#I've never written a romantic pairing before

[ehlnofay]

tagged for wip wednesday (or as we call it in australia... thursday) by @jiubilant​

the background for the piece this excerpt is from: my achilles’ heel in writing is romance. I’m too aro to understand it and attempting to portray it fills me with confusion. however it seems to be a big part of a lot of peoples’ lives and I would like to be able to write it if I so choose; for this reason, every now and again when I decide “I want to practice that skill” I make an attempt to write arabella and sapphire being ridiculous. don’t know if I’ll post any of these attempts anytime soon due to the confusion, so I figured this one from a couple days ago is a good candidate for wip wednesday (thurdsday)!

[lyrefromthesea]

Male pillars x reader - bringing them their favourite food.

author's note: due to a comment I've received on an earlier post, i'll not write for Muichiro anymore. i've stated before that i do not write sexual content for minors, nor do i engage in writing romantic relationships including them. everything i've written for him was seen as a platonic relationship between him and the reader. since my statement fell in deaf ears, i've decided to leave him out completely. i do not feel comfortable mentioning him in my posts anymore, my deepest apologies.

request: how would the pillars react to receiving their favourite food from you?

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

Tengen:

you were standing in the kitchen, whistling to yourself. today had been good so you decided to make your husband a little treat.

the market had been rather full, but you walked through the crowd and bought the ingredients you needed for his favourite dish.

seaweed. rice. and already prepared fugu. it had taken quite some time to find it, but you did it nonetheless.

standing in the kitchen, you had already made a plate of fugu sushi. at least that's what you thought. when you turned around to place another piece on the plate, it looked like there was one missing. have you forgotten one?

placing your finished piece on the plate, you turned around to make more. finally, you would be finished-

and another one was gone.

"Tengen! stop stealing the fugu sushi!" you scolded, not surprised when you heard quiet footsteps behind you. he wasn't a shinobi for nothing.

"sorry, darling. you looked so flamboyant, i didn't want to interrupt you!" he answered, wrapping muscular arms around you. a laugh escaped you, feeling him place his chin on the top of your hair.

"have i ever told you that you're the best?" he teased, finally freeing you from his embrace.

"i already know, that's why we're married."

Obanai:

you placed a bowl of tororo konbu right in front of him, telling him that you tried your best. naturally, he thanked you, but he didn't dive in like you would've expected him to do.

"what's wrong?" you asked, wondering if you had messed up the dish. it was your first time making it, perhaps you had missed a step or overcooked something.

"i.. could you maybe..?" Obanai asked, he appeared much more timid than usual. you tried understanding what was wrong.

seeing his finger brush against his mask, you understood, he still felt insecure about his face. you hadn't been in a relationship for long, he probably needed time to get used to this. "of course."

"just know that i would never judge you for what i see." you added, placing a kiss on his temple. truthfully, you were saddened about his request, but you wanted to give him the time he needed.

Obanai, on the other hand, was touched by your words. his meal long forgotten, he stood up, taking your hands in his.

"we should marry."

you looked at him, first shocked, and then you started laughing. perhaps he overreacted just a bit, but who could blame him?

Rengoku:

sweet potatoes. so many sweet potatoes.

when you've told Rengoku you could cook his favourite dish in the near future, he had been incredibely happy about it.

he came back with a load of sweet potatoes the next day, his whole head nearly dissapearing behind the amounts of the root vegetable he had bought.

now, another day later, you put miso soup and sweet potatoes for two on the table, smiling at your enthusiastic husband. he had offered to help you the whole time, which eventually led you to ban him from the kitchen.

he nearly devoured the dish as soon as you were sat on the opposite side of the table. it made you chuckle, seeing him swallow the huge bite he took down.

"umai!"

"you've outdone yourself, i'm glad i brought some sweet potatoes home!" he brightly smiled, earning another laugh from you. some sweet potatoes?

"Kyojuro, you brought a ton of them home." you countered, pointing at the rest of the potatoes you've put on the counter for now. "that will probably be enough for a month worth of miso soup with sweet potatoes!"

"sounds good, don't you think?"

Sanemi:

Sanemi plopped down on the engawa, letting out a heavy sigh. training had been rather hard, but he needed to stay fit. nevertheless, his muscles ached and he could really take a break.

he debated over going inside, he trained enough. a shower wouldn't hurt, he was sweating, dampened hair was sticking to his forehead. the man sighed, standing up to finally move inside.

however, when he saw you standing right behind him, he froze. you were looking up at him with wide eyes, as if you tried surpising him. he looked down at your hands - you were holding something - only now realizing that he had been right. you did try to surpise him.

he looked at the plate in your hands, it was filled with ohagi. his favourite food. his eyes moved back to your face, watching you tilt your head.

"it's for you." you told him, tilting your head to the side. "let's go inside, you've trained enough." you smiled, nodding towards the door. he nodded, following you into the kitchen. you placed the ohagi down on the counter, watching him slowly take one.

"you didn't have to." he said, already having bitten into the one in his hand. you chuckled at his words, he had nearly eaten the ohagi with one bite, yet he claimed he didn't need any.

"i needed a reason to get you away from training." you admitted, a sly smile on your face. but both of you knew he would've listened to you no matter what.

"i would've stopped anyways." he answered, placing the ohagi he had picked up to the side. he came closer, watching your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"what? why?" you asked, not questioning why he came closer. in a matter of seconds, you were in his arms, your eyes squeezing shut in disbelief.

"i wanted to shower." he smirked, basically squishing his sweaty body against yours. you let out a whine, trying to free yourself from his hug, but only managing to do so when he let go.

"great, now i can shower too!" you scolded, seeing him laugh to himself. he walked towards the bathroom, seemingly wanting to wash himself.

"let's eat the ohagi after you're finished."

Giyuu:

Giyuu didn't know what he had expected when he came home today, but he certainly didn't think it would be the smell of freshly cooked food.

no, scrap that. he was often greeted by the nice smell of a promising meal. this was different. it wasn't just any meal.

"welcome home, Giyuu." you greeted, watching him step into the kitchen. you looked content, already knowing that you would make him happy.

"are you hungry? i prepared something for you." you smiled, seeing him nod slowly. when you moved away from the table, his gaze wandered towards the bowls full of food.

your gaze was fixed on him, wanting to catch his reaction. he wasn't the type to voice his happiness, but you certainly caught the way he looked at the salmon daikon you made.

the lightest twitch of his eyebrows and the way his eyes narrowed showed his interest. he stared at the food for a moment, the quiet grumble of his stomach revealing how hungry he truly was.

but he didn't immediately start eating. instead he looked back at you, his gaze softening.

"i've got you this" he muttered, extending his hand towards you. you stared in awe, a small bag of your favourite sweets being placed in your hands.

"let's eat them for dessert, Giyuu."

Gyomei:

when you brought home the ingredients for takikomi gohan. you have wanted to surprise Gyomei with his favourite dish.

you stood in the kitchen, cutting the vegetables into small pieces, as you hummed to yourself. Gyomei should've been home in an hour, at least that's what you've thought.

"i'm home." you heard his deep voice call from the hallway. your head snapped up, looking at the ingredients and then towards the door. you wouldn't have enough time to put everything away. before you even had the chance to react, he already came through the door.

"..are those?" he stopped in the doorway, his head turning towards you. you knew he was blind, but his ability to detect your exact location surpised you ever so often.

the smell of his favourite food hung in the air, almost as if the world had wanted to ruin your surprise.

"i wanted to surprise you." you admitted, lowering your head. you knew he wouldn't be disappointed, but you've planned this since last week. he must've sensed your sadness, walking towards you and putting his hand over yours.

"i can help you, let's cook together." he offered, carefully taking the knife out of your hand. truthfully, you nearly objected, not wanting him to hurt himself, however, you nearly chuckled thinking of the large weapon he was wielding.

"let's call it a cooking date then." you smiled, opening the drawer to get a second knife.

[heirofnight]

let's go

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 1.3k

summary: reader is arranged to be wed within the next 12 hours, and azriel is determined to not let that happen.

a/n: thank you so much for all of the love on the writing i've published so far. my heart could explode. i've never allowed anyone to read anything that i've written, and as nervous as i was, i'm so glad that i made this account. this little fic was inspired by GoT lmao. i hope you like it!

you took in your reflection in the floor length mirror that was propped against the side of the wall. your chambers were dimly lit, somber even - a perfect indication of your own feelings. you'd always loved candles, loved the romantic glow that they'd cast across the walls of your large bedroom. for that reason, you had many of them - big and small - spread across the surfaces of your space. all of them were lit now, and they, along with the moonlight that spilled through your open drapes, provided mood lighting that perfectly encapsulated your own brooding thoughts.

you were getting married tomorrow. but not in a way that was exciting or filled your heart to the brim with joy. no, this was absolutely dreadful - an arranged marriage that was put in to place solely to benefit your royal father. one that you did not want, and would have never agreed to. you didn't even know the male that you were set to wed - had never even seen him.

your father was thrilled. he would not stop boasting about how immensely important this union was (for him), how this event was going to solve so many political issues amongst the court (you didn't give a shit), how happy you'd eventually grow to be (impossible). you were furious, you felt used, and you were in love with another.

azriel.

your eyes fluttered as his name tore through every single chamber of your mind. it felt like you were physically being stabbed through the heart. at this point, you'd rather it. at least you'd die his lover.

your eyes found the floor in front of you, and you took in a sobering breath. you had one more thing that needed to be done before tomorrow's ceremony.

you crossed the wooden floor of your large bedroom, floorboards creaking beneath your bare feet. you sat before your mirrored vanity, pulling a stack of parchment from the small drawer in front of it. and, you began to write. one last letter to the male that you'd loved for close to five years now. the man that held your soul within his scarred hands - hands that had the potential to inflict such harrowing damage. but those same hands had held your beating heart with such care and unrelenting love, it made your chest physically want to split in half to think of it.

my sweet love,

as i sit here on the eve of my wedding day, a day that should be joyous, a celebration for the ages, i can't help but feel as though my heart is trying to leap from my chest. if it were able to do such a thing, i know that it would somehow journey these lands to find its way to you. it is already with you, anyhow, and it always will be. i am sick to think that my walk down the aisle will not end with me standing before you, azriel. such a handsome husband you'd be. please, if you ever wed another, -

you paused your writing as a chilled gust of air hit the back of your neck, your hair whipping about with the impact. you weren't scared, you didn't even flinch - you knew what, or who caused it.

you spun around in your chair, and were met the blanched face of the male you were just writing your farewell correspondence to.

"az," you breathed out, rushing to meet his stiff frame. he was clearly distressed. angry. his breath was heaving from his chest, and his fists were clenched at his sides - wings were flared in irritation.

his wild hazel eyes met your own, and he shook his head in disbelief, shoulders dropping in defeat.

"this can't happen, y/n," he whispered, jaw clenching. he was barely maintaining his composure. you knew he wanted to level this entire manor, storm through the halls and end the lives of every one of your father's men that he came across.

you let out a shaky breath, brows cinching. it would have almost been easier to not see him, especially not tonight. this was gut wrenching.

"az, i have no choice. i'm stuck, i've tried to think of every possible way-," you rambled in a hushed tone, hands gesturing in desperation.

"there is a way," he cut you off, his tone one that could summon death. he'd calmed himself, although just marginally. he'd become still, steady, and sure. his voice took on the same quality as it did when he was focused on a mission. it was cold, full of gravel.

you looked up at him, confused and trying not to get your hopes up. surely if there was an actual way to rid yourself of this nightmare, you'd have already thought of and executed it.

"you come with me. now.", he spoke once more, leaving no room for discussion. he wasn't kidding - even though he knew the consequences of such treason.

"az...", you winced, shaking your head as your gaze hit the floor. you couldn't bare to look at him, nor turn him down, but you had to.

"no, y/n. i don't care. i don't care what happens, i don't care about your father, or his army, or what this means for velaris. you're coming with me. i will not allow this to happen," he was breathing heavily again, hands coming to grasp at your slumped shoulders.

"he will start a war, azriel. he will know exactly where to find me, find us," you whispered, not daring to meet his desperate gaze.

"then we will go somewhere else, we'll go somewhere he won't find us. and we'll figure it out. you and i," he pleaded, voice faltering. the words came out strained, like he was trying not to scream, yell, implode.

you sighed, mulling it over momentarily.

"and rhys? my father will still go to velaris first. we can't unleash my father and his men onto rhys and his people just because of this", you rationalized. the thought of velaris facing another attack at your own expense was nauseating.

"i would level all of prythian with my bare hands because of this. for you," he gritted. he took your face between his hands gently, forcing you to meet his wide eyes. he needed to make you understand. he would not survive this.

you stared at him for a long moment, your expression one of absolute dejection. azriel's heart clenched, his head was pounding. please agree, please, please agree to this, come with me, he chanted in his mind, hoping somehow he'd will you into agreement.

"rhys knows where i am. he knows what i'm doing. and he knows the potential consequences. we've been working on solutions, on strategies. we can do this," he breathed out, his full lips brushing against yours as he spoke.

he was begging you, pleading. you knew he'd get on his knees if he had to. and gods, you wanted to go so badly. you'd never been able to choose anything for yourself - nothing. you'd had no say, no meaningful opinions, and no choice on any matter regarding your own life.

but you'd chosen azriel. he was the only choice you'd ever made, and would forever be the best one. you'd chosen him then, and you'd choose him now.

"i'll pack a bag," you spoke softly, nuzzling the tip of your nose against his. you couldn't help the smile that began to tug at your lips.

a pregnant pause lingered between the both of you as you determined whether or not this was a horrible idea. azriel was half-expecting you to change your mind. he held his breath for longer than was probably healthy, lungs beginning to burn. but then, finally:

"let's go," you stated firmly, true determination woven within your words.

azriel faltered for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as he processed your decision. he was frozen as you untangled yourself from his arms, darting about to quickly pack a bag of your belongings.

"let's go," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper.

a/n: my heart !!! this one came out of nowhere and i had to write it out. sorry if it's kinda dumb. let me know what you think!

[fanaticsnail]

Can you write something romantic for yandere Mihawk? Like a drabble or headcannons?

🐈‍⬛

I don't think I've ever written yandere before, but I wanted to give it a go. I hope this is what you were looking for! 🖤🐌

Obsession

Masterlist here

Word count: 1,200+

Synopsis: Many believe Mihawk keeps the knowledge of his spouse a secret because he is a private man. Truth of it is, he is simply obsessed with you and doesn't believe any other pair of eyes is worthy of meeting their gaze with your majesty.

Themes: yandere!Mihawk x gn!reader, possessive attitude, obsession, infatuation, pining, longing, lusting, love, romance, kissing, yandere trope.

Notes: I will do anything to write a man in love. I love how period-drama romance looks on Mihawk, and I couldn't not write him with a little bit of a possessive flavour. I made the banner with OPLA's Mihawk wanted poster.

Tag list: @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @mfreedomstuff @gingernut1314 @jintaka-hane @daydreamer-in-training @carrotsunshine @indydonuts @i-am-vita @sordidmusings

While many were aware that Dracule Mihawk was married, they simply presumed he was a very private man. He enjoyed keeping to himself, and allowing himself the courtesy of remaining in solitude with his spouse while tending to his title as World's Greatest Swordsman.

In some aspects, he did. He did enjoy keeping to himself and remaining in solitude while he lived in the high keep of his castle, surrounded by swirled mountains and his well-tended gardens. But at the crux of his entire life, the center of his world and the prized diamond in his vast treasury, was you.

You ruled his heart, controlled his chin and the direction his gaze fell with a simple whisper of a word or the scent of your perfume. He was a man consumed, humbled by his infatuation to the point where his love fell into captivated, depraved fixation.

To put it simply, Dracule Mihawk wanted to keep you all to himself. He was a man consumed by his bewitchment and infatuation with the owner of his heart.

He was never one for sharing, never joining a crew or forming a bond other than rivalry with another person. As soon as he met you, everything changed for him. His heart soared, his breath was stolen from his lungs, and his eyes never strayed from honing in on your beauty.

He wasn't sure what it was you did or didn't do that had him fall to his knees and begin to worship at your altar. All he knew was he wanted you so desperately, craved to be by your side always, and wanted to shy you away from the wandering eyes of all whom he deemed unworthy to have their gaze fall upon your majesty.

When your courtship first commenced, he attempted to keep his tribute humble and small. But as your eyes lit up at the first offer of a simple rose he carved from his favored floral shrubbery, he knew he wanted to spoil you with lavish luxury. Each gift was catered to your interests and tastes, items you never thought he paid enough mind to your conversation while promenading, hand interlaced within the crook of his elbow.

He paid mind to it all. The way your voice changed when speaking on your passions, the questions you asked him about his life before working for the World Government, how you paused in the garden and listened to the sweet chirps of birds begin courting their mates. He hung on your every word, movement and motion.

For someone so stoic and reserved, the way his heart melted for you the moment your eyes met was as if his cold vessel was chaperoned into the bright light of a warm sunset. He couldn't get enough, and when he was certain you returned his love, he refused any exchange of dowry for your hand.

He wanted you to be his just as much as he desired to be yours. That was more than enough for him, and he would never leave you for wanting or without for all the days of your life.

The first time he was summoned to perform his duty as a warlord for the World Government after your marriage, he was overcome with rage at the thought of leaving your side. He almost took the head of the carrier bird with the summons for his assignment, but withheld his violent act at the sight of you offering the bird your Berry, and gifting them your palm filled with sunflower seeds.

As soon as the bird fled, he lifted your palm within his own, brushed the darkened casings of the remains from the seeds' shells, and rose the flesh to his lips to kiss away the indents of pecks the bird left in raised welts on your skin. Cupping his bearded chin, you rose his amber eyes to meet with yours.

“I will return to you,” his voice mourned for you above the softest whisper, “I will always return to you.” Leaning his cheek and chin into your palm, he closed his eyes and furrowed his brows in deep yearning.

“You are always so good to me,” you responded in a tone that mirrored his own, prompting his eyes to snap open and gaze deeply into your own. “I trust you to find your way home once you conclude this contract.” Ushering his face closer to you, you whisper against his lips before fully making contact, “I will be right where you left me, waiting for you to return.”

Mihawk's eyes darkened, his pupils blown black and eclipsing his honey-hue with the intensity of his possessive gaze. He knew he was many things to you, and good was far from a sentiment he held for himself. His desire to keep you secret was not to keep you safely tucked away from those who wished to do him harm, but because he was truly a selfish man.

As your lips closed in around his own, he was ready to commence his enthusiastic consumption of all that you had to offer him. Each kiss he pressed into you felt both like the first time he had ever felt such passion, and the last time he was ever to claim such a prize.

Hands clawing at your hips, he drew you flush with his own and angled his chin to deepen the oscillation. Tongue darting out to taste yours like a delicacy he was never again to roll over his palate, the muscle ground against your lips and lewdly consuming your kiss with lusting desire.

Both pulling away from one another, he rested his forehead against yours and took a moment to catch his breath. Eyes closed and brow lowered, he shared breaths with you and savored every moment you shared with one another.

“I crave the day we meet again, my precious consort,” he pressed his lips to your forehead, “My guiding light to point me home,” his lips dart down to claim your cheek beneath it, “The crown jewel in my treasury, and reigning monarch of my very soul.” He pressed a chaste and longing kiss once more against your lips before pulling away.

“Always so charming, my love,” you smile up at him, removing your hands from his face and smoothing over his leather shoulder pads of his outer great-cloak. “I will be right here ready to receive you, as I always am.”

“My beloved,” he whispered, his eyes falling half-lidded and dark eyelashes fluttering from your lengthy confession.

“My dear,” you breathed his whisper within your chest and replaced it with your own. You pressed your lips to his cheek, an offer of your blessing to embark on the next chapter of his journey.

Dracule Mihawk was a man consumed with the love he had for his counterpart. He rued each day to depart from your side, and would have no quarrel with offering his opinion as such to the official whom summoned him.

Truthfully, he was a man infatuated by his spouse that it bordered on domination by his strongest emotions, but choosing to keep them beneath the surface to not tighten you with his intensity. It was his addiction, his fix in a world full of darkness and torment.

He was your loyal zealot, knight and fierce protector, and you...

You were his obsession.

[ghost-proofbaby]

when you know, you know. (e.m.)

summary: air hockey has never been so romantic.

warnings: it's alluded to that reader is wearing red lipstick. not edited.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

wc: 1.8k+

a/n: a very late valentine's day gift for you all (and eddie). also, the fact i've never written proper mechanic eddie... what a shame.

“Yes!” 

If any of the nearby children flinched, you didn’t notice. You were too wrapped up in your victory, going as far as to partake in a terribly embarrassing dance on your end of the air hockey table as Eddie shakes his head slowly. 

“You definitely cheated,” he deadpans, a twitch of a smile nearly giving him away as he leans down to pick the puck out of the slot below on his end, “There’s no way you’re about to beat me in under five minutes, again.” 

You smile, lips painted red under the lowlights of the arcade as you lean over the table and taunt him, “Or maybe it’s just a skill issue. I wouldn’t keep beating you if you were actually a professional in air hockey like you’d claimed, Munson.” 

Three dates – tonight makes four – and you still hadn’t quite worked out how you’d managed to capture the attention of the boy before you. When he’d originally asked you out to coffee, you’d swallowed down all your excessive excitement just to answer him. The local mechanic that you’d been making heart eyes at every few months when you’d go in for an oil check, the one who hadn’t allowed the others at the shop to oversell you on a damn thing when you’d get your tires rotated. Who always smiled shyly as he’d bring you back your keys.

You’d figured the coffee date would last an hour if you were lucky. The two of you would spend more than five minutes in the same room together, he’d realize how overbearing you were, and that would be the end of it. Ridiculous crush effectively squashed. 

But it hadn’t. 

It had lasted hours, plural. Coffees finished and second lattes nursed until they’d gone cold, the outcome had been the exact opposite of your expectations. Your conversation had flowed effortlessly, common ground and common interests found with ease, and suddenly, Eddie was more than just some cute mechanic for your friends to tease you over. 

The first date had only ended due to his shift at the shop that afternoon. 

The subsequent sushi dinner date, and then the movie night the next week, had also lasted hours. 

“For someone who works on cars, you should be a lot better with your hands,” you poke gentle fun at him as he makes the first hit against the puck this time, far more careful than you had been when serving. 

“Or maybe I’m just determined to keep letting my pretty date win.” 

“And why would you ever do that?” 

Another hit from your mallet, the sharp tapping of your aggressive push ringing out over the sound of nearby machines. You don’t dare to glance in the direction of the ruckus, but you’re pretty sure someone has just won an exciting amount of tickets based on the squeals of glee. 

“I dunno,” Eddie pauses to shrug after he hits the puck once more, his guard dropping. You’re ruthless as you take the opportunity to shoot the puck straight into ‘goal’ on his side of the table. A straight shot, far too easy for your liking, but you still celebrate the victory with another embarrassing dance, “Maybe it’s because I’m into that ridiculous dance they keep doing whenever they score.” 

You immediately stop your little jumps, eyes widening, a rush of embarrassment heating you up from the inside out as Eddie’s eyes stay glued on you. The table powers down as he makes his way around it, feet bringing him right to you. 

You’d always thought Eddie would find you weird, or odd, or unappealing after that coffee date, but the outcome had been better than you could have possibly conceived.

He was an absolute weirdo as well. 

Fondness overtakes his features just like it had on that coffee date when you’d accidentally snorted at one of his jokes, and your heart flutters eagerly. You can’t believe there had been a time you’d only watch him from behind glass, trying to not get caught as you would blatantly stare at him as he’d work on your car. A time when you’d only see his curls up in loose buns rather than framing his face as they were now, a time when you couldn’t even shake his hand due to it being covered in oil. 

That had all only been a month ago, but you already couldn’t imagine your life without Eddie Munson in it. 

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he chuckles as he stops in front of you, smirk deepening the dimples you’d only noticed on your second date with him. He’d been too bashful the first date, ducking whenever his grin would grow too wide on you, biting his tongue on half the flirtatious remarks you wished he would have said. “You won, fair and square, so what’s your prize gonna be, valentine?” 

He also waited until the second date to kiss you. That had nearly killed you. 

“It’s not very fair if you let me win,” you whisper, unable to look away from his eyes. They’re a soft brown, a smooth honey, a nice sight for sore eyes. You kind of like the crinkles beside them, too. Kind of wonder what it would be like to wake up beside him, roll over, and kiss them – all before the sun ever rose. 

He reaches out and gingerly grabs your hand, calloused fingertips brushing your knuckles before he entangles your fingers with his. “Psh, who said I let you win? Maybe I just really suck at air hockey.”

“You just-”

You never get to finish your argument. He’s quick to swoop down, capturing your lips in his. The rudest of interruptions, and it still manages to weaken your knees. 

Each kiss only grows sweeter. And more confident, more sure. The first one had been timid, exchanged on your doorstep with boyish hesitation and meek desperation. But now, several kisses experienced since that night, all apprehension has melted. He lets his lips meld to yours, captures your bottom lip just tightly enough to give it a brief tug when he pulls away. Still soft, ever so sweet, and leaving you wanting for more. 

Four dates. All it took was four dates for him to make you a goner. 

“Now, that wasn’t fair,” you breathe out, betrayed by the smile that you wear. Your chest feels shaken up, impending explosion of mushiness and flowers and hearts and every single cliche the love songs on the radio could squeeze out.

“It was your prize.”

“I never said I wanted a kiss for my prize.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he puts a dramatic hand up to his chest, leaning back so dramatically that your hand instinctively reaches out to loop a finger in his jean pocket to keep him upright, “Would you like me to take it back, my fair maiden?” 

Four dates, and he makes it impossible to not imagine a future of this. Of silly banter, of gentle mornings spent kissing away crows feet, of cutting one another off with the most infuriating of methods. You’re starting to believe you’re just a hopeless romantic, and he’d spotted that from a mile away – he knew every single button to press to have you putty in his hands, and he was taking full advantage of it. 

You giggle, an honest to God giggle, as you say, “Hm, I’m not sure. I heard the return policies on those are a bit wonky.” 

If your friends thought you were insufferable when he was some stranger you just had a crush on, they would be vomiting at the sight of this. 

He leans into your space, close enough to smell his faint cologne and mint on his breath, “Are they? Well, lucky for you, I’m friends with the shop owner. Can definitely accept the return without a receipt. It won’t be a problem, ma’am. I swear it.”

He’s weird. He’s goofier than you could have imagined, snarkier than you could have dreamed, and more romantic than you had yet to uncover. He’s kind of perfect, but you wouldn’t dare say that to his face. Not yet, at least. 

You’re glad you had said yes when he’d asked days prior for you to be his Valentine. And you’re glad he hadn’t gone the boring route, showing up with just chocolates and flowers and calling it a day, but had instead dragged you out to this arcade for a night of adventures as he claimed. 

“And how would one go about returning a kiss, kind sir?” 

He answers wordlessly, bringing up a finger to tap on his lips. He goes as far as pouting them dramatically. 

He wants you to kiss him. 

Lucky for him, you want to kiss him, too. 

Your kiss is more chaste. Teasing as you lift up onto your tippy toes and only press your lips to his for a brief second before falling back. You leave him wanting more – it’s written all over his face, along with a blush that races right over the bridge of his nose. 

He’s cute. He’s cute, and he’s weird, and you really fucking like him. 

“Now that that’s over with,” you have to change the topic, move right along before your heart truly bursts from your chest, “I know what I want my prize to be.” 

He takes a moment to recover, pupils almost resembling hearts as he stares down at you. Eventually he pulls himself from your trance, shaking his head as he asks, “And what would that be?”

You’re the one taking his hand this time. If he gave you the time, you’d like to learn each callous and scar by heart. Trace over them in the middle of night, when it’s just you and him in the darkness beneath your sheets. Memorize the way they feel as he explores every curvature of your body and figure out which of the roughest patches would brush against your most sensitive bits in a way that would make you arch your back right into him. 

The two of you haven’t even discussed if that’s where the night might lead, but you’re sort of hoping the luck in the air doesn’t run out. 

“There’s an awfully pretty ring in the case up at the ticket counter,” you muse, knowing damn well the ring was the ugliest thing either of you had ever seen in your lives, “Think you’ve got the tickets to spare?” 

His hand gives you a squeeze. Something not too tight, something perfectly comfortable. It’s only the fourth date, it’s only the first month – it’s only the beginning. 

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he says, more earnestly than you’d expected, as he steals another kiss. 

You let him. You have this aching feeling in your chest that you’ll probably let him steal an endless amount from you for the rest of your life. 

When you know, you know. Or whatever the poets say.

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[nicka-nell]

can i request the getting interrupted during sexy time with kita, sakusa and fukunaga??:3

Hi 😊 of course! Ahhhh, I realized that I've never written anything for Fukunaga and I don't even have a banner for him. 🥲 It was also really hard for me to write something for him because you really haven't seen that much of him in the show sadly. But I tried to write something! I hope you like it. 💚

Getting interrupted during sexy time

Pairing: Kita x, Sakusa x, Fukunaga x reader

Warning: fluff, comedy, slightly nsfw, mdni

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Kita is a decent man. Someone who has his daily routines and rarely deviates from it. 

But today is one of those days. It’s been raining all day, and a few minutes ago it started storming so hard that you had to come inside and put on dry clothes first. It’s impossible to work outside at the moment. 

You let yourself fall onto the sofa with a sigh, while Kita sits down on the edge next to you.

He stretches out his hand and runs it through your still damp hair. “You’ll catch a cold if you don’t blow-dry your hair,” he says calmly.  

“Later...” you answer, reaching for his hand and giving him a gentle kiss on the back of it before pulling him closer. “But I’m sure I’ll get even warmer when my favorite person takes me in his arms and cuddles me.” 

Kita takes a fleeting look out of the window. It looks like it’s going to storm outside for a while. He can probably forget about farming today. Once again he looks at you, a small smile spreads across his lips before he lies down next to you and strokes your side. 

You rest there together. His bright eyes cast a spell over you and you can’t help but move even closer to him before giving him a kiss and burying your head in the crook of his neck. 

Kita’s hand slides up to your head, strokes you gently. 

This honest and calm manner, you love it so much about him. How affectionately he treats you. Even though Kita is not a man of many words, you feel all his love through little things in everyday life. Like cuddling on the sofa today. 

“Shinsuke... you don’t know how much I love you.” You say, smiling, lifting your head to give him a kiss on the lips before pressing your body against his, so that you lie on top of him. Kita seems a little irritated at first, but a thin smile is quickly back on his face. He puts one hand on your hip and uses the other to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I know that. Otherwise we wouldn’t be doing activities like this, would we?” he says naturally. “No... I guess that’s true.” You whisper to him before leaning down, taking his face in your hands as you kiss him tenderly. 

Kita’s grip on your hips subconsciously tightens as his fingers begin to caress your body, suddenly touching your bare skin under the fabric of the dress you had put on after the shower. “I’m sorry,” he whispers between your kisses, as if it’s a crime to touch his girlfriend like that. You kiss him again, a mischievous smile on your mouths as you reply in a husky voice, “That’s okay, Shinsuke. After all, we wouldn’t be doing activities like this if we weren’t a couple, would we?” 

Kita just nods in agreement and allows the kiss to become more intimate. You feel his hand move up to your back, pull you further down towards him, as his warm lips linger longer on yours before you break the kiss and look deep into each other’s eyes. 

“What do you say we go into the bedroom and continue this in bed?” he asks soberly. “Why? Does it bother you here? It’s so romantic right now,” you say, feeling the warmth rising to your face. The living room is dark. The fireplace you lit this morning for heating is still crackling slightly, the rain pattering against the large windows from outside and coloring the sky dark gray is soothing. Besides, you live alone in a house on a farm far away from the nearest town or neighbors. So it is also unlikely that anyone could be watching you. 

“But what if...”, “Shinsuke... this is our house. Besides, no one’s going out in this storm anyway,” you interrupt him and straighten up to pull your dress off your body. After showering, you didn’t bother to put on a bra, so now you’re sitting on Kita, completely free of clothes expect of your panties. 

Kita looks to the side, sheepish. He does this almost every time he sees you like this, as if it’s the first time. You think it’s cute and start giggling before you lean forward and kiss his neck while one of your hands sneaks under his shirt.

“You know I’m sensitive in that spot,” Kita murmurs, unconsciously pushing his pelvis closer to yours while his hands rub your back.

You feel him getting hard underneath you, notice how you get all warm at the thought of what’s about to happen. With your heart beating fast, you lift your head and whisper in his ear, “Shinsuke... I want you...” to which he just nods. His hand moves to your butt and slides under the fabric of your panties. “I want you too. “ 

Kita tries to sit up, pinning you beneath him on the sofa before his lips hover over your chest. You can already feel his breath on your soft skin, holding your breath for a moment, when suddenly a key startles you both. 

“Shinsuke, my dear, are you or your sweetheart at home? It’s so stormy today. I wanted to see if you were both okay. I’ve brought kimchi.” The voice of Kita’s grandmother’s rings out. 

“Fuck...” you whisper quietly and you both look at each other with wide eyes before Kita quickly pushes your dress under the sofa and grabs the bedspread lying on the armchair next to it before throwing it over you both. 

“Pretend you’re asleep,” he whispers to you and you have no choice but to nod, because his grandma is almost in the living room doorway. 

When she sees you both on the sofa, supposedly asleep, she quietly apologizes and puts the food she has brought in the kitchen. “Oh my poor little children, you must have worked so hard outside that you fell asleep here in the living room. Sleep, sleep. Grandma doesn’t want to wake you up.” 

All you hear is her starting to tidy up something in the kitchen while you look at Kita, embarrassed and feeling so guilty. 

You forgot that his grandma has a key to the house, of course, because she comes by now and then to help you with the rice harvest. That she’s coming today of all days... 

You wait until his grandma disappears into the bathroom when Kita pulls your dress back out from under the sofa and hands it to you so you can get dressed quickly, before you both straighten your clothes. Just a few seconds later, his grandma comes out of the bathroom, overjoyed to see you both awake. 

You feel so bad that you don’t know how to look her in the eye. 

With Sakusa and you, it really is the absolute classic. 

Who actually comes up with the idea of leaving the TV on when you realize that the mood is suddenly getting hotter and hotter? 

Sakusa had an exhausting training day, you had an exhausting working day and both of you are glad that you don’t have to work or train tomorrow. 

You’ve both showered, got ready for bed and you applied your favorite body lotion before lying down in bed next to Sakusa, who had turned on the TV to watch a replay of an Adlers volleyball game. 

You lean your head against his shoulder, before he turns his head to the side and gives you a kiss on your hairline. “Do you have a new shampoo? It smells good,” he asks, putting his arm around your waist and focusing on the game again. 

“No, that’s probably the body lotion you smell,” you answer him calmly and straighten your upper body again before you stretch your neck as if to tell him that he can smell at you.

Sakusa looks away from the TV and towards you, leaning forward to take a whiff of your skin. You start to giggle and grab him by the neck to pull him closer. 

You let yourself fall backwards, Sakusa on top of you, while you look into his pouting face. “An ambush?” he asks with a feigned annoyed undertone.

“Oh, come on, my entire week has just been so exhausting. Let me spend some time with my handsome darling,” you say, stroking his muscular upper arms. 

When you look at him so lovingly and give him compliments, he can’t help but give himself to you. “If your week has been so stressful, would you like me to give you a massage?” Sakusa asks you. An offer you can’t refuse. 

With a grin, you slip out from under him and pull your shirt up before you lie on your stomach and look back at him over your shoulder. “I don’t think there’s anything better than being massaged by the best man in the world in the evening and being able to sleep in tomorrow,” you say, closing your eyes with a sigh of relief. 

Sakusa frowns and purses his lips. “Really? There’s nothing better?” he says and kneels over you to massage your back. He only occasionally looks up at the TV, concentrating more on you and your soothing little moans as he wanders to your lower back with his hands, massaging over your tailbone. These noises, your warm body under his fingers, make him impatient and he quickly realizes how his body reacts to yours. His pants suddenly start to feel uncomfortably tight. 

Sakusa leans forward and kisses your shoulder blade while his fingers continue to rub your body. “So there’s nothing better?” he whispers in your ear and asks again, before turning back to your shoulders and kissing them gently. “Mmmh well, maybe there’s something else...” you reply in a low voice, suddenly feeling so shy. 

His curly hair tickles your skin, his touch makes your heart quiver and you hold your breath, hungry for more. 

“Maybe?” he asks in a low voice and you notice his hands strolling down to your panties. “Mmh Kiyoomi...” you whisper, wanting to turn around, but Sakusa pushes you back down with his weight. “Stay.” he whispers in a low voice as his hand moves between your legs. You struggle to stifle a moan. Sakusa tries to position his weight on his free arm, also rearranges his legs, when he gets his knee on the remote control and suddenly changes the channel. 

“Do you also have problems with chlamydia, gonorrhea, or syphilis? Itching at the tip of the penis or vagina is always unpleasant, and skin rashes or ulcers can also be a sign of a disease.” An advertising voice sounds loudly on the new channel that Sakusa has turned on with his knee. 

He quickly wants to turn off the TV, but changes the channel again instead. “Do you want sex with horny moms? Come here and call us 69 69 69 666.” The remote control has never seemed so complicated to Sakusa until he finally manages to switch off the TV. 

He closes his eyes irritably and lets his head hang down. “What do you say… Let’s just go to sleep?” he asks, annoyed. 

You also click your tongue, but have to hold back a laugh. The commercials about sexually transmitted diseases or the tele sex ads may have just made you lose your desire, but somehow the situation was funny, and you’ll certainly be able to laugh about it even more tomorrow. Tomorrow at breakfast, or while burning calories before breakfast. 

Shouhei Fukunaga

Fukunaga is a real big hit. You never know what’s going on in his head and what he’ll surprise you with in the next moment. 

Today you have arranged to meet up with your friends to watch a match of Hinata on TV. As you live centrally, everyone is meeting up at your place.

The boys are already there while you prepare a few snacks in the kitchen. There’s music playing in the background and you’re skewering grapes and cheese while Fukunaga prepares some sweets. A few potato chips, nuts and pretzel sticks. 

And what do you do with pretzel sticks? At least as a kid? Back in the day, everyone used to take a salt stick and pinch it between their upper lip like a mustache. Fukunaga, who loves to make you laugh, does exactly this as he turns to you with the salt stick between his upper lip and nose, purses his lips even more and looks deep into your eyes. 

“Mi vida, let’s dance,” he says with a Spanish accent and grabs your hand to bring you into the position you would take in a tango dance. Immediately, you laugh as you try to tell him that you can’t dance. But he pulls you closer to him and, with a feigned seriousness on his face, starts the basic steps of the tango with you on the kitchen floor. 

You follow his steps somewhat awkwardly, still chuckling at this stupid salt stick, causing Fukunaga to laugh briefly as well. While doing so, he drops the pretzel stick before catching it and gulping it down. 

“I didn’t know you could dance Shouhei.” you’re still giggling before Fukunaga nods and pulls you back towards him. After so many years, you still keep learning new things about him. 

“Tango and waltz,” he replies curtly, listening to the music in the background. An old song with a rhythm that goes very well with tango. “Crash course?” he asks curtly and puts his hand on your lower back, placing the other in your free hand to lift it to the side. He takes a slow step forward, another step forward before taking a step backwards, followed by a swinging step and closing the movement. You simply follow him and although you are doing this for the first time, it feels easy because of his guidance.

By doing so, he quietly mumbles, “long-long-weight-ing-step-back-side-close.” With this instruction, you remember it even better and you both suddenly start dancing in the kitchen, completely forgetting that you wanted to prepare the snacks. 

You enjoy it, and this close physical contact, the eye contact he makes with you, it makes you feel like you’re on fire. If your friends weren’t a room away from you, you’d likely be doing something else. Something… more mature, like kissing him passionately, pulling his shirt off, pushing him towards the kitchen counter, and… You shake your head at the thought as Fukunaga tilts his head. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, irritated, and stops dancing, leaning forward to study your face better. “Shouhei... don’t look like that,” you say, so caught that you instinctively turn around. Fukunaga, on the other hand, takes the opportunity to wrap his hands around your waist, pressing your back against his chest before hiding his head in your neck. “You don’t enjoy it?” he asks, sighing softly, his warm breath making you shiver pleasantly. 

“No, no... it’s fun, maybe a little too much fun...” you reply sheepishly and look to the side. “Hm? Then let’s keep going,” he replies short, but instead of dancing, he gives you a gentle kiss on your shoulder, his fingers caressing your sides with a little pressure. 

“Hey, that’s a weird standard step... I doubt it’s part of the tango,” you answer him and lean your head back with a low chuckle. He only meets you with a soft “mhm” before turning you around and giving you a proper kiss. One hand on your lower back, the other on your cheek. He continues to give you little gentle kisses. They are short but loving and you feel your heart start to beat faster, your hands automatically move to his back. 

“Shouhei...” you whisper softly as you feel his lips press more hungrily against yours. Everything around you is forgotten. You don’t care about the music, you don’t notice the laughter from the living room... but suddenly you hear the fridge open, which makes you both flinch and look wide-eyed to the side. 

Kenma stands in front of the fridge, typing something on his phone while he only glances sporadically at your fridge and takes a bottle of juice from it before he walks out of the kitchen as if he hadn’t even noticed you.

Your heart is beating fast. But this time for a completely different reason. Embarrassed, you think about whether you should just go into your bedroom and ignore the fact that your friends are here, or whether Kenma really hasn’t noticed you. He probably hasn’t noticed. It is Kenma, after all. 

Fukunaga, on the other hand, seems quite relaxed about the situation. After all, you haven’t had wild sex in the kitchen or anything. 

After a while, you both walk into the living room with the snacks, trying to keep a smile on your lips as Kuroo grins at you. “So, you guys had a quickie or what took you so long?” he asks, and you feel your cheeks heat up. You hastily try to search for words, but Kenma interrupts you. 

“No, they were still dressed when I came into the kitchen earlier,” he says, looking up from his phone to see the pre-match coverage of the volleyball game. 

So he did see you after all. 

[criminal-act7]

The Worst

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Blk reader

Genre: angst and nothing but angst. Smut is just a bonus.

Summary: You left the BAU 4 years ago in pursuit of a new career. You and Spencer made the long-distance work until you couldn’t. Two months after the breakup, Spencer and you meet up for closure.

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex (f), fingering

Notes: it's been so long since I've written smut, so I'm kinda rusty. Low key I had Don't Smile by Sabrina carpenter in mu head now. I hope you guys enjoy!

Two days ago, everything was perfect. You had returned to D.C. to visit your old friends and colleagues at the BAU, and of course, to see your boyfriend, Spencer Reid. It had been two years since you left the BAU to study music theory in the Twin Cities, and now you were about to start teaching in Minneapolis. While you missed Spencer dearly, and he missed you, too, the long-distance visits hadn’t been enough. But this time felt different. 

Spencer surprised you with a romantic dinner, and just when you thought it couldn't get better, he proposed. You had dreamed of this moment for so long, knowing Spencer’s cautious nature meant the timing had to be just right. But when he finally asked, your answer was easy. Yes. Of course, yes.

Now, curled up in his arms on the couch, you feel the warmth of his presence, the joy of being together again. But tonight, as Spencer begins to talk about the future, you realize that your dreams may not be as aligned as you once thought.

“You’re not serious right now,” you say, disbelief threading through your voice.

“I am,” Spencer replies, his gaze steady on yours. He gently brushes his fingers across your knuckles.

“Spencer, I can’t just drop everything and move back to D.C. I just started teaching in Minnesota.”

“I know, but if we act now, we can get this amazing house—”

“Wait, what? You’ve already been looking at houses?”

He averts his eyes for a moment, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. “I found one. It’s perfect for us. There’s even a wishing well in the backyard. We’re getting married, Y/N. Why not plan for the future?”

“We got engaged two days ago! Spencer, we have time. We don’t need to rush.”

“I know,” he says, his voice softening, “but I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. Besides, we don’t know what could happen.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I get it. I used to work at the BAU, I understand. But I don’t want to give up teaching. This is something I love.”

“You don’t have to give it up,” Spencer says, leaning forward, trying to bridge the gap between you. “You could teach in D.C. or even Virginia.”

You shake your head, already knowing where this conversation is headed. “Spencer, I’m not leaving Minnesota. These kids need me. Music gives them a creative outlet. It helps keep them out of trouble.”

He pauses, his voice quiet now. “What about me?”

Your heart tightens at his words. “What about you? We text every day, we talk on the phone, and we video chat when we can.”

“It’s not the same,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing the back of your hand. 

“If you miss me so much, you could come to Minnesota,” you offer with a hopeful smile. 

“And do what? Teach?” He lets out a small laugh, but there’s no real humor in it.

“You’d make a hot professor,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood, but it doesn’t land. 

“I don’t want to teach, Y/N. That’s your dream, not mine.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m staying in Minnesota,” you reply. “This makes me happy. I’m finally doing something meaningful, something that fulfills me.”

“You were doing meaningful work before,” Spencer argues, his voice rising slightly. “You saved lives. You were a great profiler.”

“And how many lives did we lose? How many victims never got justice?” Your voice wavers. “I wasn’t happy in that life, Spencer. Not like I am now.”

He exhales, his frustration evident. “So, how do we make this work? You in Minnesota, me in D.C.?”

“I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “I thought we’d figure it out.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t just ‘figure it out.’ What, do you think we can hop on planes every weekend, or after I finish a case?”

“Well, if you didn’t have this all figured out, why did you propose?” you ask, feeling the tension rise between you.

“Because I did have it figured out!” he snaps, his voice sharp. “You’re the one who changed the plan, refusing to come with me.”

“I didn’t refuse,” you say, your tone turning defensive. “I just can’t drop my life because you want me to live yours.”

“We’re in a relationship, Y/N! You’re not single anymore. I’ve always supported you. Why can’t you do the same for me?”

“I’m not saying you haven’t supported me. But why should I give up my dream for yours?”

“Because I don’t think you’d be happy long-term!” Spencer exclaims. “You never mentioned any of this before. Then suddenly, you tell me you’re teaching in Minnesota, out of nowhere.”

You stare at him, the weight of his words settling in. “You don’t think I’d be happy?” he looks you in the eyes, his gaze starting into your soul.  

“Not in the long run. No.”

“And who’s to say I’d be happy with you?” The words slip out before you can stop them.

Spencer’s face falls, his expression pained. “What do you mean?”

“You think I’d be happy moving to D.C., working at the BAU again, getting married, having kids? That’s your plan, Spencer. Not mine.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” he says, his voice faltering. “We talked about this before we even started dating—marriage, kids, everything.”

“That was seven years ago. We’ve both changed. I’ve changed.” you pointed at yourself as you tell him the truth.  He realized that too of course the distance away from him was going to change him. 

His face hardens, hurt mixing with anger. “Then why did you say yes?”

“Because I love you, Spencer,” you say, your voice cracking. “And because I thought maybe, somehow, we could still make it work.” you cry as tears fall down your face.

“But how can we, if you’re across the country?” The silence that follows is thick, heavy. You both know the answer before it’s spoken.

“We can’t,” you whisper.

“So… that’s it? We break up?” His voice is hollow, as if he’s already accepted the outcome.

“I—I think we have to,” you say, tears stinging your eyes.

He nods slowly, his jaw tight. “Alright.” You reach for his hand, but he pulls it away gently.

“Spencer… I’m sorry.” you let out a sob trying to wipe your tears away. 

“Me too.” he says getting up to go into his room and you stayed on the couch crying as you knew he was doing the same. Neither of you wanted this outcome but you also didn't want each other to be miserable. 

The next morning, you woke up before Spencer. Quietly, you packed your things, your heart heavy with the weight of last night's conversation. You had booked an earlier flight back to Minnesota, hoping to slip out unnoticed, to avoid another painful confrontation. 

As you approached the front door with your bag in hand, you paused, glancing toward the bedroom—the one you had shared with him so many times before. To your surprise, Spencer was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes red and swollen from a sleepless night.

"I thought you'd at least have the courage to say goodbye," he says, his voice low and rough. He looks just as broken as you feel, like neither of you have gotten any rest.

“Spencer…” you start, but the words don’t come. He doesn’t look at you, staring at the floor instead. Now he was angry seeing you sneaking into his room to leave the ring and some note. 

“Just… leave the ring and go. Please.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and you reach for the ring on your finger. Slowly, reluctantly, you pull it off, feeling the cool metal slide away from your skin. For a moment, you just stand there, staring at the symbol of the future you had once wanted so badly.

Tears blur your vision as you gently place the ring on the nightstand beside him. "I'm sorry," you whisper, knowing it’s not enough. Without another word, you turn and walk out the door, leaving behind the life you thought you would share. 

That was the last time you saw Spencer. The breakup was rough on both of you. No matter how much time passed, reminders of him lingered in your life. A month later, a couple of boxes from Spencer arrived at your doorstep—your things from his apartment, meticulously packed and sent back to you. It was everything you had left there, down to the smallest items. The gesture felt like a final goodbye, a clear sign that he had moved on. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same. You still had his things. A couple of his shirts, some books, and photos. They haunted you in the quiet moments when you were alone, a reminder of a future that would never be.

Your friend Cassie had advised you to collect his things and move on. “You need closure,” she told you, gently pushing you to take the steps toward healing. But you didn’t at first. You couldn’t. Then, without telling you, she set you up on a date.

His name was Scott. He was a high school English teacher, loved to read, worked out, and was just coming out of his own messy breakup. On your first date, you clicked in a way that surprised you. It felt easy with him, natural. The two of you saw each other a few times, and before long, it had been a month of dates, good conversation, and the start of something promising. But there was one problem.

Every time you went home, Spencer’s presence was still there. His shirts hanging in the closet, the photos of you two tucked in drawers, even old messages you hadn’t deleted. Sometimes you would sit in silence, imagining what his life was like now, wondering if he had moved on in the same way. You’d catch yourself thinking about texting Garcia to ask how he was, but you stopped yourself. Your former colleagues—your friends—were all still close to Spencer. You couldn’t bring yourself to reach out. Not after what happened. You figured it wasn’t your place anymore.

One evening, after a date with Scott, Cassie sat with you in your apartment, and you confessed the nagging feeling you couldn’t shake.

“I feel stuck,” you admitted, pushing Spencer’s shirt aside in your closet. “Every time I try to move on, it’s like he’s still here.”

Cassie nodded, understanding. “You need closure. Real closure. Get rid of his things, talk to him if you need to, but you can’t keep holding onto pieces of him if you want to move forward.”

Her words sunk in, and you realized she was right. So, you broke things off with Scott—kindly, letting him know it wasn’t fair to either of you while you were still processing your past. Then you sent Spencer a text, asking if the two of you could meet to talk. You weren’t sure if he would reply, or if he’d even want to. But you needed to try.

Spencer had tried to move on after the breakup. On the outside, he seemed fine—throwing himself into work, keeping busy with cases. But back at home, it hit him harder. The apartment was eerily quiet without you there. Your photos, the calendar you’d hung with important dates for the both of you, the clothes you left behind—all were reminders of a life that wasn’t his anymore.

What broke him the most was the engagement ring. He found it on the floor after you left, a painful symbol of what could have been. After a sleepless night, he called Derek to vent about it.

“You have to start moving on, man,” Derek had said over the phone. “It doesn’t have to be today, but the sooner you let go, the better you’ll feel.”

So, with Derek, J.J., and Garcia’s help, Spencer gathered all your belongings, packed them into boxes, and sent them to you. It felt like closure at the time, like he was making a step toward healing. He thought he was done with it. Done with you.

Until your text came.

At first, he didn’t recognize the number. It was a message from someone he thought he had put behind him, someone he wasn’t prepared to hear from again. The message explained that it was you, asking if you could meet up to talk.

Spencer stared at his phone for a long time. He felt his heart tighten in his chest, fear rising up. He didn’t want to see you. Getting rid of your things was one thing, but seeing your face—he couldn’t handle that. Not now, not after the progress he had made. So, he never replied.

---

Time has a strange way of healing, but also of leaving scars. Neither of you contacted the other again. A month after you sent that text, you realized you didn’t need to hear his voice to get the closure you sought. You packed up his things and put them away then, you tried to forget.

But life, as it often does, has its own plans.

Two months later, Spencer found himself heading to Minnesota. He never imagined he’d end up there, of all places, in the middle of February. You had moved on in your own way, and by then, you had nearly forgotten that you once asked to meet up. You had put the past behind you—or so you thought. But some things refuse to stay buried.

“Are you sure about this, Reid?” Morgan asks, raising an eyebrow as he leans against Spencer’s hotel door. They had just finished a case today and the team was leaving Spencer had decided to stay another day. No one needed to question why he needed to as they knew the answer.  

“Yes, I think it’s time,” Spencer replied, though his voice wavered ever so slightly.

J.J. leaned forward, her face full of concern. “Do you think it’s wise to meet with her after she contacted you two months ago?”

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No, probably not. But she said she wanted to talk, and I should at least hear her out.” J.J. exchanged a glance with Morgan, but neither of them said anything. They both knew Spencer was the kind of person who needed closure, even if it hurt. Pulling out his phone, Spencer dialed Garcia’s number. It rang twice before her familiar voice came through the line.

“You have reached your tech goddess. How may I help you today?” Garcia chirped, her usual brightness evident even over the phone.

“Garcia, can you check if Y/N has a new address?”

There was a pause. “Wait… you want to see Y/N? Are you okay, Reid?” Her voice softened with concern.

“Yes, I’m okay to meet with her,” Spencer replied, but the hesitation lingered beneath his words.

Garcia was quiet for a beat before she said, “Are you sure *she’s* okay to meet with you? I know she asked to meet you, but that was two months ago, and—”

“I know,” Spencer interrupted gently. “I’ll call her before I show up.”

Garcia let out a long breath. “Alright, if you say so. I don’t know if this is a good idea, but her address is still the same. I’ve sent it to you. Good luck, and please, be safe, okay?”

“Thank you, Garcia,” he said, appreciating her concern. 

“This is a bad idea, right?”  Morgan questioned as he watched Spencer walk out the door going off to see you. A bad feeling coming onto him.

“Oh, it is,” J.J. agreed, crossing her arms.

It was an ordinary Thursday night, or at least it started that way. You sat on your couch, a bottle of wine nearby, your laptop on your lap, grading papers turned in by your students. The TV was on in the background, playing a movie you’d seen a hundred times. The cold Minnesota winter had gifted you a snow day, so you decided to get some work done now and relax later. 

That plan was interrupted when a knock echoed through your apartment. Setting your laptop aside, you paused the movie and stood, walking to the door. When you opened it, you blinked in confusion. 

There stood Spencer Reid, bundled up against the cold, his breath visible in the frosty air.

"Reid, what are you doing here?" Your voice was flat, surprise and confusion mixing with a slight edge.

“I came to see you,” Spencer said, shifting nervously on his feet. “I know it’s been a while, but I got your text and thought… why not?”

You stared at him, brow furrowed. “Reid, that was *two months ago*.”

“I know I’m late,” he said quickly, his eyes flicking to the ground before meeting yours again. “But I just finished a case, and I thought—”

“Thought what?” you interrupted, your tone sharper than you intended. “Look, I know I texted you first, but that was then.”

Spencer’s face tightened, a flash of frustration crossing his features. “Well, I wasn’t ready to see you *then*, that’s the issue. You want what you want when you want it.”

You folded your arms, eyebrows raised. “Who doesn’t?”

The tension hung between you for a moment before Spencer sighed. “Look, I didn’t come here to fight, Y/N. Please, can we just talk?”

You paused, considering. After a long breath, you relented. “Fine, you’ve got 30 minutes.”

“Give me 15,” he bargained, his voice quieter, almost pleading.

“You have 10 minutes," you replied, stepping aside and motioning for him to come in. "Starting now."

Spencer shifted nervously, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, snow still clinging to his shoes. You stepped aside, allowing him to enter. He walked in slowly, glancing around as if expecting something to have changed, but your apartment was much the same as it had always been—warm, cluttered with books and papers, and smelling faintly of the lavender candle you always burned.

You crossed your arms, leaning against the doorway. “Alright, ten minutes. Start talking.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. “I didn’t respond right away because… I wasn’t ready. After everything that happened, I had to figure out how to deal with it. Losing you—losing us—it messed me up more than I realized. I thought sending your things back would help me move on, but it didn’t. I needed time, and I’m sorry I didn’t answer you earlier.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I get it, Spencer. But you don’t get to just show up here months later and expect me to drop everything. I’ve been working on moving on, too.”

“I know,” he said quickly, looking down at the floor. “I’m not here to mess that up. I just… I thought if we could talk, maybe we could get some closure. Properly this time.”

“Closure?” you repeated, a touch of bitterness in your voice. “And you think showing up unannounced is the way to do that?”

He winced, realizing how it must have looked. “I didn’t plan it well, I know. But I’ve thought about you every day since the breakup. I’ve wondered if we could’ve handled things differently, if we could’ve made it work.”

You stood there, feeling your heart race. Part of you had longed for this conversation, this chance to get clarity on what had happened. But now that it was here, all it did was stir up emotions you thought you had buried.

“You think about it now?” you asked, voice quieter. “You’re the one who packed up my things and sent them back like we were just some temporary fling. That hurt, Spencer. It felt like you had already moved on.”

Spencer’s face softened, regret written in his eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to feel that way. I thought it would help you… and me."

You shook your head, pacing a bit to release the tension building inside. “I’ve been trying to move forward, Reid. I was even seeing someone And you know what? I liked him. He’s a good guy, but I couldn’t fully be with him because I kept holding on… to us.”

Spencer looked at you, his expression tightening at the mention of Scott, but he quickly pushed it aside. “I’m not asking for anything other than to talk. I don’t expect us to get back together. I just didn’t want us to leave things the way we did.”

You stopped pacing and looked at him, really looked at him, noticing the weight he carried in his eyes. “So, what do you want from this conversation, Spencer? What do you need?”

"I just wanted to talk to you to see if we could I don’t know be friends again"

"Are you serious?" you said, your voice sharp with disbelief. "I wanted it to work so badly, Spencer. I uprooted my life to try and meet you halfway, but it was like you couldn’t see that."

Spencer’s expression tightened. "I didn’t feel like you were meeting me halfway. You were building a whole new life in Minnesota, and I felt like I was barely a part of it. You didn’t tell me about your teaching job until you had already accepted it."

"I didn’t think I needed to ask your permission to follow my dreams," you shot back, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I wanted to do something for me, something that gave me purpose."

"And I get that," he said, his tone softening, "but I was supposed to be part of your life too. I felt like you were pulling away, like every decision you made was just... you choosing a life without me in it."

You sighed, the weight of his words sinking in. "I wasn’t trying to choose a life without you, Spencer. I was trying to find a life where we could both be happy. But it felt like every time I chose something for me, it meant choosing against you."

Spencer rubbed his hands over his face, clearly torn. "I wanted you to be happy too. I just... I wanted to be part of that happiness. But I didn’t know how to balance your dreams with mine."

“I know. And that’s why it didn’t work.” You shook your head, the sadness creeping back in. “We both wanted to be happy, but we didn’t know how to make that happen together.”

“So now what?” Spencer asked, his voice heavy with uncertainty.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “You came here for me. We talked it out. I’m done talking. I have your things. I can ship them out tomorrow.”

“You still have my things?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“I can’t forget you, Spencer. Unlike you did,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Spencer looked at you, his eyes pained. “That’s my girl! Still can pull the verbal punches!” he says sarcastically as he watches you disappear into the hallway. 

“I’m not your girl anymore!” you snapped, feeling a surge of frustration. As you look through your closet for Spencer’s box. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Spencer said quickly, his tone apologetic as you came back into the room. Once you find it you look at your room one last time and then you see it. That Sanrio plush Cinnamonroll, it was the first birthday gift Spencer had given you. You loved the thing and still do. 

“Here’s your things,” you said, handing him a box filled with his belongings.

He reached on top of the sealed box and grabbed the small cinnamon roll plush. “This was a birthday gift... You’re really giving this back?”

“Yeah,” you said, tears threatening to spill. “It’s the last reminder of you, Reid.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry. But whether you like it or not, we’ll always have a part of each other in our hearts,” Spencer said softly.

“I know,” you replied, trying to hold back your tears.

“And I’m never going to forget you,” Spencer added, his voice breaking.

“I know that,” you said, your own voice trembling.

“But I have to do what feels right,” Spencer said. “And so do you.”

“Yeah…” you agreed, wiping away a tear.

Without warning, Spencer stepped closer and kissed you gently. The kiss was full of unresolved feelings, the pain of the past, and the hope of what could have been. It was a goodbye you both needed, but it was also a reminder of what you once had.

As the kiss ended, you both pulled away, your eyes locked with his. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of everything unsaid and everything you both had shared.

Spencer took a deep breath, his face etched with sadness. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Spencer,” you whispered, watching as he walked out the door, taking a part of your heart with him.

Thirty minutes later, as the storm outside raged on, Spencer found himself knocking on your door again. The wind howled, and snow battered against the windows. His team had left an hour ago, and he’d been unable to reach his hotel due to the worsening weather. With nowhere else to go, he found himself back at your doorstep.

When you opened the door, Spencer’s heart sank at the sight of you still crying. His own emotions surged as he took in your tear-streaked face. Without a word, he pulled you into a fervent kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the words you both hadn’t said, all the pain you hadn’t fully expressed.

"I'm sorry-" kiss "I didn’t mean-to comeback I just- fuck" he tried to explain himself but he couldn’t stop your lips from meshing with his. This was messed up and you both knew you just didn't care. The kisses become more passionate as he pushes you against the door, grabbing your hips pinning you. Kissing down you neck as you let out a heavy sigh finally able to think.

"Spencer what are we- fuck what are we doing?" You ask as Spencer brings his hands under your  and grabs hold of your breasts. It turned him on knowing you had no bra underneath this shirt the whole time. 

Pulling up your shirt over your head he answers "what feels right" he says going back to kissing you this his tongue slides his way into your mouth. Your body wanted no need for this as you decided to speed things up Spencer had another approach. He quickly slipped his hand inside your panties, feeling how aroused you were. 

"Fuck-" He groans the tip of his fingers running against your slick folds as  you moan. "You're so wet for me" you couldn’t respond to him as he pushes his fingers inside you both groan. You move your legs wider and you need more as he pushes in deeper, your hips pushing against his hand. His fingers curl up inside you, as you start to whine. Pushing them in and out second by second driving you crazy and he didn't want anything but that. 

"Fuck I forgot how good you are at this" you let out as Spencer says nothing getting onto his knees then pulling down your shorts along with your underwear. You stared at him as he completely removed his hand from your pussy. Before he could say anything he brought one of your legs onto his shoulders before completely devouring you. Groaning at the taste of you, he missed this he missed you. The sound of your moans were music to his ears as he licked in-between your folds. Your hands going into his hair hoping he'd push his tongue into you. That was all Spencer needed; he never forgot how to please you. He knew your ticks inside and out. His pants felt so strained against his cock bust first he wanted you to cum on his tongue for him and only him.

"Ohhh god Spencer!" You cry as he pushes his tongue into you feeling it tense up inside you making your thighs clench in response. His tongue moves vertically and then wiggles slightly pulling you into this back and forth of need and desire.  The pleasure makes you feel dizzy, pulling on his hair tighter. Spencer lets out a groan sending a vibration through your very core. He licked your clit with long, slow strokes, his tongue pushing inside you as he ate you out aggressively. He used his hands to spread your lips apart, giving him better access to your pussy.

"Spence, ohhh yes! Yes!" Spencer loved how responsive you were, your hips bucking against his face as he continued to devour you. He felt your hands grip his hair tightly once again, pulling him closer. He could barely breathe, but he didn't care. He just wanted to make you come on his face.

"Spencer!" You screamed his name as Spencer felt your body tense, he gripped your hips tightly, holding you down as he continued to ravish your core. He felt your body convulse, your thighs quivering as you shattered against his mouth. He lapped up your juices, cleaning you up before helping you back onto your feet. He wasn't done and you weren’t either.

The two of you kiss passionately as you move to the bedroom as you both try to get Spencer’s clothes off. His vest, shoes, and belt laid in a trail towards your bedroom. When he finally gets into your bed you both couldn't help entangling your bodies together.  Both of your moans and groans fill the room as you grind against one another. Spencer knew how worked up you get when it came to clothing. He wanted to watch you squirm under him, beg him to fuck you. Maybe beg him to take you back. But you were impatient tearing his shirt as buttons flew everywhere. You then changed your positions as you sat on top of him kissing his neck and down to his chest.

He looked at you surprised as then at your body. He pictured you riding him for the last time. Admiring how pretty you look and starting picturing you crying as you reached your climax coming apart for him. Even after all this time you were still so pretty to him. Like a goddess, his goddess. If this was the last time he couldn't ruin you like he wanted to, he wanted to make love to you once last time.

Flipping you back over onto the bed he gets up and starts removing his clothes. While he does this you can't help but wonder was this right? Whatever this was, it was messy and complicated and I thought this was one night. What's going to happen tomorrow? 

"Spencer, are you sure you want this?" You ask as Spencer looks at you.

"Y/n I just had oral sex with you 5 minutes ago and you're asking me if I want this?" Your heart starts beating faster as he moves closer to the bed. That look he gave you as he slowly walked towards the bed. 

"I-I know but-" "But what baby?" You don't say anything as the grabs onto your ankles and pull you towards the edge of the bed. 

"Spencer tomorrow-" he cuts you off looking at you in the eyes, his body pressing against yours as his fingers trails down your thighs and back to your pussy. Touching your folds running circles on your clit before dipping it inside of you again. His fingers pumping in and out of your hole until he had enough.  

"Fuck tomorrow I want to make love to you tonight" he says kissing your lips once more as you let him push his cock inside you. All doubts expelling in thoughts as all you could think about Spencer putting his dick inside you. Spencer groaned softly as he slowly entered you,  he missed this he missed you. Pushing inch by inch gives you both time to readjust. Laying kisses down your neck, his hands cupping your boob's as he kisses those too. Sucking on your nipple as he thrusts inside you. 

"So good you feel so good baby" he whispers in your ear, setting a steady pace. His hips snapping against yours as he fucks you. 

"Ahh- I miss this so much" you moan out as Spencer doesn’t say anything going a little faster as he looks you "you're so fucking pretty" he groans as you run your fingers in his hair pulling him into another kiss. His hips moving faster feeling you clenching around him. Your legs wrapping around his and his hands starting to grip your hips. The bed creaking and the frame hitting the wall but you both didn't care. 

Spencer buried his head into your neck as his thrusts had  gone harder and faster. You were milking him clenching around him, you were close he knew it. He needed you to cum all over his cock. 

"Spence- Spence please!" You cry as Spencer looks up at you in awe "shhh you don't have to beg baby, I'm here" he groans as he shifts his weight and it drove you crazy.  Keeping with that angle he thrusts harder and harder making you do nothing but cry and scream his name.

"Look at me baby" you look Spencer in the eyes, something in the way that he looked sent you over the edge. You came around his cock and in a few more thrusts he couldn't take it anymore. You felt his cock twitching inside you. 

"Spencer cum for me please" Spencer tried to pull out but you quickly pulled him back in. He let out a cry as he came inside you for the first time in a long time. 

The two of you didn't stop there, you both couldn't keep your hands off each other. On your floor, the dresser, in the shower, and in your bed again. Both leaving marks and scratches behind on one another. You didn't know how tomorrow was gonna go but that was something you wanted to deal with in the morning.  

The next morning, Spencer woke up first. The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on your face as you slept beside him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to feel happy. Being with you again, in this quiet, peaceful moment, felt right.

But then the weight of reality sank in.

Nothing had been solved. If anything, last night had made things even more complicated. The storm outside may have passed, but the one between you both still raged, unresolved. Spencer stared at the ceiling, the feeling of unease growing. 

He gently slid out of bed, careful not to wake you. As he stood by the window, staring out at the snow-covered streets, Spencer’s mind raced. How could he go back to D.C. after this? Could he even walk away again, knowing what had just happened between you.

"Good morning, pretty boy," you say, looking up at Spencer with a sleepy smile, your hair a mess. He stares at you, noticing the faint hickies on your neck and the light bruising on your chest. You seemed happy about last night, and that only made the guilt gnaw at him even more.

This couldn't work. He knew that. 

"Y/N, we need to talk," he says quietly, his voice laced with uncertainty.

You roll onto your side, propping your head up with your hand. "I know, Spencer. Look, I miss you like crazy. And I know we hooked up last night, but... give me a year or two, and I'll come back. I could teach in D.C., or Virginia—wherever. I just want to be with you."

"I can’t," Spencer interrupts, his voice tense.

Your face falls, confusion clouding your expression. "What? Why not?"

He sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Y/N, last night was... great, but I think we shouldn't have done it."

It hits you like a punch to the gut. "No," you whisper, disbelief setting in. "You're not doing this to me."

Spencer looks at you, his face pained. "I think last night was just... spur of the moment. We were both emotionally vulnerable, caught up in everything. I think the only reason you're so quick to compromise is because of the sex."

"Are you—" You sit up, fury bubbling in your chest. "You're an asshole, Spencer. You know that?" You shake your head in disbelief. 

"I want you to be happy," he says, his voice soft but firm.

You let out a bitter laugh. "That's rich."

"I'm serious. I don't want you to make a decision based on one night of meaningless sex."

"Is that how low you think of me? You think this was *meaningless* to me?" Your voice cracks as the anger mixes with hurt.

"No, it’s not that. But you love teaching here, and I don’t want you to come back for me and wake up one day realizing you’re not happy with your life. You deserve more than that." You couldn’t believe this, you couldn’t believe he was here saying this to your face. Here you thought you could make your relationship work again.  Hold onto the love you once shared. Thinking that you could compromise yet here Spencer was breaking your heart all over again.  

"Get out of my apartment," you snap, your voice cold, the betrayal clear.

"Y/N, at least understand—"

"No!" you cut him off, your eyes flashing with anger. "You said everything you needed to say last night. Now leave." He wanted to say something else, he wanted you to know that he loved you and that he was letting you go because he did. "Go!" You screamed, making him jump as you threw your pillow at him and missed. 

Spencer stands there for a moment, his eyes searching yours for any chance to explain, but the message is clear. He quickly gathers his things, his heart heavy with sadness as he walks out of the room, the door closing behind him with a final, painful thud.

[vbecker10]

Hey, I was wondering if you could write a Loki one-shot where the Avengers are invited to a very fancy party, even bigger and fancier than Tony’s parties, it’s in a huge restaurant and all and the female reader is very popular singer, like VERY, who has her own huge concerts and all and she agrees to sing on the event. Loki and Peter are both Avengers.

Now, I’m not saying anything romantic about Peter, because he’s literally a teen boy, I just love when Pete is a cute little shit, so maybe he is huge fan of the reader.

And Loki also takes liking into her and after some time Loki and reader will meet again and blah blah, you decide from then. Just don’t make it smut please. My pure ass heart can’t take it. Just fluff.

I know that you have written something similar to this, about that hex girls or something, but I want the reader to be a solo singer and worldwide popular and not just to sing at Tony’s party, but at something as huge and fancy as this event.

If you don’t like the idea or just don’t want to write it, it’s okay! I love your writing so much btw♡

—xoxo

Melody of Mischief

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: The Avengers are invited to the Battle of New York Charity Gala and it is the event everyone who is anyone in Manhattan wants to attend, except for Loki. Peter is uncontrollably excited as he tries to explain to the God of Mischief that the singer performing at the gala is his absolute favorite artist, Y/N. Loki remains unconvinced he will enjoy even a moment of the evening until he has a chance encounter with the rising star and realizes you are even more amazing than Peter had said you would be.

A/N: OMG I love this request! I absolutely love Loki and Peter together but I've only gotten to write them interacting once or twice so I am super excited about this. I'm sorry if it seems front loaded with the two of them but there is plenty of Y/N and fluff, I promise. Lol thanks for specifically requesting a one-shot cause I have a tendency to make things way too long... this is still really long though lol. Thank you so much for this request! I hope you like it! 💚

Thank you @siconetribal for help with the title! 💚 if it were up to me, my stuff would never have one haha

Loki sighs in annoyance as he closes his book. Placing it on the coffee table, he gets up to answer the frantic knocking at his door.

"What do you-" he begins to ask as he opens the door. Before he can finish his question, Peter has walked right past him and into his apartment.

"Hey Loki," he says cheerfully as he pulls off his jacket and throws it haphazardly over the back of the armchair. Loki watches the teen drop his backpack on the ground near the couch and begin pacing quickly around the living room.

"Hello Peter," Loki greets him, trying to push aside his irritation. Had it been his brother or another member of the team, he would have swiftly removed them from his apartment but the young Avenger had begun to grow on the God of Mischief in recent months.

"Did you hear the news?" Peter asks with a wide grin.

"I assure you, I have heard nothing today that would make me anywhere near as excitable as you currently appear to be," Loki responds as he uses his seidr to pick up Peter's discarded bag and jacket, placing them on the hooks by the door.

"Sorry about those," Peter apologizes, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I don't dislike when you visit but I will insist my space remains orderly," he reminds the teenager and Peter nods. "Now, what is this news?" he asks as he takes a seat on the couch, picking up his tea while Peter wanders into the kitchen.

Loki sighs hearing the fridge open. "They are on the bottom shelf," he calls to the hungry teen. "And the cabinet to the left of the stove," he adds knowing exactly what Peter is in search of.

"Thanks," he calls back then returns moments later with a small bottle of orange juice, a bag of pretzels and two pieces of string cheese.

"I still refuse to believe that is or ever was cheese," Loki says as Peter opens the plastic wrapper.

"These are fantastic," he insists with a smile, pulling apart the cheese. "Why do you keep buying them if you don't eat it?"

Loki takes a sip of his tea, refusing to voice the obvious answer that he buys them specially for Peter's visits. He teen laughs but knows not to push his luck and instead focuses on Loki's question.

"They finally announced who's going to be playing at the big gala tomorrow night!" he says, plopping himself on the couch next to Loki who holds his mug tightly to keep from spilling any of the hot liquid. Peter pauses a moment for dramatic effect but the God shows no signs of curiosity. "Oh come on, don't you want to know who it is?" he asks in disbelief but Loki only shrugs in response.

Peter gets up, unable to contain his own excitement. "How could you not care? It's going to be epic! The best party on the year, maybe the decade," he says.

"I am a thousand years old, I have been to a great many parties, Peter," Loki reminds him then takes a sip of his tea. "And besides, I am not sure I would like to attend a charity event that is being held to raise money for victims of my attack on the city."

"Right..." Peter says slowly, lowering his eyes to the ground but then he looks back at Loki. "Actually," he starts again and Loki can practically see the wheels turning in his mind. "If you don't go... it might be seen as disrespectful, you know? You attacked the city when you were under the Mind Stone's power, everyone knows that but if you don't show up at the fundraiser they might not think you are... what's the right word?" he pauses, trying to pull in the God of Mischief.

"Remorseful?" Loki guesses, knowing what the teen is trying to do.

"That's it," he says, thinking he has the prince where he wants him.

"You make an interesting point," Loki acts as if he is truly considering it then adds, "But I am still not going."

"Ugh!" he groans at Loki's lack of enthusiasm. "Come on! The artist they picked is amazing! She's my favorite. I can't even believe she would agree to do this. She usually plays only massive, sold out concerts. I didn't think I'd ever get a chance to see her, especially not at something like this," he says as he jumps onto the wall then the ceiling. Loki can't help but cringe at the scuff marks the teen leaves behind as he moves above him.

"You still don't know who I'm talking about? It's Y/N," he says as he jumps back to the ground.

"I have no idea who that is," Loki replies as Peter sits next to him.

"What!? How could you not know who she is," Peter asks in shock. "I play her music every time we're in the lab together. You were humming one of her songs yesterday."

"It must have wedged itself into my mind after you set it on repeat," Loki says, unwilling to admit it was a very catchy tune with surprisingly deep lyrics. "It doesn't matter who is playing, I will not be attending and that is final," Loki states, setting his mug down on the coffee table.

With a mouth full of pretzels Peter asks, "Seriously?" He swallows quickly and continues, "I told you, it's going to be the biggest party ever. How could you not go? I would give anything to go but I can't." He sulks on the couch, arms crossed.

"Why would you not attend?" Loki asks as he gets up, walking into the kitchen to put his empty mug in the sink.

"I didn't get invited," he shrugs, "I'm only an intern for Stark Industries, remember? Spiderman got invited but I can't wear the suit and mask the whole night. I won't be able to eat or drink plus people always try to get me to take it off and it just gets really annoying."

Loki sighs, looking at the upset teenager on his couch. "Do not make me regret this, Peter," he says and the boy looks up, his eyes full of hope. Loki shakes his head as if he can't believe what he is about to say. "Fine, I will go... and I will bring you as my plus one."

Peter sits up straight, the excitement returning but it quickly fades and he says, "It's too late for me to get a nice suit to wear."

Loki says, "I can help with that as well." He snaps his fingers and a black suit appears in a garment bag on the hook next to Peter's belongings.

Peter gets up and before Loki can react, he pulls the God into a tight hug. Loki doesn't hug him back, his arms trapped under Peter's and after a second he says, "That is quite enough of that, please let go."

"Oh yea, sorry," Peter says taking a step back. Loki smooths out his dress shirt but Peter can see the hint of a smile on his face when he looks back at him.

Loki steps onto the red carpet wearing a perfectly tailored black suit with matching black dress shirt and tie. Peter is close on his heels in the suit Loki conjured for him. "This is the coolest thing ever," the teen says loudly over the shouting of onlookers, reporters and photographers.

"You were correct, this seems to be quite the event," Loki agrees through gritted teeth as he tries to ignore the questions the reporters throw at him as he passes.

"Loki, did the Avengers force you to come tonight?" "Loki, is coming to the charity gala part of your probation or was it your idea to come?" "Loki, do you have anything to say to the victims and their families?" "Loki, did you donate any money to the foundation?"

Peter looks around in stunned silence when he and Loki finally pass through the tall double doors. The large hall is bursting with people and activity. Across the two side walls are long bars staffed with dozens of bartenders making complex drink orders for the rich and powerful of New York. Fabric drapes the walls in different colors and shades, creating an ombre effect around the room. At least fifty round and rectangular tables fill the middle of the space, crisp white table cloths cover each one. Place settings have been carefully set at each seat with a small name card indicating who each one is reserved for. At the very back of the hall, is a stage with a cleared space in front of it and Peter knows exactly who that is for.

The teen takes out his phone and begins snapping pictures of the room, no longer able to contain his excitement. Loki looks around the crowded space and is quickly filled with regret for having agreed to come. He can't push down the feeling that every person in the room is either looking at him or talking about him. He shouldn't have come, he thinks as he looks towards the doors.

Peter grins from ear to ear, unaware of Loki's internal struggle. The teenager stands directly in front of Loki and holds up his phone, "Smile."

Loki looks down at him and before he can say anything he is struck by a bright flash of light. "Did you just take a picture of us?" he blinks quickly.

"Yea, a selfie," Peter nods with a laugh.

"Delete that," Loki orders as his phone vibrates. He removes it from his pocket to check the message. "How could you have sent this to the entire team already?" Loki groans as he begins to receive responses from his brother and the other Avengers.

Peter shrugs then see Steve and Bucky through the crowd. They wave for him to join them closer to their assigned table and he gives them a thumbs up in return. He looks happily up at Loki who puts his hands in his suit pockets and says, "I will join you all shortly. I wish to wander for a bit first."

Peter says, "Okay, see you in a bit."

Loki walks past one of the bars but he is not looking for a drink, he is looking for a place to alone before he is stuck at a table with the team for the remainder of the evening. He moves to a far off corner where the fabric that is draped from the walls is darkest. He sighs contently, thinking he has found a secluded place to breathe.

"This hiding spot is taken," you tell the tall, well dressed man as he approaches you, crossing your arms against your chest. The last thing you want before your performance is to deal with anymore boring socialites.

"Oh, my apologies," he says as he notices you and you see the disappointment on the prince's face. "This is quite a large venue, I have no doubt I can find my own hiding spot before we are called to our tables," he smiles politely and turns to leave.

You realize he hadn't been looking for you, he had truly been searching for a place to avoid the crowd of people chattering away. He begins to walk away and without thinking you call after him, "Wait." He turns back towards you. "It's a pretty big hiding spot," you laugh awkwardly, "I think we can share it unless you wanted to be by yourself?"

"I would never turn down the company of a beautiful woman," he smirks.

"I heard you were a charmer, Prince Loki," you can't help but giggle as he stands close to you. "Or do you prefer 'your highness'?"

"Loki is fine, please," he insists with a laugh. "I do feel as if I am at a disadvantage though," he says and you look up at him. "You know my name, but I do not know yours."

You stand silently, stunned by his words. Does he really not know who you are? You have tried not to develop an overly inflated ego but it has been years since you've met someone who hasn't recognized you immediately. When your first single hit the number one spot three years ago, your career took off and you have been in the spot light ever since. You've spent the last year touring dozens of major cities in the United States, Canada and Europe. You are on magazine covers, you have done countless interviews on talk shows, you are even booked to perform in Times Square for New Years Eve in a few months and the God in front of you has no idea who you are.

Loki chuckles at your silence and says, "If you will not tell me your name, I will be forced to continue calling you 'beautiful'."

You blush as you are pulled from thoughts, "That works."

"So what are you hiding from this evening?" he asks as he leans on the fabric draped wall behind him.

You shrug, not wanting to give away who you are just yet. "My boss," you tell him a slight fib, hoping the God of Lies won't notice. You were hiding from your manager and his new assistant. Mark was a good manager, but he insisted you met as many guests tonight as possible before your performance. Their fake smiles and rehearsed complements were tiresome, you slipped away the first chance you could. You wanted to meet real fans, people who actually enjoyed your music, not these stuffy rich people.

Loki nods at your short answer and you ask, "Why are you hiding? I assumed a prince like you must love big parties like this."

He smiles but looks down as he smooths out his suit jacket and you can't help but notice how perfectly it fits him. "I used to enjoy the balls quite a bit on Asgard," he agrees, "But I admit I am having a difficult time with the idea that this event is for the victims of the attack I led last year."

You cover your mouth with your hand. "Oh my god," you say slowly then lower your hand. "I'm so sorry, I didn't... I should have realized that."

He shrugs but remains silent.

"I guess it's kinda weird that they invited you in the first place right? Like why would you want to go to a fundraiser for a disaster you caused?" you ask and he nods, putting his hands in his pockets nervously. "I'm sorry," you say again as you realize how uncomfortable you've made him.

"It is alright," he says. "You are not the first person to wonder why I am here tonight and I am sure you will not be the last."

"That's not what I meant," you tell him but you can see his eyes searching for a new place to hide. "How about we talk about something else?" you suggest, not wanting him to leave just yet.

He looks back at you after a moment, seeming a bit more relaxed, "What would you suggest we talk about, beautiful?"

You giggle at the pet name he has decided on, "Umm..." You look around and see the stage. "What do you think about who's going to be performing?"

He looks at the stage as well than back at you and you can see there is still no connection between you and the singer in his mind. "I have heard a great deal of wonderful things about her," he says. "Peter, my..." he pauses as if he is unsure of the next word, "I suppose we are friends but do not tell him I said so."

You laugh but he seems serious, "I promise I won't."

"Peter is a tremendous fan. He listens to her music a great deal," Loki says then he looks down and chuckles. "He is the only reason I am here to be honest. I knew how much he wanted to see Y/N perform so I brought him with me."

"Aww, that's really sweet of you," you smile and he shakes his head but you can see he seems happy with his decision. "Do you like her music too?" you ask, trying to remember the last time you had been able to get a truly honest opinion from someone.

He nods and your heart beats with excitement. "She is quite talented," Loki says. "I seem to have Black Bird stuck in my head quite a bit lately, but that may be because it is Peter's favorite. He plays it on repeat when he is thinking."

"That's a pretty good one," you agree. It was one of your most popular songs and you were set to play it tonight, as you do at every concert. "Do you have a favorite?" you can't help but ask.

"Hmm," he thinks for a moment then he smiles when he decides. "Crystal's Edge," he says.

"That's my favorite too," you reply enthusiastically. It has never been as popular as some of your other songs but it has a deep, personal meaning to you.

"You have good taste," Loki says and you laugh at the irony of his complement.

Your smile fades when you see Mark watching the two of you. "I'm sorry, that's my boss," you point towards him and he folds his arms against his chest as he frowns at you. "I have to go, but I really liked talking to you."

"I enjoyed speaking with you as well," Loki says. He takes your hand and gently places a kiss to the back of it causing you to giggle. "I hope you are able to enjoy the rest of your evening, beautiful, but if not I am more than willing to hide with you again."

Loki pulls out the chair next to Peter and the teen asks, "Where did you go?"

"I was talking to-" Loki begins to explain but before he can continue, the stage lights come on and the overhead lights dim slightly.

"Y/N is starting!" Peter says excitedly and Loki leans back in his chair to watch the performance before the food is served.

You walk out on stage and the guests cheer and applaud, their energy thrills you. TV cameras move into place and you wave to the audience and the cameras with a smile. You take the microphone off the stand and thank everyone for coming to support such a worthy cause. While reciting the speech Mark's assistant prepared for you, your eyes scan the guests until you spot the younger prince of Asgard.

Loki's eyes are fixed on you in shock and when your gaze meets he leans towards the teenager next to him.

"Norns," Loki whispers to himself then he leans towards Peter. "That's her! The woman I was speaking with."

"What?" he looks at Loki then the stage, still clapping as you finish your speech. "You met Y/N!?"

You smile, trying to keep from laughing at the boy's quick double take between Loki and yourself. Looking towards the band hired to play with you got the next few concerts, you nod to signal that you are ready for the first song to start. Moving with the rhythm of the intro, you sing the opening lyrics of one of the first songs you ever wrote. Your heart races as you dance across the stage, singing proudly with your backup singer next to you.

The second song is a crowd favorite and as the music begins you find Loki in the audience again. He smiles, tapping his fingers on the table to the beat and you get an idea. "I would like to dedicate my next song, Black Bird, to a very big fan of mine," you say into the mic and you watch the teen bounce in his seat. "Peter, this one is for you."

Peter laughs excitedly, barely able to contain himself as he signs along with Y/N loudly and out of tune. Loki smiles to himself as he nods his head along with the rhythm of the song.

You perform your next three songs, feeding off the energy of the guests as they sing along with you from their seats. A few move off to the side of the space or between tables to dance in pairs or small groups. You move back to the center of the stage and prepare yourself for your last song of the evening.

You look out into the crowded room and easily find Loki who hasn't taken his eyes off of you for a moment. You turn quickly, walking to the drummer who signals for the other musicians to join you. They nod at your request and you ignore the questioning look your manager gives you as you return to the center of the stage.

"Sorry for that," you apologize to the crowd. "I originally planned on closing my performance this evening with Glass Roses but I've decided to play my personal favorite instead." The intro for Crystal's Edge begins and Loki smiles as he leans forward in his seat. "This song has always held a special place in my heart and tonight I would like to dedicate it to someone I hope to meet again soon."

You slip away from your manager much easier than before and head to your previous hiding spot, hopeful Loki will be waiting for you. You can't help but smile when you see him leaning against the wall, watching you approach him.

"Hello again, beautiful," he says with a smirk.

"Hi Loki," you blush, thankful to hear the pet name again. "Did you like the show?" you ask, feeling nervousness spread through your body.

"Very much," he assures you and you relax instantly. "And I must say, Peter greatly appreciated your song dedication. I'm not sure I've ever seen the boy so happy."

"I'm glad he liked it," you tell him happily. "I was hoping I was right in assuming he was the person you were sitting next to." He nods and you take a step closer to him, out of the view of the guests. He puts his arm around your waist to pull you closer, your body just inches from his.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you who I was," you say as your smile fades slightly and you look down.

"Don't be," he replies, touching your cheek to bring your gaze back to his. "I can imagine you rarely meet someone who is as unaware of your fame as I was. I admit, I feel a bit foolish for not having known who you are."

You shake your head, "I actually really liked that you had no idea who I was, it's been so long since I've met anyone who didn't recognize me. It was fun to talk about my music with someone honest about their opinions."

"I understand," Loki says. "I can see how it would be nice to speak with someone who did not have any preconceived opinions about you."

"Exactly..." you agree then pause. "Oh, I guess you have the same problem... seeing as how I knew who you were."

"At least you are known for being tremendously talented," Loki complements you again and you feel a blush creep up your neck and cheeks. It has been so long since you felt as if someone was giving you genuine compliments and Loki seems to have a never ending supply. His smile falters for a moment and he adds, "I am known for... being the reason we are all here tonight I suppose."

"Loki," you say quietly and touch his cheek but he looks at the ground between you, "You are known for more than that." He shrugs and you can feel him pulling away emotionally even though his arm is still around your waist. "Loki," you say again and he looks at you but you can tell his smile is forced, you have done that yourself many times.

"I apologize," he says and clears his throat. "I think they are enough people here talking about me and the damage I have caused to this city. I would rather learn more about you."

"We can talk about me in a minute," you tell him with an anxious smile. You see a flicker of nervousness cross his face but he hides it quickly. "I'm sorry if I said anything before that upset you," you say and he shakes his head, "I didn't mean anything bad when I said I was surprised you came tonight. I just..."

"We don't need to discuss it," he says and he removes his hand from your waist.

"Please," you put your hand on his arm and move closer to him. "I'm sure there are people here who don't think you should have come... but I'm really glad you did," you say and he smiles slowly. "I can't imagine how hard tonight must be for you but the reason I didn't immediately think of that the first time we talked is because I don't think you are to blame for what happened. Everyone knows about the Mind Stone, although I doubt we know everything, and anyone can see how hard you've been working with the Avengers. When I said I knew who you were, it was because of all the news stories of you saving people over the last year. You're a hero, you know that right?"

He smiles genuinely as his arm wraps around your waist again. "Thank you, beautiful," he says. "You don't know how much it means to hear that."

"You're welcome," you smile then reach up and kiss his cheek to the surprise of both of you. "I- I hope that was okay?"

He smirks and nods, "It was more than okay, although I had thought I would ask to take you on a date before I kissed you."

"You want to ask me out?" you ask, sounding more shocked than you meant to.

"Unless," Loki pauses, concerned by your shock, "I've misjudged something?"

"No, no," you say, shaking your head and you can tell that is not helping his confusion. You laugh, "I'm sorry, I just... it's been a really long time since someone asked me on a date."

Loki looks at you, his eyes searching your expression for an answer to the question he is now unsure to ask again. "I would love to go on a date with you, Loki," you tell him with a smile and he pulls you flush to his chest. He leans down and kisses your lips softly.

He strokes your cheek gently with his thumb and you look up at him, you can't remember the last time you felt this comfortable with someone. You suddenly realize there is something you should warn him about. "Umm..." you mumble and he tilts his head questioningly. "I just want to prepare you for something."

"What's that, beautiful?" he asks, his hand on your lower back begins to move slowly up and down.

"I know your pretty famous," you say and he nods reluctantly, "But... and I'm not saying this to sound full of myself or anything... but when I go out anywhere, I tend to get followed by paparazzi. I'm thinking if we go out together, they'll swarm us."

"Oh..." Loki says as his hand pauses on your back.

"I still want to go out with you," you promise quickly, hoping he doesn't think you are changing your mind. "I just wanted you to know it won't be just us. I don't know if... are you okay with that?"

He smiles, "I would be fine with that so long as I was with you but I think I have a solution to that issue."

It's now your turn to be confused.

He chuckles, "There is a reason there are so few sightings of me outside of missions. I am a trickster god, remember?"

You blink in shock, "I didn't... I guess I didn't really think about it. So do you just make yourself invisible or something?"

He laughs again but shakes his head, "I could but no. I have learned humans become nervous when books and other objects move around them but they cannot see what is causing it."

You giggle, "Okay, it's not weird to be freaked out by that. So how do you go out without people noticing you?"

Loki smiles as his seidr surrounds him briefly with a faint green glow. His long, black curls become lighter and shorter, thin black framed glasses appear on his face and his suit changes from black to blue. He still looks like Loki but if you passed him on the street, you would most likely not have looked twice.

"I can create an illusion for you as well," he offers.

"That's... amazing," you laugh. "You look like a hot college professor."

"Thank you," he chuckles, looking down at his suit as he straightens his blue stripped tie. "I only showed you most of the illusion. To others, my face will also appear different but I was concerned that would be a bit... much?"

You nod, "I'm glad you still look like you, I like your face."

"That is the sweetest thing you have said tonight," he jokes.

You kiss his cheek again and ask, "So I guess I can't call you Loki when you look like this right? It's kind of a unique name."

"Generally, I go by Tom when I wear this illusion," he informs you.

"Tom?" you repeat.

"Too dull?" he asks, sounding unsure of his choice.

"I like it, you look like a Tom," you giggle. "Its nice to meet you Tom, I'm Y/N."

He kisses the top of your head, "I believe I will continue to call you beautiful."

You smile up at him and he slides his hand to the back of your neck, pulling your lips gently to his. You grip the fabric on the back of his suit jacket and kiss him deeply. When you finally break the kiss, something catches your eye.

"Shit," you say when you see Mark approaching you and Loki.

He looks towards your manager, then looks down at you and says, "I know the event is not over for a few hours, but how would you feel about our date beginning now?"

"Really?" you ask.

He smirks, "If you would like, I will take you anywhere you want to go."

You reach up and kiss him again then say, "All I want to do is sit in a cafe and get to know you better."

"Done," the God of Mischief smiles as his hand begins to glow, changing your appearance to everyone but other than himself. He keeps his arm around your waist and together you walk right past your very confused manager and out of the party.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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[uraichievents]

UraIchi Week 2024

Monday, July 1st, 2024 - Sunday, July 7th, 2024

AO3 Collection

Full Prompts List Submitted This Year

(Click images to enlarge. Alt text under the cut.)

What is UraIchi Week?

It’s a week-long fanworks event to promote the Urahara Kisuke x Kurosaki Ichigo ship. There’s no sign-up, it’s just for fun, and everybody can participate. Completed works and wips are both acceptable, and any type of fanwork (fanfic, fanart, gifsets, etc.) is welcome. NSFW and/or potentially trigger-y content is allowed, although please remember to tag your works properly.

The ship itself can be written romantically or platonically, as lovers or friends or even enemies, so long as it stars these two characters together in some way. Poly ships are also fine so long as Ichigo and Kisuke are still the focus of the fanwork. And crossovers and fusions are also allowed even if it isn’t one of the given prompts for the event. Basically, anything goes, and the only criteria is that it has to be UraIchi-centric.

Posting:

UraIchi Week is hosted here on Tumblr and on AO3. For posts on Tumblr, remember to ping @uraichievents and tag #UraIchi Week 2024. For AO3, you can add your work(s) to the collection linked up above. You are also welcome to join the UraIchi Discord server if you haven’t already and come and talk about what you’re working on!

Themes:

July 1st, Day 1: i've met you before / i'll meet you again / this is the first time we've met.. right?

Time Travel / Dimension Travel

Identity Porn / Hidden Identities

“I've suffered from traumatic dreams of my past lives since I was a child, and I'm just now realizing that coming up to a beautiful stranger who looks like someone I've seen die a thousand times in a thousand different ways at a bar and asking if we've met before sounds a lot like a come-on haha no wait come back that doesn't mean I'm not desperately attracted to you please kiss me again” AU

July 2nd, Day 2: It's fact that killable problems are not real problems.

Murder Husbands

Ichigo is Deadpool / unbreakable / any other accidentally immortal being who is really kind of annoyed about it (because it’s boring, and he’s still young enough to be within his lifespan, but it sure takes the fun out of fighting).

All the times Ichigo died, he ACTUALLY died, he just came back. Every time he comes back, he comes back Wronger.

July 3rd, Day 3: Things I Should've Told You / Things I Don't Tell Anyone Else

The skeletons in your closet are about to overflow. Would you like me to tidy it up?

Ichigo is experimenting with self-expression, a hobby, etc., making up for lost time as a regular teenager. Urahara is always the first one (sometimes only one) to see or hear about a new idea.

“The person I trust most is you.”

July 4th, Day 4: Sword and Shield

I am yours to command, use me as you please.

Shiba!Ichigo and Second Division!Kisuke

Summoner/Mage AU: Paired summons who are good apart but unmatched together.

July 5th, Day 5: That One is Mine

Hollow Instincts / Feral Protective

Possessive!Kisuke: He stepped aside for Sui-Feng because Yoruichi was always master first and friend second and love interest never, and because Yoruichi wanted her in a way she's never wanted him. But Ichigo is different, and everyone soon realizes that when Kisuke truly wants something, he always gets it in the end.

“Death can’t have you. You’re mine.”

July 6th, Day 6: Monsters come in all shapes and sizes. Some are born, some are made, and some decide being a monster's pretty fucking cool.

Visored!Urahara Kisuke AU / Vasto Lorde!Kurosaki Ichigo AU

“Ichigo forges a friendship with his Hollow in the Shattered Shaft” AU

vs. Gotei 13 AU: Ichigo time travels back from a future where he was chained to the throne as the next Soul King by the Shinigami.

July 7th, Day 7: Creator’s Choice!

As always, the above prompts are all optional, and you’re free to come with your own ideas. You can also find an excel sheet with all the prompts submitted this year linked up above, so feel free to look through that if you want, and you can also make a copy for yourself.

And that’s it! We’re looking forward to what everyone comes up with!

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Eddeth

Day #30 - Fame & Fortune | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Fake!Eddeth, Steddie | Tags: Modern AU, Stop Trying to Make Eddeth Happen, It's Not Gonna Happen, Eddie & Gareth Are Best Friends, They Are Also: Idiot², Paparazzi, Social Media, Luddite Eddie, Steve Harrington Has To Clean Up All Their Messes, But What Else Is New?

"Did you know they're shipping us?" 

"Shipping us where? I hope they poke holes first," Eddie says, looking over at Gareth as he's scrolling on his phone. Gareth isn't listening to him, doesn't even laugh, which Eddie thinks is rude. That was a great dad joke.

He's picked up dad jokes from Steve, because Steve's corny as fuck. 

"Not like that," Gareth says, "like, shipping us together. We have a name and everything."

"Speak English," Eddie demands.

"You know, like Bennifer? But we're Eddeth," Gareth says.

"Who's Bennifer?"

"Which version?" Gareth asks, "Nevermind. You don't care. It's the ship name for Ben and Jennifer together. Do you never read the tabloids?"

"No. And I don't like that," Eddie says.

"Well, I knew you wouldn't. But now they're thinking about us. Together. Romantically. Enough that we have a mash-up of our names together."

Eddie barks out a laugh, "Well, alright. Whatever floats their boat."

Gareth sits there quietly for a bit, then says, "Maybe we can use this. Drum up some attention for the band. Get our name out there. Be a trending hashtag."

"I don't know what that means," Eddie says. 

"I know you don't. But we could, like, get in the zeitgeist."

"I hate everything you're choosing to be right now," Eddie says.

"Eddie. This could blow us up."

"Well, sure, in that case I'll tell Steve to just step aside."

"Not for real, dummy. Just for the paparazzi. Get our names talked about more. If they see more of the band, they may like the band more."

Eddie says he'll think about it, but he has no intention of doing any of that. They are exactly the right amount of famous. He can walk down the street without being harassed, but they live comfortably. He isn't about to upset that apple cart.

But it persists. There's buzz, apparently. At least according to Gareth, anyway.

So, at the next show, Eddie hops up on the drum riser and covers Bang Dem Sticks, while flirting with Gareth. It is possible to flirt platonically, and he does it very well. 

The next day, Gareth shows him all the chatter. The tiktoks. The commentary. And, well, maybe they could use this to their advantage. Just for a minute.

So, they walk down a dozen different sidewalks, and no paparazzi cameras pop out to snap pictures. Which is normal. He isn't sure why Gareth suddenly thought they'd make TMZ. 

But Gareth persists, and they even go to the Ivy, and still nothing. 

Even LAX is a fucking bust. 

That night, Eddie crawls into bed next to Steve, and sighs.

"What's the matter with you?" Steve asks, tipping down his iPad to look at Eddie.

"Nobody will take my picture with Gareth."

Steve laughs, "What the hell are you talking about?"

So, Eddie tells him their grand plan, and Steve is laughing his fucking ass off before Eddie can even finish. 

"Eddie. You have to call the paps if you want to do a pap walk. They aren't mind-readers. They don't just show up. Do you think all those pictures of celebs you see are actually candid? They definitely aren't."

Well, Eddie never looks at pap pictures. He has no fucking clue. He likes to fly under the radar.

"Really?" Eddie eventually asks. 

"Really. Do you want me to organize a pap walk for you?" Steve asks, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Well. Kinda," he says, "we're Eddeth."

"I know, honey. I've seen all the videos of you flirting with him on stage."

Eddie laughs, "You know that's not real, right?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm not new here," Steve says, "I'll call it in tomorrow. You can be photographed to your heart's content."

And they are. As if it were magic, a handful of photogs are suddenly very aware of where they'll be on various outings. Eddie holds the door for Gareth. Hugs him on the street corner. They get an inordinate amount of coffees that Eddie doesn't even like.

The pictures run, and not a lot of people care, but they are being discussed in some circles. 

So, they keep doing it. Dinners and movies and trips through the airport where they're not really going anywhere. Only going through security, as if they were.

That's a brand new kind of torture. Who goes through TSA when they don't actually have to? 

More coffee. Coffee, coffee, coffee. Eddie's never bought this many drinks in his life. 

And then the bottom falls out. 

Someone makes a video that goes extremely viral, explaining everyone in their Corroded Coffin circle. 

Including Steve. 

In fact, it's almost mourning the breakup of them. Steddie. They're Steddie, apparently, and now the fans, the real fans, those that actually have followed them, are upset. Pointing fingers, assigning blame. Some to Eddie, some to Gareth.

Fuck.

"Uh, we've got a problem," Eddie tells Steve, and Steve just shakes his head, already aware of the situation.

"Do we have to do a pap walk now?" Eddie asks, worrying his hands together. 

He never did anything romantic with Gareth. It can all be explained away, swept under the rug. 

He thinks.

He hopes.

"I really don't want to," Steve says, and that's that. They won't.

Now, Eddie's either a cheater in the eyes of their actual fans, or they think Steve's gone. 

Instead, Gareth does a couple pap walks with his girlfriend, and she's branded a beard, immediately. They really fucked this up, big time. 

"We'll go to dinner. The four of us," Steve says, "I'll call it in."

And Eddie kisses his cheek, over and over.

Just to be safe, Steve has their publicist send TMZ a copy of their marriage certificate, and some boilerplate that Eddie and Gareth are just best friends, and always have been.

As they settle into the booth at the restaurant, pictures still being taken, Steve asks, "Are we done trying to be tabloid fodder? Have we learned our lesson?"

"Yes, Steve," Eddie and Gareth both say in unison.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[avelera]

It sounds so self-obvious when you say it aloud, but the key to writing romance is that the characters need to be into each other.

I've seen so many so-called "romances" in mainstream movies and shows that somehow fail to achieve this very simple principle. Usually they're het romances but not always. I've also seen established lgbt+ couples who we're told are married but who never show any particular interest in one another to confirm this supposed love in a show-don't-tell manner.

Below the cut I want to explore how to write love (romantic or otherwise), what makes it work in fiction, and the important difference between why characters fall in love vs. why they choose to pursue or stay with the person they fell in love with, because those distinctions matter.

Let's quickly touch on failed fictional relationships before moving onto functioning ones. Because the thing is, it's important to flesh out relationships and romances if they are written into the story even if they aren't the focus of the story or they are doomed to fail as part of the plot.

I see it a lot of times in fictional relationships that are clearly plot points and so the author doesn't bother to invest in them. If a relationship is established with the protagonist just because this current partner is going to break up with them, thus launching our actual romance plot, then there's a temptation not to fully flesh out that doomed-to-fail relationship.

But to skate over the failed relationship is a missed opportunity for a writer. Relationships reveal a great deal about us, as do failed ones. Even if the relationships don't work out, we get the chance to learn what the protagonist is looking for in a relationship, what didn't work in the failed one, and we get to learn more about their love language. This also requires that we see these romantic partners are into each other, or were into each other, and how, before it went sour. Even if it's one sided and doomed to fail, we need to see what the infatuated side of the pairing was into about the other person. Even if it's just physical, that too is revealing.

Romeo was in love with Rosaline before he fell in love with Juliet. But we don't skate over what he loved about her. We learn that Romeo frequently falls in love, he's often impetuous in love (which we will see carried forward later in the famous balcony scene with Juliet). We learn that he is poetic about that love. We learn how much he loved Rosaline, and whether or not we believe he was in love or think that love is wise, it is important for establishing later, when he meets Juliet, the order of magnitude difference between his love of Rosaline and of Juliet. One left him broken-hearted when he lost her, but he quickly recovered. But Juliet? He was willing to die for love of her. The love of Rosaline set up the contrast in how Romeo loves that would be massively important to the impact of the story later.

I bring up this example because many years ago in a high school lit class, the teacher said that Shakespeare never explains why characters fall in love, and so writers don't have to explain why characters fall in love.

It didn't quite sit with me right, because I think it's only half true. The full maxim, and what writers today can learn with regards to romance is:

You don't have to explain why characters fall in love. You do have to explain why they stay together and/or pursue that love.

Actually, it's often better to not explain why a character fell in love. It's ineffable. It just happens. How often have we met or been introduced to someone who is, on paper, perfect for us with similar interests and compatible families or lifestyles, only to not feel any sort of spark? How many grand romances, in contrast, are about people who on paper are terrible for each other but just can't seem to quit one another and keep being drawn back together?

This doesn't just have to apply to romantic love, by the way. How many people are inevitably drawn back to toxic or abusive parents, even though they know this person has a negative impact on their life? How many people stick it out for friendships that damage their health and self-esteem, all out of love?

Again, you don't need to explain why someone loves, but you do need to explain why they pursue it or stick with it. The reasons can be societal, they can be because of guilt, they can be because of adrenaline, or because of long history together, or if it's a successful romance, it can be because they don't just love each other, they also really really like each other!

Now, this might seem somewhat inherently self-contradictory. I'm saying you have to show that people are into each other but that you don't have to explain why they fell in love??

But showing that people are into each other is actually about why they pursue it and stay with the person. The falling in love itself is simply the gravity between them, the magnetic bond, what draws them together. In fiction, we want that to be powerful, overwhelming, inevitable. If the story is about love, we need to see why these people can't walk away, or can't walk away for long, or are miserable when they do. They are drawn to each other, powerfully, destructively or gloriously.

But you can be drawn to someone without having a single conversation or knowing anything about them. We initially fall in love with our image of a person, what they mean to us, what we think they will be in our lives. Real love is about learning who the real person is and continuing to love and to like that person. Real long-term love is loving that person even when they change from the one you first met, and they love you too as you change. But the opposite of love is not hate, it's apathy. The love is the pull.

Why characters are into each other, or why they like each other, is the force that makes them continue to pursue that person. The love itself can be the thing they're into, by the way! "I can't get this person out of my head, I can't put it in words, but they haunt me and I'm into them for that," is a totally valid way to build a romance or character relationship without any other things that they like about each other!

But as said, it can and probably should be more than that in a successful love story. The construction of the love and like of the relationship can also be Love + Long History + Physical Attraction + Deep Understanding. Gomez and Morticia Addams love each other, they'd love each other if the other was unconscious, they'd love each other to the grave and beyond. But they're also into the fact that they're both incredibly extra romantics who love demonstrating their fascination to each other, in ways presumably no other partner could keep up with. They waltz at odd hours, engage in thrilling sword fights, raise a family together based on their shared worldview, and stare deeply into each other's eyes at every opportunity. They don't suffer one another, they adore one another's presence and quirks and foibles. They are seriously whackadoodle into each other and we see it in the joy they take in one another, how much they like each other in addition to that love.

Characters who are in love should be obsessed with something about the person. Remember, these aren't real people, I'm not giving real world relationship advice. This is fiction. You can write a tepid relationship but it will be sort of boring to read. That might be the point! The tepid relationship might be in contrast to your protagonists, for example!

But my point is that in all fictional relationships there should be something in which the characters are each other's biggest fan. In mother/daughter familial love, they might love one another's outspokenness on what is important to them, we can see their eyes shine when the mother or her daughter gives that big important speech, filled with love and pride for them, and encouraging their outspokenness at every turn, inspired by it.

If the love is between two brothers, related or otherwise, we might see that love in darker times. A brother has to pick up the other from jail. It is painful, heartbreaking, but he can't turn away, he can't not do it. That's love. But, maybe the brother he picked up cracks a joke on the ride home, makes the other laugh despite himself, and suddenly, he remembers the good side of the love too, that his brother can always make him laugh. This is important because it shows us not just that these brothers love each other, but why they continue to interact with each other despite the pain and disappointment. That might actually be tragic rather than happy. One brother might not be able to escape because of the other's ability to make him laugh. That too is love, not just the magnetic attraction of it but the reason it continues to draw them together inevitably, that ability to understand one another and make the other laugh, when he really should probably walk away for his own sake.

The reason so much slash shipping exists in fanfiction is because very often, platonic love is fleshed out in the mainstream more often between two same-sex characters with greater depth than romantic love. A mainstream show might present us with a couple who we are told are attracted to each other and from there the writers assume that is enough to explain why they got together. Nothing deeper. No spark of liking one another in addition to wanting one another.

But in a buddy cop film, the buddy cops are usually obsessed with each other. They stand up for one another when the chips are down, they save one another in moments of peril, they look into each other's eyes and discuss what is important to them in life, like solving the mystery they're working on, and in doing so find understanding with one another's worldviews. That is infinitely more satisfying as a love story than simply telling me that a beautiful Barbie and Ken of main characters have slept with each other and therefore are dating and "in love".

Obsession is key. But don't get too bogged down in how the love exists. It exists because that's love. And we are fascinated in fiction by powerful love of all sorts. We love characters who don't just suffer each other but are into each other, ludicrously, obsessively, even tragically. Turn up the love to the whackadoodle maximum and break off the knob and I guarantee, you will at the very least have characters that people will watch with interest. We love characters who are obsessed with something, or someone. Their love reveals to us what is lovable about that character or thing, it makes us love them.

And then, because love alone is not always enough, show us the joy that keeps them coming back to each other. Show us some good times mixed in with the bad, tragic as they might be for how they prevent the cutting of ties that maybe should be severed. Show us why they can't give up and walk away. Show us too why they like each other. That is what draws a good love story together.

[lemurzsquad]

Hand Sanitizer

Pairing: Sakusa x gn!reader (platonic or romantic, up to interpretation)

Summary: You and Sakusa hate each other with a passion, and it's almost always a disagreement over hand sanitizer. So when you leave to wash your hands and don't come back, Sakusa learns why exactly you avoid using it so adamantly.

A/N: Okay so this fic. Hooooo boy. This fic. I've been wanting to write it for a while and finally have. It started as a "Reasons why I'm pretty sure Sakusa would hate me irl" and turned into this.

So I have a skin condition known as aquagenic wrinkling of the palms (or AWP), which affects my hands when they come in contact with water, which is what this fic is about. I never hear about this condition anywhere, and it's very lonely sometimes, and there's no real treatment for it (from what I've seen). So this is essentially a vent where I take my skin condition seriously for once instead of just making water allergy jokes to cope lol

(More info about AWP here)

Word count: 3898

cw: skin condition (non-graphic descriptions and discussion) (AWP - please read above), hurt/comfort, angst, crying, enemies to friends...?, emotionally constipated apologies from Sakusa, hand sanitizer is evil /j, vent, not proofread because I just wanted to get this done and posted to do literally anything else, (please lmk if I should tag anything else)

(Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, and everything written here is purely from my own experiences and observations. If you would like to learn more, please do your own research; this is not designed to be informative. It's purely for myself and for awareness.)

You and Sakusa had never gotten along.

You were certain you knew when it started, having been completely oblivious of one another up until that point.

It was when you were both first years in high school, and there happened to be a lizard in the classroom. You, upon seeing it, immediately proceeded to pick it up and ask the teacher to let you put it outside, to which they agreed.

You came back to the classroom, dusting off your hands, when a curly-haired boy took it upon himself to comment, “Go use some hand sanitizer, would you?”

You squinted at him, partly confused as to why he was talking to you and how you had never noticed he sat there before. “No thanks,” you answered, “I'd rather just wash my hands.”

“I don't think just washing your hands would be enough,” he rebutted with a sharp look behind his bangs. “You probably don't even know how to properly wash your hands.”

“Well, too bad! I'm not using hand sanitizer!” You were starting to get annoyed, crossing your arms.

Somehow, that seemed to make him even more disgusted, possibly at the thought that you were spreading whatever it was on your hands onto your clothes now, too.

The two of you threw jabs back and forth until the teacher separated you, which you were both happy to oblige. The animosity between you never seemed to quite dissipate even as the year went on and you became second years. You almost felt bad for the misunderstanding, knowing it was entirely your own fault, but how were you supposed to explain to this random kid that you couldn't use hand sanitizer even if you wanted to? At least, in your head you couldn't.

At some point, you and Sakusa became something of enemies within your class—renowned ones, at that. People would often ask the both of you why you hated each other so much, but your answers were vague at best.

“He's just so pretentious,” you said once.

“They're just so obstinate,” he said once.

And thus, an impasse stretched between you. You hadn't even learned his name until months after your first encounter, too bitter to really care.

Despite the efforts you both went through to avoid being within the presence of the other, you somehow still ended up nearby. Maybe it was your teachers attempting to make you get along—maybe it was the universe laughing in your face.

Throughout that entire time, you still faithfully avoided hand sanitizer like the plague. The one time the nearest bathroom was out of order for a little while and you couldn't wash your hands, you used as little of the accursed substance as you could. Whatever microscopically thin layer that coated your hands there was, you shook it off almost violently, simultaneously disgusted by the feeling of something on your skin and afraid of what it might do.

The disapproving look Sakusa gave you when he saw that was palpable.

At some point, you hated each other mostly out of principle. You'd both kept it up this long—it would be weird to suddenly just let it go since your flimsy justifications seemed enough until now. To admit that you were being unreasonable would be worse than getting along, you separately reasoned.

So when you were paired up for a project, you couldn't help but grimace. Sakusa was the first to go up to the teacher about it.

“I can't work with them,” you heard him say. For once, you agreed with him.

The teacher, however, dismissed his concerns with a wave, saying, “In life, you don't get to pick who you work with. Sometimes you'll have to try to put aside your differences to get your work done.”

It sounded stupid to you, like some half-hearted excuse so they wouldn't have to rearrange seating or partners. But it's not like you had any place to argue, so you resigned to just sucking it up.

Instead of working together, you both divvied up tasks as quickly as possible and did what you assigned yourselves—separately.

All was going well; you ignored each other and worked on the project silently. Despite other groups discussing their plans and the room being filled with chatter, your share corner was dead silent save the sound of pen on paper.

Which didn't last long when suddenly the tip of your pen snapped off. The now open ink tube spilled onto your hands, and when you tried to minimize the damage, it only got worse. By the time you dropped the pen onto your open notebook, raising your hands in surrender, they were absolutely coated in black splotches. A sense of defeat washed over you as you watched your words get covered and your paper stained in ebony.

Taking a moment to glance at your already ruined hands, you just resigned to picking up the pen and throwing it out. It was your favorite pen, which was unfortunate. It couldn't be helped, you told yourself.

Sakusa had noticed you flailing about your desk, silently judging you for the clumsy mess you made when you should have just thrown out the pen the second it broke to avoid the noir crime scene that now covered you and your area. He scowled knowing you would now have to redo whatever you had written for the project.

It was nearing the end of school, the class you were currently in being the final one of the day. You approached the teacher's table and asked if you could go wash your hands. They checked the clock to see about twenty minutes left before replying, “Make it quick.”

You walked past Sakusa's desk on your way to the door. He made the snide remark, “You could get the ink off really well with hand sanitizer.”

It took everything in you not to snap back at him, but you just hurried past, careful not to touch anything on the way out.

Sakusa knew he would never understand you. From the moment you met, you stubbornly refused what seemed to be basic courses of action. Touch something dirty? Use hand sanitizer. Eating? Wash your hands before and after to keep from touching anything.

The couple of times he had seen you wash your hands, it was very brief, and you seemed to avoid using the air dryer, opting for paper towels that were arguably undoing whatever progress you made in washing your hands.

At the same time, you avoided any task that would require you to touch dust or water. You always asked to sweep or clean windows, so much so that everyone just ended up giving you those tasks to get you to stop asking. If you did get something on your hands, you immediately wiped or shook it off, seemingly disgusted. You would even briefly run it under water just to dry it on your clothes so they weren't wet. It seemed there were things worse than water if you were willing to rinse them off.

But it was still that one avoidance that came between you: the hand sanitizer. It was practically the same as water, and it dried quickly. Even if it was comparable to washing your hands, it was still much more convenient in most scenarios. Yet you continued to adamantly refuse to ever use it. At some point you declared, “I would rather die,” when he had tried to squeeze some on your hand, earning him his wrist grabbed and pushed away. 

He just didn't understand.

So when he found you sobbing in front of the stairs, opening your hands and clenching them closed into loose fists repeatedly, he was beyond confused.

You hadn't come back to class after leaving to wash the remnants of your broken pen, so the teacher decided it was your project partner, Sakusa, who should find you and return the belongings you left behind. He went over to your open notebook that remained just where you left it and noted the handful of words that were still visible. 

Sakusa folded the cover over, enclosing the now dried puddle of ink. The remainder of your things he scooped into his arms, leaving the room once the halls had cleared a significant amount. As much as he wanted to just leave your things and go to volleyball practice, he figured it would end poorly.

Plus, what could possibly have kept you out of class for so long that you would have left everything behind? There was no way it had taken that long to get most of the ink off of your skin, so either you had just skipped the last bit of school or something happened. Since you hadn't taken your wallet with you with your IDs (he checked your bag when he put the notebook back inside, sure that it was completely dry), he reasoned it was probably the latter.

“Tsk.” They would have been able to get it off with hand sanitizer, he thought, brows furrowed. This is such a waste of time.

Sakusa wandered through the halls when he didn't find you by the bathrooms. He was starting to think it was a lost cause trying to return your bag; he even had to text his cousin to tell him why he would be late. It wasn't until he got to a particularly empty hallway did he hear something.

Quietly, in a dark alcove with a set of stairs leading up, a figure was huddled against a wall. Their tears were soft but anguished, stifled because it was in the environment of school. Sakusa had tried to ignore them until he realized it was you.

You held your palms up just past your knees that were pressed against your chest. You opened and closed your hands, a fresh cascade of tears painting your cheeks as you choked back a sob. You pressed—with more pressure than could have been painful—your thumb into the center of your other palm, nails digging into the back of your hand. You set your closed eyes on your knees with the hope that it might stop the water that leaked from them.

Sakusa, with great caution, approached your hunched figure. He didn't want to, he really didn't. You were the person he probably hated the most at his school, but somehow he knew he'd seem like an awful person if he didn't at least give your belongings to you directly—he wouldn't give you the satisfaction of another thing to hold over his head.

And yet those thoughts went to the back of his mind when he crouched down in front of you. His mask and curly hair obscured his focused expression as he tried to study your current state. The moment you seemed to hear him there, you held your breath and repressed your already quiet cries.

When Sakusa got close, you buried yourself further in to hide your face behind your knees and clenched your hands even more.

He frowned and something in his chest tightened. His brows furrowed deeper over his eyes and he huffed. He saw your nails digging into the skin on the backs of your hands.

“That's going to leave a mark if you keep doing that.” It came out more biting than he had meant it, but he was being serious.

It was then that you could no longer hold back your sobs, almost choking on your own tears. The grip you had of your hands softened and unlinked; instead, you lightly shook them apart from each other. Sakusa had to take a moment to process, but it almost seemed like there was something wrong with them. 

He just wanted to get you to stop crying so he could give you your bag. As much as he hated the gesture, he asked, “What's wrong with your hands?”

You curled your lips in to bite down on them, fighting back hiccups. With your eyes tightly screwed shut, you upturned your palms.

The sight alone made Sakusa's eyebrows fly up in shock. 

He didn't mean to, but he grabbed your wrist to get a better look. Ignoring the ink stains that faintly persisted, there were pale, patchy splotches in the center of your palm and on the side edges of your fingers; there were even some tiny pale rings on the periphery of the bigger splotches. But underneath that, the skin seemed as if it had soaked in water for hours or maybe even days. Not only were there dozens of deep crevice lines trailing from the tips of all of your fingers to their bases but the lines on your palms were more prominent, surrounded by profound, dense wrinkles that spanned the entire surface.

His eyes darted around your hand for a few moments just trying to comprehend what he was looking at. It looked unnatural—it looked painful. And when he met your gaze, he saw unidentifiable emotions flash across it. Was it shame? Regret? He couldn't be sure aside from the blood that seemed to drain from your face.

You tried to pull your hand away, but Sakusa wouldn't let go. His eyes never left yours, searching for some kind of answer. When he couldn't find it there, he asked, “What happened?” It was soft, calm, and even, enough to make you tear up a little again.

The second time you tugged, he released your wrist. You pushed your thumb into your palm again, looking away. Hiding your hands away in the space between your stomach and where your legs were still tucked against your torso, you sniffled a few times and tried to even out your breathing.

“I-It's normal… it just h-happens when I-I touch water…” You stuttered and mumbled between hiccups.

“That is not normal,” Sakusa said a little too quickly and curtly, realizing it probably would have made it seem like he was berating you.

With another sniffle, you said, “It's a– it's a skin condition.” You started to scratch your palms partly out of stress and partly out of the persistent stinging. “It reacts to water i-if I touch it for too long.”

His eyebrows knitted in concern. “Was that from washing your hands then?”

You gave a small nod, still avoiding his gaze. “I couldn't get the ink off and ended up w-washing them for too long…”

“You could have just used hand sanitizer,” he said genuinely. For the moment, he almost forgot he was supposed to hate you, more focused on being worried than anything.

Your answer was your head shaking rather fervently. “No, I can't.” You lowered to set your forehead against your knees again. “Well, actually, I don't know. I-It just scares me and I don't want to r-risk any more pain than I already have. I haven't h-had good experiences with it…”

“What did hand sanitizer ever do to you?” It came out snarkier than Sakusa had meant. He slowly lowered himself to sit with his legs crossed in front of you, your bag still next to him.

You let out a heavy breath. “I was a dumb kid in elementary,” you started. “I had an obsession with scented hand sanitizer for probably a few months. I used it multiple times a day, and even though I don't know for sure if it's related, my hands got worse after that year I think. Only after that did I finally go to the doctor to get it diagnosed after my mom did a ton of research. I agreed to avoid hand sanitizer from then on. I just don't want to risk being in more pain…”

You both went silent.

“Oh…” It was all that left Sakusa's lips. A sudden wave of guilt crashed into him. All of the times he had berated you for not using hand sanitizer and all of his snide, rude, annoyed remarks resurfaced in his conscience. He felt terrible. He felt bad. Someone was hurting and all he did was throw lighter fluid on their problems—for months—and it seemed there was finally a spark to set it all ablaze. The thought that he started it all made it worse.

“Stop with whatever weird look you have on your face.” You squinted at him and his downturned, scrunched face. You'd calmed down enough to be making quips, it would appear. “It's not like I can do anything about it.” You shrugged, half-hearted.

He searched your face again for any sign of emotion aside from blank resignation, but he couldn't find anything. “Is there no treatment?”

You shrunk down further into your huddle, not vocally answering, but the answer was still clear.

Something about the whole situation made his heart hurt; it made him upset, he realized. “So what, you just have to avoid water?”

The nod of your head to the side looked pathetic as you avoided his eyes. After several seconds of silence, you said, “I used to love swimming. It's not like I can't, it's just… it hurts and it makes me feel gross. I don't even like the beach anymore because if I go in the water and get my hands wet, there's no real place to dry them off.” You laughed humorlessly. “It's stupid. You'd think I would get more used to it and get over it as I got older, but it just made me more upset. Why me? Why did I have to get stuck with a condition that's rare and isn't really bad enough for people to care enough to find a treatment? At least, it feels that way…

“I know it's awful, but I sometimes wonder, ‘Why didn't I get stuck with something worse? Then I might have a way to treat it. Then people might care.’”

You glanced up to judge Sakusa's reaction, instantly regretting spilling your feelings and questioning why you did. Tears threatened to flood over again and spill from your eyes. You felt helpless; not only from your condition but also from being stared down by the person you were certain despised you more than anyone. You were giving him more ammo to be disgusted and to detest you, too.

But you couldn't find his face. His ebony bangs hung down like a curtain and his mask further obscured your view, his downturned line of sight completely blocked out.

When the silence was beginning to crawl around on your skin and became almost deafening, you took in a sharp breath and held it for a moment before breathing out a tiny apology. “Sorry… you don't wanna hear about this…”

“No.”

“...No? No… what?”

“No…” 

Sakusa was struggling to get out the right words. How does he say sorry to you in a way that you might actually believe? How does he tell you that you're allowed to be upset, that you can talk about it? How does he make you understand that it's okay?

And how is he supposed to get you to believe it when it's coming from him?

His voice sounded almost angry but not at you—it was for you. “You can be upset,” he said between gritted teeth, hands clenched into tight fists. “No one deserves to have to live everyday avoiding something so common just to not be in pain. And no one deserves to have some jerk constantly making light of it even if they don't know.”

The way your eyes widened and water dripped down your cheeks in sudden streams said it all. “Oh…” was all you could muster before you completely broke down. No one you had ever told about your condition had seemed to fully grasp how much you were hurting inside, how every day was a struggle to avoid reminding yourself of how awful your hands were, how even looking at your own hands sometimes made you ashamed and loathing of yourself. It was a constant reminder that there would always be something wrong with you; you would always be broken, and there was no way to fix it.

Sakusa let you cry with the renewed emotional rush. He remained firmly planted where he sat, not moving an inch. He was not going anywhere.

And he didn't, even as your sobbing slowed to quiet sniffles and wiping mostly dried tears. It took a while before you finally muttered, “Thank you… No one's ever said that to me before…”

“Well, they should.” His words were curt but lacked any sharpness to them.

When you looked up to meet his eyes, he turned them away from you. Hesitantly, he uttered, “Look, I can't promise you that we'll get along, but I can assure you I'll try not to bother you anymore. No more stupid hand sanitizer comments anymore, either.” It was the only peace offering he could make for a chance to pave a path towards making amends.

You let out a breath through your nose that was close to a laugh before hiccuping, “Next thing you know, you'll be telling me we'll work on our group project together.”

“Don't push it,” he answered, quickly and humorlessly. It only made you laugh, although he couldn't comprehend why.

“It's getting late,” Sakusa tried to divert. “You should head home.”

You reached for your phone, and the little numbers on the screen confirmed his statement. Suddenly, a flash of panic crossed your face. “I don't have my bag,” you state frantically, “or any of my stuff.”

It was then that Sakusa held up the original object of his search for you, gently lowering it to the ground. “The teacher told me to bring it to you since you never came back.”

Relief washed over you in a calming rush, and you finally seemed to relax. You pulled your knees away from your chest and sat with your legs crossed. Confirming that everything was in your bag, an immensely relieved sigh left your lips in a gust.

“Thank you.” Your gaze was earnest, trying to convey just how much you meant your words to make sure it sunk in.

Sakusa just grumbled, “Whatever.” He was back to his usual self despite how he stumbled embarrassingly when he got up and realized his legs had gone numb. He reluctantly offered up his hand to help you stand, but you only looked at it for a moment, mouth pressed into a line, before you got to your feet on your own.

He pretended he hadn't tried to assist you, instead pivoting on his heels and shoving his hands in his pockets with a slouched posture. Without another word exchanged, you both headed towards the school's entrance.

The air fell into a comfortable quiet until then. When you did reach the entrance, however, you both stopped in your tracks. You turned to Sakusa, giving him a soft smile and a small wave, and headed down the street. Only when you turned the corner, out of sight, did he head back towards the volleyball gym. He was so horribly beyond late that it was almost laughable.

But he didn't care, knowing it meant someone was there in that very moment for you when you needed it most. So what if he also started to mend whatever nonexistent relationship was there in the process? What mattered was that someone told you that it was okay.

And Sakusa was okay with that. Being late to practice wasn't nearly as pressing as his long overdue apologies. What could be more important than that?

Do not copy and/or repost!! Any likes or reblogs are appreciated, though! (c) 2024 LemurzSquad

[luvrxbunny]

a new taste

Pairing: Steve Harrington x F!Reader x Vampire!Eddie Munson

Prompt: Threesome

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smoking (weed ofc), blood, handjob, a little bit of hair pulling, piv, unprotected sex (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 3.8k

A/N: i've never written a threesome before- i've never even watched threesome porn so if this is inaccurate or anything im sorry 

You choke on your smoke and pass the joint back to a laughing Steve. “You really can’t handle your smoke, huh?” You hurriedly reach for your water bottle and start chugging it, trying to take in as much water as possible to ease the burning in your throat. He takes two large hits before you finally feel calm enough to respond. “I can take it!” You reach for the joint, Steve shakes his head with a chuckle as he hands it to you. 

“It’s just that once I start coughing it’s like I can’t stop.” You cautiously take a hit, inhaling slowly, testing your throat. “Then why do you keep smoking? Just take a break, Jesus.” He has a smile-like grimace on his face as he watches you exhale, a smile resting on his face when you don’t choke. 

You pass the joint back to him and drink some more water. “I gotta get high enough for Eddie.”

You, Steve, and Eddie have been smoking all night, Eddie had been gifted some extra weed by Reefer Rick as a thank you and you both felt honored to help him finish it all. You promised you’d smoke a bunch for him since he couldn’t anymore and his eyes sparkled at the offer. 

Steve freezes for a moment before taking a hit. “I forget he’s like that now… Must be weird, having to suck your blood just to get high.” Eddie’s in the kitchen, across the trailer from his room because he knew you’d all end up with the munchies. You smile sadly at Steve but quickly brighten up, “He doesn’t really mind anymore, now that he can just suck my blood. We both kinda like it… It’s not bad..”

You trail off as you pass to Steve. “Whaddya mean?” You’re picking at Eddie's carpet and your brain recalls how it feels to have Eddie drink you up. Your legs subconsciously press together and Steve pretends not to notice. “It feels just- nice. It’s warm and cold at the same time, gives me goosebumps every time.” You’re entering a trance as you ramble on about Eddie, your hand reaching up for the joint with you barely noticing. 

“It makes me tingle too, it feels so romantic, to think that I’m helping him in such a detrimental way. He literally needs me on a basic, base level. I don’t know- God! I’m- I might just be weird… I don’t know.” Steve’s face is a bit pinker than it was the last time you looked up at him. It could just be the weed though. “Does it like… Does it like turn you on?” His voice drops to a whisper, his eyes wide and innocent with genuine curiosity. 

“It kinda- Yeah, no. It totally does. It feels like…” You scoot closer to Steve, taking a quick hit as he leans in. You’re both huddled together like you’re middle schoolers sharing a secret. “It feels like a super intense, drawn-out hickey. Or that he’s somehow connected a- a nerve to like- my pussy or something.” Steve gasps sharply at your words, shocked by how vulgar they were. “I know! I know, okay but this is serious. It’s crazy, Steve. I feel like I could- like I could literally get addicted or-”

“Guys! I bet you guys are gonna love this!” Eddie comes back and you back away from Steve, like you guys were caught doing something you shouldn’t. You look Eddie in the eyes with a smile as you take another hit, he nods at you briefly, warmth spreading in your lower stomach as his approval. He excitedly waits for you to exhale before explaining his new masterpiece to you. 

Steve can’t listen because he’s too focused on your previous conversation. He’s thinking about how you described it, the romance of it. He tries to get back to the conversation but you’re taking a hit and he’s brought to the previous conversation again. The way you’re inhaling joint after joint just so you’re high enough for both you and Eddie. Is just so sweet to him. 

Eddie’s finished his explanation and is just accepting your praise after trying a piece. The teasing ends up with you in Eddie's lap, giggling at his words as you smoke. Steve watches as the two of you slowly get more handsy, more physical, and more involved with each other. You guys only separate to allow you to take a hit. He can’t help but notice the sultry look in Eddie’s eyes as he watches you inhale, getting yourself high up in the clouds all for him. You choke on the hit a bit, shaking your head as you pass the joint back to Steve, waving your hands in surrender before grabbing your water. Eddie turns to Steve with an amused smile, trying not to laugh at your predicament. 

“Softie, huh?” Eddie jabs his thumb in your direction with one hand, rubbing your back with the other as you chug water. Steve laughs with a nod before taking another hit and watching you and Eddie again. 

He’s rubbing your back and petting your hair with a fond smile as you come down from your fit. Your eyelids are lower than they were before, and there's a furrow in your brows as you pout at Eddie. “Can you drink me now? Feel too high.” You whine at him and he giggles at you, slowly pulling you toward him and maneuvering you into his lap. 

“Yeah? Need me to drink you up, baby?” He whispers in your ear, a taunt only meant for you but Steve hears. He takes a deep breath and tries to pretend he can’t feel the heat building in his stomach, pretending like he’s not actively keeping himself from getting hard. He takes a slow hit to calm himself down and looks around for an ashtray. He’s stubbing the joint out into the ashtray, shaking his head at how much ash has accumulated, how many roaches are buried in it, even some half-joints that could’ve been smoked but no one would want to put their lips on it anymore. He turns to chastise Eddie about it, make fun of how he worships weed but unintentionally wastes more of it than Robin does, and they all make fun of her for it. 

When he turns all those thoughts leave his head. You’re in Eddie’s lap, head thrown all the way back, giving Steve a full view of Eddie’s fangs piercing your skin. He can see where they’re sliding into you, the little bit of blood that’s pooled around them, and the obscene slurping noises Eddie’s making. You giggle at the exaggerated noises leaving his mouth and Steve can see Eddie smirk a bit at it, until your giggle turns into a moan for a moment, before your hand slaps over your mouth. Steve watches how Eddie reacts, eyebrows furrowing with a growl before pulling you up, straightening your back against him, and groaning at the whine you let out. 

Eddie bites down harder, forcing more blood from your wound as he presses your body against his. He can feel your hips twitching like you’re trying not to grind against him. He presses his hips into yours, rubbing his growing dick against you. You whisper out a harsh “Eddie!” and your fingers dig into his arms. He quickly pulls away from your neck, surprised and worried, thinking he hurt you. You’re looking at him with hazy, desperate but embarrassed eyes, flickering to the side for a moment and he follows your gaze to a red-faced Steve Harrington.

Eddie had honestly forgotten he was there. He takes in Steve’s disheveled state and decides he doesn’t care either. He nods at you for a second before diving back in, a little more aggressive than before, eliciting a choked moan from you. He can hear Steve’s quiet gasp from the corner and peaks at him from his peripherals, he can see the tight fabric of Steve’s jeans shifting over his thigh as his cock fills it out. He has to hold in a scoff as he watches Steve clear his throat and press the heel of his palm into it. 

He focuses back on you and notices your eyes pull from Steve and shut quickly, your thighs tensing in his lap and your hips twitch into his again, a soft whine spilling out of your lips. He feels his head clouding with your high, the closeness, and the absurdity of the situation. He pulls away from you and tries his hardest to ignore the disappointed sound that leaves your lips. He licks his lips, drinking up the extra blood there, ignoring the drop that’s begun to slide down his neck. “Still high enough, baby?” 

He’s stroking your back as you nod, your head resting on his shoulder, eyes closed, and turned to Steve. Eddie looks back over to him, taking in his desperate figure. He started another joint and is suddenly very interested in the burning bud at the end. “What were you guys talking about? Before I came in?” Eddie’s voice is low and calm, Steve stiffens up before shaking his head, shrugging, and taking another hit. “I don’t know- Stuff I guess.”

“We were talking about you, Eddie.” You confess and Steve chokes on his smoke. “About how it feels when- when you drink me.” Eddie’s eyebrows raise to his hairline, his hand never stopping its movements as he turns to Steve. “Really? And what were you saying?”

Steve’s shaking his head and waving his hands at you to stop as he continues his coughing fit. You would’ve listened if your eyes were open. “I was telling him about how good it feels.” Your voice is airy and far away, making Eddie smile. “About how much I love it.” Steve’s eyes are wide and staring at you before flickering up to Eddie and playing it off with a shrug. 

“Yeah... It’s- She was just telling me about it.” Eddie looks down at you for confirmation and sees your brows furrow in confusion. Steve offers the joint to you quietly to shut you up. 

“What do you think about it?” Steve’s blood runs cold. His cock is twitching in his pants as he analyzes what Eddie said, unable to believe where this conversation may lead. “I think I- It sounds good- nice.” He tries to keep away from Eddie’s gaze because he just can’t, he’s never had this look directed at him. He’s seen it once or twice, whenever Eddie got particularly hungry and you were making him wait… he never thought it’d be directed at him. “You think you’d like it, Stevie?” 

He gasps at the question, at the nickname. He can feel his cock beginning to cry into his briefs, he’s praying to any god that it’s not showing through, that Eddie can’t see the way he’s pulsing beneath his jeans. “Yeah. I think I would.” He takes a breath and meets Eddie’s eyes. “You want a taste of me, Munson?” You whine from under Eddie’s head and Steve notices you’ve been watching the whole time. 

Guilt rips through him for a moment, his thoughts hadn’t gone that far, and they hadn’t expanded to think that you may not be okay with this. Even if you’re right there, you’re all high out of your minds maybe you don’t-

You’re kissing Eddie, moaning into his mouth and openly grinding into his lap. He pulls away to whisper to you, placing a hand on your hip to slow your pace as you whine at him. You guys have a little conversation as Steve breathes a sigh of relief. Either you’re okay with it or you just don’t care. He’s perfectly fine with either option- as long as you aren’t mad at him. 

Your hands come behind Eddie’s head, gripping his hair lightly and nodding against him, your hips still humping the prominent bulge in his pants. “Harrington.” Eddie's voice is domineering, his eyes are still on you. Steve gaps and goes red at the dramatic sound. Eddie turns to him with a smile and his hand out, his thick leather bracelet choking his veiny arm. “C’mere.” Steve has to consciously hold in a whimper at the rasp in his voice, he subtly presses his palm into his dick as he awkwardly crawls to Eddie. 

You’re shakily undoing Eddie’s belt as he pulls Steve in, a hand on his shoulder as he settles next to him. His eyes stay on a flustered Steve as he lifts his hips for you to pull his pants down. “So here’s what’s gonna happen; she’s gonna ride me, you can kiss her, touch her, just don’t fall in love.” Steve’s about to laugh but when he looks up Eddie is dead serious, Steve swallows and nods curtly. “I’m gonna feed on you, just a bit and you’re definitely gonna love it.” Eddie’s eyes flicker to the crotch of Steve’s pants, the obvious bugle, and the rapidly spreading wet spot at his tip. 

Steve nods more eagerly as you rub Eddie between your lips, he gets to watch Eddie’s eyes roll back with a gasp, and his fangs slide out of his gums. His eyes are softer when they come back around, turning to you with a soft smile. “Put it in, sweetheart. Mhm- yeah.” His eyes close again and his brows furrow. Eddie’s hand rests itself on Steve’s shoulder and grips his hair as you slide down onto his cock. He’s pulling tighter the more you take, whispering out praises of you but directed at Steve. “Oh, she’s taking it slow. Fuck. It’s cause she getting j- jealous. Hah- Fuck. She’s punishing me. Aren’t you, honey?” You moan and whine out an affirmative response. Steve’s eyes are in the back of his head, his body going slack, sliding down as he fumbles with his pants, desperately trying to get his hands on his cock. He’s trying to hold in his noises, feeling like he’ll disturb the moment between the two of you but when his eyes focus again Eddie’s giving him a disapproving stare. “Don’t hold anything in. What’s the point of that?”

Eddie wraps his hand around Steve’s head and pulls him back up, bending down slightly to kiss him. He’s surprised at the softness of Steve’s lips, how quickly his mouth opens for him, and the little moans he’s letting out. You pull Eddie back by his hair and force his eyes to meet yours. “No.” You let him go roughly and keep your eyes on his as you pull Steve in, only turning when your lips are about to meet his. Steve’s in the clouds at all the stimulation he’s receiving.

He can hear Eddie whining, moaning, and chuckling at your reaction but he can only focus on your angry whimpers into his lips. Steve brings his hand up to your face, pulling you in and pressing the lower part of your back so you grind against Eddie. He can’t help but smile as your whines become higher in pitch, and you melt into his lips, your hands resting in his hair, scratching his scalp softly. He tries to stay focused on you but Eddie’s hands are stroking over his neck now, his nails scraping gently. Steve feels Eddie’s breath ghost over his ear, he assumes you could feel it too by the way you moan into his mouth. 

“Ready, Harrington?” Steve barely has time to register what Eddie’s asking before he feels two tips push through his skin, he feels pain shoot through his shoulder before an overwhelming amount of pleasure flows through his entire body. He has to pull away from your lips, one hand coming behind Eddie’s head to keep him in place. “FU-ck that’s- Holy shit I-” Steve can’t even form a coherent thought as he feels Eddie’s lips lift into a smirk against his skin. You’re fumbling with his underwear, wiggling your hand underneath the waistband, and finally pulling his soaked cock out of its confines. He moans again at the cold air on his wet shaft, it’s drawn even longer when you wrap your hand around it. 

You don’t even need to move your hand, Steve’s hips buck into your fist all on their own so you focus back on Eddie. You place kisses on his exposed neck, stretched from turning to drink Steve. You bite him as your hips slightly speed in their slow grinding rhythm. Your kisses turn sloppy as you focus on the way he feels inside you. You’re mind is getting cloudier by the second and you can hear Eddie moaning into Steve’s neck, and the gurgle of blood with every whimper. Eddie pulls away violently and pulls you away from his neck, shoving your lips to his instantly. 

His hips are thrusting up into you frantically at the thought of Steve’s blood smearing all over your face. He reaches blindly beside him and pushes your hand off of Steve’s cock, taking matters into his own hands as he separates from you. “Eddie.” You whine his name out, earning a moan from Eddie and a whine from Steve. 

Eddie places his other hand on your lower back, pulling you close, forcing you to hump him. Your clit bumps into his thick patch of curls and you feel like you may float away. 

You’re surrounded by whimpering and whining men. You can hear the wetness of your pussy in time with the slick noise of Eddie’s hand moving over Steve’s cock. He’s fucking you both to the same tempo. You moan into Eddie’s face, pulling him in for a brief kiss before moving to Steve. 

You hear Eddie moan beside you and Steve’s hands bury in your hair, gripping gently as his hips begin to fuck into Eddie’s fist. Steve pulls you closer and breaks the kiss, moving down your neck and licking your skin like it’s his favorite flavor. He keeps his hand on the back of your neck as he kisses every square inch of your neck, moaning along with you at the feeling. 

He works his way back to your jaw, his lips lingering by your ear, letting shuddering breaths blow over the shell of it. “Please tell me you’re cl-ose” His voice cracks into a whine and his hips stutter in Eddie’s grip.

You moan and grind faster against Eddie, his moans go from low groans to frantic whimpers. He leans to the side and buries his face in Steve's neck, trying to muffle the way you make him feel. 

You can feel his cock twitching and stiffening even more as he nears his orgasm. His moans become more unrestrained as he gets closer to the edge. Your eyes are focused on Eddie despite the way Steve is gnawing at your ear lobe. You watch his fangs slide out from his gums again, a telltale sign his orgasm is about to seize him. 

You pull Steve out of your neck by his hair and you’re shocked at his expression, his brows furrowed even though his eyes are rolled back. You can see his adam’s apple bouncing as he tries to calm himself. “M’ onna cum- I can’t- M’sorry-“ 

His sentence cuts off with a gasp as Eddie lurched for you, making sure to keep his hand working over his cock while he dug his fangs into your previous punctures, making sure it stings. You and Steve moan into each other's mouths, cumming at the same time. 

Your orgasm crashes into you like a train. Just ripping through you, destroying your every thought. You can feel Eddie’s moans vibrating against your neck as you cum and his nails dig into your hips, leaving crescents as his orgasm flows over him. His hips press up into you, filling you with his dick completely before cumming. 

His head rips from your neck to moan your name against it. Steve leans back, resting against Eddie a bit as he ruts into you. His hand leaves Steve’s cock and plays with your clit. Eddie knows you came, he knows you’re sensitive but he also knows that you’ll clamp down on his cock every time he rubs over your clit. So he plays with you until he’s satisfied. He lets you squeeze around him as he fills you up, moaning about how good you feel and apologies. “I know y-you’re sensitiv-ve, baby.” 

His words tremble with the tenses of his stomach, his load pumping into you, groaning with each pulse of his cock and whimpering every time he rubs over your tender clit. 

It takes a little bit for you all to come down. Your face is resting in Eddie’s neck and his in yours as Steve rests his head on Eddie’s shoulder. You’re all panting quietly into the silence of the room until Steve starts snoring lightly. Your head lifts at the same time as Eddie’s and you both smile softly at his sweaty, red face, relaxed in sleep.

Eddie turns back to you, careful not to move too much. “Did you like that?” He asks gently, eye piercing yours in his questioning. You think it over for a moment. You had moments of jealousy, you didn’t really care for Eddie feeding off of Steve but you can’t deny the fact that the entire situation was hot. “I think… Did you like feeding off of Steve?”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline as an annoying smirk works its way onto his face. “You’re not wondering about the fact that I just jerked another guy off?” He chuckles quietly and embarrassment bubbles in your stomach. “Did you not like it?” He asks with the same smirk. 

“Don’t be mean Eddie. I just- I don’t know. Since you’ve been feeding off me it’s only been me.” Your eyes look down at Eddie’s stomach, trying to avoid his gaze at all costs. “And I know how it feels… It might not feel like anything to you but I feel like it’s super intimate? I don’t know. I just- I don’t think I’d want you to feed off of anyone else? Like this time is fine cause I kissed him… Whatever. If you c- If you could avoid it though?” He stays silent and you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. 

It feels a little unfair; what you’re asking. It’s like asking someone to only have one type of food for the rest of their lives. “I mean I understand if you don’t listen to me. I’m just sa- I’m just saying how I feel about it..? I get it’s a lot to ask. I’m sorry.” You feel Eddie’s hands rub over your back before lifting your face, tilting you toward him. He shakes his head lightly and kisses you. It’s feather-light but sends a shock through you, his hand cradles your jaw, rubbing his thumb back and forth before pulling away. 

“It’s not a lot to ask, baby. You’re my favorite taste anyway.” He says with a shrug and a smile. You wrap your arms around him as best you can and you all fall asleep that way. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works, and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[explodo-smash]

Are you one of the people expecting bkdk to be canon? I just learned that there are people that sincerely believe Hori would have Deku and Bkg have an explicit confession of love. That he's going to be the first popular mangaka to have a endgame gay ship. I am in so many mlm ships of shounen but I've never had the delusion that the author would make them canon despite the evidences otherwise. Like I thought it's fine to ship mlm as long as we stayed in our lane and never harassed the author.

After speaking together, we do believe based on the evidence in the series that BakuDeku being canon is not an even vaguely unreasonable conclusion to reach. We think the story is written in a way you can reach that conclusion easily, so much that even casual viewers who aren’t shippers are questioning the nature/potential conclusion of their relationship.

One of the most consistent and convincing lines of evidence for us has been Katsuki taking on roles/positions traditionally reserved for female heroines/love interests (if you’ve seen anyone call him “narratively androgynous,” this is what they’re referring to). In the context of Jump magazine, we have a number of shonen heroines and love interests to compare Katsuki to. The similarities are so striking that many notable people (including the VAs for the anime) have taken to calling him the heroine of the series.

However, we do think things like homophobia (whether it’s the writer or the audience/consumerbase at large– in this case we’re primarily referring to the audience), the safety of everyone involved, and timing are all unpredictable factors people have to take into consideration when writing/reading a story of this magnitude. Needless to say, if Horikoshi is indeed planning an endgame for bakudeku, he’d also have to take these factors into consideration.

Horikoshi has a record of being pretty in-tune with his fanbase. He definitely keeps some eye on bnha’s reception–for example, he mentioned a while back that both the people who love Katsuki and the people who hate him will have something to look forward to in this finale (we can now see what he meant lol). He’s very likely aware of the people who love bakudeku and the people who loathe it. 

Taking into account that he tends to be very intentional with his writing choices, he’s written this story in a way that not only centered bakudeku’s relationship over others (notably Izuku + Ochako’s, the character he’d presumably end up with if things were going predictably?), but also went the extra mile to distinguish their relationship as unique, closer than all their other relationships, the “biggest pillar of the story” (x, x). He didn’t have to do all of this. This extra push is what’s giving bakudeku that undeniable chance at an endgame right now, because it’s come to a point where no one can ignore the implications of scenes like this:

On the flip side, we don’t think people’s hesitation is unreasonable. It’s scary! If bakudeku were to fall flat of all this buildup/our expectations, it wouldn’t be the first time the romantic implications between a pair of boys in a story like this was ignored. Hell it wouldn’t be the first time a popular pair in general, (gay or not) got ignored in favor of what the author just felt like doing, regardless of what any previous developments in the story or interviews or official artwork would have us believe. There’s enough written evidence that canon bakudeku wouldn’t be surprising, but there’s also (at the time of writing this response) still room for things to go another direction, for all of this to be recontextualized and passed as something else. 

As per social norms/patterns of behavior, this would be disappointing as hell but not surprising. Especially for people who have been let down before, we completely understand the need/impulse to distance oneself from the idea/hope that bakudeku may become canon.

In all honesty, if it turns out bakudeku isn’t canon or left open-ended (say, an ending where they’re partners of some kind/the closest to one another without that explicit romantic confirmation), we would be frustrated/heartbroken. Not because we feel like Horikoshi shouldn’t do what he wants, he should. But because there’s been a clear effort to bring LGBTQ+ readers into the fold, and tell and portray our experiences in MHA. Horikoshi has done a beautiful, incredible job of writing various LGBTQ+ and marginalized experiences as a metaphor in his stories. Toga is a prime example. This is something that readers around the world have noticed, and it’s something MHA is special for (see this data x, and the further context/commentary on it given here x). 

We think it’s intentional. This story and the relationships in it have invoked experiences close and personal to many of us. Things are in a state right now where we wouldn’t just feel baited, we feel like readers would have a right to feel unsatisfied.

That being said, feeling unsatisfied doesn’t equate to feeling empowered to harass or bother others. Especially not Horikoshi himself, and also including other readers who had differing expectations. This is really the case across the board. We should all be able to control our anticipation/expectations without becoming assholes. 

It’s not just the shippers, by the way. People who work on the series or work closely with Horikoshi have rooted for bakudeku to go beyond. Izuku and Katsuki have already done what a good chunk of the readerbase thought impossible and became friends. People see their writing, their potential, and they want more. The voice actors (x, x sorry for the crunchy pic it's all i've got atm), academics (x), musicians (x, x) , editors (x) and more have all kind of rallied around Bakugou and Deku’s bond, with a particular sensitivity towards the deeply and uniquely intimate nature of it + how it evokes romance.

We’d like to see MHA exist free of the burdens previous popular shounen series have had placed on them. But that’s a conversation for the ending. As far as the fanbase goes, I think it’s super important people practice humility and caution when speaking to others. We have NO way of knowing what will happen. People who have been traumatized by situations like this in the past have a right to be anxious, people in general are allowed to withhold judgment until we have all the information we need. However, we don’t think having hope or confidence that this narrative might lead us to a canon bakudeku is unwarranted or delusional.

At the end of the day one thing is true, and this was something we had to fight to “prove” much longer than we had to prove Bakudeku had romantic potential - it’s that Kacchan and Izuku’s lives are going to be forever intertwined in this new era of their world that births from the finale. 

They’re forever intertwined in a way that’s not replicable for any other character in the series, and that’s amazing all on its own. We’ll just have to wait and see how far they take it! Thanks for reading if you got this far, and Happy Holidays!

[joels-shitty-puns]

Could I make a request please?

Either a Joel or Pedro x Reader, where he is head over heels for the reader who is really bubbly and sweet and happy and a mom friend for everyone but who is oblivious to any romantic overtures whatsoever? And where Joel or Pedro catch them crying for the first time ever and they try and hide it and go back to cooking for the friend group or whatever and Joel/Pedro get the reader to open up about what made them cry and essentially it's that someone turned them down on a dating app and it's just further confirmation that the reader will never find love or actually be a mom? Plus-sized reader preferred but definitely not required? And your choice on if it's smutty or not.

I've been reading your plus sized reader x Pedro series and loving it!!! So much emotion and genuine positivity that I couldn't help but ask for more when I felt a bit down about this today.

All my best!

Dear @jenniferpendragon,

Hi!!! I've never had a request before, I didn't know what to do with myself. Thank you. And thank you so much for your kind words about my musician fic! I'm so glad people like it.

I'm sorry you were feeling down today. If by "this" you mean you experienced the dating app situation, I'm so sorry. Love is out there for you. I know how hard it is to wait, feeling like nobody wants you, but I know it'll happen. Hang in there. ❤️

I hope you like this fic! I liked your prompt and my mind ran wild. It's way longer than I thought it would be and also I'm unsure about it, but hopefully it makes you feel a little better.

___________

Cookies 'n Scream

Pairing: No-Outbreak!Joel Miller x Plus-sized!Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!! MDNI. Poor body image, fat shaming, food guilt, food mentions, unprotected P in V, oral, kissing, fingering, pregnancy mention, baby making sex (?), I think that's all of it but if I missed something let me know.

Other stuff: Reader is AFAB. In case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

This is the first smut I've ever written and published, yikes. Hope it's decent.

__________

"Look what I bought today," you chimed in a sing-song voice while waving the DVD in front of Joel. 

"No way. Zombie Slayer 6?!" Joel and Tommy yelled in unison.

"Yep! You know it!" you beamed. "I say tonight we pop this bad boy in. Tomorrow's Halloween, it's perfect."

"YES!" chimed in Sarah and Ellie, Joel's daughter and adopted daughter, roughly the same ages in their early teens.

"Absolutely not! You two are too young for this gore, you'll be up for weeks." Maria pointedly gave an eyebrow to her husband Tommy. "You guys watch the movie, I'll take the kids and we have a girl's night. We can watch Practical Magic and make cookies. Then tomorrow we'll all go trick-or-treating." The girls were pleased with this compromise and began running up to their bedrooms, chatting frantically about their costumes and which houses were allegedly going to have full-size candy bars this year.

"Really? Zombie movies? They're just kids. They aren't old enough to deal with that kind of thing," Maria said to you, judging your lack of parenting skills.

"Sorry…" you said sheepishly.

Truthfully, Halloween was your favorite holiday and always has been. You loved the spooky aspect of it, but you also loved that you could be anyone you wanted, if only for a night. For once you weren't just "the fat girl" or whatever other mean things people thought about you. You could be Wonder-Woman, or Ariel, the Grim Reaper, or a ghost. You could even eat all the sugary snacks you wanted and nobody questioned it, because Halloween was a time to indulge in candy.

If there's one thing you're sad you didn't get to enjoy on Halloween, it was the thought of being with someone you love. You'd always wanted someone to dress up in a couples costume together. Or go to a pumpkin patch for a cute little date and pick pumpkins together. You'd even dreamed about someday having a little pumpkin of your own. Picking out a little baby costume, taking them out door to door while they tried to say "trick or treat" but didn't quite know how to say such big words yet. The thought of them getting spooked by a scary decoration and running back to their daddy's arms. Your handsome brave husband, holding them close and shushing them, rubbing their little back to make it all okay. Finally the three of you would go home, tuck the little one in, sort through the candy and maybe take some for the parent tax. Then you'd flop down on the bed together before sharing a different kind of treat.

Knocking you out of your daydream, the girls ran down the stairs, backpacks on their backs, still loudly chatting about Halloween. You sighed, Maria taking the kids out towards her house.

Tommy clapped his hands together excitedly and grabbed his phone and keys. "I'm picking us up a pizza. You two better not start this damn movie without me," he warned, gesturing with his fingers from his eyes to yours and then across to his brother's before ducking out the door. You laughed and headed towards the kitchen, starting to make a quick batch of cookies before Tommy returned. Joel stood awkwardly trying to help, but mainly was just sneaking bites of dough. "Knock it off Joel! There won't be any cookies left with you around." You elbowed him while he popped another glob into his mouth with a laugh.

You rolled your eyes while he argued with you. "Whatever. My brother doesn't need these cookies anyway. He doesn't deserve your bakin', darlin'." He ate more dough.

You couldn't help but feel your chest flutter with butterflies at his nickname, but you tried to ignore them. "Oh yeah, and what about me?" You pouted up at him. "Don't I deserve any cookies?" 

He put his finger on his lip as if deep in thought. "Hmmm… I dunno darlin'. Not sure if I could handle you if you get much sweeter." He winked.

"But I guess you deserve some too.." he plopped a wad of dough into your mouth, running his finger on your lip as he pulled his hand away. 

You smiled, cheeks feeling warm, and chewing the soft, sugary dough.

"Oh, Joel. You're too much.." you avoided his eyes, looking down at the mixer and pretending to be busy with the cookies. 

Why can't I get a man like Joel? You thought to yourself.

Two years ago, you had moved into your new house and met your neighbors, Tommy and Maria, Maria still very pregnant at the time. The three of you became fast friends and it wasn't long before you met Tommy's brother Joel. You were instantly enamored with him. His curly brown hair, mixed with silvery gray streaks, and those deep, gorgeous chocolate brown eyes. Although he could be a grump at times, it was mainly with his brother or his job, and he never showed it towards you. To you he was as sweet as the cookies you were eating.

You instantly developed a little crush on him and it seemed like he was over at his brother's house, or yours, more often than not. The two of you spent time together alone as well, watching movies, talking, doing whatever. Things felt so simple with him, and you knew he would always be there if you needed help with anything. With him, you never felt fat. You never felt ugly. You didn't feel self-conscious. You were just you. He was just him. 

As your friendship progressed, your crush developed quickly into love. But you knew deep down there was no way he could ever feel the same. He was too handsome and charming to ever go for a woman like you, so you pushed down your feelings as best as you could, and even tried some dating apps to try and find someone else to fill the empty space in your heart.

What you didn't know was that Joel was absolutely head-over-heels, smitten with you, from the moment he laid eyes on you at his brother's backyard barbecue. Sure he loved his brother, but nobody wants to spend that much time at their sibling's house. He came over constantly, hoping to see you, until eventually you became close enough that he didn't have to make a scene at his brother's house to get your attention. He could just go to yours. 

Tommy constantly teased him about it, and Maria couldn't help but notice the way you looked at Joel either. Even the kids could tell. The girls loved you like a mother, though you'd never see it. It seemed that it was obvious to everyone but you and him. Joel would flirt, try to gently touch you, be sweet, but you never picked up on it. Although you never pushed away his attempts, you never seemed to reciprocate either, so Joel just figured you didn't like him that way. But he couldn't help flirting, touching, staring at you. And if you didn't protest, he didn't plan to stop. He couldn't if he tried.

While the two of you talked, the cookies, what was left of them, baked in the oven. Finally Tommy came in, two large pizzas in hand. "Now I better not see that movie playing! I warned you two."

He noticed the black television screen and wandered to the kitchen. "Good. You waited for me- oh man! You made cookies? My favorite," he said with grabby hands towards the first pan, still cooling on the stove. 

"Now, don't spoil your dinner. You just brought pizza home, let's eat." You shot a knowing look with Joel after the two of you were practically full already with cookie dough.

"Fine. Whatever, mom." Tommy took a plate from you, sliding a piece of pizza onto his plate and heading towards the couch.

_____ 

An hour into the movie, you were all full with pizza and dessert, Tommy in the sofa chair on the side, you and Joel settled into the love seat. You leaned towards his right side, his right arm over the back of your seat. A blanket covered the two of you, and his left hand was crossed over his lap on top of the blanket, hoping you would hold it if you got scared. Whenever a jump scare did happen, you didn't grab for him, but at the slightest flinch, he would palm your knee, rubbing his thumb over you to calm you down. Such a nice guy. I'm so lucky to have him as my friend.

Once when Joel did this, Tommy caught the sight out of the corner of his vision. He rolled his eyes and gave a gagging face. Joel gave him a quick angry brother stare that made Tommy turn back toward the film.

At some point, you felt your pocket buzz. Peering under the blanket at your screen, you saw the little heart notification, letting you know it was one of the dating apps you downloaded. Heart beating faster, you excused yourself saying you wanted to get a drink. Upon entering the kitchen, you quickly opened the notification with shaky hands. You had sent out at least a half dozen matches to people, all turned down the second they saw your profile. The most recent had sent a message as well. "Seriously? Ur gross. Good luck finding anyone to date you lmao." Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked down at your body and pinched the fat of your stomach. You had four apps and had sent countless requests, matches, and swipes. Even guys who were big themselves had turned you down. You looked in the kitchen at the pile of cookies, the mostly empty pizza boxes, the bowl of Halloween candy. If the boys weren't here, you'd toss it all in the trash. You suddenly felt self-conscious. Your clothes were tight, your body was heavy and flabby, and you almost felt nauseous. The first sting of tears welled at your eyes, and you dashed off to your bedroom, hoping to quell these emotions before anyone would notice. You weren't ready to go back to the living room.

After a couple minutes, Joel had paused the TV to wait for your return. "She probably had to pee or something. Said she was gettin' a drink." Tommy nodded and the two of them talked. After about ten minutes had passed, Joel began to worry. Even Tommy began to wonder and finally said "where'd your girlfriend end up? It's been a while."

Joel shook his head at Tommy's name for you, but got up off the couch. "I'll go see what's up." He walked into the kitchen and didn't see you, so he kept walking through the house before finally starting upstairs. "Darlin'? You okay?" He still didn't see you, but upon approaching your bedroom door, he heard a soft sniffle.

He gently tapped on the door with his index finger's knuckle. "Sweetheart?" Your sniffling stopped and you quickly wiped your eyes, trying to hide your tears as he slowly opened the door.

"Hey, sorry, I didn't mean to make you guys wait, I was just changing into some comfier clothes." He noticed you had switched from your favorite dress to some sweats and a baggy hoodie. You still looked beautiful to him, though he was a bit confused at the change. "I'll be right down, why don't you go start the movie again." He crossed the room to sit next to you on the bed. "I'm not going to start the movie. What's wrong, darlin'?" 

You pouted, trying to choke back more tears, but his gentle brown eyes made it hard to keep your emotions inside. Joel cupped your cheek, running his thumb gently under your eyes and catching a tear that made it past your walls. You'd never cried in front of Joel before. You made it a goal of yours to try and hide any sad emotions from people, especially him.

"I don't want to ruin the night, Joel. It's nothing. Let's just go back downstairs. I'll be right behind you."

Joel stood up and nodded his head, walking out the door and closing it gently behind him. 

You didn't think he'd actually leave. But it shouldn't surprise you. Who wouldn't leave you?

An aggressive sob ripped through your chest.

_____

Joel walked downstairs, joining his brother.

"You find her?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah I did. Look, she's not feeling too good right now. I think it's best we call it a night."

"Ah, man. She sick or somethin'?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah somethin' like that. I'll stay and take care of her. Can you maybe keep the kids tonight?" Joel answered, ushering Tommy out the door. Tommy gave him a look, but nodded and walked out the door towards his own house.

Joel closed the door behind him and walked back upstairs, stopping to grab a glass of water for you on the way. He knocked gently again before entering your bedroom, and you turned around, surprised to see him. "Joel? I thought you were watching the movie?"

"Nah, darlin' I could never leave you when you're upset. I sent Tommy home and he's gonna watch the girls tonight. Here, I brought you some water." He sat the water on the nightstand. "Now, you wanna tell me why you're cryin'?" He sat next to you, rubbing your back gently.

You took a sip of the water, set it back down on the nightstand, and sighed, looking down at your hands in your lap which held your cell phone.

"Well, I uh…" you cleared your throat gently. "I recently joined some dating apps..."

Joel's heart took a slight stab, but he pushed it down. You're the one needing comfort, not him.

"I guess, I dunno… I know it's kinda silly, but I've been feeling kinda lonely and y'know... I'm getting older. I'm running out of time to have babies. But, I really just want someone to call mine. Someone to laugh with and go on dates with and…" you tapered off, not wanting to admit your desire for cuddles, kisses, and love-making. 

"Oh, sweet girl," he held you in his arms. "That's nothing to feel shy or silly about. It's natural to want those things. But why are you cryin'? Did somethin' happen?"

"I just… I haven't gotten any matches. Everyone I've sent anything to has denied me, and-" you sniffled and Joel pulled you tighter. "Shh, shh, sweet girl, it's okay. Those people on those apps, they don't know what they're missin' out on. They don't see how beautiful and sweet y'are. They wouldn't know how to treat you right anyway. If they can't see how wonderful you are, they don't deserve to be with ya anyway."

"Thank you Joel…" you muttered. "But… it's not just that. I got a message when we were watching the movie and I went into the kitchen to read it, and-" you handed him your phone with a sniffle. Joel pulled away from you, holding the phone back a bit to read it with his bad vision. As he read it, his jaw and fists clenched. It may have been the first time Joel saw you cry, but it was also the first time Joel got angry when it was just the two of you.

"If I knew where this asshole little boy lived, I'd go over there right now and kick his ass for saying something like that to you" he seethed. "I can't believe anyone would say something like that to you."

You picked at a hangnail on your finger, still staring at your lap. Finally Joel took a breath and looked at you again. "Darlin'. You don't - you don't believe that guy do you?" He asked while rubbing your back again.

"Maybe…" you felt tears run down your cheeks. "I mean, he's right, isn't he? I'm not attractive or skinny. Nobody wants me, not even any of these guys on this app. Even the guys who aren't skinny don't want me either."

"Sweetheart. That's just not true. Look at me-" he lifted your chin with his left hand, right arm still holding you close. You hesitantly met his gaze, your wet eyes looking into his gentle browns. "Those men, if you even wanna call them that, they wouldn't know what beautiful was if it slapped them across the face. You're the most beautiful, sweet, funny woman I've ever met. Any man would be lucky to have you." He took a deep breath before admitting, "I'd be lucky to have you."

"What-?" You interrupted him.

"Darlin'... I never want to push your boundaries, but you don't see how often I flirt with you, tease you, and touch you? You don't see how smitten I am with you?" You frowned, brows furrowing as you picked through your memory. "I thought you were just a nice guy. Just a friend. I didn't… I didn't think you could ever like me as more than a friend, so I just ignored the butterflies I got around you." 

You searched his eyes, waiting for a joke, or your alarm to go off and wake you up from this dream.

"Sweetheart, I've been in love with you since just about the time I saw you walk across my brother's lawn towards me. I just figured y'wasn't interested in me that way."

"Joel," you laughed. "I've felt the same way."

He smiled, once again tilting your chin, yet this time pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was gentle, but held so much love and meaning, that the two of you couldn't help but smile in the middle of it. He pulled away, "and by the way, y'aren't old either. If anyone's old here, it's me. But if you want babies, I'll give you all the babies you want. But you already got two girls who love you. Sometimes I think they even love y'more than me," he laughed.

You smiled at him and nodded "I do love those girls like they're my own. But I would still like a little baby someday too."

He kissed you again, more passionately this time, licking your lip until you opened up and let your tongues dance together. He pulled away, running his nose across your jaw before stopping at your ear. "Only one way to give you that, darlin'." He gently bit your earlobe before kissing down your neck. 

You sighed. "Joel… please."

"Please, what darlin'?" He purred, kissing your clavicle through your baggy shirt. 

"Please, make love to me" you answered breathlessly, tipping your head back so he could better access your neck. 

"Take these baggy clothes off then, baby. Lemme see you," he gave you one last kiss on the lips before the two of you began undressing, stopping every few seconds to share grabby kisses. Once undressed, he pulled you into him and kissed you deeply, your hands on his chest. With a swift move, he tumbled the two of you sideways so that you were now on the bed, him on his back and you straddling his hips. You leaned down, kissing his lips, while the slight movement against his waist caused you both to moan at the feeling. "Baby I've wanted this for so long. Let me take care of you," Joel whispered, thumb stroking your cheek. He flipped the two of you over, slithering down towards your waist, where you spread your legs for him. He groaned, looking at how evident it was you wanted him, pumping his already hard cock a few times. Flattening himself on his stomach, he gently touched your thighs and began to kiss your legs. "Y'sure you still want this, baby?" 

"Yes Joel, please" you answered, tense with anticipation. Without a beat, he tipped his head down, licking a stripe up your slit. You let out a sigh, hips bucking toward his face. "I know baby, I know." His low timbre vibrated through your core. He gave a quick peck to your clit before swirling his tongue around it and heading downwards, licking between your folds while his nose continued to put pressure on your clit.

His fingers slid through, touching your entrance in a questioning way. "Yes, Joel, please" you cried, wiggling closer, your hands tugging at his hair. 

With your pleas, he inserted his finger, curling upwards before adding a second and finally hitting that spot inside you that made your breathing catch in your chest. He stroked, while still licking gently, occasionally sucking on your clit. Before long you were gripping the sheets with one hand, his hair in your other, as you finally tumbled into your orgasm. "So beautiful, baby" he coaxed, licking you through the waves of pleasure. 

"Think you're ready for me?" He looked up at you over your plush tummy. "Yes, Joel, please I'm so ready."

He stalked over your body, kissing his way up. He kissed your vulva, "I love this," he purred. He kissed your stomach, running his hands across your sides. "I love this," he licked. "I love these," he massaged your breasts, kissing each nipple. "I love you" he finally looked you in the eyes, kissing you on the lips deeply. 

"I love you too." You kissed him back, running your hands through his messy hair, down his broad shoulders and back. His hand snaked around, grabbing his cock and giving a few strokes through your folds until he was wet enough. Finally he pushed against your entrance, slowly entering you, giving you enough time to adjust to his size. Your fingers clawed at his back as he finally pushed all the way in, the two of you sighing in relief. 

Your body adjusted, and with a kiss to his nose, you prompted him to move. "Okay Joel, I'm ready."

Slowly, he began to thrust, pulling slowly out and gently pushing back in, eventually picking up to a pleasurable pace. He kissed you like his lips couldn't be away for longer than a few seconds, and it didn't take much before you were barreling towards your second release of the evening. "I'm almost there, Joel" you kissed, grabbing him around his back. "Me too, baby. Come for me." His thrusts were getting sloppy, but you could tell he was holding himself back for you. His fingers drifted over your clit, giving a few circular strokes and causing you to shudder around him, your eyes slamming shut with a moan. He followed right behind you, a couple messy strokes before pumping into you, filling you up and working you both through it. As the two of you came down from your high, he kissed you passionately, holding you like you were the only thing in the world. 

The two of you lay on your sides, you snuggled into his chest, his chin resting on your head before eventually he became soft and slipped out of you. You both sighed at the loss, but held each other until you rolled out to use the restroom and clean up. When you returned from the bathroom, you asked if he wanted to stay and he said yes. 

You lent him an extra toothbrush and the two of you stood side by side, brushing your teeth and stealing glances at each other in the mirror with matching lovesick smiles. Things felt domestic and comfortable as the two of you walked back to bed, sharing soft kisses snuggled to each other. Having completely forgotten why you were upset earlier, you fell asleep curled into his arms, full of love and hope for the future with a man you loved. 

_____

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of coffee brewing and breakfast cooking. You strolled down the stairs and saw Joel, wearing just his boxers and tee shirt, grabbing a slice of toast from the toaster. 

At the sound of your steps, he turned and smiled softly. "Morning, baby."

"Good morning, handsome," you replied, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

"I could get used to that," Joel replied, squeezing your ass and pulling his face away to look in your eyes.

"Joel! You devil," you giggled, gently smacking his arm. "You ain't seen nothing yet, baby" he nibbled your jaw.

After the two of you ate breakfast, you shared a shower, and he threw on a pair of extra clothes he keeps in his car. It would be hard to keep his visit a secret from his brother with his car still in your driveway, but as far as Tommy was concerned, you were sick and Joel was taking care of you.

The two of you made the walk over to Tommy's house to get the girls and participate in Halloween activities for the day. Walking in the door, Tommy pulled you into a hug. "Hey, we were worried about you! Are you feeling better? Were you sick?"

You looked up at Joel, sharing a knowing look. "I was just a little upset about something, but I'm feeling much better now," you smiled. 

Tommy gasped. "FINALLY!!!!" He threw his hands in the air while Maria grinned. 

"Cough it up Tommy!" Sarah held out her hand to her uncle. "You know I had October." He handed her a five dollar bill.

"You bet money on us?" Joel asked in disbelief, rubbing your back. 

"Obviously. You guys have both been pining since you first met," Ellie answered, rolling her eyes. "It was too entertaining for us to interfere though," Sarah added with a smirk.

You stared down at your shoes, feeling embarrassed, but Joel grabbed your hand. You smiled up at him and it felt like everything was aligned. "Yep, we finally took the step. And now I get to do this whenever I want," Joel pulled you into his arms for a deep kiss. 

"UGH. GROSS, DAD." Ellie and Sarah groaned, walking out of the room.

You both laughed, sharing a smile and heading towards the group to get ready for Halloween with your family.

[fairlyang]

Valentine 🕷️

valentine by laufey but it's a little love story from your pov

w/c: 1K

pairing: miguel o’hara x f!reader

tags: fluff fluff fluff

notes: this story gave me BUTTERFLIES IT WAS SO FUCKING CUTE- I wrote these after writing the beginning of my black cats and when I was going thru the shittest thing imaginable 😀

part two

I've rejected affection for years and years

Now I have it, and damn it, it's kind of weird

You'd never paid any attention to any of the men who gave you a second of their time. You'd remained single in your teens, and twenty up until you met him. Miguel O'Hara.

He changed it all, with all the romantic gestures and sweet words he'd tell you as soon as you met at your new job. He even continued it all after you gave him a smidge of a chance but not before having him chase you a bit, which he didn't mind.

He tells me I'm pretty

Don't know how to respond

You were new to this, you'd get complimented occasionally by strangers, but when he would compliment you it made you feel nervous. And it showed.

"You're so pretty." He said quietly while staring at you lovingly, sitting in your office. You felt your cheeks grow warm and you tried to focus on the paperwork you were working on. Your fingers were slightly twitching making your letters come off a little ugly.

I tell him that he's pretty too

Can I say that? Don't have a clue

You swallowed your nerves and looked up at him, "you're pretty too." You tell him then mentally slap yourself. Stupid. Do you even say stuff like that back?

He laughs and gives you a warm smile, his pearly whites coming straight to view. You felt a fuzzy feeling in your stomach and looked back down embarrassed, hearing him chuckle.

With every passing moment, I surprise myself

I'm scared of flies, I'm scared of guys

Someone, please, help

You were slowly giving in, which completely took you off by surprise. It scared you. Just the thought of letting yourself like him was scary. But he was so patient. And the romantic gestures didn't stop.

He'd leave you a cup of coffee with written notes every morning, complimenting you, telling you every detail he liked about you, how he was slowly feeling himself fall for you....

You started complimenting him back, always very nervously but he appreciated the thought and was happy you were getting comfortable with him.

'Cause I think I've fallen in love this time

I blinked and suddenly, I had a Valentine

After two months of chasing and then a handful of dates after the first month, he had asked you to be his girlfriend, specifically on Valentine's Day.

Time had gone by fast and it felt just like yesterday when you had first rejected him, and it never stopped nor discouraged him from pursuing you.

You looked at him as you walked past his office, feeling butterflies in your stomach, and felt as if your heart was full. Full of love.

What if he's the last one I kiss?

What if he's the only one I'll ever miss?

Your mind began to wonder of your future or more specifically your future with Miguel. You had never felt so happy, so attached to someone like this before.

You were wondering if he'd be your only boyfriend, your forever. The only person you'd have these feelings for.

Maybe I should run, I'm only 21

I don't even know who I want to become

You soon felt all the feels possible, there was no going back. Or was there?

You were still so young, only 21 and you were still unsure what your future held. What your future career would be, if Miguel would be with you through it all.

I've lost all control of my heartbeat now

Got caught in a romance with him somehow

Your heartbeat raced every time you were near him, heard his voice, felt his touch, or even got a text from him. You really didn't think this was going to happen.

I still feel a shock through every bone

When I hear an "I love you"

'Cause now I've got someone to lose

He was the first to say the special three words, two months after Valentine's Day. He set up a candlelight dinner in his apartment and after eating he grabbed your hands and looked up at you with his pretty sparkling eyes and said, "I love you."

It's been four months since then, now being August, and every time he'd say it your heart would just melt and you'd still be blushing like the first time. Those three words continued to send shivers down your spine and instantly bring a wide smile to your face.

You can't imagine life without him. You've grown so use to him taking you out on dates, spoiling you, giving you kisses, complimenting you, he was the perfect boyfriend.

The first one to ever like me back

You were laying on his chest when you thought of how many men you've liked in the past, but none of them have every liked you back. This case was different considering he had the patience to get you to open up and for you to like him back.

I'm seconds away from a heart attack

How the hell did I fall in love this time?

And honestly, I can't believe I get to call you mine

He was hugging you tightly making you felt like your heart was going to explode of joy. You felt so lucky and happy that you were able to open your heart up to him and that he let you love him like you let him. You hugged him back tightly, nuzzling your head against the crook of his neck, just enjoying his presence and feeling so appreciative to have him in your life.

I blinked and suddenly I had a Valentine

You woke up in his arms letting out a yawn as he stretched then planting a kiss on your forehead. He pulled away and gave you a tired smile before giving you a small peck. "Happy anniversary, my forever valentine." He whispers making you grin and kiss him softly.

"Happy one year my love." You whisper and gently kiss him, melting into his arms.