

For a moment, the world seems to hold its breath. Dean's eyes narrow slightly, his gaze searching yours as if trying to read your expression. Then, a slow smile spreads across his face, genuine and tender. "I think it's obvious, that I really like you and I'd like to... Yenno, keep you here. With me."

He pulls the car off the road, under the shade of large maple trees.

He puts one hand on the steering wheel, and the other across the back of the seat, turning his body to fully face you.

You were speechless. For the many years that you'd know the Winchesters, they had only called on you when they were in town, and needed help on a hunt; their presence always welcome and you, always happy to see them -- especially Dean.

You turn your gaze from Dean - staring out the windshield, mouth parted, trying to find the words

He presses his lips in a thin line, puffing out his chest "Say...something?" He raises his brows.

You shake your head, a smile spreading across your face, as your world swirls around you.

"Yes." You say, raising an eyebrow. It was a statement, but you couldn't believe you were saying it yourself.

"Yea?" Dean chuckled back.

You look into his deep green eyes watching your lips, his own parting, into a toothy grin.

"I honestly. I don't know what else to say, but yes. I want to be on the road with you." You exhale. You'd always had a thing for Dean, and whenever he came out of the woodwork with his brother for your help, you welcomed him in with open arms - and an open bed. Your relationship never really defined, but both of you always there for one another. You were intimate with his body, mind, and his mannerisms, almost as if you had been in a relationship with him for years before, everything so familiar. But today was the first time he'd caught you speechless- like he was finally letting his guard down.

Without another word, he leans in, closing the distance between you. His lips meet yours in a kiss that spoke of years of unsaid feelings and shared moments. The warmth of the summer day fades into insignificance compared to the heat that courses through you both, the undeniable connection that has been there all along.

As you pull apart, breathless and exhilarated, Dean rests his forehead against yours. "Alright" he says, pleased.

You continue to stare at Dean, his smile stuck to his face. He turns his attention back to the road, and pulls off again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After a long day of driving and following up on leads Sam had been texting you, you were finally on the last leg of the trip. Windows down, warm air coasting through the impala, and the sun setting low on a never ending road, you couldn't help but stare at Dean.

His intense eyes focused on the road; one hand on the steering wheel and the other setting his dad's notebook aside. He pressed a hand to his forehead, rubbing his temples. "I don't know I think Sam lost the plot on this one. What do you say we call it a night and head home." He looked over to you, his face ruggedly handsome, but soft, the setting sun highlighting his green eyes. "Yours or mine?" You smirk, knowing this would set him on fire.

"Oh woman." He bit his lip in return, the Impala roaring to life on the pavement as he set his foot down, determined to get home faster. The place you had called home for years was just your friends old house. After they had decided to move on to bigger and better things (settled family life outside of hunting) they donated their home to you, so long as you kept it a functional hub for Hunters passing through who might be seeking solace. It wasn't much - a yellow barn style home, decrepit of most it's shingles and gutters going awry.

Dean can't help but exhale at the sight of it - it's like a second home to every hunter.

The paint on the siding might be peeling, but to him, it speaks of history and saftey. He admires the way the porch sags just so, like it's been holding up the weight of countless memories. Stepping out of the Impala, Dean stretches his legs and scans the surroundings with a trained eye, noting the overgrown garden and the slight tilt of the mailbox. It’s clear this place has weathered its fair share of storms, and you'd both seen most of them.

As you and Dean approach your home, you notice something immediately unsettling—the front door is slightly ajar, a faint creaking sound as it sways in the breeze. Your instincts kick in, and without a word, you and Dean silently draw your guns, communicating with a glance as you cautiously step inside.

The air inside is heavy with tension, and you move quietly through the familiar rooms, alert for any sign of danger. It's then that you hear a low, guttural growl from the shadows. A Borderwalker emerges, its twisted form and glowing eyes a chilling sight in the dim light.

Instinct and training take over as Dean shifts to cover you - but too late.

The creature aims a feral strike, hitting your gun clear of your hand, and slicing your arm as it does. You let out a scream, which sets the creature in a frenzy, your blood dripping as it nears, closing in, faster.

In the midst of the chaos, another blow lands, and pain shoots through you. You stumble back, clutching your side where the creature's claws have left a deep gash. Adrenaline pulses through your veins, but you can feel the warmth of blood seeping through your fingers.

Dean's voice cuts through the haze of the creature's screams, filled with concern as he calls out your name. He moves swiftly to cover you, his focus shifting from you to the monster. He moves his body to cover you. Dean manages to set a few rounds into the creature, it's body crashing to the floor

Dean takes a few seconds to process the creature is down before he turns his attention to you - still standing, barely, clutching you side where the blood seeping from the gash and your arm, as the blood slowly flows over your jeans.

He says nothing, holstering his gun, and grabbing you around the waist - you wince at the sharp pain as his hand grazes your wound. You put your good arm over his shoulder as he steadies your weight and helps you back out the front door of the house.

"We'll get you patched up," Dean says urgently, his voice tinged with a mixture of fear and determination. He supports you as you stagger, guiding you to the Impala and setting you gingerly across the back seat.

Dean's concern is obvious, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive as he hurries around the front of the car, getting in, and spinning the wheels of the impala burning out of the driveway.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Later, when the adrenaline had faded and the wounds are tended to, you catch Dean stealing worried glances at you. His usual bravado is shrouded by a face full of worry, his concern for your well-being a testament to the words he admitted earlier.

You adjust yourself upon the leather seats of the bunker's library. Wincing slightly at the soreness.

"What can I do?" He strains, looking at you from the couch, afraid to touch you, in fear of causing you more pain. "Nothing" you exhale, finally settling into another position, less painful than the last, but still uncomfortable.

You let out a shaky sigh, your injured arm grabbing your side, the other gripping the arm of the chair as a surge of pain makes its way through your body. "I think I'm going to pass out." you state. A feeling of warm washes over you as you feel a lightness in your head you'd never felt before,

Your head nods off but not before feeling Dean's hands on your waist balancing you before darkness consumes you.

As consciousness gradually returns, you find yourself lying on a cool, hard surface.. Confusion grips your mind momentarily, but as you try to sit up, a sharp ache shoots through your body, reminding you that you were injured.

The last thing you recall is seeing a concerned face looming over you, with a reassuring quiver in his voice despite the urgency in his eyes.

Now, you're on the floor of what seems to be a bunker, surrounded by shelves stocked with books and weapons. The air smells of old paper and dust, mingled with the faint scent of leather from the armchair you must have fallen from. You groan softly, testing your limbs and wincing at the soreness that accompanies each movement.

"Hey hey take it easy," a man says, his voice gravelly yet comforting. "You knocked your head pretty hard. How are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a truck - where am I?" you manage to joke weakly, attempting a smile despite the pain.

The man's movements become rigid, his weak smile turning into a look of pure concern. He moves closer to be beside you. "Let's get you back up," his gaze assessing your injuries.

With his help, you manage to get up, as he places you gingerly back into the leather chair. He offers you a bottle of water, which you gratefully accept, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat. As you drink, he watches you - his gaze, wandering over every part of your body.

"Are you okay?" He says "I think so." You reply, still a little dazed from passing out, and the pain in your abdomen. "Was I in an accident? My side is killing me." You lift your shirt to reveal the hastily sewed up side, crusted with dried blood and enflamed. "Oh wow, ow. What happened?!"

The mans eyes furrow, more concern spreading across his face "You're kidding right?"

"No?" You say, your heart starts to race, the feeling of fight or flight kicking in. Suddenly you don't feel too safe here.

"Do you ... remember anything?" He presses more, sitting down on a couch beside you.

"Remember what?" You wince as pain shoots through your side, your thoughts running around, your eyes darting through this cold bunker room, searching for a door. "Where am I?" You ask more sternly.

"Home" The man says, with a stern voice. "You're home, with me."

"And you are?" You reply, eyes wide at him

His lips part, as if to answer you but his words fail him. His green eyes pierce yours, his chest rising and falling with deep hard breaths - his body language speaking the same panic as yours.

"Dean." He breaths out, still staring at you, as if saying his name would trigger something within you.

A few moments pass, silence heavily dripping in the air between you. "Why am I here, and what happened to me?" You need answers. The fact that Dean hadn't moved from his seat and he was still staring at you was making you uncomfortable. You tried to pull your legs to your chest to shield yourself, but wince again as the pain from your side injury ripped through you.

Seeing you in pain, Dean was immediately by your side again. You flinched as he touched your arm. "Sorry" You whisper. "I don't know you."

It's as almost if you had taken a knife and slid it into his heart. His brow furrowed, he pressed his lips into a line. He closed his eyes and inhaled, as he backed away.

"How much do you remember." He asks, sliding back into his seat on the couch.

You try to think back - to when? You remember the day being hot and spending a lot of time in a stuffy old car...but with who? You think you were on a hunt....You remember being at your house.. A heavy sense of dread washes over you - a fog in your mind hiding whatever he was trying to get you to remember, from your brain.

"Honestly not much. I remember getting a call from a hunter, and I think I was on the road with him today." You trace the cracks in the floor with your eyes, trying to concentrate as you recall.

He sighs, putting his head in his hands. "Ok." He exhales. "Let me walk you through." He leans forward, hands clasped together, as he retells the day. Where you were - who he was. That you've known him for years. You were dating? You had been injured. You were in the bunker, recovering.

Hours pass in a blur as you drift in and out of sleep, tended to by Dean who checks on you regularly, bringing you food, medicine, and a change of clothes. His presence is a comforting constant in this unfamiliar place, his voice a steady anchor as you navigate the haze of pain and exhaustion.

Eventually, as your strength returns and the worst of your injuries begin to succumb to the meds easing their throbs of pain; Dean suggests you rest in his room—a quieter, more comfortable space where you can recover fully. Hesitant but grateful for his care, you agree, allowing him to guide you down the corridors to his private quarters.

His room is surprisingly neat, with a large, inviting bed dominating the space. Dean helps you settle in, arranging pillows for support and ensuring you're comfortable. Despite the pain, a sense of safety washes over you in this room, surrounded by Dean's presence and the warmth of the bunker.

"You rest up," Dean says softly, his hand briefly squeezing yours in reassurance. "I'll be right here if you need anything."

You nod, offering him a tired but genuine smile. "Thank you, Dean," you murmur.

He returns the smile, his eyes softening with a mixture of concern and happiness that you were settled in his room.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As you slowly open your eyes, the soft light filtering through the curtains reveals a familiar ceiling above you. You're in a cozy room, comfortably nestled in Dean Winchester's bed. Confusion clouds your mind for a moment until the memories start to trickle back—there was a hunt, a fall, and then darkness.

Just then, the door creaks open, and Dean steps in, his expression a mix of relief and concern. "Hey there," he says gently, his voice a soothing balm to your confusion.

A sudden clarity washes over you, like a veil lifting from your mind. You remember now—Dean Winchester, the hunts, the Impala, and most importantly, the feelings you'd both confessed to earlier.

"Dean," you whisper, your voice gravelly from sleep.

"Yeah, it's me," he replies, moving closer to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I… I remember," you manage, your heart pounding in your chest. "I remember everything."

Dean's eyes widen in hope and anticipation. "You do?"

Tears prick at your eyes as you nod, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions rushing back. "I'm with you, Dean," you say "I want to be with you always, on the road."

A broad smile spreads across Dean's face, his eyes sparkling with happiness as your memories flood back. "And I want you with me."

Without another word, he closes the distance between you, gently cupping your face in his hands. His lips meet yours in a tender, passionate kiss, sealing the spoken promise of being together.

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of Dean's embrace, you know that you've found your way back to where you belong—by his side.

As the kiss deepens, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you and the promise of a future filled with love, hunts, and the enduring bond that had survived even the quickest of dark times.

[holllandtrash]

6n1 y/n gotta be v happy

OH SHES HAPPY AND SHES celebrating w Arthur and Charles when Lando calls her and says he got p4 she screams and Charles is like Jesus Christ wHAT and she’s like fourth!!!! Lando got fourth !!!!!

And Charles is like conflicted because he’s excited for Lando but sad for Ferrari bc this means Carlos isn’t p4 and you see the discontentment as you hold the phone away from your face and you’re just like “hey, hey don’t think about it. You got second. That’s all that matters right now”

Of course Lando on the phone hears that and is offended and you’re just quickly like “I love you, good job for not exceeding track limits. I’ll call you back later”

And this is just a moment where she has to like choose essentially and I think at this moment it would be Charles over Lando. His first second place podium of the season, after such horrible races, she’s a proud sister.

But then she goes back to the hotel hours later and uhh her and Lando..yenno ….celebrate

[sheinsidemymindvro]

wait how DOES one get mind controlled. can you js turn off my brain 4 a bit. on an unrelated note who are you whyd you follow me

Hey hi, well there are people who are born as psychics and just have the ability to visualise a persons face and then go into their mind (so to speak) I'm a victim of a psychic attack I don't know how this shit works and honestly I don't think they know it either, its an intuitive thing.

as for "mind controlling" they don't control you like a possession, its more like they whisper suggestions - in whatever voice they want, they could mimic your own voice and if your not aware that a psychic is fucking with you, you might think its your own thought. also yenno how you can imagine shit, they imagine shit and stream it to your brain too. I would love to turn off my brain, but yea I wasn't aware that a group of psychics were fucking with me until 6 months into this psychic attack, they wanted to be insidious style, turns out they are a bunch of retards, being a psychic doesn't guarantee intelligence I followed you to get my message out to the world. Psychics are real, not all are bad either but yea I got a group of retarded bitches in my head doing shifts. you may ask why? why me? well all I did was follow elusin on ig and they do it cause they can and they're cunts. The idiots let me know their identity and posted shit to prove to me its real thinking I wouldn't talk about it because it makes you look crazy. turns out idgaf. but yea esp is real.

[wounddread]

hey!!! i followed for the ardyn content!!! but i was curious about your ire tags??? is this an oc??? id love to hear about them!! <3

omg hello fellow ardyn-lover!! <3 ahhhhh yeah ire is my oc 👉👈 she's my oc x canon for ardyn lol that's why you probably see them a lot together in my tags 🖤 SO cringe of me but tysm for humoring me 🖤🖤🖤 i guess to start, she's one of my angel ocs!! and she's my personal fave :) i've got this like. whole huge fic in the works about them i've been writing for years now that my friend @vince-prime REALLY helped me with including adding in his own ocs. we brainstorm together and i do the writing :) ardyn needs someone who would defy the gods for him, yenno? and ire is kinda like. the culmination of that i guess 🤍 and she's also the "he asked for no pickles" wife lol i love ire because she stops at nothing if it means he gets a chance at happiness, gods and devils be damned. she is a force of absolute nature and i find her fascinating because all the angels in my fic have slight human qualities about them, whether it's lust or cruel fascination or curiosity or even selfishness, and she's no different :) but her human characteristics culminate into... persistence and eternity. it's the vibe of like. she'd burn down heaven to keep him warm. and the way love can become a purely neutral force because you won't bend to the laws of fate and whatnot. yeah. idk, i think she's cool lol 🖤 i have an ire aesthetic/ardyn/ffxv blog if u wanna check it out @ire-in-reverence :) all things that remind me of her are under the 🤍 tag and all the ardyn things are under the ♥️ tag. and the "iredyn" tag stands for the ship name i gave them :)

[cinnaminsvga]

omg so i saw your account pop up on that bit at the side with accounts to follow and stuff and immediately was thrown back

i don't know how long ago it was actually but based on the fact I've recently revived my own writing account after like 3 years away and forgetting tumblr even exists, but it's been at least that long since I last saw your account but immediate like nostalgia

this sounds terrible but i genuinely can't remember what exactly I read of yours (other than probably most of it back in the day) but I just remember you were one of my fave writers, i don't really read bts anymore because i'm up seventeen's ass these days but ima have to go through your masterlist and reread stuff for the memories now

im pretty sure that there was one specific fic series you wrote that you made group chats for on kakao maybe, i was there for it i just have terrible memory. now watch it turn out it wasn't even you that did that 🥴

i actually meant to send an ask last night when I saw your account and followed you (i think i used to follow you from my personal but idk) but it was late so I thought "hey let's wait until tomorrow when you can string together more cohesive sentences, yeah?" and then this shit show happened. but at least im not actually screaming at you in this ask like i probably would've last night

anyway, just wanted to just idek just sort of reminisce a lil and tell you that it made me really happy to see your account after these years even if you're not always active, it's nice to see that you still pop back now and then 💖

(I apologise for the mess of this. i'd say im usually more eloquent but that's a fucking lie, im a complete mess all the damn time <3)

WOAGH this was an unexpected letter in my inbox i'll tell you what (a pleasant surprise!) but hello hello welcome back and thanks for taking the time to send a message after all these years :D the tumblr algorithm, in all its mystery and dysfunctionality, sometimes makes little fun things happen like this lol

judging by your description, that fic series you're talking about is very likely "the lonely hearts club", which i suppose is an smau rather than a fic but yenno... it was something alright... if you were there during the peak of it, when i had kakao group chats for it... then it must have been 6 years since youve been around these parts (i posted that in 2018!! aint that a strange thing!!)

also, i appreciate all and every screaming ask sent my way HAHA this was actually very fun to read because like you said, i'm not very active on this blog, but getting messages once in a while is still a sweet treat!! nice to know that strangers on the internet just feel... compelled to talk to me, yenno?? especially you, who had somehow stumbled onto my patch of land by some algorithmic miracle :D it's nice reminiscing with ya!! if you really were here back in 2018, then you've known me a long time (even if you forgot most of it HAHA but i dont blame ya... my memory is pretty foggy even on a good day) so thanks for making a short stop my way <3

[novelconcepts]

i’m really happy for you. the fact you have someone who is good to you, and helps you be better towards yourself makes my heart sing. as someone who has read a whole lot of your work and deeply appreciates it- your wife is absolutely right to take up arms about it. that whole post really made me smile. it’s also really lovely that you see her effort, yenno what i mean? anyways, definitely understand the frustration, but you’ll get to where you’d like to be. so, hey, truly, thankyou for all you’ve done and all you’ve shared with us. it’s really no small thing <3

Aw, thank you, friend. I’m really lucky to have her in my life. For many reasons, not least of all that she’s really good at listening when I get frustrated—and then gently pointing out that art matters, and things are gonna work out.

I’m glad folks are still sticking around. Any time a story takes an especially long time to unfold (or goes to especially strange or dark places), I worry that it’ll drive readers away. But I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have a lot of lovely people in my corner over the years. I’m wicked grateful.

[skoolbully-a]

.

[cryolyst]

~

[heartmix]

Headache-Eddie Kingston

Pairing: Eddie Kingston x fem!reader

Word Count: 700+

Warnings: mention of injury, Eddie threatening people, a swear word I think?

A/N: Eddie my beloved, bout time I write for you

Masterlist / Wrestling Masterlist

"WHERE THE HELL IS SHE?!" Eddie's loud, angry voice rang through the halls at dynamite. You could hear it all the way from Doc Sampson's office. You were pretty sure he was in catering also, so a pretty big distance, and yet his voice was clear as day. 

Once he found you it was over. Everyone who wasn't named y/n was going to have hell rained over them even if they were just a harmless bystander. You did feel bad about the shit they were going to get from Eddie, but you knew once you landed wrong while doing a spot with Julia it was going to be like everyone was living in hell, and Eddie was Satan.

"I SWEAR YOU GUYS ARE ALL DEAD." Great now he's threatening his co-workers, just what you needed. 

"EDWARD!" You yelled out hopefully loud enough through the headache which was now getting worst. Big mistake but you didn't want the guy to lose his job over your stupid mistake. You hoped that Mox was following behind sending an apologetic glance to everyone at was in their sight.

"Dove, what happened? Are you okay? Why are you yelling?" Eddie quickly came rushing into the room bombarding you with questions you didn't want to answer.

"If you stop threatening people, our co-workers, then I will stop yelling."

"Well if they weren't such idiots then they wouldn't have been threatened." He exclaimed making you sigh. Only then did Mox enter giving you a nod that no harm has been done and everyone understood Eddie's outburst, thankfully. 

"Can you sit just sit by me and shut up? My headache got worst after I yelled at you." You begged as doc gave you some painkillers and water for the headache he knew you had after dealing with the mad king. 

"Then you shouldn't have yelled at me." he mumbled as he made his way over to you pulling a steel chair from the corner of the room to sit on.

As doc was checking you over making sure your knee and the ligaments were fine and that you didn't tear anything, Eddie held onto your hand not taking his eyes off of your knee. He squeezed it every time doc went near that area making you squeeze back telling him you were alright. You weren't one to get injured (knock on wood) so it must have seemed scary to Eddie that something might have been seriously wrong. The last time you were in here was for some stitches from your match with Serena and that was a while ago.

"Alright, my dear. You just tweaked it and nothing more. But I don't want you to wrestle for a week and when you come in next week I'm going to do a check-up. I'll give you some crunches to relieve unnecessary pressure." Doc Sampson happily smiled at you as you returned knowing everythingwas alright, you even go a sigh of relief out of Eddie. 

"Yenno I could just carry you around everywhere." Eddie piped in making you chuckle. A much-needed chuckle especially from him. 

"I need someone to carry my bags, so crunches will do." I smiled up at Eddie who just grumbled more.

"Hey stop worrying. I'm fine." You noticed that he kept glancing at your knee that doc was bracing currently. Even though he trusted doc with these kinds of things his concern isn't going to go away until you're healed, he would probably still be concerned even then.

"I know but I swear my life flashed before my eyes when I saw Julia drop you like that. I've never felt that scared before." He poured out making you melt at his concern. Eddie was not a soft guy in public not even in front of Mox so it came as a surprise he was sprouting out all of this. Were you going to milk it? Of course you were.

"Eddie, how could your life flash before your eyes? I was the one that got injured."

"Because Dove, you are my life. You should know that by now." He confessed as he ran his fingers through your messy hair. Only then did you hear Mox letting out a snort.

"You're dead Mox!" Eddie threatened his best friend who only let out a series of laughs as you matched him.

[ladykissingfish]

*Literally wrote this listening to “At Your Best (You Are Love)” by Aaliyah. First time, I think, that a specific song has ever inspired a chat post 🤷🏽‍♀️*

*Deidara, out at a bar with Hidan*

Hidan: Hey bartender! Another round over here!

Deidara: No, no more for me, hm. I’m done.

Hidan: What’r you talkin’ about, blondie? You only had two drinks! C’mon man we’re not driving , have ‘nother!

Deidara: No, I’m good, hm. You know I don’t really like drinking.

Hidan: *picking up his new beer and taking a few swallows* Then why the hell did you want to come to the bar?!

Deidara: Because it’s one place Sasori won’t go, hm. He hates bars.

Hidan: Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise? Jesus, ya’ll only been married like, 4 months or something.

Deidara: Five, hm. And I dunno; he’s … changed a little since then. Not bad, just … he always wants to be around me, hm. Wants to go everywhere with me, and I can’t figure out why. Sometimes I just need a break from him, hm.

Hidan: Well yenno, nothing will change unless you talk to him about it, right?

Deidara: *sighs* I know …

Hidan: It’s important, man. You guys gotta stay married. It’s REALLY important.

Deidara: Why?

Hidan: Because you guys are the only ones I know with a house, man. Who else’s couch am I gonna crash on when MY old man kicks me out?!

Deidara: *chuckles* Good point, hm. Okay, I’ll talk to him later.

Hidan: *claps him on the back* There ya go, blondie! Okay, one more drink, you too, and then we call Itachi to pick us up.

Deidara, sighing: Fine, fine …

*later that night*

Deidara: *walks in the front door*

Sasori: *pacing by the living room windows, stops when he sees Deidara and makes a beeline to him*

Sasori: There you are! I was so worried about you!

Deidara: Sasori, I texted you less than 30 minutes ago and told you I would be home soon, hm.

Sasori: *taking off Deidara’s coat and hat* A lot can happen in 30 minutes, love. Geez, this is all you wore? It’s January; why would you pick something so flimsy? You’ll get sick for sure! Well, no matter, I’ll go draw a a warm bath for you, and then —

Deidara: Sasori! STOP IT, hm! I’m FINE. I’m not a child, I can make my own bath!

Sasori, startled: O-oh. Okay. I’m sorry, love. I’ll just … I’ll go and make you something to eat and —

Deidara: *reaches out and catches Sasori’s hand, holding him still* No. Me and you need to talk, Danna. Lately this … this clinginess of yours has gotten to be a bit much. You never used to be like this before we got married, hm. Now it’s like … like you don’t trust me to do even simple things for myself. What’s wrong?

Sasori: 

Sasori: I … Deidara I …

Deidara: *drawing Sasori to the couch and forcing both of them to sit* Yes? Please, tell me. 

Sasori: It’s … I married you.

Deidara: Yes?

Sasori: I married you, and I became your husband.

Deidara: I’m aware of that, Sasori. But it doesn’t answer my question.

Sasori: When you said, “I do”, when you put my ring on your finger … you became absolutely everything to me, Dei. My life, my heart, my soul. Everything. You’re my gift, and my responsibility. It’s up to me to take care of you, and to keep you safe. How could I forgive myself if something bad happened to you? 

Deidara: Danna —

Sasori: What if you went to the grocery store without me, and like, a display fell on you and killed you, because I wasn’t there to push you out of the way? Or you got into a car crash, because I wasn’t there to tell you to swerve? Or —

Deidara: *puts his arms around Sasori, hugging him hard*

Deidara: Babe … wow. I never would have guessed that you felt this way about me. Or that you thought about things like this. But … you know, we’re gonna have to work on you not worrying so much, hm. And for you to have trust in me, to make good decisions, and be able to keep MYSELF safe while I’m away from you. I love you, but I need some space sometimes. And so do you. That’s healthy in any relationship, hm, you know?

Sasori: I know …

Deidara: Would it make you feel better, when I’m out, if I checked in with you more often? Calls, texts, things like that? 

Sasori: It would, yes. Quite a bit, actually. If you can agree to do that … I can agree to be more relaxed about when you’re not with me. Or, I can try. Trying is all I can do, right?

Deidara: *smiling and hugging Sasori* It’s enough for me, hm. Now — you DID have one realy good idea. Something that I’d like to do together with you.

Sasori: Oh? What?

Deidara, grinning: Take a bath.

Sasori: Oh, really? Well then, I’ll go get one ready for us, and —

Deidara: No, no, let ME. Give you some practice on having trust in me to do stuff on my own, hm.

Sasori: *chuckles* Alright, dear. *kisses his cheek* You go ahead; call me when it’s ready.

Deidara: *gets up and goes whistling into the bathroom*

Sasori, to himself: He’s right; I DO worry too much. He’s perfectly capable of handing things on his own.

*several minutes later*

Deidara, from bathroom: Um, Danna? I um … I think I might have used too much bubble bath …. * a huge wave of foamy bubbles comes pouring out from under the door*

Sasori: 

[barzzal]

between halls and thin walls → part two

summary: friends who fool around almost never work. almost.

↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you

↳ warnings: swearing, sex toys, masturbation, sexual/suggestive themes, and yenno, mathew :(

↳ genre: angst, smut, roommates au, best friend’s best friend, friends with benefits, 18+ minors dni*

↳ length: series; part one, part two (5.9k), part three, part four, part five, part six

↳ masterlist: the barn

↳ track: listened to a lot of beyoncé for this one !!

note: part two’s here!! and i know it’s late for an update but i just wanna thank everyone for commenting on the first part 🥺 really glad that you guys liked it. reading your tags are everything to me it means a lot! happy reading <3 (gif used: mine)

You come out of your bedroom dressed and ready for work. Your handbag was slung over the depth of your forearm as you headed for the kitchen and the other, scrolling past emails on your phone, admittedly bracing yourself for the mess you know will eventually greet you.

To your surprise, what you see instead were Mat Barzal’s guns rippling through the jet black sweater he had worn last night. A memory that sent your mind to less than eight hours ago, before eventually landing on what happened shortly when the two of you had woken up.

“Thank god you haven’t burnt the house down.” you kid, placing your handbag atop the island.

Mat spares you a quick glance, rolling his eyes whilst he lets you watch him whisk some eggs for breakfast.

“Like it?” he cocks, pertaining to how your eyes were pinned hard on his biceps that he was, for the most part, effortlessly sporting. It’s true, though. He didn’t need to flex because it was just there.

“Coffee or Juice?” he asks, as the kind friend and roommate that he is. 

Anthony, as surprising as it was, takes incredibly long showers. If people hadn’t known him well, they’d easily think he’s abusing himself there. But you’ve got to admit that not having him around felt nice for you didn’t have to feel so seen with Mathew.

‘Course, there’s nothing more, like a fix-in on the side, to your set up. You just appreciate the feeling of not having to lie to Beau about all the ugly concealed underneath all the innocent gazes you and Mathew exchange.

“Coffee.” you answer shortly, realizing that you forgot the material you need for today’s meeting.

“Where are you going?” Mat asks when he catches you receding out into the hallway. You didn’t bother looking back, “Forgot something!”

He gets back to whisking the eggs when a chime comes off his phone. He takes it from the counter, placed just before the plates he left to dry last night, absent-mindedly putting the bowl he was holding onto the island, toppling over the green juice he has prepared for himself. 

“Shit.” he curses as soon as he sees it for it was already spilling all over the place, making the mess you’ve been secretly anticipating the moment Mathew said he’d make breakfast.

Panicking at how you’d see he’s successfully screwed such a no-brainer task, Mat grabs the first thing he sees on the marbled surface and uses it to clean the mess he’d made.

“Huh.” he muses to himself, realizing that the silk fabric didn’t do much in helping him clean up. He tosses it over the sink carelessly and grabs a few napkin rolls from one of the cupboards. 

So much for making an effort to feed Anthony Beauvillier. 

“Now, that was fast.” you say with a smirk once you’ve entered the kitchen, startling Mathew as he continued cleaning up after his mess. 

“Ha-ha. Very funny.” he sarcastically laughs, discarding the paper towels onto the sink along with the used ones. 

Thankfully, your stuff was at the other side of the island so it was very much safe from all the chaos happening at the other end of the marbled surface. However, your laugh dies down the second you realize that your handkerchief was no longer where you’ve last put it.

“Hey,” you call on Mathew, “What’s up?”

“Have you seen my handkerchief? I know I left it somewhere.” you anxiously ask, eyeing every corner of the room hoping to see Nana’s handkerchief, the one she gave to you on your 18th birthday.

“What does it look like?” Mat asks, now holding a pan in his hand as he prepares breakfast.

You proceeded to describe your grandma’s handkerchief in the most specific and perhaps excruciating detail Mathew has ever heard someone talk about something as mind-numbing as a handkerchief.

Despite that, Mat lights up the moment it hits him, not realizing the bigger mess he’s about to walk into. He rejoices at how he knew exactly what you were looking for, “Oh! You mean this?” 

With clueless eyes, you watch Mat go over the sink after he wipes his hands dry, fishing out an all too familiar fabric from the sink. Once your eyes land onto the cream colored silk handkerchief, with details carefully sewn by hand, drenching in what seems to be Mat’s morning drink, your heart falls to the pit of your stomach. 

“What did you do??” The sudden rise in your voice startles an unsuspecting Mathew. You eagerly went over to his side and hastily snatched the smooth fabric off his hands, “It’s ruined!”

“What? I didn’t know it was yours!” Mat’s eyes are wild with confusion. Puzzled at how you were so fixated on the useless fabric. It didn’t help him anyway. There’s nothing much left to do but to throw it. It’s garbage. 

“You ruined it!” you lash out, letting Mat get eaten up by the sudden anger bubbling inside your guts but he was rather quick in defending himself, “I didn’t know it was yours since I grabbed the first thing I could find. Why are you getting upset over a shit-ass handkerchief?” 

Your mouth falls and you shake your head, finding his defensiveness quite appalling. “You’re an ass.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was yours.” he explains, “Come on, it’s just a stupid handkerchief I’ll just buy you a new one.” he tries to laugh the tension off, sporting his signature grin.

Mat take shots of the stunned expression on your face, “Stupid?” you repeat what he said, your eyes already starting to sting with tears. Clearly, you were far too overwhelmed to even acknowledge Mathew’s half-assed apology.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” your words bite and that’s when things took a turn for the worse. 

“I said I was fucking sorry! What the hell do you want from me? Shit a fucking hanky?” he rans a hand through his hair, “Do you realize how childish you’re being right now?”

Outraged, and perhaps disappointed by how he was too high up his horse, your voice takes up a higher tone, entering what seems to be an early screaming match between you and Mathew.

“Could you just–” you breathe, “for one second– stop being so goddamn stupid and get over yourself!?” were words that welcomed Anthony the moment he stepped into the kitchen, towel wrapped around his waist, a grin on his face visible as he poured himself a glass of water, inviting himself in the screaming match you and Mathew have exclusively put forth for him.

“Stupid is not when you’ve already apologized a hundred times! Stupid is being such a crybaby and a bitch about it!” Mathew retorts, gaining his better end of the argument.

“What a beautiful morning, isn’t it?” Anthony chimes in, a hand resting on his chin, adoring his two best friends upon getting used to the best worst duo he’s ever known in his life. 

“Shut up, Beau.” you say, throwing him a glare.

“Well, beautiful is definitely not in Y/N’s dictionary.” Mathew chides with a smirk, enough to earn himself a scoff from you. 

“You know what? I don’t have the time for this bullshit.” you cuss, finally retreating, your already heavy heart taking a better hold on your thoughts, blocking your ability to even come up with a clever remark to come back at Mathew.

You throw the delicate, yet already ruined piece of fabric towards his way as hard as you could before marching out of the kitchen and head off for work.

“Fucking unbelievable.” Mathew curses under his breath once he catches the silk linen, shaking his head as he turns his attention back to the morning task at hand. 

You were fucking unbelievable.

Once the boys were left alone, Tito raises a brow, briefly looking back after your footsteps, “What happened here, anyway?” he asks, having realized what must’ve caused such a heated argument so early in the morning. 

“I used this handkerchief to wipe the whole thing off and she just went ape shit! I mean–” Anthony cuts Mathew the moment he recognizes the thin cloth he was holding.

“Woah, woah. Wait a minute, you used this?” he muses, stressing on the possibility of what might have been Mathew’s biggest mistake of the day, his eyes darting between him and the fabric.

With furrowed brows, admittedly weirded by how Anthony reacted almost the same way you did a while ago. “It’s just a handkerchief, man. I can go buy her a bunch if that’s what she wants.” he says defensively.

Anthony shakes his head wildly, his irises now dilated as he examined the stain already sitting on the material. “No no. Oh god no.” He says, snatching Mathew’s phone from the counter to google quick remedies that might remove the said stain from the already ruined cloth. 

“What do you mean no? You guys spend way too much time together, you’re beginning to be as weird as her.” He scoffs, sipping on a glass of water. 

“No, you dumbass. This was her grandma’s!” Anthony says, eyes fixated on the delicate handkerchief. Remembering how you’d told him how long it has been in your family that having Nana give it to you after all the years you’ve spent admiring it from afar meant so much to you than anything anyone could have possibly given you.

“So?” Mat casually replies, closing his arms to his chest before adding, “Is she dead or something? Didn’t you guys visit her for the Holidays?” 

“What?? Why would you even say that?– You’re such a jerk.” Tito shakes his head, appalled by how Mathew easily shrugged the matter off when he knew full well how sentimental he himself could be.

“Well, how am I supposed to know?? If that thing’s so important I wouldn’t leave it on top of some random shit lying around!” He counters, defending himself for reaching for the nearest cloth he could find when he did whatever he does best when he’s in the kitchen.

Tito clicks his tongue and looks at Mathew exasperatedly, “Tell me, where did you find this exactly?”, to which Mathew only answered with a quiet voice, “It may or may not have been placed on top of her purse…” he avoids Tito’s gaze, finally catching on how he was the one in the wrong. 

“See? Jerk. Now, go figure out how you’ll take the stain off.” Anthony demands, his voice embraced by a definitive tone. One that made Mathew know he wouldn’t be able to persuade him into letting this go. 

Tito takes one good look at Mat’s catastrophic attempt to feed the house, striding his way out of the kitchen, “And make sure you apologize!” he adds, footsteps receding into the hallway, leaving Mathew scratching the back of his head out of guilt and frustration.

You have spent the following days either avoiding Mathew or ignoring his existence completely. Anthony talked to you the night that incident happened and assured you that he would do his best to have it fixed. You didn’t want to bother him nor take time off his already busy schedule, but you were just so bummed to even say a word.

That night, you spent the entire evening in your room, facetiming your mother, saying how much you’re missing home. You can’t bring yourself to tell her about the handkerchief. For some people, and that people being Mathew, it might’ve been just some silly thing but Tito knew how much that small piece of cloth meant to you. 

Mathew, on the one hand, was for sure guilty to his bones. He didn’t see you that night nor the nights that followed. He didn’t think much of it but when he found himself searching for that same handkerchief in the hopes of replacing it only to find out that it was nowhere to be found in the market, was when he did realize that ruining the one thing that held you closer to home was the last push your non-existent relationship with him had to have for you to finally lose any ounce of amour nor civility you once had for him. 

Anthony wasn’t a stranger for said changes either. He began waking up to a still apartment enveloped by a wall you profusely built between you and Mathew. You even unknowingly shut Tito out in the process as well. It was like you were grieving. Like, it was a whole different kind of heartbreak he knew he can’t get you out of that easily. 

You tried making it up for your best friend of course. Knowing that you haven’t been yourself since that day. You thought about the possibility of having taken the whole thing too seriously that you might’ve overreacted a bit. Nonetheless, no matter how much you try to push it in the back of your head, Mathew’s mere presence began irking you in ways it never did back when you used to enjoy the bickering you exchange with him, especially in bed.

“Thanks for dinner, belle.” Anthony politely says, earning a smile from you so effortlessly upon hearing the pet name he uses for you. Something Mat only shrugged off, trying to piece out the same gratitude, “Thanks, y/n.” he genuinely adds. But as expected, he had nothing.

You pick up all the empty plates, including Mathew’s, who was sitting in front of you while Anthony sat at the end of the table. Tito hurriedly wipes his mouth with a napkin and takes the plate from you, “Let me help you with that.” he says with the same kind eyes that has never failed to win you over. 

“Yeah. Okay, sure.” you shortly answer, leading the way towards the kitchen, leaving one Mathew Barzal feeling small and alone at the dining table. 

𖥸

If there was one thing you’d gladly acknowledge after all the years of watching people kiss Mathew’s ass was that he was is really good. He’s fast and he can do unimaginable damage on the ice. There’s no denying that he deserves to be the face of the New York Islanders. But we know you don’t care about any of that. The only thing you care about was how unbelievably good he is at everything he does that not even you or your pink rubber toy could suffice. 

He was just that damn good. 

As your eyes shut whilst you mount your pleasures on your own, biting your lips to choke in your own moans, Mathew handling you was what circled your mind since you started defiling yourself in the bathroom. You let your arousal be washed away by the warm water trickling down your skin, envisioning Mat’s rough hands grazing your body, touching your core like his hands were meant to do nothing else but that. 

It was wrong and pathetic, but you couldn’t think about anything else. You and Mathew have been avoiding each other for days. The dynamic went so much worse than when you weren’t sleeping together and you know that Tito was bound to notice it soon. Thankfully, the boys were on another roadie for a week so you had quite some time to think things through about your current sitch with Mathew. You didn’t like any of it because it felt like you gave a fuck (which obviously, you didn’t). You just feel obligated to sort things out with the biggest ass that ever lived because you didn’t want to involve Tito into the mess you’ve wrongfully made yourself. 

You hop off the shower feeling unsatisfied. You haven’t gotten laid since the last time you were with Mat. Which is sad, not just for you but also for her. You’d think considering the boys aren’t around you’d bring someone home, maybe even one or two. But just thinking about going on bars alone so you could find a potential bone-mate is already far too tedious and you weren’t in the right state to do so. You had so much going on at work, anyway. And you can always use a wand to scratch an itch. Neither would satisfy you more than how someone-who-will-not-be-named could, but you might as well be pathetic without having to hook up with some random dude whose name you’ll eventually forget in the morning. 

You opted to wear an old pull-over you borrowed (took) from Tito years and years ago and partnered it with some leggings so you’d be comfortable enough for the rest of the night. You have nothing else to do and you are already fed up with your workload that watching a crappy movie off of Netflix doesn’t sound like a bad idea. 

With a giant bowl of popcorn and two bottles of beer in your hands, you march your way into the living room, ready to spend the night binge watching romantic comedies, crying and laughing in between. Or maybe just fall asleep on the couch while your comfort TV series is on. 

The boys won three games out of the four that they had during the trip and you only saw the ones they won so you were thankful that you didn’t have to sit at home alone watching their faces fall after that OT lost against the Flyers. Anthony phoned you that night and you can just feel the relief in his voice that you didn’t have the time to see it. They weren’t playing like they should. Thankfully, they were able to bounce back. 

Your eyes were beginning to grow tired halfway into the movie when you hear the front door open, followed by luggages dragged into the house tirelessly. 

“Y/N?” Anthony calls out.

You hit the movie on pause and hurriedly make your way towards the hallway. “You’re home already?”

They were already taking their coats off when you met them halfway, Tito was putting his away while Mat had just taken off his toque and was running his hands through his hair, unconsciously meeting your eyes upon hearing your voice. 

You quickly break it off when you give Tito a quick embrace and plant a small kiss on his cheeks, “I texted you.” he says, eyebrows quirked, surprised that you didn’t know. 

In an effort to avert any more of his questions you immediately point towards the movie you had on, “Haven’t checked my messages, sorry.” 

“So, you guys ate dinner?” you ask, passing Mat a quick look. One that came as a surprise because he wasn’t even hoping to hear a word from you given the way you two left things a little too on the edge, screwing with the whole thing even more. 

Mat avoids your irises and faintly nods. 

“Big win tonight huh? Told you, you can do it.” you say with a beaming smile, nudging Tito with your hips as you get back to watching your film. “You gotta do what you gotta do, babe.” he winks, lugging his stuff around towards his bedroom. 

“Barz, don’t stay up, Trotz needs us first thing in the morning.” he looks back, reminding Mat who was already standing in front of his door, “Yeah. Sure.” he replies shortly with a tired voice. 

You and Anthony bid your own goodnights whilst Mat mutters a quiet “Night.” when you nodded his way, clearly not enjoying any of the first awkward encounters he’s yet to have with you. Seven days is quite a reasonable time for your anger to dissipate, a short yet seemingly long period of time that’s just enough to kill off whatever guilt Mat had initially felt before you parted ways.

𖥸

“Alright, I’m off.” Tito casually declares, putting on his watch. “There’s food in the fridge, and tell Mat to go easy on my beers.” he gives you a knowing look as he bends down to give you a kiss on the cheek. 

Tito had been seeing some mystery girl for quite some time now. He hasn’t told you anything spicy in particular but by the looks of it, you could already tell that she has him towed. 

“Good luck, loverboy.” you say, swatting his hand away and pushing him out to the door. The two of you cringe at what you said, sharing one last laugh before you watch him disappear out into the hallway.

The apartment was cramped the whole day because Anthony and Mat had the day off. Tito had plans for the night, obviously. As per you, you had plans lounging in the living room, switching through channels in the hopes of stumbling on a show that isn’t half as bad than the rest. 

Thankfully, a Sandra Bullock film was on HBO.

The Proposal, to be exact.

You decide to dive in the film with a cold bottle of beer on your hand. There was no way you’d be washing down the effects of a naked Ryan Reynolds with a glass of water. You haven’t gone mad. 

The film was already at the part where Sandra was proposing to Ryan when you hear Mathew’s door open. You haven’t talked since the night they came back home other than the small nods you exchange upon passing by each other. All of which are mind-numbing and impossible to swallow. The awkwardness has not dissipated completely unlike what you presumed. You were just grateful Tito was always around that you didn’t need to be alone together. 

Alarmed by another impending awkward encounter, you clear your throat and turn up the volume a little to remain focused on the film, investing your sole attention to it even if you have seen the movie countless times. 

Mathew, in his sweats and a gray shirt on, carefully makes his way out the hallway and into the common area after snatching a glass of water from the kitchen. You see him move further into the room but you make sure that he knows you weren’t paying attention. You take that he must’ve been thirsty and needed a drink but you don’t see him move further in the corner of your eye like he was making his way back in his room. It almost seemed like he was actually waiting for you to look his way.

Hesitantly, you follow your gut feel and see him standing a few feet away from you. “Yes?” you ask when you catch him staring. 

Mat blinks a few times, “Hi.” he takes a deep breath, trying to shake off the awkwardness circling the two of you.

When the only thing he gets from you is a tight lipped smile, he shakes his head and proceeds to walk where you were seated. 

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, his voice deep and clear enough to send your mind elsewhere. 

Regardless, you contain yourself and return a polite smile, “No. Not at all.”

“So, what are we watching?” he sits once you gestured onto the other end of the couch. 

“The Proposal.” you answer before throwing a question yourself, “Aren’t you supposed to be resting now?” you shake your head, absentmindedly chuckling. Not intending to make him feel that you’ve forgotten about what he’d done weeks ago. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” he props his back and lets himself sink in the cloud couch, his legs spread wide eating up most of the space left for the two of you to share. “Oh. I only like him when he’s Deadpool” he points out, cringing at how you were watching another one of your romantic comedy films.

You roll your eyes, admiring how he’s trying to break the tension between the two of you despite his unsolicited sentiments, “I like it when we were on not-speaking terms.” 

Mat mocks you for a while but decides to watch the movie so you let him be and get back to the film, letting a giggle slip every now and then. Something you thought Mat wouldn’t notice.

Watching the remainder of the film went with ease. ‘Course, Mat would steal a few glances here and there (ones he thought had gone unnoticed), but overall the quietude between the two of you was bearable. Almost like it was just two buddies hanging out. 

Although, not long after, your eyes were torn away from the huge flat screen when Mat spoke, “By the way,” he looks at you and calls your attention. 

Puzzled, you watch him take something from his pocket, “Here.” 

Once you see what he has in his hands your heart froze. Mat carefully hands you the cloth with an apologetic smile; his eyes soft with a hint of hope as he watches your reaction. 

“What– How?” you ask in bewilderment, failing to comprehend how he was able to fix the handkerchief. It looked the same as before. All of its details were in place, it was good as new. You were holding Nana’s handkerchief. 

Mathew didn’t bother to dance around and just offered you a quiet chuckle, evidently enjoying the wide smile painted on your lips. “Don’t worry about it. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.” he apologizes, shielding you from all the strings he had to pull just to get that cloth fixed up.

You hold the smooth and delicate piece in your hands as you look at Mat, letting your feelings get a better hold of you, “Thank you.” you say, unknowingly reaching out, your arms wrapped around his neck as you give him a quick peck on the cheek. 

Mathew’s hand instinctively finds your back to support you, startling himself in the process. Nonetheless, the thought was easily shrugged off by how close your faces were, your smiles fading once you meet each other’s gaze. You feel the same rush you felt the night you and Mat got involved for the first time. Your hand was placed rather endearingly on his cheek, your faces, just like all the other times, unreasonably close to each other. Mat then clears his throat and only looks you in the eye. 

Afraid that the innocent hug would lead to something more, perhaps another mistake to be jotted down on the board, you breathe a laugh and break away, “Uh, thanks again. It really means a lot.” 

Mat must’ve sensed that you were being cautious so he puts his guards up and returns a chuckle, “So… we good?” he asks, reaching out a hand your way. 

Your fingers slide into his, gliding its way perfectly, your hands fitted well with his despite the obvious difference in proportion. His grip tightens in the most comfortable way possible. 

A smile breaks off his lips once he hears you answer, “We’re good.”

“I should probably get some sleep.” Mat tells you the moment you pull your hand away.

“Are you gonna be okay here?” he adds.

You looked at him, not wanting him to be obligated to keep you company, “Oh, yeah. I’m a big girl.” you say, making Mathew grin, shaking his head.

“Alright. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

Not picking up on whatever sloppy insinuation Mat has thrown out carelessly into thin air, he hears a simple “Mkay.” 

Thus far, letting him know that his subtle invitation was far from being RSVP’d.

𖥸

“You’ll be in your room?” Mat scoffs, staring at the ceiling while he lays on his bed, “The fuck was that, Mat?” he scolds himself for always coming up with the worst things to say. 

Mathew would be lying if he’d say he hasn’t thought about you (or doing you) for the past week of not being around home. But he definitely wouldn’t deny that the roadie kind of made things easier for him because then he didn’t have to stomach seeing you walk around the flat looking like the hot piece of ass that you were in his eyes. 

Mat knows he needs to pull his shit together. He wasn’t some 13 year-old boy raging with hormones. He needs to control himself around you and he could only do that once he learns how to push this whole thing between the two of you behind him. 

What happened with you and Mathew shouldn’t have happened at all. It was just a moment of weakness, and he hated that he’d let his dick (and apparently, him being one) ruin the relationship he once had with you. 

Before that night, seeing you do yoga and work out on the terrace was just seeing you drenched in sweat, and in your work out clothes looking icky and constipated. Something he’ll later on tease you about and he’ll end up catching the water bottle you throw in his face. But now, after all that fucking, seeing you sweaty and all worked out in the same yoga pants is just like walking into a porn commercial. Like the ones they show before the actual porn. In fact, he doesn’t even have to watch any of it. Tents and Boners were pretty much sponsored by you from then on. It’s sick, and he knows it. 

However, the tension he feels with you is palpable that he’s even certain that you feel it too. But how can he be wrong? He sees how your eyes blink a few times when he’s fresh out the shower, he sees you follow his trance when you thought he wasn’t paying attention, and you never fail to slide him shadowed hints with every touch you “accidentally” pass at him. The kind that’s short enough to remain innocent but not so much as to keep him at bay. Mat hated everything about it. He hated that he wanted you– and he hated that he thinks he might be right about you wanting him too.

All that self-loathing aside, did he regret it? 

That was one of the things he feels bad about. Because as much as he wants to lie and push it aside, he didn’t regret any of it. He didn’t like you that way and just thought about you sexually but he just wishes that you could push past this and just be friends. He was still sexually attracted to you, yes. But he knows he’d eventually get over it and be back on his game. That is if he can ever find someone who’d be as good as how you were the last three times you’ve let him be with you because it would really help him a lot if he could stop picturing your mouth getting stretched by his cock every time he hops into the shower.

Mat was pulled from his thoughts when he heard a knock on his door. The shy banging sound made his heart beat rapidly in an instant, knowing full well that the two of you were alone in the house and that Tito was, in no way, going to be home for another hour or two.

A faint knock follows the first one before he gets to the door. 

“Hi.” you greet him, a moment unfolding like it was déjà-vu.

“Hi.” 

“Did I wake you?” you sheepishly ask, your hands balled into fists before eventually settling down to hug your own build, unsure of where to put your hands exactly.

Mat quickly shakes his head, “No. I couldn’t sleep myself.”

You offer him a smile, acknowledging how he’s been nothing but good to you ever since they got home. Of course you wanted to get your hands on him being that you were completely dry and horny ever since you’ve ignored him completely, but you haven’t gone mad and you weren’t a complete neanderthal. You can keep your hands to yourself and act like a decent human being. 

“I’m sorry for making things weird between us.” you say, your eyes heavy with guilt. “But I’m only apologizing for being so unreasonable for the last couple of weeks.” you reiterated.

To which he only answers with, “You shouldn’t be. You have every right to be unreasonable– and I know that I’ve been a giant prick that day. It’s what I deserve.” he bites his lower lip, scratching his brow as he continues, “That’s why if there’s someone who owes someone an apology, it should be me. What I did was pretty crappy, so… I’m sorry.”

Like all the other times, Mathew towers over you wearing the same confidence he does when you’re around. Your bodies were reasonably apart from each other but close enough to mean something else if someone had walked by. Mathew was still in his room while you were out in the hallway, separated by the thin line made by the door frame. 

You feel Mat’s steady breathing and everything went still. He looks down at you, pretty eyes drowning yours. His messed up bed hair ridiculously makes up for how dressed down he was. No, actually, he looks fine even when he is. And all of that sight instantly makes your throat dry as you feel something curl in your belly, enough to make your hands sweaty as the thought of tasting his lips again cruised your mind entirely.

Mathew was no stranger to the said feeling either. He watched you punish him more at how plump and inviting your lips were. Or how your hand brushed on your clothes as you remain uncomposed under his gaze. 

Mat was becoming accustomed to how the two of you meet. Same time, same place, only this time, a different hallway. He steps further and crosses the line that divides the two of you, making you take a deep breath as his scent floors every nerve in your body. Waking what has been awake ever since that moment you shared back in the living room even more. 

“Yeah, okay.” you gather yourself, “I– I should probably head back.” 

Just by how his shoulders dropped, you knew you had said the wrong thing. And you hated that you did. Mat clears his voice and swallows, breaking off his gaze, “You probably should.” 

“Good night, Mat.” you smile, trying to regain yourself. 

“Good night.” he replies as he watches you turn your back before finally closing the door behind him. 

Frustrated for he was already starting to feel things more than just being “sorry”, Mat leans against the door and runs a hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath and tries to get you out of his head. 

He was about to walk away from the door and sleep off his frustration when he hears your faint footsteps on the other side of the door. He rests his head back on the wooden surface and sighs, “You’re still out there, aren’t you?”

There was a total silence for a moment, devoid of the knowledge of how you had your fist, ready to knock yet again, suspended in mid-air. 

Mathew hears you deny sheepishly, “No.” 

You hear him let out a small laugh, knowing that he was trying to contain himself. 

The door sprung open again, and for a second you thought how what you’re about to walk into will start another mess for you and Mathew. But how could you possibly think about it that way when you have nothing else but this man standing at the other end? 

A friend that took no seconds to waste as he finally lets his thirst and perhaps foolishness, get the better hold of him once he cages your heated face in his hands, crashing into your lips as fast as he’d taken you to his end of that thin gray line that has once irkingly parted him from you. A gray line you’re both willing to cross if that meant sharing another night in between halls and thin walls.

[kirschteinsj]

Pinky Promises

Nanami x fem! reader

Warnings: nothing too much! maybe language but overall just a bunch of fluff and lovey dovey stuff 

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: Domestic Nanami and reader, just thinking about how much they love each other. sappy and cute stuff.

A/N: Hi! ^_^ Second time posting, I’ve had this one shot saved for a bit now! finally posting it lolz. I've noticed a lot of people have written domestic Nanami pics or drawn art, very glad society as a whole has this perception of him. it truly heals the soul I think. anyway, I hope u like this and sorry if there’s any grammar errors I wasnt able to catch U_U im thinking of doing a hc post next.... unsure hm, we’ll see ^_^!!

“I’m hooooome.” He says loudly as he steps through the apartment door, setting his briefcase down and taking off his beige coat. Putting down the grand kitchen knife she was using to chop up spinach, she rushed to the door with a smile and engulfed the tall blonde into a tight hug, saying hello. She took a deep breath, inhaling the soft scent of his cologne, the smell of something sour and musty soon taking over. Her face scrunched up and she let out a giggle.

“Oh god, Nanami, you stink, what did you go against today?”

“Nothing too bad. Just a grade 3,” He sighed “A smelly grade 3.” He sounded disappointed, probably because he knew he stunk too. Though the smell was horrendous, she still remained in his arms and he still held on just as tight.

“Are you tired? I was thinking of making dinner with you tonight but if you’re too tired I can-”

“No no. I’m fine. Just let me wash up and I’ll help out.”

“You sure?” She asked looking up towards him, questioning once more to reassure. He looked down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

“I’m sure, dear.”

While he showers upstairs, she gets back to readying the ingredients so they could begin cooking their masterpiece as soon as possible. Tonight she had chosen chicken alfredo with a tossed salad; One could say it was her favourite, but saying that would imply that she would eat it when cooked and served by whomever. But to her, she would only eat it when it was him who had made it for her.

Y/n adored him. He adored her. To her, he was her light. She could simply not imagine life without him, not after he had come in and changed her in such a way. She never in a million years would have thought to be so in love with someone. To have known someone who cared enough to hear all about her day or listen to all her tangents, whether they made sense or not. Who listened to her talk forever about anything just so he could see the faint glow of passion in her eyes. Someone who remembered the small details in regards to the things she loved and the things she despised; Like how she hated the feeling of peanut butter on her fingers and how she absolutely admired the scent of fresh pages in a new book. Sometimes, she felt undeserving of him.

He admired her like no other. Never did he believe he’d be capable of opening up to anyone in such a way, at least not until she walked into his life. He could write a million lists, all full of everything he loved about her. The way she smiled cheekily at him after a witty remark, how she'd give every hug as if it was the last, the way she was oh so patient with him. It took him time to become vulnerable in the slightest, he just didn’t know how to do so without burdening her. She knew his job was hard, he’d told her. But rather than running away like he expected, she stayed with him right by his side. She refused to leave him over that. If anything, it made her want to stay more since she felt the need to be there for him. It felt like a punch to the gut but a good one. “So, is this love?” He had asked himself then. Nanami had someone who brought out the much more joyful side to him. At the end of the day, he knew he’d walk through the front door only to see her, arms wide open and with a big smile offering a cozy hug. She was his home. Sometimes, he felt undeserving of her.

Putting the final piece of broccoli into the container, she tidies any clutter and went back to their shared bedroom. Sinking into the bed and falling on it with a plush thump, she lets out a deep sigh mixed with some sort of a groan. She herself was exhausted from work too to say the least. She didn’t deal with curses or anything like that, but she did teach a class of 9 year olds which one could consider just as frustrating. Yawning, she checks her phone to read the time: 6:15 PM. Nanami hadn’t been in the shower for too long, a small nap wouldn’t hurt. Quickly, she settled for a little 30 minute nap. That way, she could get up soon enough to help him out in the kitchen and not abandon him to do everything on his own. She turns her phone off and slowly, her eyes shut.

…

Y/n slowly opens her eyes and notices a grey throw blanket placed on her, something that she doesn’t recall going to bed with earlier. “Must’ve been Nanami.” Grabbing her phone, she turns the screen on, wincing at the incredible blue light piercing into her skull. “Fuck.” she mumbles. Once her eyes adjust, she glances back at the screen for the time: 7:30.

“FUCK,” she says, voice croaking “I overslept.” With the speed of light, she leaves bed and runs down the hall to the bathroom to freshen up. She soon makes her way over to the kitchen silently, slightly ashamed and guilty. Y/n mumbles a whine with a frown, “He’s probably done making things now. I could have helped.”

The kitchen is filled with the delicate scents of sauces, cheese and herbs. She watches him from the door frame, admiring her boyfriend. He stood in front of the stove mixing at the sauce for the alfredo, which scent alone made her mouth water. Nanami seems to be in his own world, as he stands humming to himself softly, stirring the pot of sauce and adding in the broccoli and spinach, not seeming to notice y/n. With a final stir, he carefully sets the lid and turns to rinse his hands. Her gaze sits upon his figure, how his grey oversized shirt slightly clings to his shoulders and loosens as it goes down his body. Looking down, she noticed the bright red christmas pyjamas he had on, the ones with adorable little reindeers all over them. Grinning, she remembers how she had bought those for him. She purchased a matching set for the two of them and insisted on wearing them all day on Christmas last year. Nanami had responded to the idea with a stern “No” which left y/n in shambles. She didn’t expect him to agree, but hey, a girl can dream. However, on Christmas day, lo and behold, she had woken up to find Nanami sitting on the couch, watching the news with his reindeer PJs on. Immediately, she had attacked him with hugs and kisses and all Nanami did was sit there and accept them, secretly loving it the whole time.

A deep voice throws her out of her thoughts. “You know, it’s rude to stare, right?”

Y/n chuckles quietly and makes her way over, wrapping her arms around him from behind, snuggling into his back.

“I like to stare at you, you’re cute,” she breathes in his scent once again, “ah, you smell so much better now. Like the nami I know.”

“I am not cute. I am a grown man.”

“C’mon, you can’t possibly be saying that right now. Not while you’re wearing these pants.” She coos, gently patting his butt. He goes silent, refusing to rebuttal knowing that he’s lost. He leans against the counter, his front facing her. Though he didn’t say anything, y/n sees this as an open invite to his arms. The rope of his arms finds her waist this time, her arms in an embrace around his neck.

“Whatever, tell me, how was your day, hm?” He posed, changing the subject.

“Same old, yenno. The kids and I had a discussion today about drugs and safety. It was cute, hearing them rat out their neighbours for smoking cigs and talk about how yucky they thought alcohol is. It was… sweet. How was work for you, hon?”

“Shit.” He retorts, closing his eyes, “Work is shit.”

“Oh come ON, I’m sure it’s not always that bad, right? Say, how’s your friend doing, you know, the one who kinda looks like one of my makeup brushes! Isn’t he good company?”

“Yeah, if good company means having to deal with a nuisance to society on a daily basis then by all means, yes, Gojo is wonderful company.” He joked, loosening his grip on her and making his way over to the stove to check on his sauce. She follows, opening the first drawer and pulling out a silver spoon, “You’re so mean sometimes. I think he’s a great guy to be around! I met him once, such a flirt.”

He teases calmly, “If you love him so much, why don’t you get with him?”

Taking her spoon, she lowers it into the pot and brings it back up to her face, blowing on it carefully before she puts it to her lips to taste. “Hmm, I would. But I don’t think he’s as big as you. I’ll have to pass.” She smirked, putting the spoon into her mouth as he watched and sighed in disappointment.

He glares,“God, you’re something else.”

“I’m just kidding, babe.” Bringing her spoon down for another taste. He swats at her hand and she retreats it with a whine. “Don’t do that. You’ve tried it already, and will again when we get to eat.” He scolded tenderly, “Plus, you shouldn’t be given these privileges anyway. It’s not like you helped out or anything.” He smiled, teasing her.

“Nanamiiii, I’m sorry,” she whines, half laughing, “I promise, I was going to help! I just got a little bit sleepy and sort of lost track of time…” He turned over to her and lifted her face with a finger under her chin. Laughing, he delicately caresses her cheek, tapping it admirably with a curled finger. The blonde chuckles and looks her in the eyes, “I’m just joking with you, love. I know you’ve been tired lately, I can tell. Why haven’t you been resting?”

Her smile falls and she sighs. Y/n wrapped her arms around his waist and brought him into her, hiding her face into his chest. It was true, she was exhausted but she didn’t deem it to be anything so serious. Work was just heavy this past week from having to grade her students’ work in time for report cards. All she wanted was the best for her kids and was finding ways to get the kids out of their comfort zones enough to do well in class. That reminded her, Nanami also mentioned having a student of his own.

She takes her face out of his chest and glances upwards. “It’s just this week of work, I promise I’ll be back to normal soon. I’ve just been busy with lesson plans and activities, yenno. Anyway, speaking of students, how’s the one you’ve been assigned to?” She posed in a soft tone. Half smiling, he turned around to add the strained pasta to the sauce, scattering it into the pot.

“He’s special. Quite lively. And cheerful. He reminds me of you sometimes,” his voice strains as he stretches to grab the bowl of cooked chicken to finally add into the pot, finishing the meal, “He’s got potential.” Y/n beamed with happiness. Nanami really seemed to like this kid and if he thought you had potential, then it sure as hell meant you had it.

She lets out a squeal, “EEEEEEK!!! That sounds amazing! I’m so happy for you!” Nanami suppressed a laugh and rolled his eyes, “It’s not that-”

“This calls for a drink, don’t you think?” She babbled with excitement, “We should have some wine! Right?”

Grabbing her wrist as she skipped her way over to the bottle, he reminded her, “You have school tomorrow. You always end up having more than needed and struggle to wake up in the morning.” Y/n frowned at his words, to which he noticed and tried to fix, “Tomorrow’s Friday, you can drink plenty tomorrow, hm? I’ll drink with you.”

“Ugh, fine. You’re right. But you have to promise.”

“I promise you ca-”

“No! You have to pinky-promise.” She demanded, pouting as he stuck out her pinky finger.

His heart skips a beat. Was she always this cute? Her angelic eyes stare into his tired ones. Bottom lip poking out, awaiting Nanami’s pinky to interlock with her own. He knew she took pinky-promises very seriously despite her grown age. It was among one of the many petty details that he cherished. Something about this pinky-promise was enough for her to ensure trust onto someone, it made him laugh. Her naivety is what made her so kind hearted, what allowed her to see the best in people. He felt that this naivety is why they’re together to begin with. He didn’t ever think she’d give him a chance. He reminisced of their first few encounters. The way she did her hair back then, the way she dressed, her shy smile and how she’d look at the floor whenever she’d blush. Maybe it was her timid nature that made him fall head over heels for her. Or maybe it was her generosity. Perhaps her beauty. He was unable to simply confine the reasoning for his infatuation with just a few traits. She grew overtime, more comfortable and less shy, she was more confident around him but he knew he could still make her blush so badly that she’d have to hide her face from him. He enjoyed their banter, her company. He felt it was luck. Or maybe it was fate. Who knows. He didn’t want to think so much about it. He wanted to live in the moment, adore her in this present time. In that instance, he felt the strong urge to kiss her. And so he did.

The kiss was short and sweet, yet full of an unfathomable amount of love. It took her aback, she didn’t quite see it coming. She too stood in the present moment, then and there, cherishing the man she loved.

His lips leave hers and he extends the smallest finger on his hand, declaring, “I pinky-promise.” And a ginormous grin washes over her face. In a whisper, she squeals and scoops her arms around his torso, resting her head onto his chest. They stay like this for a while, not too long really, but to them it felt like an eternity being in each other’s affectionate embrace. He goes to speak and she feels the vibrating boom of his voice make his way up from his chest.

“I love you.”

She sighs, “I love you too.”

Turning her head, y/n smoothly gets on her tip toes and clasps her arms around his neck, giving it a tender kiss and attempting to make a trail leading up to his sharp jaw. Catching onto her tactics he laughs, putting his big hand against her face and pushing her back.

“Seriously?” He chuckles, “You couldn’t wait till after dinner? Come on, take out the plates.”

“Wait for what? I was just kissing you! You’re so dramatic, Nami.” She lies, playing innocent. She knew damn well what she was trying to do. She wasn’t going to admit to it though. Taking out the plates and utensils, she readied the table.

…

After dinner and meaningless conversation, the two lovers tidied and headed towards their room. “Do yo wana wah a mohee tomowwow nie?” Y/n proposed from the bathroom as she brushed her teeth. He perks his head up, confused, “Do I want to what?” She spat into the sink and rinsed her mouth, repeating her question.

“I said, do you wanna watch a movie tomorrow night? Like at home? There’s this documentary I saw on Netflix, it looks really good! It’s crime related.”

“That sounds fine with me. Though, that’s only possible if you don’t end up drinking too much. I always have to get you to sleep early when you drink.” He states nonchalantly, nose poked into a thick book. She rolls her eyes and smiles, “I promise I won’t drink all that much.” Shifting his book to the opposing hand, Nanami silently takes his pinky finger and holds it out to y/n. She snickers and reciprocates.

“You’ve now pinky-promised. Don’t break it, y/n.”

“I never do.”

The nightstand lamp illuminates the room with a soft yellow glow. Shadows of objects on the nightstand hang on the walls. Laying in bed on her phone, y/n turns over to Nanami, who was still reading his book. “Nami, come lay next to me, I wanna cuddle. Please?” Her voice faint. He looks down at her and puts his book away immediately. He could use a cuddle too. Bringing himself down, he lays on his back, y/n closing the gap between the two. Their legs intertwine, her arm and head resting on his chest while one of his hands rested on her bum, the other dotingly playing with her hair. Neither of them spoke a word for a while. Until y/n broke the silence.

“So, were there no other pairs of pants you had left to wear or-”

“Please, be quiet.”

[les-etoiles-adorent-satogou]

Okay I know I haven't been posting much... But hey I've been reblogging so yenno

Anyway

I'm about to give an analysis, so please bear with me...

I think we can all agree pokeani is really having a blast giving us more satogou moments

I mean

Last week's ep was pretty much a dinner date

But!

Pokeani: I now present more ✨satogou✨

They're holding handssss 👉👈

Here's some more evidence

Ash:

Gou: Yeah...

Ash:

Gou: Yeah...

Ash:

Gou:

Ash:

Gou:

Now we can assume the Gulpin is an effective 'prop' to mask Gou's face which, considering the past episodes, is most likely burning red. Moreover, Gou explicitly points out to us viewers that he's flustered because he and Ash are holding hands. Ash, however, gives a reasonable argument to keep holding his hand. Though why didn't Ash just hold Gou by the wrist? It's no difficulty holding someone by the wrist--especially when you're simply guiding someone--yet Ash provides a reason to hold Gou's hand.

In other words...

SATOGOU HAS A BIGGER POTENTIAL TO BE CANON!!!

Well, if you read this far, thank you for reading my rambling! Here's another satogou shot:

Title: Two Boyfriends and a Pikachu Brimming with Smiles

[machinegunbun]

What do you think Pete and colson would be like if their girl had a super SUPER toxic ex. My ex was very toxic and he made it seem like I was broken :((

Pete would be both sillier and more serious about it, if that makes sense?

Like he would make fun of him. He would call the dude the loser that he is. He’d joke about 

“I mean shit, I’m mentally ill but compared to that guy i’m, like... Bob Ross.“

“Imagine a girl like that gives you a CHANCE and you use it to be toxic. What a fuckin tool.”

If you allowed him he’d call the dude out on the weekly update j

“You’re worse than my girlfriends ex, (his name, atleast first name) fuckin asshole.” 

and god forbid he ever sees them in public. We forget this dudes from New York.

Staten Island, New York.

and god forbid he tried contacting you or approaching you in any way. The dude would definitely know his place.

but, also when you were experiencing some mental shit (Trust issues whether its toward yourself or others, Anxiety, etc. whatever you might be going through as a result.) he would be able to give you real coping mechanisms. He would talk about what he’s learned in therapy and how to get through that and become better. He would encourage you to get therapy and 100% he’d pay for it if he needed to and you’d let him.

he’d tell you that you aren’t broken, and that he loves you and you’re perfect and if anything your ex was the broken one. The worst kind of broken. The kind of broken that insists there’s nothing to fix, and keeps hurting others with their rugged edges. He’d remind you it’s already so much that you realized he was toxic and only trying to make you feel broken. It’s so much already that you left him and got out of that situation. Pete treats his girls like fucking royalty and you would be no exception. You would know your worth with Pete, you wouldn’t ever doubt that shit again.

Now, Colson? Depends, which era? Cause wildboy Colson (assuming you managed to lock his ass down and he didn’t END UP being a toxic ex) Diss track. No doubt in my mind. Diss track. If not, atleast a bar in one of his songs about how he wasn’t S H I E T and you are and were

T H A T

bitch. If he saw him in the crowd he’d clown his ass like 

Hahah hey, you treated this girl like shit and now youre single and alone in my crowd and im fuckin yo bitch :) crazy how it works out. He’d bring you out on stage and j flexxx dancing with you and shit. hands all over. He’d do that everytime he sung the diss/bar too.

I think wildboy Colson had some trouble expressing emotions other than anger and horniness, but he would try yenno? He’d let you know 

“That dude was a piece of shit  fr fr and you didn’t deserve that. he’s a fucking idiot and its on sight.”

TTMD/Recent Colson

I feel like he’d be a lot more subtle w it in the since that he wouldn’t make a diss track or anything. If it did come up in his music it’d be more talking about how you’d both been through some shit  in the past and came together in healing.

He’d be a lot more responsive emotionally,  you’d definitely have convos about your toxic relationships and he’d talk about how the dude was obviously insecure and needed mental help. He’d remind you how beautiful you are and how far you’ve come.

If he ever tried contacting you again you not only have Colson at you side but his friends. They fr would not play around one fuckin bit about that. When the boys found out you’d been through some shit with an ex they didn’t even question it, they didn’t ask for details, just said they’d be there for you no matter what and if it’s ever a problem again you have their phone number.

Overall just love and positivity and reminding you you’re that bitch, it was him, not you. Your growth in such a terrible situation is admirable, and managing to get out can be hard but YOU DID THAT. xx

[daynada]

The Real You

Kugisaki Nobara x GN!Reader

[Content Warning: Enemies to Lovers, Fake Relationship, Tsundere Nobara, Poor Grammar]

“Hey! Stand up straight! I don’t want people to think I’m dating a spineless coward.” The orange-haired girl elbows your in the ribs.

“Oh so I’m the coward? I’m sorry, who’s the one who decided to lie and boast that you’re in a relationship??? Or what? Can’t take the high road and admit your single because of your feral and animalistic temper- OW!!”

Immediately interrupted, Nobara bonks you on the head with her balled-up fist.

“Oh shut up! You know, you oughta' be grateful that it’s me. With my S-tier model looks, most interesting personality, along with my higher IQ intellect, I’m pretty much the reason why everyone would even know you.” She smirks at you.

What you would do to remove that smug gesture on her lips.

“You’re only doing this because Mai said you weren’t girlfriend material.” You turn your head to glance at your so-called girlfriend.

Only you would notice the detail, but it looked like she slouched at your words.

She could be easily read like a book, but it still felt unfamiliar seeing a saddened Nobara, over the confident and strong one you’ve known and secretly loved.

You sigh heavily, “she’s not right, you know.”

She hid her surprise hearing you say that.

A little embarrassed at her childish ways, she nervously tugs on the sleeve of her uniform jacket.

“I’m the one dating you.”

“Fake dating me…”

“Dating you. No one can tell my girlfriend otherwise, especially if they don’t know, right?” She stops fiddling shyly at her sleeves as you pulled and softly intertwine hands.

She mutters an agreement to you quietly. Something very out of character for someone like her.

“Don’t pout.”

“Mm’ not.”

The image was no longer a fake one. If anyone walked in now, would’ve been the most embarrassing and heated scene in the school's basement. Who would’ve thought your fake girlfriend would straddle onto your lap and commit serious actions that would ultimately change your fake relationship forever?

No one did. Certainly not you.

“I mean… if we really wanna sell it to them… we should start kissing in public, yenno?”

Good thing Nobara cannot hear the cogs and gears malfunctioning in your brain nor your heart drumming against your chest.

You can’t even register the fact that she would say such an intimate thing.

“Ah- if you’re so sure about it..” Boldly, you brush the sides of hair out of her face to then cup softly at her skin.

Marveling at her smooth skin, you didn’t even notice how starry-eyed her gaze was at you.

Wow her skin really is pore-less.

“We should.. probably even give each other pet names too.” Your ‘girlfriend’ tilts at you curiously like a puppy with no comprehension.

This was rarest sight eyes could ever lay on, you relish the soft side Nobara shows you.

Is this how fake love feels like or was this the real deal?

“Yeah? Like what?” Softly you brush your thumb against her bottom lip.

The scene was so romantic, Kugisaki wasn’t sure how she was still breathing. Was this the way she was gonna die? The answer: yes. Was this the best way to die? The answer: also yes.

“Mm.. well you can call me darling.”

“What about me?”

“Pooki.”

She pushes off your chest playfullyh, giggling hard in a laughing fit. You had said it too confidently it's almost like you've already planned to call her that.

“What the hell is a Pooki?? Pfft-“ you grin at her, satisfied about her reaction.

“Careful now, ‘might accidentally show your sweeter side.”

“Good thing I don’t care about what anyone else thinks.”

“Good. But I’m just saying. I’ve never seen this domesticated Nobara. Because you know, you would get more eyes and attention from everyone this way. A person would like to have you if you were more like this to be around.”

“What? A person like you?

“I do know you, so. I’m more fit for you than anyone. It’s best to be who you are.”

“You too…” you look at her to query what she meant by that, but your mind immediately points blank as you melt by her sudden kiss.

She pulls away her lips from yours delicately, gazing at you like you’re the only person in the world.

“Be yourself when you’re with me.”

[ficsnroses]

Motorcycle Sex - Keanu Reeves x Reader

summary : your boyfriend, keanu, shows you his brand new motorcycle...then fucks you on it. hard.

warnings : nsfw, smut. cum heheh. lots of fluff too though! x f! reader.

words : 3.1k

❧ Requested!

notes : well...here ya go ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I know you didn’t ask for smut, wonderful anon friend, but my brain did it anyway. hope you enjoy! please consider leaving comments and feedback, means a ton. xox

“I think you’ll like this one,” an enthusiastic Keanu spills, excited mocha eyes ecstatic, a gentle hold to your hand as he leads you to the garage of your home. A new model of an Arch had been released today, the first piece of its kind reserved for the man behind copious of the creative process. “I really like this one.” He chuckles, the bulk of his hand placed to the small of your back as he allows you into the garage doors first, holding the door open.

The piece stands bold, black, colossal; sharp Michelin tires, a sheened glaze of shined fresh charcoal black paint, stood stout on its carbon wheels. Gasping, your thumb rubs a soothe to the palm of your boyfriend’s hand that holds yours, comforting the rougher skin. “Is that the one, Ke?” You shine, holding back a cheeky grin.

This; spark in his voice, passion of craft coursing inside his flowing blood was your happy place. Him; this way, would always be your happy place.

Beautiful, radiant, his smile burns you piece by piece, the joy exhilarating off his skin is warm; something so au fait. Something special grows inside him, something special the crowds don’t understand.

Ambling up to the bike, you stand hand in hand with your love, his eyes glossing over the fine piece of machinery, before to a lock of eyes with you. There’s an inquisitive twinkle to his gaze, a gentle wonder of assurance brewing on his lips. Your opinion matters to him, you matter to him. “Well?” He asks, brining your bundle of interlocked hands up to his lips for a soft kiss to your fingers. “Neat, right?”

“It’s beautiful, baby.” You beam, soft skin of your dancing fingers velveting over the leather seat. His embrace is inviting, the curve of his neck a safe haven for your arms to loom around. Smiling into his lips, your hand cups his beard embroidered cheek, smiling a warm symphony his way. “Hey, I’m really proud of you.” Whispering, your sprightly fingers rest a squeeze to his skin. “You made something so, so beautiful.” Assuring, a kind kiss daubes to his cheek off your rose stained lips, in awe with the way his eyes décor over your features; stay lost in the embodiment of you. “Almost makes me want to ride one.” You roll a chuckle, feeling his warm hands embed around your waist.

“We could.” Keanu smiles, heavy palms gently moving along your back, soothing, comforting. His smile hardly contains, and the faint freckles speckled to his cheeks warm around a blushy peach hue.

Each day with him, as this, you fall further. Further into this sanctuary, this paradise he’s built with you.

You giggle, gaze downcast slight as your fingers smooth to his nape, twirling the ends of his dark chocolate locks. A nervous admission bubbles in your throat, and his eyes furrow ever so slight to your dropping gaze. “I’m just a little scared though,” Confessing, a thick sigh laces your tone, Keanu’s hands removing off your waist in a hearty chuckle, just before his hands hold to your arms, bringing them off his shoulders, in exchange for a loom around his waist. “Well,” He starts, drawing your body closer, flush against his chest. As your arms wrap around his larger body, Keanu’s own circle around you once again, cheeky smile plastered to his lips. “All you have to do is hold on to me.” He muses a deep, throaty chortle, features warmed the way of his love. “I know you can do that.”

Grounded, spellbound in his sincere hold, you absorb a moment to solely,

relish. To sink into the feel of his arms holding you, reminding you that all you have to do, to be alright,

is hold him.

“No,” Giggling, you add. “I meant like, I kind of want to learn how to ride. By myself.” You clear, toying a smooth to a wrinkle that cultivates on the fabric of his black shirt. Engaged, a knit of brows tints to Keanu’s dark, crisp features, a gentle smile twisting his lips to your admitting words. “I’d love to learn, actually; but I’m just…”

Keanu’s ears perk, awaiting the completion of your sentence; yet, as it dies half hearted in your throat, his fingers firm into the skin of your hips, thumbs circling a coax to your figure as he waits. “What, sweetheart?” He wonders, and the crumble of his engaged voice melts in your ears, smiling to the way he listens to each word, each vowel, each syllable that falls your lips. With a gentle bite to your lip, your heavy sigh punctuates with spoken confession, fingers raking a soft run through the dark mane of your boyfriend’s hair.

“I’m scared.” You frown, holding a locked gaze with him for a mere few seconds longer. Rich, Keanu’s chuckle flows through you, the sound of his amuse so delightfully, your beloved remedy. You blush, peachy pastel hues sputtered on curled cheekbones, a roll of eyes his way as he draws in closer, kissing a soft peck to your forehead.

“I was scared too, first. I could teach you, yenno, just how to sit on it, how to control it?” He offers, and his hold around you tightens. “And then, if you want to, maybe you could take a class?” Downcast, his eyes linger for a moment, fishing the right words. “I am a little wary because it can be dangerous, and I can’t have you getting hurt, sweetheart.” The joy in his tone rings in ripples. “But, It’s amazing, Y/N, the sights, the sounds, the views. It’s a heaven of it’s own.” Your gushing boyfriend praises, bulky hand finding yours below. “Is it really something you want to do?” He asks again, fingers interlacing a tender thread with yours.

And with a hopeful grin, you nod, hand coupled to his stubble ridden cheek, gently scratching. “I wouldn’t mind you showing me the controls.” Feverishly grinning, your hand trails suggestively low, groping his ass. “Hot teacher? Sign me up.” You wink, letting go of his frame to move towards the bike.

“How do I sit correctly on this one? It’s a little bigger than your other ones.” You wonder, touching the seat with a trace of your finger. With his hand on the small of your back, Keanu taps your thigh, urging it over.

“Bring this leg over,” He instructs, holding your waist, helping you on. “Alright, how does it feel?” He asks, once you’ve positioned on the leather seat. “Comfortable?’’ He probes, stroking your back in a gentle assure.

“Yeah, feels okay.” You declare, squinting your inquisitive gaze. “Gosh, Ke. How do you control this thing? It feels so heavy.” And with a rich giggle, your helpful boyfriend grasps your forearms, gently guiding them to the sturdy handles. “Hands on here, sweetheart. Annnnnd, rest your feet on the footrests.” He encourages, positioning your hands exactly where they need to be. “Alright, now lean forward a little bit, it helps with the balance.” Detailed with proper instruction, his hands hold your arms. Coincidentally, despite the bike being on its stand; stationary, and there being minimal risk of any harm protruding your way, Keanu still kept a hold on you, perhaps unconsciously; unknowingly.

For Keanu, your safety; you being alright, would always cast his thoughts.

You follow as instructed, leaning forward in optimal stance, smiling when you catch his whiskey gaze gloss over your figure, a knowing grin spread to his own cheeks.

Keanu breathes in a sharp inhale, drinking in the way your delicious figure displays on the bike. Spellbound, his earthy twinned pupils glaze over the curve of your breasts that purse together, hanging lower off your chest, in beautiful definition as you lean forward. To the hike of your hips, your ass looks beautifully plump, peachy from this angle, and he swallows tight; his hands smoothing their way down your arms, finding rest to a hold above yours on the bike handles.

“Wow,” He sighs, deep and gruff. “You look so sexy, baby. On my bike.” In his pants, a rush of warmth floods to his cock, and he attempts to quell the lust that cascades through his mind, the sinful thoughts of how he could ruin his deliciously beautiful girlfriend, right then, right there. He attempts greatly to shun the immoral depths, yet his efforts prove fruitless when you bite your lip, leaning further, pursing your breasts tighter together in allowance of your cleavage to bloom in front of him, the valley of your breasts on display for his prying eyes to see.

You understood the effect you’d had on him; a prominent tent slowly swelling to the seams of his manhood. Keanu watches you, simpering, smiling a smirk when you climb off the bike to the sight of his heavy hand palming his clothed cock, stroking his jean clad region, murals of your body painting his thoughts.

“You know, baby,” you whisper, suggestive. “You can touch me.” And with a nipped kiss to his jaw, you drip. “Nothing is off limits to you. Only to you.” And to the ring of your tone, Keanu groans a husky exhale, inquisitive palms finding the swell of your breasts, soothing over, gently kneading the soft flesh in his hands, thumbs circling your perked nipples that ache for him.

“Fuck, babygirl,” he moans, low, feeling the weight of your smaller hand travel to his pulsing length, palming over the clothed erection that bulges inside. His lips catch yours in a domineering kiss, before you travel lower, peppering small, mindless kisses across his chests, to his stomach, kneeling in front of him as your fingers work the buckle of his jeans, mouth watering.

Peeling the fabric of his boxers down, you admire his glorious cock in its entirety, beautifully erect, monstrous, rosy tip swollen to a blushy hue. It surrounds in bush of thick hair, similar to the drapes that flow off his head. Peering up, you feel his hand rake in your hair, locking the strands in a hold when your lips find his member, wrapping sinfully around in a warm, wet hold, slowly taking him in inch by inch.

He tastes of salty precum, with a tinge of something sweet, a faint trace of his delicious, creamy release a delicacy to your tongue. “That’s…that’s it baby,” He groans, gently pushing your head further down on him, yet cautious of making sure he doesn’t offer you more than you can manage.

Someday, you want to be able to fit his entire cock; tight, throbbing down your throat.

You’ll get there, someday. You’ll just have to keep practicing…

With an abrupt pop, you allow him to fall out your mouth, raising off your knees as you travel higher, hands resting to the broad of his chest, and his lips capture yours once again, sighing to the feel of your petite hand wrapping around his aching cock, slowly, leisurely pumping, jerking, twisting the sensitive skin that sends coils of shock building inside him. Your breath is hot against his lips, two of his fingers hooking to the waistband of your bottoms, slowly peeling.

“I want to fuck you.” He whispers, deep, gravelly, sending a bubble of want throbbing within your empty cunt walls that soaked, preparing for his taking. Nodding, your chest heaves breathy exhales, taking his hand in a firm lace, quick to lead the way inside, ready for his body to work you so fucking well within the silky sheets of your shared bed, similar to the way he often does, on frequent nights.

Nevertheless, Keanu’s body doesn’t move an inch, his hand gripping your waist before he stops your move, rejecting. “No, darling,” his hand moves to your mound, palming the fabric that shields your modesty from him. “I want to fuck you here, on my bike.” He gruffs, need flooding each inch of his body, the throb of his cock almost painful to how hard it swells for you, sore; tender; desperate to be buried inside your welcoming, warm haven.

Nodding, you feel the heat building inside, realizing this must have been one of your boyfriends sinful, envisaging fantasies.

He adores you, and he adores his bikes. Seeing you on one? It was a recipe for his sex starving thoughts and corruptly swelling desire. Nonetheless; you don’t mind.

Sex with Keanu is irresistible; his expertise, his skill, the girth of his cock and how perfectly it fits inside you,

Your body welcomes him, each and every time, slick arousal and frustrated whines far too frequent when he undresses your body slowly, delicately peeling the fabric off your figure for his eyes to devour. Once fully nude and exposed, Keanu’s lips trail to your breast, swirling a nipple with his warm and wet tongue as you continue to pump his member, slicking smears of dewy pre cum over his thick shaft.

“Here baby, sit on my bike.” He drools, heavy hands planting firm to your bare ass as he lifts you gently, positioning your weary, sex craving frame on the opaque seat of his brand new bike. You abide, trusting him full, devoutly as he tears off the texile of his shirt, exposing his bare chest for you; peppered with flushy patches of rosy pink, impending with need. For release.

“Bring your legs around my waist, sweetheart.” Keanu huffs, grabbing hold of your silken skin as it curls around his waist, and you blush. Despite being with him hundreds of times before, being on display for him, this way, your pussy completely vulnerable and exposed; you still feel your breath hitch when he sees you like this. Once sure that the bike is stable, and won’t collapse when he drills into you, Keanu drinks in the sight of your voluptuous body; stroking his cock in preparation, before gripping his length firm, tapping his shaft to your cunt a couple of times in anticipation.

“I got you, sweetheart, do you trust me?” He asks, holding your body tight in position, and you nod for him, a gentle smile his way. “Are you ready for me, baby?” He probes, lined up with your heated entrance, enhanced by his primitive desire and the weight of his cock resting on your cunt lips. You nod, swallowing tight before taking hold of his biceps for balance, feeling the pads of his callous thumbs sink into your waist. Keanu’s lips kiss you soft, quick, before slowly pushing his entire length into your cushy walls, feeling you tighten around him to the point that it burned, feeling his weight inside your small, fitted entrance.

“Fuck, Y/N,” He snarls gruffly, wasting no time before his needy cock beings pounding your core with an aggressive roll of hips, sweaty palms holding tight to your waist, sure to keep you safe on the limited space of the bike seat. Keanu is fucking you so hard, so well, so rough that you swore you could feel him in your stomach; lewd moans and breathy gasps bouncing off the cold walls of the garage. The raunchy sounds of his thick balls slapping against your pussy echo the walls, and he shivers, throaty growls released as his hands roam the bulk of your breasts, praising the feel.

“Fuck, baby,” He moans, rough and profound. Your walls feel delectably tender, warm, and he loses himself within you, the sounds of your whimpers and cries turning him on tenfold. “Ke, faster, faster,” You yelp, encouraging, feeling your cunt sore to his imperative pace and enticing whispers. “Make me cum, Ke, please make me cum,” You beg, sensitive, feeling him shudder as his thumb moves to circle your clit, toying harsh with the bundle of nerves.

His pace quickens, and he pounds into your body, piercing moans and stifled whimpers only encouraging him before you feel the bubble of ache within you intensify, your orgasm spilling in a tender, excruciating wash over each inch of your body, feeling his member stretch deep, deep inside your pussy as he chases his own nirvana. “Fuck!” You gasp, becoming oversensitive, yet still deliciously full of your boyfriend’s massive cock imploring inside, the baritone moans and breathy heaves of his chests, paired with the way his biceps look delectably toned and bulked as he holds tight to your hips; its all far too gorgeous, and you fall far too deeply within the entirety of him in this moment.

“You gonna cum for me, Ke?” You encourage, soft hand travelling below to massage the fullness of his balls, stimulating a delicate, tender wave of pleasure to his manhood.

“You’re so…so wet,” His breath hitches in his throat, and he slams into you harder, and harder, praises of your name, reciting acclaim for your heavenly pussy sashaying off his love drunk lips before channling a rhythem of fast, profound, hard, almost animalistic thrusts into you, his thick voice warning. “Where do you want it, baby?” In reference to bursting strings of creamy cum that would seep out his cock soon.

“On me.” Dark, lustful, in love, your eyes lock to his, and with a wave of absolute pleasure stinging each of his veins, Keanu’s moans roll deep in his throat as he spills your name, laced with satisfied groans,

His cock pulling out quick, spurting streams of his sticky, glossed white cum all over your bare belly, and you sigh, you moan and lose yourself in the way he looks, a heavy hand firmly wrapped to his relieved erection as he pumps himself, emptying his seed onto your body.

Lowering his head, he sighs, so content, holding your hips as he hovers over you on his bike. “Fuck,” Keanu sighs, breathes rugged as he catches his breath, his forehead connecting against yours as you both relish, floating in a paradise of joint euphoria after your orgasms.

His hair falls, draping, curtaining his eyes, a few tousled strands sticking to his sweaty forehead. Brushing it aside, you kiss his lips soft, brushing your tongue over the sensitive skin before planting your hand to his chest. Neither of you speak, collecting your breaths, smiling goofy grins at each other, thoughts hazed by what just happened.

Quiet, yet thoughtful, Keanu holds you to his chest, arms circled around your frame still positioned on his bike. “You okay babe?” A kiss from his lips to your temple. “Was I too rough?”

“Perfect.” You assure, smoothing your hands over his bulked biceps, sighing content. Below, however, you feel a mixture of your releases coat your thighs; trickles of your mess coating his bike seat. Lip bitten, you connect your eyes to his, concerned. “Shit, Ke, your bike is a little…dirty…” You frown, heart warming to the sound of his generous chuckle, and the weight of his cock still resting heavy on your thigh. Again, as a hundred times before, he’d quenched that satisfying long inside you. Fulfilled you so fucking well, even when you had no idea you’d needed it.

“Well,” He smiles, warm and contagious; a wet kiss to the silky dip of your neck. “At least we broke in the new bike.”

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)