#Swipe *Fic*

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

[ ID in ALT ]

what's wrong with him (based on That Scene in the hit wriolette fanfic Love Will Find A Way, So Will Naked Mole Rats by noxetic)

[treasuringizu]

⤷ gojo x reader | 0.7k words |

⤷ tags | insecure reader, very self-insert, suggestive content at the very end, established relationship, not proofread, satoru loves u, u love satoru, he's a sap!! satoru carries you up at the end.

“Hey,” Satoru breathes, nuzzling his face into your neck, soft white hair tickling your skin. 

“Hmm.” you hum, running your fingers through his soft locks, your other hand rubbing along his back, feeling the smooth material of his cotton shirt, lingering on the muscles you can feel under it. His arms tighten around you, pulling you even more into his lap so that your chests are as close as they could be, your bodies melded together. You feel his nose press into you and the rise and fall of his body as he releases a breath when you place a delicate kiss on his shoulder. 

“You know you’re beautiful, right?” 

“Satoru…” you do your half-awkward laugh, half breathing out thing that you always do whenever someone compliments you, now burying your own face into his neck as heat crawls up your skin. 

“You are. You truly are,” he says, pulling away from you and holding you by your waist, looking straight into your eyes with that unwavering gaze that never fails to let you know he’s being genuine. You take him in as his silver eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones, framing his azure eyes that are intensely staring back at you. His glasses are always off around you. He claims he wants to fully see you as best as he can. 

Awkwardly smiling, you hold eye contact for a few seconds before nervously glancing away from his eyes. At times like this you can’t help but wonder, how does he see you as that? As beautiful. Doesn’t he know that he’s the beautiful one? That he’s the one that makes you stop in place multiple times a day just to think, wow. It's hard to believe him sometimes, when he says things like this. He says it so freely too, with no hesitation, no reluctance, simply opening his heart for you to look inside and do whatever you want with it. It makes you grateful that he chose you, of all people. It makes you scared, because what will you do when it's over? When it doesn't last? 

“We all know you’re the beautiful one, Satoru,” you respond, looking over his shoulder. When you’re met with silence, you glance back at him only to see his eyebrows furrowed, a pout on his lips, and without thinking you smooth your thumb over his bottom lip, smiling softly when he only pouts even more like a petulant child. 

He cups your face with his large hand, frown softening but still there when your eyes flutter and you rub your cheek into him. “Why do you always do that? Why don’t you ever believe me?” 

You keep your eyes closed. “You know why, Satoru…” You bring your front to his again, burying your face in his neck and holding him close as if he might disappear from under your fingers. 

“I’m yours forever, you know? There’s no getting rid of me. No matter how hard you try. You’re stuck with me, baby.”

“So you’ve said.” You hate when you’re not able to respond with the same thing, hate the hurt he tries to mask but fails around you when you don’t tell him how you truly feel, but you know he knows. You just need to work up the nerve to let it out.

He lets you avoid, Satoru can never deny you. Instead, you breathe him in, inhaling the comforting smell of his cologne and detergent, and he rubs soft shapes into your back, deft fingers bringing you to the edges of sleep. It's like this for a few minutes, the soft sounds of your breaths the only thing you can hear on the couch, but then he speaks again. 

“I’ll make sure to keep telling you until you believe me.” 

You sigh, “Will you now?”

You feel the jerk of his head against your neck as he nods, determined, and you smile to yourself. You can’t ever let him go. 

“I will, every single day.” You don’t mention that he already does. “You’re so incredibly beautiful, love. It kills me. I love it.”

You laugh, and he pulls away again to see the action, eyes crinkling with his own smile, dimples forming in his cheeks as his eyes sweep over your face.  

“Alright, Sa- Oh!” You’re cut off when he lifts you up with one arm, wrapping your legs around his waist and strolling over to the bedroom. “Satoru!” 

He winks at you, patting your ass. “I know a few other ways I can show you I think you’re beautiful.” 

[jamietwat]

Jamie would 100% make Roy a dating app profile sometime after the Keeley rejecting both of them thing to try to help him move on and meet people when clearly he’s refusing to get back out there organically and he’d think he’s being so helpful and generous and the best wingman ever. He’d handpick what he considers the sexiest pictures he can find and put a bunch of shit Roy would never say thinking he’s being accurate and helpful and not even taking the clear opportunity to make a joke account to embarrass him or anything when he easily could have just made fun of him and chosen the worst pictures possible instead

And then he would be SO offended when it doesn’t go well when Roy finds out about it and is not properly appreciative at all

Roy thinks it’s Jamie’s account when he starts showing Roy girls like what do you think of her and asking him way too many questions when Roy has no interest in participating and has no idea why the fuck Jamie seems incapable of swiping without trying to get Roy’s opinions first. Meanwhile, Roy’s giving one word answers at first and then increasingly trying to brush him off when he doesn’t stop and then he’s just flat out like “Choose your own dates and leave me the fuck out of it” and Jamie’s like “Nah, this is your account. You should have a say” and instead of being grateful and appreciative and thanking Jamie for being oh so generous with his time and energy, Roy just scowls at him and growls out “You did not make a fucking Tinder profile for me” and Jamie just smirks and decides now is not the right moment yet to mention that he actually made him accounts on like three different apps because he wasn’t sure which Roy would like best

Roy barks at him to delete it and Jamie’s all whiny like “Come on, I spent a lot of time on these and you haven’t even considered it. Plus, even if you’re not ready to date someone yet, you’d still be less miserable to be around if you at least found someone to shag in the meantime”

And Roy’s like “Delete it. I don’t want a fucking Tinder profile.” And Jamie looks at him confused for a moment and then seems to have an epiphany as he goes “Oh, do you want a Grindr one instead? Hold on a second” and he flips to a different app and Roy’s too busy being baffled by the fact that Grindr is already on Jamie’s phone and that he’s having to sign out of his own account to try to make one for Roy to even stop him before he’s already trying to sign up for a new account and Roy goes “That’s not what I meant. I don’t want any dating app”

And Jamie pauses his typing and turns and looks at him so skeptically and so judgily and suddenly somehow Roy is trying to fight for his life trying to defend why he’s not looking for some random stranger to date or fuck around with

[heartofalifer]

sometimes I lay at night thinking what exactly did daisy write in the description of alec hardy's tinder profile and what pictures did she use that made her think that could get women to swipe right on him. was it selfies? was it candid photos she took? was alec wearing that blue jumper on and reading a paper with his legs crossed in the photos? I need to know

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie was biting at his nails as he paced around the apartment. 

Steve still wasn't back.

He still wasn’t back and it was an hour past when he said he would be. 

He checked out the front window every few minutes, praying that he would show soon. He wouldn't be able to take this all night, he was only ten minutes away from finding him himself, parents be damned. He was probably overreacting, Steve had insisted he was overreacting, but nothing about this felt right. 

Two years they had been together, two years and Steve hadn’t seen them once. They had been at their vacation home in Jersey when things went to shit, and decided to stay there for the foreseeable future, son be damned.  There were a few calls here and there, maybe once every two months, calls that Steve was always expected to initiate, calls that he would walk away from downcast and depressed, always crawling into Eddie’s lap with a short, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Eddie’s not exactly proud, but he had eavesdropped once on the other line, morbid curiosity and worry taking full control. It was his dad who picked up, who completely ignored Steve’s small, “Can I talk to mom?” to berate him over still living at home, and how he was lucky that the housing market in Hawkins was at its worst or he’d be homeless, and how it was about time he started to pay some rent. 

“If you can actually learn to be responsible down there, we might let you live with us when the house is sold, whenever that may be. But we'll be damned if we let a free-loader stay in our home. Do you understand Steven?”

He hadn’t even said goodbye when he was done, just a short, “Your mothers sleeping, I’ll tell her you called,” and the click of the phone. 

Steve hadn’t set foot in his old house for nearly a month before that call, it was more of a glorified storage unit if anything. Steve had basically moved in with him and Wayne when they were still dancing around each other, and he could probably count the times they’d slept apart in the past two years on one hand. 

And he was already paying rent, in his own way. Even when Wayne had absolutely refused to take a dime from Steve the first time he’d tried it.

“Just keep my Eddie out of trouble and smiling, and you can stay here as long as you want, free of charge,” The embarrassing, wonderful old fuck. 

It helped that Steve was slowly becoming Wayne’s new favorite, because his uncle had fantastic taste, and Steve was probably the sole reason they had stopped eating cut up hot dogs and canned green beans every other day. 

So Steve bought groceries, gas, even snuck in a few twenties into Wayne’s wallet every month, the little weirdo. He cooked and cleaned, forcing Wayne and Eddie to do the same, out of the sheer guilt of watching someone so sweet do all of their dirty work. 

It’s not that Eddie and Wayne couldn’t take care of themselves, they could, but it had been just the two of them for so long, and Wayne had been a mill working bachelor living in a trailer park before Eddie came along, he hadn’t been brimming with knowledge on how to keep a clean house, just a moderately decent one that CPS wouldn’t raise a brow to. 

But Steve…Steve was a cleaner. 

“You learn a thing or two when you gotta get rid of all traces of a house party,” he had laughed, when Eddie had caught him cleaning under the couch, a concept neither Wayne or he had ever grasped. Though that explanation hadn’t explained how he was so good at cooking. 

It had been almost shocking the first time Steve had cooked for him. He loved Steve, he really did, respected him too, but back then the guy basically subsisted on granola bars and pop tarts, and it was Robin or Eddie who usually had to shove real food down his throat, even if it was from a shitty fast food place half the time. 

He couldn’t really be blamed for the expectation that Steve couldn’t cook for shit. So imagine his surprise when Steve blew him away with something he hadn’t even heard of before, beef bourg-something, which ended up being about the best thing Eddie had ever tasted. 

“You can’t be gorgeous, sweet, and a good cook Stevie, you gotta pick a lane here.” He had been worried for a split second that he’d gone too far with the gorgeous and sweet bit, but Steve had just laughed, so obviously pleased that Eddie liked what he made. Which, in hindsight, Eddie should have taken as a massive green flag, it could have saved him weeks of pining. 

It became a regular occurrence after that, and Steve would always glow from the approval he would get from Wayne and Eddie, like they were doing him a favor by eating delicious food. 

“My mom used to like it, when I cooked,” Steve had admitted, much later one night, “Dad hated it, said that it was a short fall to being a fag, but my mom…she always said thank you. Always smiled. She’d ask me about my day sometimes, if I made something she really liked.”

“I like doing it,” he confessed, “But I haven’t had anyone to cook for in a long time."

"Steve…"

“But now I do.” Steve interrupted with a grin, so sincere as he grasped Eddie’s hand, “For someone who deserves it."

Eddie had kissed him silly that night. 

He still wasn’t sure if he actually deserved it, but he could agree that the Harringtons certainly did not. He didn’t even know what the fuckers looked liked. Their house was always shockingly impersonal, no family photos ever in sight, just expensive meaningless art that went with the furniture.

So why were they calling now? And how did they know to call Eddie’s house?

It had been Wayne who picked up the phone, just on his way out, eyebrows raising to his hairline as he passed it to Steve. It had been a short call, and then Steve was getting dressed, trying and failing to reassure Eddie that everything was fine. 

“It happens sometimes, when they get back, it’s like a checklist item, to see me.” Steve had said, shrugging on Eddie’s jacket. He was failing to reassure him, not when he could see his hands shaking as he tied his shoes, “I’ll be fine. It will be one awakward dinner, and then I’ll be back before you know it.”

Eddie watched him, trying to process the whiplash of Steve being calmly cuddled up to his side to getting ready to rush out the door.  

“If it’s not gonna take long then I can just wait in the car baby, it’s not that big a deal-”

“Eddie, no,” He was firm and unyielding, but was refusing to look Eddie in the eye,“I’ll be fine, trust me okay?”

He kissed his cheek on the way out the door, “Nine at the latest, I swear.”

Eddie didn’t trust him, not with this. Steve didn’t talk about his parents much, but the small things he had been able to coax out of him were never good. Selfish, neglectful, mean, but he wouldn’t elaborate, never going further than small stories and tidbits. Eddie never pushed him, never asked explicitly, but he had a pretty strong suspicion it didn’t end there. 

Steve had scars, some he would talk about and others he wouldn’t. He could perfectly recite the story of the mark on his chin, even though he was messed up on truth serum with a russian induced concussion, but when asked about the thin, silvery lines that adorned his body, he suddenly couldn’t remember a thing. 

And Eddie wasn’t the only one suspicious, the rumor mill of Hawkins was strong. Daniel Harrington was known for his temper, and was borderline psychotic in highschool according to Wayne, always trying to pick fights, and always buying his way out of the consequences. 

Back in highschool, there were a few whispers in the hallways, small shit about hearing screaming from the Harrington household, rumors about hand shaped bruises seen in the locker room, questions about why Steve startled so hard at loud noises. 

Eddie had dismissed it, something he still hasn’t quite forgiven himself for, and most of the school did with him. Afterall, kids who had their dads beat the shit out of them weren’t popular, they weren’t captains of the swim team, they didn’t walk around in designer clothes or drive new cars. They were supposed to be damaged losers, easy to pick from the crowd. Someone like Eddie, never someone like King Steve. When in reality, even without his parents, Steve had been dealing with shit that would have sent normal people spiraling for years. 

Even Wayne was on edge, obviously disturebed by the Harrington's sudden arrival. He eventually called from his girlfriend’s place, checking in on how it went, grunting unhappily when Eddie told him he still hadn’t gotten back yet, “If he’s not home in a few hours call Hopper.”

“Agreed.”

Eddie gave up on pacing and peeking, deciding to just sit his ass down on the front stoop and stare at the street. He was seconds away from giving in entirely, already trying to remember where he put his keys when he saw it. Familiar headlights were making their way up his street, parking crookedly on the curb.

Oh thank god. Eddie finally let himself breathe for the first time in hours. He should have just trusted Steve like he said-

His brain short-circuited as he watched the car door open and Steve tumble out of the driver's side, falling to the curb. Eddie was flying off of the stoop, at Steve's side in a moment as he struggled to stand. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, his baby was bleeding. His baby was bleeding and blurry eyed as he pathetically tried to stand up. Eddie didn’t hesitate, scoping him up in his arms to bring him inside.

“What the hell happened Steve?” Eddie asked, panicked as he laid him out on the couch. He looked awful, so bad that Eddie wanted to cry. His right eye was swollen and already purpling, his lip was split, sending dark, red tracks down his chin. Eddie took his jacket off for him, eyes widening to see the blood running down his arms, embedded bits of glass sparkling in the light.

"I'm sorry I’m late," Steve slurred, trying and failing to help Eddie remove the jacket, “It didn’t go so good.”

That was the understatement of the fucking century. Eddie’s mind was a cluster fuck, filled with worry, confusion, rage, despair at seeing Steve so hurt, for no fucking good reason. But he needed to focus, freaking out wasn’t helping Steve, who was still fucking bleeding. Stopping that took precedent. 

Steve looked down at himself, frowning as he seemimly took in the damage for the first time, before stupidly trying to sit up, “I’ll get blood on the couch,” 

That stupid statement was enough to get Eddie out of his shock.

“I don’t give a shit about the couch Steve.” Eddie hissed out, fighting not to yell. He was feeling too much all at once, but he refused to let himself be mad at Steve for being so idiotically self neglinat, not when he needed him. He rubbed a hand over his face, steeling himself to get his shit together before standing. 

“Wait here sweetheart, and keep your eyes open, okay? I’ll be right back,” Eddie had to gently push Steve back down when he tried to sit up, “Just let me take care of you.”

Steve nodded, seemingly accepting the fact that yes, his literal life took precedence over cheap furniture. Eddie made it to the bathroom in record time, for once surreally grateful he had experienced the Upside Down, because it had forced him to have multiple first aid kits on hand. 

He was back in less than a minute, horrified to see Steve standing on unsteady feet, spreading a blanket on the couch, like ruining the upholstery with this blood was really the priority here. He had the good grace to look guilty when he saw Eddie, sitting back down with a heavy sound, unprompted. 

Calm down, calm down, calm down, Eddie thought to himself, before kneeling in front of Steve. His hands were shaking as he opened the first aid kit, but he made them work. He pressed up against the cut on his lips with cotton rounds, placing Steve’s hand against it to keep the pressure. His arms were worse, and his shaking wasn’t helping him tweeze the glass out, beer bottle by the looks of it, but he managed. 

Steve was still acting woozy, barely acknowledging the sting of the alcohol as Eddie bandaged and cleaned all of his cuts, “What hurts the most baby? I need you to tell me.”

“Head,” Steve mumbled, “feels like it’s burning.”

Fuck, Eddie didn’t know what to do with that. Surface level shit he could handle, but it sounded like he had a concussion, “Steve, I think we need to take you to a hospital-”

“No.” It was automatic, so quick from Steve’s mouth that Eddie did a double take. 

“Why the hell not?”

"I don’t…" he sighed, "I don't want everyone to know, okay? Not yet. I just want you."

"But-"

“Eddie, please?” He was begging, pleading in a way Eddie didn’t know how to say no too.

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to be patient, “Okay, okay. Just stay right here, and keep your eyes open, got it? I’ll be right back.”

Eddie kissed him on the forehead, ignoring his soft comments about being sweaty and gross. He went straight to the phone, calling the only number he could think of. 

Wayne picked up on the third ring, obviously expecting the call. He told him everything, desperate for advice, “He doesn’t want to go to the hospital, but he looks bad, Wayne. I-I don’t know what to do,”

“Jesus christ, wait a second.” 

Eddie kept peeking his head out into the hall, like Steve was going to spontaneously combust if he let him out of his site for too long. He repeated everything to Mindy, relieved that there was someone who knew what to do.

“Oh honey…Keep him awake okay? If he can’t stay conscious, call 911, don’t wait for us. And don't move him too much, we’ll be right there."

Thank god for Mindy, the saint. He had already adored the woman the first time they’d met, just from the way she made his uncle smile, but this was going to have her in his good books for the end of time. 

Steve was still awake when he got back, thankfully. Eddie sat on the floor next to him, taking his hand, “Wayne and Mindy are coming over in a bit, okay? Someone has to check on you.”

Steve started to protest, but one look at Eddie’s unamused face shut him up. He looked away, “I forgot she was a nurse.”

“If she says you need to go to the hospital, you’re going.”

“Okay.”

Eddie waited for Steve to start telling him what the fuck had happened, so he knew who he had to murder. But he didn’t say anything, he just kept occasionally playing with the rings on Eddie’s hands, proving that he was still awake. 

Eddie broke the silence first, he just couldn’t take not saying anything,“You’re not going back there. Ever. I'm never letting you out of my sight again.”

Steve laughed, wincing when it made his lip bleed a bit more. That was almost enough to have Eddie crying all over again. 

“I, um, can’t go back there, actually.” He didn’t even look sad, just resigned, “They said it was you or them. I chose you and,” he chuckled, humorless, “And they did not take it well.”

“They know?” Eddie asked, the answer obvious, but the how wasn’t. They were hundreds of miles away, never giving a single shit about their son’s life.

He nodded, “They told me on the phone, said they knew what I was up to, that I owed them an explanation.”

“How?”

“Tommy, I guess. He called them, sat down with them or something,” he shrugged and even that small movement looked painful, “Worried about my life choices or some shit.”

Another one to the list of people Eddie was going to have to choke out. 

Eddie should have never let him go over there alone, or at all. He knew something was up, he fucking knew it, but he was here sitting on his hands while Steve was getting the shit beat out of him. 

Eddie wanted him to look at him, needed him to look at him. He cradled Steve’s face, carefully moving him to meet his eyes, "Stevie…baby, why did you go?”

He looked so broken down, tears starting to gather in the corner of his eyes. Steve went to bite his lip, flinching when he realized what a mistake that was, “If I didn’t go he would have shown up here. A-and I didn’t want you to get hurt. I thought I could talk them down or something, or just lie my way through it but…I couldn’t.” 

Eddie resisted the urge to argue with him, to say that Steve mattered more, that he couldn’t put himself in harm’s way for his sake, that he would have gladly been the one to take the beating if it meant he would be okay. He was tracing the outline of his jaw, half for comfort and half to check for more injuries, biting down all of his indignation. 

“How many times have they done this before?”

“They haven’t-”

“Sweetheart, please don’t lie to me,” Eddie wiped the tears from his good eye, patient.

Steve took a deep breath, closing his eyes, admitting the truth out loud for the first time in his life, “I’ve lost count.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

"I didn't want to scare you away,"

Eddie frowned, immediately confused, “What does that mean?”

The tears were really starting to fall now, Steve wincing at the sting of them in his cuts, “I-I know I’m already a lot okay? I’m clingy and annoying a-and I fucking scream and shit in the middle of the night and I just didn’t want to add another thing for you to have to deal with.”

Blaming himself for the terrible things other people did to him, classic fucking Steve. Eddie wanted to shake him, to yell at him that he was the most important person in his world, how could anything ever scare him away?  But he held it all back.

"There is nothing that would ever make me not want you," Eddie swallowed, his own eyes starting to sting, "I'll always love you, don't you know that?"

"I-I do, really, I just...I don't know. I should have told you," Steve managed to look ashamed through his tears, and it just made Eddie's heart hurt more. He wanted to hug him, to hold him tight, and never let go. But he couldn't, not without hurting him. Steve's favorite thing in the world was getting held, and they managed to take that away. Eddie didn't know why that fact was standing out so much, but he'd never forgive them for it. 

He could hear the sound of Wayne’s truck pulling into the driveway, footsteps not far behind. Eddie kissed the side of his mouth, as lightly as he could before standing to let them inside. 

Mindy made quick work of tending to him, revealing more injuries under his clothes that Eddie hadn't even realized were there. His heart almost stopped at the sight of Steve shirtless, mottled yellow bruising strewn across his sides.

He and Wayne stood on the sidelines, both anxious as they waited for the news. Wayne was furious in a way that he hadn’t seen since he was a kid, back when it was Eddie being patched up from his own shit dad.

"You can stay home tonight," she finally declared to Steve, gesturing Eddie over, "You just need lots and lots of rest. Give those ribs a chance to heal a good while before you do anything strenuous. Now let's help get you to bed.”

"Thank you," Steve mumbled as Eddie scooped him up. Now that he had gotten the go-ahead to sleep, Steve was already letting his eyes fall closed, clearly exhausted. He set him down on the bed carefully, helping him change into clean clothes, ignoring the weak protests that he could do it himself. 

“Please don’t go after him,” Steve mumbled when Eddie got him under the covers, "Promise me?"

Eddie hesitated, "But-"

"It's not about them," Steve rushed out, shaking his head, "Getting arrested isn't worth it. Losing you isn't worth it. Swear?”

He was right, Eddie knew Steve was right. His father wasn't just anybody, he'd press charges against almost any offense against him. And he had the lawyers to back it up. Steve was still looking at him, struggling to keep his eyes open as he waited. Eddie relented, begrudgingly giving into stupid things like logic, “I swear.”

"Thank you," Steve whispered, finally letting himself fall asleep, "I love you."

Eddie kissed his forehead, staying by his side until he was fully out of it, losing himself in his own thoughts. He wouldn’t lie to Steve, he couldn’t lie to Steve, even if he wanted to. 

He wouldn't lay a hand on his father. But that didn't mean he couldn't get his shit back. Preferably before it was thrown out or damaged by his psychotic family. He left Wayne with a sleeping Steve, after a few dozen promises, that no, he was not going to go commit a violent felony.

Just a few misdemeanors. 

“If they haven't already skipped town, then you come right back. You hear me?” Wayne insisted, watching him tie up his boots with narrowed eyes. 

“I hear you. It'll be two hours, tops.”

He parked a block away, slinking along the sidewalk. Lucky enough for him, there were no cars in the driveway of the Harrington house, and all the lights were off. The whole neighborhood was quiet. It sure looked like they booked it, maybe too afraid of an assault charge actually sticking to stay in town.

Breaking into Steve’s room was easy, first floor with an unlocked window? Child’s play. His room looked untouched, thankfully. Whatever had happened, hadn’t happened here. He didn't waste time, immediately starting to throw the few things left in his bag. There really wasn’t much to grab, a few mixtapes, some drawings from Will, the last of his clothes. Eddie was searching under the bed when he heard it, the sound of the knob turning. 

He froze, hearing a sharp intake of breath behind him. He expected whoever it was to start yelling, but instead there was only the click of the door closing shut behind them. He turned slowly, surprised to see who was standing there.  

He had never seen her before, but he recognized her immediately. Steve looked just like her. The same big eyes and pouty mouth, the same gravity defying hair. They stared at each other, but she didn’t scream. She kept her eyes on him as she walked forward, primly sitting at Steve’s pristine desk. 

Eddie was trying to calculate how much time it would take to book it back down the window and to his car, when she opened her mouth, “You can keep packing, don’t worry. Daniel’s gone for now.”

She was shuffling around in Steve’s old desk as she spoke, "You're Eddie, I presume.”

It was a statement, not a question, despite the phrasing, but Eddie answered anyway, “That’s me.”

She found what she was looking for, plain paper and a pen and started scribbling as she spoke, “Is he okay?”

That broke him out of his stunned little trance. Eddie stared at her, baffled and annoyed that she would even ask, “He’s alive.”

“Did he go to the hospital?”

“Why do you care?” He was pushing it. He should just pack Steve’s shit and go, but he was stuck, seething at the woman who allowed Steve to live with that monster, too angry to keep his mouth shut.

She shrugged, “If my husband is about to be arrested for disciplining our son, I’d like to know about it.”

There it was. Eddie was pretty sure this was the first time he had ever wanted to hit a woman before. He scoffed, “Un-fucking-believable. I’m not even going to answer that.”

He made his way into the closet, grabbing the few things that were still left on hangers. She was still scribbling at Steve’s desk, when he came out, flipping the page over to start on the back. 

She didn’t look up at him, “He’s…” she shook her head, eyes on the paper, “It’s never been that bad before.”

Eddie ignored her, hurriedly going through Steve’s drawers, desperate to just get away from this bitch, this house, and get back to his Steve.  

She was folding the paper up, letter style, before finally looking back up at Eddie. She was biting her lip, the exact same way Steve did, “Will you take care of him? If he stays?”

“Better than you.” Eddie snapped, mind jumping on the if. 

She stood giving him a head to toe look, obviously displeased with what she saw. She held the letter out, “Give him this. He deserves to know he has options, and everything he’s giving up, because of you.” She said it matter of factly, like Eddie was just a temporary bump in the road, “We can give him a new start, and he’ll need a new start somewhere anyway, his father is spreading the news of your affair as we speak.”

Eddie stared down at the letter, making no moves to take it, "Your husband nearly kills him, and you think he’s going to be open to giving him a new start?" He scoffed, “Are you insane? Steve’s never going near that psycho again.”

“I could convince him,” she insisted, “When he calms down and realizes Steve needs help, he’ll be willing to give it to him.”

She shook the letter at him, her forced calm finally starting to crack, “Just give it to him. Consider it a trade for me not having you arrested for trespassing.”

Eddie snatched the letter from her hands, stuffing it into his back pocket, "Fine."

“Good. You can go back out through the window,” she said, turning to leave, “No reason for the neighbors to see more than they already have tonight."

“He won’t come back,” Eddie said, staring at her back,“He has a new family now, a real family, and I’ll never let either of you hurt him again.”

She scoffed, “We’ll just see about that,” Eddie could feel the venom behind her words, a peek into the real person behind the pretty mask. She slammed the door on the way out, like the petty child she was. 

Eddie hated her, hated how she was so sure of herself, so confident with someone she didn’t even fucking know. 

He hated how she thought she loved Steve.

Eddie was still fuming by the time he got home. He dumped the duffle bag into the entryway, the letter still burning a hole in his pocket. Steve wasn't going to leave him because of some scribbled words from his mom, on some level he knew that.

But even on the off chance he had suffered some serious brain damage and wanted to go back he wouldn't let him anyway. He'd kill Daniel Harrington himself before letting his Steve be around the piece of shit. He stepped from the hall into the living room, freezing when he saw Steve curled up on the couch, wide awake. He looked relieved to see him, before letting a frown take over his bruised face.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Eddie asked, shrinking a little at Steve’s glare. He ignored the question. 

“What did you do?” Eddie flinched, but he couldn’t really blame him for expecting the worst. His track record wasn’t exactly…stellar in the physical protection department. 

He raised his hands, placating, “Nothing, I promise! You won’t be seeing my name plastered on any headlines. I just got your stuff.”

Steve stared at him, looking for any tells. Eddie didn’t know how he did it, but the guy would just know when he was lying. Eventually he seemed satisfied with whatever he saw, relenting.

“Come here then,” he made grabby hands, adorable even when he was pissy and all bruised up. 

Eddie went to him, hugging him with careful hands, “How are you feeling baby?”

“Horrible,” Steve admitted, cuddling into his side “But not worse.” 

Eddie nodded, taking him in. He still looked awful, but he was way more coherent than a few hours ago, a sign in the right direction. He thought of the letter burning a hole in his pocket, wondering if it would really be so terrible to just throw it away, Steve none the wiser. What could she possibly say to make up for this?

But on the other hand…it wasn’t his choice to make.

“I uh, “ he rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, “Kinda ran into your mom, while I was there.”

Steve went rigid in his arms, staring up at him with wide-eyes. 

"But nothing happened!" Eddie rushed out, flinching at the sight of Steve’s panicked face, "We just talked."

“Why would she want to talk to you?”

Eddie sighed, digging into his back pocket. Now or never he guessed, “She wanted me to give this to you.”

Steve stared at the envelope, taking it in shaky hands, “She gave it to you?”

"Wrote it out in front of me. She said, uh, that you deserved to know everything you were giving up.”

Because of me. 

He left that part unsaid.

Steve frowned at the paper in his hand, shaking his head, "Help me up," 

“You’re not supposed to be moving-”

“Just to the kitchen,” Steve insisted, “I’ll lay down right after,”

Eddie gave in, helping Steve to his feet, fully intending to drag him back to bed the second he was done with whatever this was. Steve steadied himself, shooing Eddie away to weakly walk towards the kitchen.

Eddie followed him, confused as he dug around in the drawers, finding whatever he was looking for before going to the sink. Eddie watched, wide eyed as he lit a match, promptly setting the paper on fire.

"Steve-"

“It doesn't matter what it says," Steve cut in, letting it drop into the sink, "I made my choice."

He turned away from the sink, stepping back into Eddie’s arms, “All I want is you.”

Eddie held him, forcing himself to be gentle when all he wanted to do was bury himself into the other man, "You won't regret it.” Eddie choked up, teary-eyed, “I'll spend the rest of my life making sure you don't."

"It sounds like you're proposing," Steve said with a wet laugh. Eddie started kissing his face, helpless to not touch him. 

"Maybe I am,”He managed to gasp out in between pecks, “But only if you'd say yes." 

Fuck being young. Fuck every doubt that other people would have. There was no future that existed where Eddie wouldn't want Steve. This was it, the only person he would ever want, ever need. Steve stopped him at his mouth, careful of his cut as he kissed him, so light it was barely there.

He whispered into the small space between their lips, like a secret just for them, "I would."

[ohitslen]

Chapter three was, something

So here is my tribute for it because God it’s so good. Here’s the link for this chapter, if you haven’t read it yet please I beg you to do so💖 read @flowercitti works they’re awesome ✨

I’m not even sure if I did Vash right but fuck it we ball, truly sorry if it is inaccurate ㅠㅠ

[draconicace]

been thinking lately that harry must know a lot about anatomy. he was a gym teacher and now he's a detective; he knows all about muscle groups and what makes them tick. well what if he knows how to give a massage. what if kim keeps rubbing at the back of his neck because he has to bend his head at a weird angle constantly to write in his notebook. what if harry manages to fight through his anxiety over touching people for a moment because he knows he can help alleviate kim's neck pain. what then

[only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are]

Swipe Right - Part 2

Part 1

CWs: pet whump, medical whump, mentions of kidnapping, drugging, needles, blood draw, stress positions, force feeding solid food

Charlie opened his eyes slowly, blinking as his eyes adjusted to a bright light. His head was pounding.

He slowly opened his eyes, finding himself in an unfamiliar cold white room. He was laying on a medical exam bed.

What had happened? He remembered being on a date.. a woman. Her name was something unusual..

Lacey.

He shot upright. At least, he tried to, before he was jerked back.The movement shot waves of dizziness through him, and he groaned.

"Hello, Charlie." A familiar voice cooed.

He shuddered as he opened his eyes to find Lacey standing over him. She was now wearing a pair of white scrubs, with her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail.

"What.. where am I?" he stammered, realising his arms were bound at his sides to the operating table he lay on, as were his legs.

"Welcome to HPP - Human Pet Providers. Not the most creative name, but we do as advertised." Lacey gestured around the room. "You have been selected as a good candidate for a companion pet."

Charlie had heard of pets, of course, in this sense, but he thought they were a rare priviledge for the uber-rich, and he thought people were only sold for this sort of thing in far-away cities. He thought he had been safe, but he was instead now trapped in a terrifying, nightmarish-reality. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but no sound came out.

Lacey reached out a hand and placed it on Charlie's jaw, shutting his mouth. She placed a finger over his lips, and leaned in close. "Sh, darling. You don't have to speak anymore. You don't have to think anymore. I will be taking care of everything now on." She murmured.

She drew back, and waved over to someone out of sight. Four figures in white strode over, their expressions cold and uncaring.

"You may begin the examination."

"My name is Doctor Vaughn." A man with almond-brown skin and dark eyes announced, as he pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves and adjusted his white coat.

The doctor cut apart Charlie's clothes, and pulled the shredded garments off him.

"Don't!" Charlie finally found his voice, protesting the removal of the only things he had on his back in this strange place.

"Oh! He talks." Doctor Vaughn laughed. "It's too bad I don't care."

The man's colleagues collected the remnants of Charlie's clothes, whilst Doctor Vaughn began organising instruments on a steel tray. When they were done, one of the assistants picked up a camera and began taking photos, the harsh light from the flash hurting Charlie's eyes. They positioned him, like a doll, turning him this way and that, tilting his chin and closing in on each and every detail of his skin. Lacey merely stood there, observing impassively. Occasionally, she would make a remark, telling him to relax, to 'not worry' because he didn't need worry in his life anymore. It was uneccessary.

They pulled down a device down from the cieling by its handles, then pressed a button, and the device began sliding back and forth across tracks on the cieling, then side to side.

After a few minutes, the device stopped in place, and beeped softly.

Then, Doctor Vaughn began to examine Charlie more closely. He palpated the muscles in his legs, and took his blood pressure with an inflatable cuff. Then, the Doctor began inspecting everry inch of his body, probing and prodding. He took measurements and notes which were spoken aloud and then written down by another of the people jn scrubs onto a tablet. Doctor Vaughn nodded at one of the measurements, then picked up a syringe. Charlie flinched against the restraints, not that that did anything.

"You will learn, soon enough, that there is no point resisting anymore." Lacey tutted, grasping Charlie's arm and forcing it to relax somewhat in the restraints.

Doctor Vaughn wiped the skin of Charlie's arm with an alcohol swab. He then attached a collection tube to the syringe and lined the needle up with a vein in Charlie's arm. In one swift motion, he inserted the needle into the vein and began to draw Charlie's blood into the tube. Charlie squirmed against the needle, ignoring the growing pinch in his arm. When the tube was full with his blood, Doctor Vaughn exchanged the full tube with an empty one. And when that was full, Charlie watched gratefully as the needle was finally removed from his arm. Doctor Vaughn wiped the blood from the wound and placed a bandage over it.

"He's ready for processing." Doctor Vaughn said, stripping off his gloves and disposing of them and the syringe.

"Excellent." Lacey clapped her hands together and moved to the door, gesturing in several guards wheeeling a hospital gurney. "Transfer him onto the gurney and take him to Room 10."

The guards were far from gentle as they undid Charlie's restraints and lifted him onto the gurney, which they proceeded to tie him down to once more.

"This isn't neccessary, let me go!" Charlie pleaded. "I promise  I won't try to escape, I-"

One of the guards slapped him across the face, earning a shocked gasp.

"Hey!" Lacey yelled. "DO NOT damage the merchandise."

She grabbed the guard by his black vest, and easily pinned him against the wall, despite how much smaller she was. "You do that again, I promise you you'll be the next one in my training room. Do you understand me?" She growled, her green eyes glinting with fury.

"I- I understand."

"I understand, ma'am."

"Y- yes, yes, I understand ma'am please let me go-"

With a snarl she dropped the guard and stormed off down the hall, the guards rushing to follow her, two of them pushing Charlie's gurney along beside them.

Charlie felt his heart pound from witnessing what had just happened. It was clear the woman who went by Lacey was just as intimidating as she was beautiful. Charlie shuddered, wondering what she would do to him next. As they rolled him down the endless white hallways, he tried to take a mental note of the path they were taking, but he quickly lost track. All the brightly light paths were the same, with each hall shooting off into more. It was maze-like, and he felt his heart drop as he realised any hope of escape would be slim.

The gurney came to a stop as they arrived at a door marked Room 10. Lacey keyed a code into the door, and the door opened with ease. The guards wheeled his gurney into the room. The room was a wide room, with a padded chair in the centre of the room, which resembled an old dentist's chair Steel trolleys were lined up next to the chair, and white counters lined the walls, with a steel sink and drawers and cabinets.

Lacey helped the guards undo Charlie's restraints, then they grasped his arms and legs and lifted him onto the chair. Immediately, they strapped him down around his middle, wrists, ankles, chest and forehead. As they strapped him down by the wrists, they turned his forearms up to the cieling.

"Please." Charlie tried. "You don't have to do this."

"Oh, I do. And I want to." Lacey grinned.

She picked up a box of nitrile gloves off the counter, and slipped a pair on.

"W've completed the physical exam, now it's time for the next part of your induction." Lacey pottered around the room, picking up and setting out tools as the guards took posts around the corners of the room.

"You will be given your number, and from here on you will only be referred to as your number until you are purchased and named by your buyer." Lacey combed her gloved fingers through Charlie's hair, softly, then she yanked hard, and pulled his chin towards her. "You know, we used to shave the heads of you pets. Or box boys, other companies call them." She mused. "Until I reminded the Director that there's so much more to do with you when you have beautiful long hair."

Fear and humiliation roiled in Charlie's stomach as Lacey manipulated the arms of the chair so that his arms were spread out, and then pushed a button on the chair which caused it to recline. She slipped on a pair of nitrile gloves and pulled a stool up beside Charlie.

"It's time to mark you as HPP property." She picked up a tattoo gun. The buzzing started before Charlie even registered what was happening.

Charlie's world exploded into pain. Sharp, scratching pain, as though a cat with a particular distaste towards him had been unleashed upon his arm and then decided to tread all over his fresh wounds. His head spun. By the time he cleared his head enough to look down at his arm and the source of the pain, on his pale arm was a barcode with small numbers inscribed below. '05794' it read.

"What the hell.." Charlie gasped weakly.

"You will be referred to by this number until you are purchased and brought to your new owner. I, as your Handler, will be able to access any of your information, including your medical files, through that barcode with a tablet." Lacey explained. "Useful little idea of mine, isn't it?"

Charlie winced as she wrapped up his fresh tattoo.

"Now, the tattoo is only a backup for this." Lacey picked up a metal band, and undid the restraint around his arm so that she could open the cuff and place it around his wrist. As the cuff clicked into place above the tattoo, a fresh pain exploded into his skin as two small needles shot out from the cuff and buried themselves into his skin.

"Ah!" Charlie gasped, trying to yank his arm away, but Lacey was far to quick for him and tied his arm back down to the chair. The cuff had a small screen across it, like a smartwatch.

"The cuff will monitor your vitals as well as being the main access point for your medical data and other information."

"Great. So you can make sure you don't kill me when you torture me." Charlie huffed. "Tell me Lacey, do you kidnap and torture all your dates?"

"Oh, Charlie. You were fished - HPP quite often has their agents use dating apps to select good candidates for their program. You can learn a lot about someone based off their dating profile.." Lacey explained.

"You can't do this, I'm a human being! I'm not your toy!" Charlie protested.

"You will now be known by your number, 05794, until you are purchased and renamed by your owner." Lacey ignored his protests and grasped his chin, her blood-red fingernails just lightly digging into his skin. "You are not a person anymore. You gave over that right when you walked in this door and signed your life away, your home, your individualty, your name, your freedom... everything that made you human."

"But I didn't sign-"

Charlie was cut off by a sharp pain in the muscle of his neck, he gasped in pain and bucked against his restraints, spotting a syringe out of the corner of his eye, from which Lacey was injecting a clear serum into him.

His vision blurred, and his eyelids grew heavy. He could close them, just for a moment..

------

When he opened his eyes, he had been sure he'd just blinked, but he found himself now laying down a small mattress against the back wall of a small room.

Charlie clambered to his feet, finding his legs shaky, but he needed to examine his surroundings. He held out a hand to steady himself, and as he did so his hand brushed against something. It was a metal cuff, hammered into the wall. He shuddered, and subconsioucly his fingers found the cuff around his right wrist. A tattoed barcode, on his left wrist.

He remembered- what did he remember? He remembered the date, the cafe, being drugged, waking up in another room, being clinically examined and 'processed' and then.. nothing.

He was wearing a thin white v-neck shirt and white boxers as he paced around the small, white cell. His bed was nothing but a simple cot on the floor, with a thin, threadbare blanket. In one corner was a very basic bathroom. There was a metal toilet, resembling one of those horrible toilets seen in jails, and a sink. The shower only consisted of a showerhead protruding from the wall and a drain in the floor.  A towel lay folded up on a small table by the shower, with three small bottles, which were labeled 'shampoo', 'conditioner' and 'body wash' respectively.

Across the room were various sets of 3 metal cuffs spread around the walls and the floor. The far wall of the room resembled a large mirror, with a door in the centre of it. The door had a small cutout in the bottom which was currently shut. Charlie assumed that the mirror was one of those two way mirrors. The whole room was painted white and illuminated with cool white lights. He shuddered, and took a step back towards the cot, fear and anxiety manifesting in his stomach as a swirl of nasea. The instant he moved, he was startled by the sound of a voice, coming from the corners of the small room.

"Attention, new pet. Welcome to Human Pet Providers. This room is where your primary room while you are in the facility. Twenty minutes before meal time, a bell will sound two times."              

The automated-sounding female voice paused, and a bell chimed twice.

"At the sound of this bell, you will begin practising various positions with the use of the cuffs around the room. Your Trainer will arrive shortly to demonstrate the positions with you. After the twenty minutes, the bell will sound again, three thrice."

The bell chimed three times.

"Then, your food will be delivered. If you have not completed 20 minutes of positions, you will not recieve any food."

There was silence and Charlie waited for the voice to tell him anything else about his room, or the facility, or how they would know if he did his training. But there was only silence, before the loud chime sounded twice.

A moment later, the door to the rood swung open, allowing Lacey inside.  "It's time for you first training."

She stepped into the room,  striding towards Charlie. She guided him towards a set of chains on one wall.

"Squat with your back against the wall." Lacey ordered.

Not seeing much point in resisting, he did as she said. She cuffed his feet to the wall, then cuffed his arms together above his head. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was fine for the first minute.

"You can pick which positions you do before each meal. You can do four for five minutes each, or spend more or less time as you prefer.

Two minutes in, and his legs were burning as she spoke. His knees trembled, and he felt a sharp tug on his wrists and biceps as his arms were forced to take his weight and were almost yanked from their sockets.

"Grrnnngh- make it- stop-" Charlie ground out, his whole body shaking with pain.

She pressed a button on the metal cuff on his right wrist and his arms were released from their restraints. She pressed a button on each of his ankles, and then he was released at his legs also. His legs, now as wobbly as jello, gave out beneath him and he sank to the floor.

When he had caught his breath, she took him through several more positions  - from ones that forced him to kneel, to more that kept his arms forced into uncomfortable positions. Each one made his limbs burn and his body be exposed to the trainer.

When finally the chime alerted them to meal time, she released the restraints for the last time and he sank to the floor, chest heaving and his cheeks burning. The slot in the door opened, and a tray was slid through, which Lacey picked up and brought over to Charlie. There was a sandwhich, a cup of water and a plastic bowl of broth. The cutlery was plastic too, and the bowl of broth was only luke-warm - likely to stop inmates using anything as a weapon. There was also a paper cup with half a dozen different coloured and sized pills.

"Good pet." Lacey cooed, running a hand through his hair. "Now, eat up. You need your strength."

As he sat, she picked up the bowl of broth and began to spoon-feed him. He tried to pull away, but she grabbed his head, locking it in place.

"Shhh, '794. The sooner you accept you no longer have any control, the easier this will all be."

She finished feeding him the broth, then fed him the sandwhich, closing his lips together when he refused to swallow, and finally he gave in. She helped him take a few sips of water, before she held out the pill cup. Charlie made a keening sound - it was embarrasing, and he blushed furiously, but he wasn't strong enough for this. The trainer forced his jaw open, uncaring, and poured the pills into his mouth along with some water, before forcing his lips shut, and massaging his throat. The motion triggered his gag-reflex, and he swallowed, the pills burning his throat. Charlie coughed and spluttered, as Lacey pulled herself off the floor, carrying the tray, as she headed to the door.

"Sleep well, pet. You'll need it. This is just the beginning of your training." Lacey drawled.

With that, she left the room, leaving Charlie behind on the floor of the cell, tears trickling down his cheeks as he curled his body up into a ball for comfort.                                     

Tags: Please ask to be tagged!

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Random dialogue prompt for no reason:

"You could have said that earlier."

"I tried to. Unfortunately, you had your head shoved so far up your own ass you couldn't hear me."

[snickerdoodlles]

📚

YOI ? 🙏

it took me a little while to dig through my mess of a folder, but the story idea that made me snort the hardest when i rediscovered it was a 'Yuuri on tinder' fic. this is everything i have for it:

Yuuri is legendary on tinder. “No I’m not,” grumbles Yuuri, attempting to ignore Phichit’s dramatics using the very devil at the heart of the issue. This is not his fault. Sean Richardson’s adorable Dalmatian is in three of his four profile pics and Yuuri is in love. He thumbs fly across the screen, phone dinging with another match. Phichit gasps, phone out. “And Yuuri achieves a match again! That’s right folks, Yuuri Katsuki continues to do the impossible and achieve a match for every swipe right!” Yuuri rolls his eyes. It’s all nonsense, of course. Vicchan is in every one of his profile pics and clearly the main draw of his flock of admirers. Which is completely fine for Yuuri. He’s only on tinder for the pets, it’s good he’s drawing a like-minded crowd.

i don't remember the exact plot of this story (undoubtedly because i was sure i'd never forget it), but one day, Yuuri decides to get a tinder to meet fellow pet owners. im sure his logic when he did this was impeccable. yuuri is very oblivious to how successful he is on tinder. Yuuri pets so many dogs, sleeps with so many people (coincidence, he's sure), and Viktor is absolutely in love with Yuuri's massive photo album of dogs until he discovers how Yuuri met all of them (cue Viktor struggles, because DOGS but also JEALOUSY) (and also why won't Yuuri sleep with him, he brought his dog all the way from Russia 😭)

[ascendingtostardust]

Yet To Wander - Sam’s profile

A super special thank you to @sammykiszkamyass for making Sam’s profile from the story come to life!

[kindahoping4forever]

AshtonIrwin: Writing process moments with @ iamlpofficial for "Love Lines" out everywhere right now 😍

[crispyjenkins]

imma need y’all to stop posting 2,000 word fics on here without a readmore

[thirteenemeraldcats]

I would to know more about the untitled-Jamie-blue-screen fic, if you wanted to share anything about it : )

Hello terrifyingly talented friend! I am happy to share!!

So this fic started rolling while I was writing 'i learned to walk while he was away', - that story explores some of the 'unseen' effects of Jamie's experiences, specifically what his relationship to expressions of violence (even when positively channelled) might be after growing up with an angry man. The 'untitled-Jamie-blue-screen-day' fic (which is technically 'redacted-title-Jamie-blue-screen-day' fic, I'm a fairly changeable person and the title's redacted purely because it's still subject to possible [who knows, not me] change) is another exploration of some of the 'unseen' or more accurately 'undeveloped' parts of Jamie's psyche that canon skips over.

Specifically, the symptoms of depression he displays in 3x11 Mom City.

I'm a card carrying member of the 'Jamie has multiple missing diagnoses' bandwagon and know first hand what a horrifyingly tricky combo neurodivergence and clinical depression can be.

I use a lot of metaphors to describe/understand the complexities of mental health- when I was studying it, when I'm teaching it and yea when I'm thinking about my own brain :)

Most of the metaphors are computer based- product of the times I guess.

The untitled-title 'blue screen day' is how I unaffectionately refer to the days when that horrifyingly tricky combo decides to be extra horrifying and extra tricky and causes total system overload. The days when you forget how to be a person. That 'blue screen' blink feeling of not functioning, but then it's not momentary, it's not a blink, it doesn't go away. You're seeing with your eyes sure, but you're not really seeing and they don't really feel like your eyes. You exist in your body yes, but do you really exist? Is it actually your body?

(To use plain language; it's a brief and intense episode of severe burn-out, typically bought on by cognitive and/or sensory overload, but sometimes seemingly spontaneous [clinical!].)

So that's what I gave Jamie, a blue-screen-day (sorry buddy).

But I also gave him Roy! And a smoothie! He'll be okay.

(Essentially the story is the idea that sometimes things don't have solutions or answers or a quick and easy fix. Sometimes all you can do is be. Sometimes all you can do to help is be there.)

The fic really is gentle hours, I swear.

[kayedium-writes]

Swipe Right - The Conclusion!

Padmé Naberrie's sorority sisters were completely responsible for her downloading that dreaded dating app in the first place, but who was responsible for swiping right on their college's star-athlete Anakin Skywalker? And better yet, who was responsible for him swiping back and sending her a message in the middle of the night?

Padmé felt the anticipation in the crowd, a slow building rumble that ended in the roar of applause she’d grown accustomed to. 

“That’s another home run for Skywalker, folks! What a way to end the season!”

Her face lit up, clapping and waving at her boyfriend who shamelessly turned to blow her a kiss—one of his newest ‘traditions’—before he took his lap around the bases. She listened to the announcers praising Anakin’s year, giving game statistics she still didn’t understand, and soaking in the cheers around her. 

Dormé grabbed her shoulder tight and shook. “Another one! Your man has been on fire all year and I don’t care what you say...”

She rolled her eyes, shoving her friend in return. “I did nothing!”

The Epilogue is up now, and you can read it here on AO3!

(Yep, you read that right. Swipe Right is officially finished with some last minute inspiration. Thank you so much for reading, following along, and rolling with all of my sporadic updates)

[acermp100]

WAWA WEEK PART 4: WAWA RISING

28/3 – Animals/Food: KITTIES

This one is just silly. Based loosely on this.

Mob and Serizawa chill together during a Reigen sanctioned break. Kittens ensue.

General audience. More implied seri/rei. I think I added it to everyone of these I'm sorry.

2700~ words

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

The sun still hung high in the air with a few puffy, white clouds keeping the air cool enough to be pleasant. This part of town would be busy in a few hours but right after lunch it sat quite empty. They walked past only a few people heading back to work. Bird song could be heard from the row of trees leading up to a small, communal park.

Serizawa had been here before, but only in passing. He found himself distracted by all the nature he had never noticed: butterflies and caterpillars as a squirrel of some sort gnawed at a nut on one of the tree branches.

“Alright crew!”

Reigen stopped walking, causing the others to halt as well. Serizawa went stiff as a board.

“We mistimed that last client.” And there went the hands. Serizawa watched them as they emphasized every word. “And having completed the prior service faster than expected, as well as finishing lunch early, we now have accrued and extra hour before our next appointment.”

All three had been together for the day, Reigen, Mob, and Serizawa, traveling from one home to another after someone got a brilliant scheme to charge even more for house calls. Personal Psychic Visits call today!

“Do we go back for more lunch?” Mob looked up at his boss waiting for an answer.

“Or maybe, um-“ Serizawa turned away as he played with his hands infront of him. “Get some- uh- office supplies?”

“Haha. Your answers are exactly why I have prepared this task for you.” Reigen brought a hand to his face before drawing it down in a long arc. “You two are going to take a break!”

Mob and Serizawa blinked back.

Reigen let out a sigh. “Look just- just go to that park over there and sit down for a while. Ok?”

“Oh.” Serizawa gave a bow. “Thank you, Reigen-san!”

He followed behind Mob through the little gate into a shaded patch flanked by large trees. Their leaves danced in the light breeze creating little rays of sun that shone onto the surface of the small fountain at the center. A few benches circled the meager, but peaceful area. With no one else around they sat down together and took a moment to enjoy that special kind of silence that only nature could provide.

“I’ve never done this before.” Serizawa spoke after a bit. “Just taking a break in the middle of everything I mean.” A concerned grin. “Especially not for Spirits and Such!”

Mob looked out through the park into the street that ran by before turning back. “I think Shishou just wanted us out of the way so he could go pitch salt lamps to that café owner.”

A nod from Serizawa. “Ah, he did bring them up during the meal.”

“And the owner seemed interested.” Mob replied.

Serizawa tried to see if he could spot Reigen from this distance. Through one of the café windows there appeared to be someone doing part of a gymnastics routine. Yeah. That was probably him.

A few birds flitted by, landing on a low hanging branch before hoping up and along to another, singing as they went. Taking time off felt right: a little break to gather one’s self and be in the moment. Serizawa watched Mob start to lightly kick his legs back and forth under him, before he too looked down at his own feet and followed along. When he was in school this would have been branded as a pointless waste of time. In Claw he would have been told to stop goofing off and focus. A butterfly landed on one of the flowers that bloomed around the fountain, lowering its wings before bringing them together.

“Hey, do you hear that?”

Sitting up with a jerk, Serizawa broke from his pseudo meditation. “Hear what??”

“Shhh.” Mob was leaning down, trying to see under the bench. “Not so loud.”

“Hear what?” Serizawa repeated in a barely audible whisper.

All he could manage to detect was the bird song above. But then, one of the calls sounded too different and much lower. Both of them looked up at the opposite bench as the weeds underneath began to shift and rustle.

“Mree!”

A small, white kitten wandered out from the grass. It had little spots of black fur on his face and legs with one front paw being nearly all dark making it appear as if it was wearing one large sock. This was the leg it was lifting up as it cried out, steadily making its way towards Serizawa and Mob.

“Awww!” Serizawa brought his hands up to his face. “It’s so tiny! Is it hurt??”

Mob slid off the bench and crouched down, holding out his fingers. “I think so.” In a higher pitched voice he cooed to the little kitten. “Come here! It’s ok, we’re nice.”

The kitten paused for a moment before trotting over with increased speed, going straight for a headbutt and rub against Mob’s leg. More high pitched mews rang out.

“I wonder if its mom is near.” Mob gently pet the tiny thing as it pawed at his hand. The hurt leg seemed fine now.

“We can check the bushes.” Serizawa joined him, sitting in the cool grass. “His little spots are so, cute like a tiny cow.”

The kitten tripped, rolling over before making sure to give Serizawa’s leg a good rub too. Another round of meows. But this time there were far more, all cascading over one another in a growing choir.

“Oh my-“

Serizawa gripped his chest. Two more kittens came out of the far bush. No, three. Five?

“There’s so many!” Mob found them tumbling over each other to get onto his lap as well as Serizawa’s.

Now eight in total kittens, some black and white like the first, others ginger or tabby, were circling, climbing, and mewing up a storm with their new found human friends. Serizawa hand’s began to shake as he struggled to give each one the attention they deserved.

“Look! This one has little white socks!” Mob held up a dark tabby with lighter paws.

Serizawa was grinning wide, a few tears in his eyes at the momentous and sudden explosion of preciousness. “And this little guy has a black nose! All white and just that spot on his face!”

“Ha ha. I’ve never seen so many before at once.” Mob too was laughing in full, laying back to allow the kitties to use him as a make shift cat tree.

“I used to see ginger kittens all the time when I walked back from school.” Serizawa was now holding one in each hand as they loudly purred, his fingers feeling the happy vibrations. “My mom and I had a joke that every cat in the area was ginger and came from some big orange cat Kami.”

“I hope they weren’t abandoned.” Mob’s voice trailed off while he gave quality chin scritches to the two now lying on his chest.

Serizawa frowned for a bit at the thought. Didn’t matter now because they were here. He watched one crouch, wiggling its butt before leaping to pounce on his shoe. Three others had decided his lap was now their bed. For a moment it was all mews and smiles until one of the ginger decided to climb up Serizawa’s back. The little claws pricked through his suit and he froze while the kitten managed to get all the way up to his shoulder. There it stood triumphant, rubbing against his cheek with its whole body with a rumbling purr.

“Uh- um.” Serizawa’s hands were shaking even worse now. “Shigeo?”

The levels of adorable had been too much and now some of the kittens were hovering a few inches off the ground along with some small stones and bits of grass.

“I’m s-sorry! I’m trying to keep control.” He was tense now, eyes closing.

Mob sat up. “It’s alright! They seem to like it. Look!”

Taking a deep breath, Serizawa opened one eye, then the other. A black and white kitten floated in front of his face pawing at its own tail, purring as it slowly rotated in the air. The ones in his lap were still snuggled together but had their heads up as they gained their bit of altitude. Two more in the air seemed to be trying to play fight but hovered a few inches too far away resulting in excited rolling and pawing.

“Th-they do!” Serizawa raised a hand and gently cupped one of the battling kittens. It plopped into his palm, belly up and paws curled. “They are so cute, how could someone just dump them in a park?”

“I don’t know.” Mob aided the other floating cats to the ground. The mews he got in return made him smile from ear to ear. “We can help them though.”

It was Serizawa’s turn to lie back, letting out a sigh as he marinated in fur and purrs. “How though?”

“They are probably hungry.”

“Oh! Wait.” Turning to his side, Serizawa pulled his brief case closer and started to rummage through the contents. “I have some jerky in here somewhere. Aha!”

He sat back up with a bag of shredded and dried beef. From just the smell, every kitten congregated around him, reaching up to swipe at the food. Serizawa laughed, his free hand trying to garner enough space in the grass for him to place the jerky. Eventually he gave up against the jumping, crowding kittens and simply dumped the entire bag amongst them.

The meowing stopped, replaced now with chewing amid ever continuing purrs with a few growls in between as they all defended their treats. One stepped back, shaking its self. Another had dropped its piece and was pawing at it.

“Oh.” Mob picked up one of the discarded bits. “I think this stuff is too hard for them.”

“Oh no. I don’t really have anything things else.” Serizawa went through his pack again. “What do they need? Milk?”

Picking one up, Mob stared at the little thing in his hands. Ginger with white front paws, it mewed before gnawing at his thumb.

“They are small but probably off milk, or at least close.” The others had given up eating and resumed their needy meows. “We need something soft, like canned tuna.”

Serizawa frowned down. Just then Reigen came across the corner with a bag of fries in one hand, his cell phone in another, and several of the fried potatoes sticking out from his lips while he chewed on a generous mouthful.

“What the-” His shock came out muffled by the food. Swallowing, he held both the fries and cell phone out at arm’s length. “I left you alone for 30 minutes!”

“S-sorry, Reigen-san.” Serizawa turned his head to avoid the angry stare of his boss. “We got a bit side tracked.”

“Shishou!” Mob looked up. “Can you buy some cat food? The soft kind in the cans!”

“I- wait-what?” Reigen wandered over still trying to piece together what exactly he was looking at.

The cat that had climbed onto Serizawa’s shoulder had now made it to the top of his head, making the man laugh. “Yes please! And maybe a box so we can carry them!”

The boss of Spirits and Such stood there over his two employees sitting in the grass covered in mewing kittens. One of the rascals ran over and butted up against his pants leg, looking up and letting out a tiny, happy trill.

“I’m not getting cat food!” He took a few steps back. The kitten pursued. “And we can’t keep them! What are we going to do, take them to the office?”

Mob gazed up with wide eyes and a kitten against his cheek as he held up one of the dark tabbies. “Shishou please? It’s just for the day until we can take them to the shelter.”

“They are all alone with no mother.” Serizawa joined in, giving his best sad face. “We have to do something.”

“But I- you see- we can’t just- and the office and- UGH!” Reigen ended his broken ramble and crossed his arms in front of him. “We have a client to meet up with in like 20 minutes!” Pointing at one kitten, he drew an arm down before bringing it up into an open palm, fingers tensing. “I told you to take a break not adopt half the strays in the area.”

The normally gruff and serious Serizawa spoke in a soft, begging pitch as he met his boss’s eyes. “Please, Reigen-san.”

A bit of red flushed over Reigen’s cheeks and he hid his face in a hand. Can’t say no to that.

“FINE!” He huffed for a moment before crossing his arms again and glaring daggers at what ever happened to be at is right side. It was a tree. “I’ll- call the client and say something came up.” Another grumble. “Then we can take them back to the office.” He looked back at his employees. “Will that make you happy?”

Serizawa and Mob both beamed while covered in kittens. “Yes! Thank you!”

A few moments later, Reigen returned with a cardboard box he had scavenged in the nearby alley, his mind racing. Serizawa took it and gave a bow, smiling at his boss.

“You’re a good man, Reigen-san.”

Reigen turned away, Serizawa failing to notice the blush and distant look in his eyes. After a careful kneel, he began to pick up the kittens one by one with Mob and place them into the box. The task proved difficult as the little guys kept jumping out again, but eventually they got every last one of them secured.

Mob held the box leaving Serizawa to get the rest of their things. Over his shoulder he could hear Reigen muttering on the phone amongst the kitten mews.

“Yes I’m sorry. There’s been a bit of an emergency with- with the client before you. Can we reschedule? Y-yes. I can give a discount. Alright. See you tomorrow.”

Serizawa watched his boss snap his phone closed and drop his shoulders, ending with a long sigh. For a moment their eyes met and Serizawa gave a sheepish grin back. Reigen straightened his back and managed a smile of his own. Just then a kitten ran between his legs and Reigen panicked, chasing after the little thing before tripping into a bench.

“Reigen-san!” Serizawa rushed over. “Are you alright?”

A mumble before Reigen picked himself up off the back of the bench, wiping dirt off his suit jacket. “Yeah. But I think I lost the kitten.”

“No worries, Shishou.”

Mob stood with the box and the now hovering escapee floated over to them. Reigen held out his hands and took the kitten. It mewed, going for the pink tie but flopping over and deciding to remain half curled up on its back.

“Maybe one of them can be the office mascot.” Serizawa suggested as Reigen pet at the tiny ginger kitty.

“That’s what Dimple is for.”

A chuckle from both of them. And yet Reigen’s gaze was fixed on the cat as it purred and made biscuits against his fingers. For a moment he remained lost in thought, relaxed and joyful, but soon snapped back to his expected levels of strained charisma.

“Alright! Let’s head back to the office and see if we can contact the local shelter.”

Serizawa let out a sigh. Maybe one day his boss would learn what taking a break is all about. Until then, perhaps a box of eight adorable, mewing kittens would help.