#You just feel TERRIBLE. Shouldn't I give in ? I want to give in. It feels wrong but fighting it feels even worse. I'm tired

[another-clive-blog]

Why are we as a fandom not talking more about this scene ??

Clive is literally asking the professor to come back and stop him. Like this isn't him pretending to be Future Luke : he looks genuinely upset/displeased even after the professor promises to come back. He only goes back to smiling after the professor says, and I quote "I wouldn't dream of leaving things here in that state" before talking about stopping his future self. Clive wants confirmation that Layton is actually going to confront the bad guys, that he won't just solve the mystery but fix it too.

And this is literally so important. Clive's speech at the end, about getting saved. This is concrete proof that he had truly meant it from the start, because he's asking for Layton to stop him and thus save everyone here. Which, hey- he didn't just hope and wait to get saved, he tried to save himself too.

Yep, that's right. The game talks about how dangerous it was for Clive to bring Layton underground : it doesn't talk about how even more dangerous it was to let him leave. He could have brought back cops (he did). He could have gathered precious knowledge out there (he did). He could have never come back (and yet he did !!). Clive letting Layton leave is the biggest threat to his plan, and yet HE DID. And you know what else he did ? Make Layton promise to stop him. You can't make a clearer call for help, you just can't.

"Oh but it doesn't make his crimes more forgivable, now does it-" of course not. This isn't about Clive's redemption, it's about Clive trying to avoid needing a redemption : his efforts are vain the moment he started using the fortress. But. There were efforts.

[wild-wombytch]

Healthy anxiety coping mechanism ✅:

using the sophrology exercises I learnt today before tackling the call with my brother

My toxic chosen anxiety coping mechanism 😈 :

Sending a seething reply with thinly veiled threats to my ex harassing me/being creepy + filling it with radfem propaganda before having a 1min monologue with my brother's voicemail

[trans-leek-cookie]

Hm I'm not putting this in yhe main tags bc. Yeah but I'm blocking ppl who call the step mother hot

[astrxealis]

hi! watching/listening to a translation of the voice dramas starting from the beginning rn ^__^

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 7 : Sweet Strawberry

Summary: You're not a soldier, you're just an omega. You shouldn't have to remind them of that, yet you find yourself needing to. Price makes it up to you in the best way possible.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, fluff, suggestive content, terrible flirting

A/N: Not entirely happy with it but it's done and I can move on from this one. I struggled so much with this chapter omg. Also, I just wanted to make it clear that I am not from the UK, I've never been to the UK, I'm simply going off of prior knowledge and what Google can tell me. So, if there's any inaccuracies, I am so sorry.

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You’re expecting the knock when it comes. You’d been standing in front of your door for almost five minutes, and you get it open almost before he’s finished, hand still raised. He gives no sign that betrays his surprise, if he feels any at all, instead he simply looks you over before turning on his heel and marching towards the door. 

You close your door behind you, slipping down the hallway after him. It’s raining again, though you had prepared for that, flipping the hood of your jacket up as you hurry after Ghost. He threatens to disappear in the darkness of morning, slipping between the street lamps like a specter. It’s not often you get to see the true danger in them, the threats that they pose, the things that make them good at their job. You can imagine how many on his opposing side have been caught unawares by the way he seems to flow with the darkness around him. 

You are significantly less graceful and quiet, feet slapping the wet pavement as you speed walk to keep up with the giant alpha. You can almost imagine the look on his face as you plod along behind him. If your lives depended on your silence at this moment, well, it wouldn’t entirely have been your fault. If he didn’t walk so fucking fast...

He’s at least courteous enough to hold the door open for you, though perhaps that was simply something that was deeply ingrained in him. Manners that become unconscious practice, even when you despise the person you’re with. He leads you down the hall towards the practice room again, unlocking it and flipping on the lights. He empties his pockets and removes his shoes and sweatshirt, before moving to one of the punching bags. 

You can already predict what your lesson today will entail. Your knuckles have almost completely healed since your little fit a week ago. You quickly strip off your jacket and toe off your wet shoes, moving to join him without having to be told. 

“Do you know how to wrap your hands?” He asks, holding out two rolls of hand wraps. 

“No.” You shake your head. It’s not entirely true. They had shown you once while you were with the CIA, but that had been weeks ago and you’re sure you’ve forgotten the right way to do it. Even if you tried, he’d likely sigh and do it himself anyway. 

He lets out a breath, pocketing one of the wraps before grabbing your right wrist. His hands are just as rough as you remember them being the day you punched Corporal Allen, calluses dragging against your skin as he meticulously wraps the fabric around your fingers. You watch him, trying to memorize how to do it in hopes that maybe, eventually, you’ll surprise him and manage it yourself. 

He finishes your hands quickly before wrapping his own. You flex your hands, trying to get used to the feeling of the wraps. They’re not too tight, shockingly. You had half expected him to choke your fingers until they’re purple just because. But, you also know Price will be looking for any mark or sign of injury as soon as he sees you at breakfast. The thought of him laying into Ghost for even a bruise as your stomach twisting, and not in a bad way. 

“Make a fist.” Ghost says, crossing his arms as he stands in front of you. 

You stare at his bulging muscles for a second too long, quickly curling your fingers as your face warms. 

He takes hold of your hand, inspecting your fist. “Not bad.” 

“I did grow up with brothers.” You murmur. 

“Did they ever hit you?” He asks as he turns you to face the boxing bag. 

“Only playfully.” You say, missing the subtle edge to his voice. “Dad would have caved their heads in if they ever tried.” 

You can’t see the way he’s staring at you as he stands slightly behind you, but you can feel his gaze as it lingers for just a second longer than you expected it to. You’re not sure if maybe he doesn’t believe you, or maybe he knows there’s more to the story. You’ve hardly spoken about your family since your arrival, but they seemed to accept the fact that they haven’t been your family for years now as a valid reason.

“Get into your fighting stance.” He finally says, moving around you as you take the stance you had perfected last training session. “Good.” He says, looking you over. “Now throw a punch at the bag.” 

You squeeze your fists, imagining Corporal Allen’s face on the bag before you throw a punch, barely managing to move the bag. 

“Punches like that are what will get you hurt.” Ghost says, extending your arm. “You can throw your weight, which is good. That’s why you were able to throw Allen off his feet. You’re asking for a broken arm, though. Keep your arm flat and facing downwards through the entire punch. Aim with the knuckles and twist your lower body for support.” 

He throws a punch at the bag, the sound of his fist hitting it loud, and you watch the bag swing back and forth violently. He could probably punch through you if he wanted to. Your pitiful punch wouldn’t even stun him. 

He stops the bag from swinging, having you throw repeated punches at it. He fixes your form and technique as you go, teaching you different kinds of punches. Your arms quickly get tired, and you know you’re going to be sore again. Maybe you should take up some weight lifting or something. You could ask Soap to help you. 

You go until your arms feel like they're going to fall off, your shoulders burning. “I can't anymore.” You whine, breathing heavily from the exertion of throwing punches for 30 minutes. 

“You have to learn to push through the pain.” He says, looming over you. “You think in a fight, everyone will just stop because your arms are tired? Or you're a little sore?”

He has a point. 

You take half a step back as he invades your space, leaning down close to you. “If they're out for blood, they won't even stop even as you're bleeding out in front of them.” His eyes are dark, biting into you, speaking volumes of his knowledge and experience. You wonder how many times he's been in that situation, how many times he's had to fight quite literally for his life. He steps away from you, moving towards the center of the mat. “Come on. I'll teach you some combinations.” 

You don't want to follow him. You want to curl up in a corner and nap for the next four hours. You don't doubt he'll find a way to force you, though, so you move to the center of the mat with a sigh. 

He teaches you different combinations, working through them over and over. You're sloppy, mixing up which punch is which, which move means what. It only gets worse as you get more and more tired, but Ghost is relentless. 

Finally after almost an hour and a half of training, he calls it. Your legs are shaking and you can barely lift your arms to unravel the wraps from around your hands. You sink onto the floor, laying out flat on the padding as you try to catch your breath. 

“Come on.” Ghost says, lacing up his shoes. “You'll have time to shower before breakfast if we get back now.”

“Wait. Just gimme a minute.” You breathe, not even sure you have the willpower to get up from the floor, much less the muscle power. 

He lets out a sigh before approaching you, bending down to slip his hands under your arms. “On your feet, soldier.”

He lifts you easily, far too easily. Your legs shake, nearly giving out as you're forced onto them. You pout, ignoring the ache in your bones as you're forced upright. 

“‘M not a soldier.” You murmur. 

“In here with me, you are. You want to learn to fight, you get treated just like everyone else I've taught.” He says, glowering down at you. “Now get your shoes on and let's go.”

Your brows pull into a frown, but you do as he says, slipping your shoes back on and your jacket. You had hoped perhaps he would have a little mercy, given your status and inexperience, but it seems you're not even being awarded that. You know part of it is his revenge for you invading his protective circle around Soap, for kissing Soap in front of him. 

The frown doesn't leave your face as you follow him back to the barracks, having to almost run to keep up with him. 

“You look tired.”

“I am. I had training with Ghost again this morning.” 

“How is that going?”

“It's hard.” You admit, sinking back in your chair. “He's hard on me. He sees me as a soldier, not an omega.”

“Have you brought this up to him?” Dr. Keller asks, crossing her feet as she relaxes on the couch across from you.

You nod. “Yeah. He said I have to push through it, because if I wind up in a real fight, they won't go easy on me.”

“Well, I can’t say he’s wrong about that. But, that’s still no excuse.” Dr. Keller tilts her head at you. “You could bring it up to Captain Price. He is your pack alpha, and he’s also Lieutenant Riley’s. I don’t doubt he’d bring it up to him on your behalf.” 

He would, but you don’t really want to stir the pot in that way. The last thing you need to do is become a tattle-tail. It’s quiet between you for a few moments, Dr. Keller shuffling her papers as you mark a clear end to that conversation. 

“How did you do on your assignment? I see you’re wearing a different sweatshirt this morning.” She says, eyeing you. 

You’re wearing Price’s sweatshirt, the one he gifted you. You’ve been wearing it almost every day, his scent still clinging to the fabric. Your face warms as she stares at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, but...I didn’t ask for this one. Price gave it to me after I told him about where my other one came from. I uh...I kissed Soap. And Gaz.” 

“Oh?” Her brows raise, and she writes something down on the paper. Your face warms even more as you watch her pen move with every letter. You can only imagine what she’s putting down. “Is that something you wanted? I know we talked briefly about it last time.” She says.

You nod. “Yes. I did want it. I...I also...kneeled...with Price...Did a couple times actually...” 

Dr. Keller’s mouth opens in surprise, her eyes shining as she looks at you. “You did? That’s huge! That’s an incredible development! Did you initiate, or did he?” 

“I did.” You say bashfully, sinking back further into the chair. “Both times.” 

Dr. Keller smiles at you, looking almost proud. “This is a big step in the right direction. How did it go? Were you able to relax?” 

You nod. “Yeah. It was nice. He was...gentle. He did it right.” 

“Good. How did you do coming down from it? I know it can be intense and difficult for some omegas.” She asks. 

You shrug. “Fine. I felt it a bit the morning after, but it wasn’t too bad. I fell asleep on him both times.” 

“Oh?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Did you stay with him?” 

You shake your head. “No, Gaz took me to my room both times.” 

“Good. That’s good practice, for when your heat comes. Shows how much trust they have in each other.”

You hadn’t really thought of that. There was a lot of trust involved in omega’s heats. Omegas have to trust their alphas to take care of them while they’re blind with insatiable need, but both alpha and omega have to trust a beta to keep them alive. Your heat will trigger Price’s rut and make him lose control for a while, and it will be up to Gaz to keep you both fed and hydrated. He’ll be the one to help you both afterwards as well.

“Have you started nesting yet?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You shake your head. “No. Don’t feel any drive to either.” 

Dr. Keller hums as she writes something down. “Well, it has only been two weeks. Though, perhaps if you can manage to ask for some things to make your space more comfortable, that might help ease you into it.” 

You chew on your lip, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You know she’s right. Until you’re comfortable and feel safe enough, you won’t feel the drive to nest. You’ll need to nest before your heat arrives. Otherwise, it’ll cause issues for both you and Price. 

“When...when should I be worried?” You ask. 

“Hmm...” Dr. Keller looks at her calendar. “If you’re not feeling any sort of drive to nest by our next appointment, then I’d say we may need to consider using some exercises to help jump start it.” 

“Exercises?” You ask warily. 

“All easy things.” She reassures you. “Things like scent introductions, tactile explorations, and some bonding exercises might be helpful as well.” She writes something down on a sticky note. “I’ll explain everything in detail and you’ll get to choose whether you want to do any of it or not. No one’s going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, alright?” 

Tears prick your eyes at her words, and you furiously blink them back. It’s a little late for that kind of sentiment. Your presence here alone was thanks to a long line of people forcing you to do things you’re not comfortable with. It was easy to get lost in the excitement and the emotions of bonding with a pack, easy to forget that you would never have chosen this place had you ever been given the option to choose. 

You would have gone far from the military, far from this kind of life. It’s your duty to bond with an alpha, but what if you don’t want to? What if it’s all a front, and as soon as you’re claimed the curtains rise and suddenly everything is different? What if Price isn’t as kind as you’ve come to believe him? Just one squeeze too tightly around the back of your neck while you’re kneeling and everything would change. 

How easily he could take everything from you. 

“You want to talk about what’s going on in your head right now?” Dr. Keller asks, breaking the silence between you two.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d been staring off into space, lost in your thoughts. Of course she knows something’s changed. She’s spent years learning the ins and outs of omegas and all the secrets you can only imagine. She’s probably just as in tune with subtle changes as the four well trained soldiers that make up your new pack. Maybe even more in tune with them. 

You shake your head, keeping your gaze on the floor. 

“Remember nothing shared in this room leaves this room. It’ll always only be between us.” She says softly. 

You’re panicking. You can feel the pressure rising within you. You’re like a grenade and someone is about to pull the pin. You’re afraid you’ll spill everything to her, afraid you’ll let out things you’ve successfully kept buried for years and years. Things you’ve left behind, things you’ve had to move on from. Things you can’t afford to let out now. 

“I’d like to be done now.” You silently curse the way your voice shakes. 

Dr. Keller’s brows pull into a frown but she nods. “Okay.” She slips her papers into her notebook before standing. “Let me grab my keys.” 

You stand as she moves to her desk, grabbing her keys from the drawer. She leads you from her office, thankfully staying quiet as you walk through the rain towards the barracks. You’re still panicking, the turmoil inside you probably projecting the sour scent across the entire courtyard but you don’t care. You can’t. 

“Remember, if you ever need anything, I’m usually in my office.” Dr. Keller says as she drops you off at the door. 

You feel guilty as you hurry to your room, shoes squeaking on the tile. You feel bad for cutting the appointment off early, you feel bad for feeling the way you do. Later you’ll be grateful for Dr. Keller respecting your boundaries and not pushing, for following through with her promise and letting you be in control of the appointment. 

Right now you don’t care. Right now you can’t care. You’re too lost in your turmoil, the bitter scent of your distress seeping out from under the locked door. 

“...can ye talk tae me, hen? Let me know yer alright?” 

The soft voice coming through the closed door pulls you out from your burrow under the thin blanket. You blink blearily at your phone, trying to see the time. It’s just a little past the normal time you go to lunch with them. How long have they been knocking on the door? 

“Come on, lass.” Soap’s voice comes through the door again. “I dinnae want tae have tae kick in the door.” 

You force yourself out from under the blanket, pocketing your phone before quickly moving to your door. You throw it open, Soap’s eyes immediately scanning you as you rub tiredly at your eyes. You don’t doubt he’d kick in your door if he felt he had to. 

“Sorry,” You yawn. “I was asleep.” 

His eyebrows raise as he stares down at you. “Ye were asleep? Ye weren’t kidding about bein’ a heavy sleeper.” He leads you from the barracks, crossing the courtyard towards the mess.

“One time, when I was about two or three, my dad took us to some demonstration on base.” You say as you begin walking to the mess with him. “I fell asleep about halfway through and slept through a howitzer going off.” 

Soap lets out a laugh so loud it echoes in the courtyard. “Ye slept through a howitzer?” 

You nod. “Yup. My dad never let me live it down. I heard it all the time. ‘You’ll have to try hard to wake her, she slept through a howitzer once.’” 

Soap chuckles, leading you into the mess. “Ye are a deep sleeper.” 

You shrug. “I did say so. My phone will wake me up though. Alarms, calls.” 

“I’ll keep tha’ in mind.” He says as he guides you through the line, making your tray for you. 

You sit between Price and Gaz as usual, feeling a bit on edge still despite your nap after your appointment. You hadn’t gotten to sleep for very long, not nearly long enough to clear your head completely. You know they can tell, Gaz slowly shifting closer and closer to you, Price’s gaze flickering to you out of the corner of his eye every so often. Even Ghost’s eyes pass over you every so often as they sweep across the mess. 

You wonder if he feels responsible. 

You hope he does. 

Soap walks you back to the barracks after lunch and you spend the afternoon burrowed under your blanket again. You’re exhausted and sore after a long morning of training and your appointment. You wish you could sink back into sleep, let the emotions pass without you having to feel them, but you’re too awake now. Too aware of them as they prickle in the back of your mind. 

Dinner passes without incident, but you can’t ignore the feelings still stirring within you. You feel agitated and on edge, not even pacing your room helping you. You let out a breath before you put your slippers on, slipping out of your door. You make your way down the hallway, turning right instead of left like you would if you were heading for the rec room. The door is cracked open and you pause just before you reach it, suddenly feeling nervous. You shouldn’t really. There was no reason to be nervous, yet you can’t help the urge in the back of your mind to turn tail and race back down the hallway to the safety of your room. 

“You can come in, unless you’d prefer standing in the hallway all evening.” A voice calls from inside the office. 

Your face warms a bit at getting caught, but he could probably hear you coming down the hallway. He could probably smell you too. 

You push open the door, slipping inside before closing it behind you. Price stares at you from his desk as you stand there, shifting nervously on your feet. You feel agitated, on edge still. You’re worked up, and you don’t quite know why. 

“Everything alright?” Price asks, likely picking up on your nervous energy. 

Yes. You want to say, but then you’d have to come up with a reason as to why you sought him out, why you feel so worked up. You could just kneel for him. It’s what you should do, let yourself be eased into a peaceful state of mind. Let him take care of you. 

 “I don’t know.” 

The words are hardly more than a whisper, your voice trembling just as much as you are. Your chest feels tight, your breaths becoming shallow. You're not sure when he got up, when he even moved. His scent wraps around you, warmth encompassing your being as your face is pushed against his chest. 

“I need you to breathe for me.” Price says, pressing your ear against his chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart, the air flowing in and out of his lungs. 

You close your eyes, trying to match your breaths to his. It's hard, your body fighting your attempt to regulate it. You close your eyes, focusing on the soft fabric of Price's shirt against your cheek, the warmth of his hand on your head as he keeps you pinned against his chest. It's not constricting or suffocating. It's grounding, keeping you from drowning in your own thoughts. 

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to as he holds you there, letting you calm down. You begin to slowly relax, your arms wrapping around his waist, fingers gripping the back of his shirt. 

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” He murmurs, lips brushing the top of your head. 

“I don’t know.” You whisper, still clinging to his shirt. “I’m just...I feel off. Ghost was being hard on me this morning and then I got upset during my appointment and I’ve just felt on edge all day and I can’t relax because I can’t get comfortable!” 

Price tightens his grip around you just slightly. “What do you mean?” 

You huff out a breath, squeezing your eyes closed so the tears don’t escape as the words leave you in a flood before you can stop them. “The blankets aren’t soft enough and the pillows are too thin and it’s too dark and I’m tired of smelling like bland soap!” 

Price hums quietly, squeezing you gently as a tear slides down your cheek. “Then we should do something to fix that.” 

“But I shouldn’t need it!” You cry, trying to push away from him, but he keeps you tight against his chest. “I’m supposed to be a good omega and adapt and learn to be comfortable where I am.” 

“That might be what you were taught,” He says, letting you push away from his chest, but he wraps his hands around your arms, keeping you in front of him. “But things don’t have to be that way. We should have taken care of something like this sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t even think of it. You shouldn’t have had to ask for it.” 

You blink up at him, genuinely surprised by his words. “I...what?” 

“We all have our own little comforts that we keep. Soap sleeps with a stuffed bear. Don’t tell him I told you that.” 

A small smile tugs at your lips at the mental image of Soap snuggling up with a teddy bear. 

“You deserve some comfort too.” He says, squeezing your arms.

“But, it’s not...regulation.” You say. 

“Doesn’t have to be.” He says. “You’re not a soldier. Even then, the only ones going in there are us. The only thing I can’t approve of is painting the walls. Unfortunately the prison grey has to stay.” 

You can’t help but laugh, wiping the tear from your cheek. “I suppose that’s alright. Just...as long as it’s not as dark and maybe a soft blanket or something. That’s really all I need.” 

He hums, staring down at you. You can’t quite figure out the look on his face, something shining in his eyes. “We’ll get it figured out.” He says, squeezing your arms again. 

“Get some shoes on. We’re going on a trip.” 

You look up from your book, staring at Price as he stands in the rec room. He’s dressed in civilian clothes, arms crossed as he stares down at you on the couch. You mark your place in your book, pushing yourself up to sit. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and unlike last week they had the day off, which means you do as well. 

“Are you going to make me hike through the woods for two hours again, sir?” You ask, pushing yourself up to stand. 

“No. We’re going into town.” He says. 

You blink at him. You haven’t been off base since you arrived, and you figured you probably wouldn’t be getting that opportunity any time soon. “Can I ask why, sir?” 

“We’ve got some shopping to do.” He says simply, turning and leaving the rec room. 

You stand there shocked for a moment before you’re following after him, slipping into your room to put comfortable shoes on and grab your phone and a jacket. You don’t even have a wallet to carry around to make yourself feel better. 

Price is waiting by the door for you, a car parked outside. You’re slow to approach him, suddenly feeling a mix of emotions. He’s doing this for you. He’d really taken your conversation last night to heart and now he’s going to go spend money on you that he doesn’t need to. 

“What’s that look for sweetheart?” He asks, standing in front of the door. 

“You don’t have to do this.” You say, staring up at him. He seems so tall like this, so...imposing. 

“Course I do.” He says, his gaze softening just slightly. “Should have done it sooner. You deserve to be comfortable too.” He says, turning to open the door. 

You follow him out, climbing into the car when he opens the door for you. He gets in the driver’s seat, the car rumbling to life. He drives to the front gate, passing off two ID cards to the guards. He passes one to you when the guard hands them back, the gate in front of you opening. 

“That’s your ID card. Gets you on and off base.” He explains as he drives away from the gate. “I doubt you’ll be leaving on your own, but just in case.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, slipping the card under your phone case for the time being. 

He glances at you, a small smile on his lips. “You can call me John, if you'd like. You don't need to be formal when we're in private.” 

“Yes, sir.” You make a face, biting your lip at your automatic response. “Sorry. Old habits.” 

“From the institute?” He asks. 

You shake your head. “My dad, actually. He was a firm believer in respecting authority figures. All ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ by the time we were old enough to know the difference.” 

“Sounds like my father.” He says, staring out at the road ahead. “Old grizzled military man.” 

“Do you still have contact with him?” You ask curiously. You don’t know much of anything about their families, their backgrounds.

“Not really. Beyond holidays, neither of us really make an effort to talk to the other. After mum passed, there wasn’t much to talk about.” He says. 

“She was the glue.” You say, watching the trees pass by the car. 

“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “As betas usually are.”

“Do you have any siblings?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. You know next to nothing about them, while they likely know your entire life story. 

“No,” He shakes his head. “Just me. You have a lot of siblings.” 

You nod. “Seven at the time I left for the institute. Could be more now.” 

“They never tried to keep contact with you?” He asks. 

“Nope.” You turn to look out the window. “The institute didn’t really encourage it either, because we were being prepared to join new packs. That’s hard to do when you still have bonds with your old ones. I think they might have forcibly ended some. I know there were some omegas that tried to keep contact, but it became less and less until eventually it just stopped.” 

Price’s hands tighten around the steering wheel just slightly. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention. Silence settles in the car as he drives, farmlands passing until the houses start getting closer and closer together. You stare at the buildings as he drives through town, a blend of historical and modern. 

“It’s beautiful here.” You say, watching people and cars pass by. 

“I suppose so.” He says, glancing at you. “I grew up in this area.” 

You turn to look at him. “You did? I didn’t know that. Then again, I don’t know much about any of you.” 

“You can ask us, you know.” He says. “We don’t have to be that secretive with you. At least not about ourselves.” 

He pulls into a parking lot, opening your door for you and helping you out of the car. You slip your hand into his, holding it as you cross the parking lot. You stare up at the store. ASDA. You’ve never heard of it before, though you suppose the stores would be different here too. 

Price drops your hand to grab a cart, the store bustling with people. You hang onto the edge of the cart, staying close to Price’s side. “We’re here for you.” He says, guiding you through the aisles. “Get whatever you want.” 

He’s led you to the homegoods section, your eyes widening at the entire aisle of blankets and bedding in front of you. You try to take it all in, but you feel a bit overwhelmed. There’s so many choices, so many options. 

“Pick out as many as you want. Don’t worry about the price.��� He says, before you can protest. “We get paid decently, but don’t have many chances to use it. Let me do this for you.” 

You stare up into his eyes, the sincerity in them, before you nod, turning back to the wall of blankets before you. You study them, running your hand along them to find the softest ones, doing as he says and ignoring the price tags. You settle on a couple soft ones, grabbing a throw blanket as well that you can pack around to the rec room if you want to. He takes you to the pillow aisle, and you settle on a pair of fluffy pillows, as well as a couple decorative ones as well. 

“Here.” He slips a big plush strawberry into your arms before you leave the aisle, your cheeks warming as you look at it. “Makes me think of you.” 

You preen at his words, holding onto the strawberry as you make for the lamps and nightlights, settling on a cat shaped one that will sit on your desk and changes colors. You pick up a few other items before heading for the toiletries, finally setting the strawberry in the cart as you zero in on the soaps and body washes. You smell all the strawberry scented ones, trying to find the perfect one. 

“Why strawberry?” Price asks as you put a strawberries and cream scented body wash in the cart. 

“Compliments my scent.” You explain as he leads you to the shampoo and conditioner. “We had a scent specialist come to the institute one time as an activity. We all figured out what our scents smell like and what notes compliment them the best.” 

An arm wraps around your waist before you can look at the shampoo, pulling you back against a broad chest. Price’s nose presses into your neck and he inhales deeply. He lets out a content hum, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. “I think you’re right.” 

Your face burns hot as he presses a gentle kiss against the side of your neck before releasing you. You stand there for a moment, trying to calm the heat rushing through your body and focus on the shampoo. You hear him chuckle as you shuffle forward, your face still burning as you smell the shampoo bottles. 

You settle on one, holding onto Price’s arm as you continue around the store, picking up a few other items and a couple for himself as well before heading to the checkout. 

You hold on to Price’s arm as you leave the store, sticking close to him as he loads the bags into the trunk. You can feel the slight tension in his body, the way his eyes scan the parking lot every few seconds. You can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for him to relax, especially out in public. How fast his mind has to be running, how alert he is to everyone and everything. A threat could come out of nowhere, could come from anyone. 

It must be exhausting. 

“Hungry, sweetheart?” He asks as he buckles his seatbelt. 

“Always.” You answer, leaning on the center console.

He smiles. “What are you in the mood for?” 

You blink at him. Most of the restaurants you know probably don’t exist in England. “Fish and chips?” You offer, pulling up the one British food you’re confident in naming. 

“Fish and chips it is.” He says, turning on the car. 

“I have yet to have real fish and chips.” You say, settling into the passenger seat. 

“Well, I know the perfect place.” He says, pulling out of the parking lot. 

You don’t have to go far before he’s parking on the street and helping you out of the car. His hand settles on your lower back, guiding you down the street to a fish and chips shop. 

It's too early for the dinner rush, the shop mostly empty and quiet. Price orders for you before guiding you to a table, and you let him sit facing the door and front window. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. They seem so relaxed on base, though you suppose that's the place they feel the most comfortable. You can't even imagine the kinds of things they've seen, the horrors they've been subjected to. 

You don't want to think about the things they've done. 

Your eyes snap downwards as Price's hand slides across the table, closing around yours. You don't want to think about the things he's done with those hands. The lives he's taken, the people he's tortured. Will he ever turn those hands on you? 

They've given you no reason to fear them yet. They've all been kind, polite. Even Ghost hasn't truly given you a reason to fear him, despite his obvious disapproval and hard exterior. 

You know nothing about them. 

You've known them for just over two weeks. You can't possibly have any understanding of who they are, how they express their emotions. What if they get upset? What happens when they get angry? What if you anger them?

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Any of it.” Price says, drawing you from your worried thoughts. “I know you were taught to expect this, perhaps not this exact situation, but something like this. Being sent off to some strange alpha to join their pack, bonding with complete strangers. None of us were expecting this either. It’s been an adjustment in a lot of ways, but I want you to know that we’ll take care of you. You need anything, you tell us. You want anything, we’ll do our best to make it happen. We’ll keep you safe.” He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I promise you that.” 

You want to believe him. You really do. They haven’t given you any reason to not believe it. 

It’s only been two weeks. 

You continue to talk with him as you eat, making light conversation, getting to know him a bit more. Despite the trickling uncertainty in the back of your mind, it feels good. It feels like a date, something you had dreamed of before you presented, something you had imagined happening when you finally got old enough to start looking for potential mates and packs. 

Of course, back then, you had thought you’d be an alpha. 

It had been expected of you. 

Price has his arm wrapped around you as you walk back to the car, his hand on your hip. It’s possessive almost, and it makes your stomach flutter. Price is the only one you haven’t kissed yet, well, besides Ghost, but you’re certain you’d wind up through a wall if you even thought of trying. It’s almost ironic that Price would be the last, considering he’s going to be the one claiming you, the one you spend your heat with. 

You stare out the window as the buildings fade into farmlands again. The sun is setting, painting the world in oranges and reds. You still feel a bit warm from Price’s possessive hold on you, his teasing in the store. You can still feel the tickle of his beard on your skin, his lips pressing against your neck. 

You jump when rough fingers trail down your arm, pulling it from where it had been resting in your lap. 

“You were right.” Price says as he lifts your hand to his face, pressing his nose against your wrist and inhaling for a moment. “Strawberries are the strongest note in your scent.” He lowers your hand again, lacing your fingers together. “What’s got you all worked up over there.” 

You stare at him, your face getting warm again. Of course he can smell it. You can smell the muskiness beginning to form around the edges of his scent. Desire. “You haven’t kissed me yet.” You say, moving his hand into your lap. “You're the only one that hasn't...well, besides Ghost.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh. “You sound disappointed.” 

You untangle your fingers with his, letting his hand rest on your thigh. “What if I am?”

His fingers flex against your leg, the muskiness of his scent strengthening. “Then maybe we should fix that.” 

The cocktail of scents in the car is intoxicating, and you feel bad for the poor beta soldier at the gate when Price rolls down the window to hand off your IDs. 

Price is out of the car as soon as it's parked, moving around to your side to open the door. He pins you against the side of the car as soon as you're out, caging you in with his arms. 

You stare up at him, head swimming with the musk laced in his scent. You can see his eyes shining in the light next to the door of the barracks. He looks like a hungry wolf, the back of your neck prickling with excitement. 

He leans down, breath fanning your face as he gets closer and closer to you. You press yourself against him, hands gripping his shoulders as he presses his lips to yours. His lips are surprisingly soft, his beard tickling your face. He growls quietly against your lips, pushing you harder against the side of the car. 

You let out a quiet sound in response, hands gripping his jacket. His hands slide from the car to your sides, sliding down to grip your hips. You can feel the muscle hidden beneath his jacket and shirt, the strength that he possesses. He may not be purebred like Ghost, but he’s still every inch an alpha. 

You let out another quiet sound as he pulls away, pressing a caste kiss to the corner of your lips. “Bloody hell, now I know what those boys were on about.” He breathes, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“They were talking about me?” You ask, pulling back slightly. 

“Only good things.” Price grins, leaning down to kiss you again. “Sweet as sugar.” He breathes, kissing you again. “And just as addicting.” He pulls away from you, his hands resting on your waist. “We should get your stuff inside so you can get it all set up. Want me to fetch one of the boys to help?” 

You bite your lip. “Or you could just do it.” 

He stares down at you, something flashing across his face but you can’t quite make it out in the low light. “You’re sure?” His voice is quiet, taking on that soft tone it often does when he speaks to you. 

“You’ll have to eventually.” You shrug. “Might as well start now.” 

He leans down, kissing you again before pulling away, opening up the trunk. He grabs most of the bags, only leaving the pillows for you to grab before he leads the way into the barracks. You open your door, stepping in first before he follows. You dump your pillows on the bed, and he sets the rest of the bags on your desk. 

“Blankets in the wash.” You say, digging them out of the bags, pulling the tags off. 

“I’ll take them.” He says, fishing out his stuff from the bags before taking the blankets from you. 

You switch out your pillows for the softer ones, organizing the decorative ones just the way you want. You squish the strawberry to your chest again, a smile forming on your face before you flop back onto the bed, sinking into the soft pillows. It’s almost perfect, you think. 

“Comfortable?” Price’s voice rumbles in the doorway, a smile on his face as he stares at you. 

“Much better.” You say, sitting up and placing the strawberry in its place. 

The two of you finish taking everything out of the bags, decorating the rest of your room. The posters on the walls, and the nightlight on your desk. It feels far more homey already, and you know you’re going to sleep well tonight once the blankets are out of the wash. 

“Thank you.” You say, looking up at Price. “This really means a lot.” 

“All in a day’s work, love.” He says, pulling you into his arms again. 

You lean against his chest, resting your head over his heart, listening to it beat steadily against your ear. 

You wake up suddenly, yet you’re not quite sure why. There’s no one in your room, your new nightlight easily showing you that. Your mouth is dry, but there’s a line of wetness down your chin. You reach across your nightstand, your phone illuminating the time. 

Just past one a.m. 

You smack your lips, feeling thirsty after the excitement of the day. You’d forgotten to grab water when you left the rec room and you huff out a sigh. You don’t want to get up, but now that you’re aware you’re thirsty, there’s no stopping those thoughts. 

You don’t even bother with slippers as you pad to the door, opening it up. You leave it cracked as you sleepily shuffle towards the rec room, the barracks almost dead quiet this late. You grab a bottle from the fridge, unscrewing the top before drinking a few gulps. It’s cold and tastes divine, soothing the dryness of your mouth. You screw the top back on, closing the fridge before heading back towards your room. 

You turn the corner, still half asleep, nearly yelping as you slam into a chest. You stumble back a couple steps, staring up at the covered face looming over you. You gulp, holding the bottle to your chest. 

“S-Sorry.” You stutter. 

“You’re out of bed.” He says quietly, voice rumbling in the silence. 

“Thirsty.” It’s all you can manage as you hold up the bottle. 

He stares at you for a long moment, eyes flickering all over your face. His chest is heaving, almost as if he had been running before you ran into him. His hands are closed into fists at his sides, knuckles almost white with how tense he is. You think for a moment he might be mad, but you can’t catch any whiff of ozone in the air. Your nose prickles at the scent, but it’s not anger. 

Your tired brain can’t make sense of it, yearning to sink back into the softness of your bed again. You slowly shuffle around him, taking cautious steps, waiting for him to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. He simply watches you go, standing there in the hallway as you slip back into your room, not moving until he hears the click of your lock slipping into place. 

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows, @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10, @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph 

[rosemaryfollows]

Alastor, Husk, and Angel with an S/O who can’t get out of bed/do certain basic functions because of depression/PTSD?

𝒞𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓃, 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔.

|| synopsis : They love you so much you silly ||

|| word count : 856 ||

[ CW: fluff :P, cursing obvi, thank you for the req anon i luv u <333 ]

[ NOT!!! PROOFREAD !!!]

Ａｌａｓｔｏｒ

✯ As of late, Alastor had been noticing the lack of your presence more throughout his days. ✯ He wasn't one to constantly check on you, but he had begun to show signs of worry. ✯ He had asked Charlie to check on you for him, but she just knocked and when she didn't hear and answer, decided not to bother you because she was polite. ✯ However, after almost two weeks with no signs of you, he let himself into your room.

"My dearest fawn! However are you doing this ever so lovely morning?" His voice was far too loud and far too energetic for you, causing a grumble to come from under your covers. He went over to a nearby window and opened the curtains with that ever charming grin of his. "Come now my dear! Surely you must be getting tired of doing absolutely nothing!" He chirps, his voice still covered by that layer of static as he stood by your bed now. "Not now, Alastor.." You'd grumble, not even bothering to turn over and look at him. When you heard nothing but silence, you figured he'd left and tried to resume your activities of nothing at all. It shouldn't have been hard, but your covers suddenly being pulled off of you, and you being pulled up to your feet. "Oh dear! You look, absolutely terrible! Lets fix you up!" Alastor would say, almost declaring it to the entirety of hell. With a snap of his fingers he would change your clothes, fix your hair and make you smell.. much much better. "See? Isn't that much better?" He would hum and pat your head almost condescendingly.

✯ Needless to say, he wouldn't be the best at comforting or caring, but he would at least make you look better before returning to the public eye with him.

Ｈｕｓｋｅｒ

✯ It would only take a day for him to notice your absence, though he could only check on you after his shift for the hotel.

✯ He would worry all day about you, and it was obvious in his work, spilling over shot glasses and sloppily cleaning his glasses.

✯ He already knew about your past struggles with your self upkeep, seeing as he did, practically the same thing.

✯ He would show up to your home, knocking on your door and waiting a few seconds. After he got no answer he'd make his way inside.

He'd call your name once or twice, the bags in his hands rustling a bit as he began to search for you. A slight pang started in his heart as he began to fear for the worst. He eventually got to your bedroom, knocking slightly before entering. "Doll-face? You in here?" He said, his voice low. His eyes landed on the shape of your body under the covers, his worries soften. "Darlin', you doing alright?" He'd ask, setting the bags down by your door and making his way to your bed, sitting on the edge. You could only give a mumble of an answer, but he knew well enough to tell how you were feeling. He would hoist you up and hold you against his chest, not minding the state you were in. His paw ran through your hair, giving a deep sigh. "I'm here, y'know. You aren't alone in this."

✯ He'd get in in full, wanting to be there for you as much as he possibly could. He didn't want to see anything bad happen to you.

Ａｎｇｅｌ Ｄｕｓｔ

✯ Angel would take no time to notice your disappearance. He knew that just by associating with him, you were at risk of getting hurt by Val.

✯ When he'd go to, 'work', his performance would lack, due to his worrying if you were somewhere in the same building, going through what he was.

✯ He'd learn a lesson or two from Valentino for this, but he considered it nothing to the guilt in his heart if he had truly gotten you into the same rut he was in.

✯ However, when he'd visit your room, and actually find you there in your bed, he would rush to your side, thinking you had either overdosed or been hurt all this time.

✯ When he found you just lying in bed, not really paying attention to the world around you, but still breathing, he would be so relieved.

"Oh my fuck, babes, you scared the tits offa me!" He would gasp, putting his second hands on his hips, crossing the other two underneath his chest fluff. When you could only mumble a tired little, 'sorry', out, he dropped his arms down to his side and kneels on your floor, making sure you could see him. His ungloved set of hands came up and cupped your face, rubbing the soft skin of your cheek before he offered a smile. "Rough week, toots? Wanna tell me about it?"

✯ After the long, peaceful talk you two had, he lifted you up out of your bed and carried you off to the bathroom, vowing to get you back to squeaky clean!

[ haiiii!! hope this is what you asked for, and i hope you like it!!!! ]

|| note: ​🇮​​🇫​ ​🇾​​🇴​​🇺​ ​🇱​​🇮​​🇰​​🇪​ ​🇲​​🇾​ ​🇨​​🇴​​🇳​​🇹​​🇪​​🇳​​🇹​, ​🇧​​🇪​ ​🇸​​🇺​​🇷​​🇪​ ​🇹​​🇴​ ​🇱​​🇮​​🇰​​🇪​ ​🇦​​🇳​​🇩​ ​🇷​​🇪​​🇧​​🇱​​🇴​​🇬​!! <3 ||

[yoursweetwife]

warning: female reader, mostly fluff, mentions reader wearing dresses,

synopsis: Ratio has his own ways of showing his love

p.s some thoughts on how Veritas can take care of the reader because he is clearly very terrible at words

What Ratio does best is talk. Regardless of the topic, he will always find something to say, the words themselves will flow like a river, making an indelible impression on those around him.

However, when it comes to love, he becomes completely quiet. Rarely can you hear “I love you” or “I missed you” from his lips; most often this happens in very intimate and important moments, when he leaves his pride behind and completely surrenders to his feelings.

It's hard to say it didn't bother you. You perfectly understood what kind of person he was, and you didn’t blame him, but it was sad when Ratio just nodded when you said you loved him, or didn’t offer verbal support when you needed it, because you were capable of handling it on your own.

And he didn't lie! Ratio knows that you are a strong and capable person who has achieved everything on his own, so small problems shouldn't bother you, right?

And it seems hypocritical, considering that he constantly took advantage of your love. You always knew how to comfort him, even on his worst days. However, words remain just words, while actions speak volumes about more.

Most of the time, Ratio can't find the words to praise the new dress that fits you so wonderfully, or to say words of comfort when something bad has happened in your life.

But if you didn’t know him so well, you wouldn’t notice how his eyes begin to sparkle every time he notices your new outfit or hairstyle. A slight blush appears on Ratio’s cheeks, and his eyes hesitate to meet your smug face.

Or how his confident facade crumbles when he sees you after a long absence. No matter which of you was on a business trip, Ratio always brings pansies to a meeting and gives them as if nothing had happened, as if he had never read about the meaning of the flower.

And how he uncertainly looks at your crying figure from the doorway. And at the same moment he is next to you, offering comfort in the form of a hug and a kiss on the head.

Ratio's big hand constantly holds any part of your body. In public, his hand will intertwine with yours so as not to “lose you,” or he will place it on your back to gently nudge you in the right direction. It's hard for people to tell if he's enjoying it, but you can definitely tell that Veritas is enjoying it, it's easy to tell by the way the soft smile, meant only for you, spreads across his face, and by the gentle pressure on your hand.

And his most favorite action is to place his hand on your soft thigh, be it at home while you are relaxing on the sofa or bed, or in a public place, so he always sits next to you to make it easier to reach, basically this is a very innocent action , although sometimes he wants to go a little further.

Far from human eyes, it is very difficult for Ratio to stop physical contact. Unfortunately, he became too addicted to it. Previously, the only way for him to relax and clear his brain was bathing, but now all he needs to do is find you, hug you and bury his nose in your fluffy hair.

There's no use trying to loosen his grip, and who would want to refuse this big guy who's looking at you so pleadingly. You were always amused by his manner of sitting next to you and glancing in your direction, quickly turning away when you looked at him. A clear sign that he needs hugs and kisses.

And even bathing began to feel strange without your presence. And this makes Ratio nervous, because the bathroom is the only place where he could clear his mind, and now his head is filled only with how empty the space between his legs feels, where you usually sat.

Veritas always reads a book before bed, and he takes it seriously, but he really enjoys reading while his head rests on your stomach, thighs, chest, using them as a makeshift pillow. However, his favorite position is when he is sitting and you are lying on his chest, resting your head on his chin.

The sight of your sleeping body is the best way to end the day. It’s a pity that you can’t see his soft smile and loving gaze at this moment. Just like your happy face doesn’t reach his eyes when he says three cherished words.

Ratio doesn't know how to express emotions in words, but his actions speak louder than words.

[hcmoeroticisms]

.

[rewh0re]

SLEEPING ON THE COUCH AFTER AN ARGUMENT

Ft.: Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi Keiji

Angst but with fluff at the end. Just my boys kuroo and Akaashi and sleeping on the couch after an argument. Reblogs + interactions are highly appreciated!!

༊ KUROO

Kuroo cannot sleep. It's nearly 3 in the morning and he's twisting and turning on the bed for about an hour now, unable to fall asleep. The other side of his bed seems unnaturally cold and empty due to your lack of presence. You both had gotten into an argument about 2 hours prior. You had tried to convey your thoughts across to him about how worried you were that he was overworking himself and in his state of tiredness he was definitely not in the mood for your nagging. He took out his annoyance on you which resulted in some back and forth yelling before you decided to give him some space and sleep on the couch. But it had been hours and however much he denied it, Kuroo could not sleep without you. So, deciding to swallow his stupid pride he went out to the living room just to find your shivering self on the couch. You had a thin blanket on and it was a cold night.

"I know you're not sleeping," he whispered as he knelt by the couch to look at you.

What he saw broke him, there were dried tears on your face. He always fell apart when he saw you cry.

"Look I'm really sorry for what I said. Half of those things, I didn't mean them and neither should I have uttered them in the first place. It has happened now and as much as I wish I could change it, I can't. So, I'm asking you to forgive me y/n. I'm really really sorry. I love you so much ," he stroked your cheek and you could not pretend anymore. You slowly opened your eyes to look at him.

"You do?" You asked silently.

"More than you could ever know, love. You're the best thing that's happened to me. You're not nagging when you worry about me. I'm sorry for saying that. I was annoyed and irritated and tired and I took it out on you like a fool. I've said hurtful things and I feel terrible for it. Forgive me please," he looked at you with so much love and adoration as he asked for forgiveness that you broke again. You sniffled a little before cracking a small smile.

"I've said some hurtful things as well. Things I shouldn't have said. I'm sorry," you whispered to him.

"It's okay. Come back to bed now love. Tomorrow, I'm taking the day off and we'll do whatever you want to do. Sounds good?" He smiled at you, stretching his hand towards you for you to take it.

"Sounds perfect," you smiled as you took his hand in yours.

༊ AKAASHI

Arguments with Akaashi were rare. Most of the time, you both would talk things out and solve the problem rationally rather than lashing out. You both tried to be logical and tried to communicate no matter how tired or angry you both were. But sometimes however, that was just not the case. Sometimes, things got out of hand, anger overpowered your more rational sides and things got ugly. Tonight just happened to be one of those nights. Honestly, you don't even know how the argument started. You just knew that both of you were exhausted from work and on top of that things had been rough in your personal life lately. These reasons probably got to you and an argument took place. You both had verbally hurt each other to the extent that Akaashi decided to sleep on the couch, unable to fight anymore. He left you in the bedroom alone and fuming. But the moment he picked up a blanket and went to the couch, regret immediately filled you up. You ran after him to the living room where he laid on the couch. God, he didn't even have a pillow under his head, his neck would hurt like crazy in the morning.

"Keiji," you called out his name and as you expected, there was no answer from him.

"Keiji I'm sorry," you sat at the end of the couch where his feet were propped up on the hand rest.

"I let my anger and frustration take over me and said some pretty shitty things. I'm sorry I really did not mean them. I would never," at that, he looked up at you to see your eyes getting teary as a frown took over your face.

"Don't cry y/n," he sat up and brought himself closer to you.

"I don't know what took over me. I'm so sorry. I always try to be calmer and more thoughtful while speaking but today I don't know. Work has been stressful and I probably took that out on you. Something I shouldn't have done and something I highly regret," you took his hand as you looked at him.

"I said some pretty awful stuff to you too, you know. You're not entirely at fault here. I'm sorry. Next time, I'll try to be more thoughtful and I'll definitely not yell at you again," he gave you a small smile as he opened his arms for you to hug him. You gladly did.

"Me too. Come to bed now. You didn't even bring a pillow with you. Do you want your neck to hurt?" He laughed a little at that.

"Always thinking about me aren't you," he hugged you tighter.

"Mhm. Keiji?" You started as you broke the hug to look at him. "We're okay right?"

"We will be, love."

[kisakis-boyfriend]

May I get head canons of Kaveh, Bennett, and Freminet getting hit with some sorta sex pollen so reader blows their backs out to save their lives? Big Fuck-or-Die Vibes

You sure can! Reader is a dom/top male as usual~

All characters are depicted as 20+ as well~

-

Kaveh

Just my luck, he thinks as a blast of pollen hits him directly in the face. Nothing good ever comes from touching strange plants...

The effects come on quickly, sending tingles throughout his entire body, the feeling is especially noticeable in the area between his legs

Kaveh calls out your name, stumbling towards you and clinging onto your arms for stability. You're understandably worried and reach out to cup his face when he suddenly drops to his knees, humping at your leg desperately

You stare at him wide-eyed, watching him whimper as he clutches your pants tightly, begging for you to fuck him

Kaveh cries until you finally do just that, not even bothering to fully remove either of your articles of clothing. Instead, you simply pull his pants down so that you have access to his hole, and pull your own down far enough to shove your cock into him

His legs tremble as you ram into him relentlessly, overtaken by some unfathomable pleasure coursing through his veins

The only thoughts floating around in that pretty little head are “need cock” and “needtocumneedtocumneedtocum!! ”

You end up fucking him for a while as the effects of the mysterious pollen persist for hours. Just pounding his wet hole over and over, making his pretty back arch so far off of the ground, cumming again and again as he cries and moans loud enough to lose his voice that night

Kaveh is so incredibly embarrassed about it the next day...he doesn't fully understand what came over him and apologizes profusely 😞

Bennett

He doesn't think much of it at first. After all, he's used to things like this happening, well aware of his terrible luck

But he quickly realizes that something is wrong. A little bit of pollen shouldn't cause him to think of being railed by your thick cock out of nowhere...

Bennett tries to hold it together, not wanting to bother you with something so lewd all of a sudden, but he soon gives in and tells you about his thoughts

You're a bit concerned about why this happened and what kind of plant could do such a thing, but you save those thoughts for later, swiftly pinning Bennett to the wall of some ruins and removing his shorts

If you don't want to get caught by some poor adventurer passing by, you'll have to cover Bennett's mouth or create a makeshift gag because he is LOUD

He's wet literally everywhere. Drool running down his chin, cum dripping down his dick from multiple orgasms, his ass is wet and messy because you've been drilling into him for over an hour now, tears are probably running down his pretty cheeks as he's so overstimulated too

But he insists that you don't stop, clawing at the back of your shirt and screaming “yesyesyesyesyes—!! ” as you pound into him harder

Also embarrassed about it when he finally comes back to his senses. Your reassuring smile does ease his mind a little though 🧡

Freminet

You swam away for only a second, taking a picture of some pretty seashells before returning to your diving partner...only to find him swatting away some sort of goo? Spores? You weren't really sure, more concerned with helping Freminet to the surface

Quickly ascending to the surface world, the two of you found a secluded place to sit so that you could assess his condition

By that time though, the substance had already begun to work its magic. Freminet breathed heavily as his dick brushed against the fabric of his pants

You reached out a hand with the intent to feel his forehead, seeing as his cheeks were a deep crimson, but Freminet grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand down to his bulge. Immediately moaning and humping against your hand

Apologies spilled from his lips, simultaneously begging you to fuck him in the same breath. You were concerned, but quickly connected the dots

After finding a soft spot in the grass, you removed his clothing, slipping your pants off and pushing your cock into his ass

Freminet's hands dig into your arms as you force your length deeper inside of him, broken moans falling out of him as tears spill down his cheeks

He begs for you to go faster, fuck him harder, cum in him again, please? Just don't stop or he'll cry harder

His small body bounces with every thrust, surely there will be dark purple bruises covering his waist due to the vice grip you have on him

He'll be incredibly sore for the rest of the day, walking with a limp because of how hard you fucked him, probably still apologizing for asking you to do that so suddenly...

Freminet will also need tons of aftercare and reassurance, just be extra gentle with him for a few days 💙

Reblogs are extremely appreciated <3

Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

[hannieehaee]

Can I request this? A wonwoo oneshot where they had a fight at the company which leads to the oc to storm out and later wonwoo finds out that on the way home she got really sick but at the moment the oc is in the library. So wonwoo mission is to get the oc out of there but she’s giving him the silent treatment somehow😁

content: established relationship, idol!wonwoo, afab reader, public argument, angst, fluff, etc.

wc: 987

a/n: i did my best to include all the main details of the prompt into a short drabble i hope u enjoy<3

masterlist

you knew you were being quite immature.

yeah, it was just a small altercation with wonwoo over some small thing, but that had just been what it snowballed into.

it had only been a few days since wonwoo got back from tour, having been gone for a few weeks with limited contact with you due to timezones and his packed schedule. you understood. you were no newbie at this. by now it had been a while since you had began dating wonwoo, so you were already an expert on the ins and outs of dating an idol. however, you still demanded some type of attention.

when wonwoo finally arrived, you had expected that maybe he'd try a little harder to spend time with you. while you understood that he was likely very tired from touring, seeing the way in which he isolated himself rather than dedicate at least a bit of his free time to you did hurt your feelings.

had he not missed you as much as you did him?

this led to a one-sided silent treatment. he, of course, didn't really notice as the two of you weren't spending much time together anyways. though you were still on speaking terms with him, you were very curt and short in your interactions. something which he, yet again, had no reaction to.

which is what led to an embarrassing argument just a few hours ago. at the company. in front of his members.

it wasn't anything too big. it was mostly complaints about his terrible time management when it cane to sustaining your relationship. already hurt and having made the mistake of not communicating your issues to your boyfriend, you snapped when you stopped by the company to get lunch with him, only to be told he already had plans with his members.

after an embarrassing rant in front of half of seventeen, you stormed out, leaving a very confused wonwoo behind and finally allowing him to realize that he had unknowingly iced you out.

it felt like shit, to be quite honest. you felt invisible to him. was picking a fight the only way to get him to react?

things weren't always like this. wonwoo had always been the most comforting person you'd known. maybe he was a little reserved and shy at times, but he was always showing you his unconditional love. whether it was through his words or through silent acts of affection, he had never made you feel unwanted or ignored.

even when he'd return from a tiring tour, he'd isolate himself with you. you'd lock yourselves away from the world and simply exist with one another, encompassing each other in the love you shared. this time around, wonwoo had somehow forgotten about you, simply sharing a living space with you rather than being your home.

the worst thing was that he was entirely unaware. the moment you confronted him, you could see the shock in his eyes. wonwoo hadn't even realized he had been withholding himself from you emotionally. the more frustrated your voice grew as you ranted, the more his confusion transformed into hurt. he was hurt at the realization that you'd been hurting because of him – all while he thought everything was fine.

this made you feel miserable as soon as you made your way out of the company. fully aware that you should've communicated your distress to him earlier, you still left, embarrassed at the scene you caused and hurt that he hadn't considered your feelings until you shoved them in his face.

was it so wrong of you to have wanted him to realize on his own? you thought he knew you better than anyone, so it shouldn't have been too difficult a task to realize. right?

and now you were alone.

upon leaving the scene, teary eyed and embarrassed that you had shown such a vulnerable part of yourself in such a public setting, – in front of some of his friends, at that – you went to the place that brought you most comfort. you needed silence, so you went to a secluded library in town.

you and wonwoo would sometimes frequent this place. as both a bookworm and the girlfriend of a popular idol, this was one of the only places you could really go with wonwoo. it was secluded and quiet, meaning that you could simply exist around each other while not being perceived by anyone else. the memory of your times together there made you feel unable to concentrate, so you simply sat in silence for a while.

it wasn't too difficult for wonwoo to find you there. he had assumed you wouldn't just go back home, so he searched from you in places he knew you loved. this had been his second guess, right after the han river, where you would sometimes walk together at night.

sitting in your usual spot, wonwoo quietly approached you, sitting next to you. neither of you said anything. the first contact between you two came in the form of wonwoo's pinky seeking your own, twisting it with yours in a sweet manner. there was no way for you to deny him, so you humored him, eventually holding his hand as his fingers graced your own.

"im sorry," he whispered, looking down at his lap.

"yeah?", you whispered back.

"i take you for granted sometimes. you wait for me here and you put up with my hectic life and i ... i forget that i should reassure you of my love. im so sure of how i feel about you that i forget to let you know every single day. it wont happen again," he finished, eyes now boring into yours.

"can you say it?"

"i love you. you'll never have to ask me again. okay? i love you."

"i love you too."

"let me take you home?" he asked, leaning into you as you sat side by side.

"yeah."

[steddieas-shegoes]

it's not ever what it looks like

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is saying you're sorry'

rated m | 3,299 words | cw: language, implied sexual content | tags: angst with a happy ending, arguing, established relationship, hurt/comfort, rock star eddie munson, teacher steve harrington, modern au, steve thinks eddie is cheating on him but HE ISN'T I PROMISE, marriage proposal

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

It wasn't the first time Steve woke up to pictures and articles about Eddie being seen with some model or actor, but it was the first time he'd actually been worried.

Eddie had been distant lately. Usually, when he was on tour, he'd call Steve on his lunch break and text him when he got off of work, and he'd try to Facetime him after his show if it wasn't in a different time zone.

But for the past week or so, he had excuses. They sounded legitimate until one of the afternoons he said the band was caught up in an interview so he couldn't call and Jeff called him ten minutes later to ask where Eddie was. Even with that, Steve hadn't assumed he was cheating.

Steve figured maybe Eddie was just tired or his social battery had run out. Those kinds of things happened before occasionally.

But not daily for over a week.

He was barely even responding to texts, and the ones he did respond to were hours later and hardly adding to any conversation.

And now this article.

There was a picture of Eddie standing with his arm around some guy who was taller than him, both of them laughing, looking at each other like...well. Steve knew that look because it'd only ever been pointed at him, but now he was seeing it pointed at just some guy.

The headline read EDDIE MUNSON GIVING UP HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART FOR SUPERMODEL SUPERSTAR?

Steve decided the only way through this was to read the entire article. At least then he could probably convince himself they were wrong.

Except the article went on to explain how Eddie hadn't brough Steve to any shows yet this tour, and how he'd been flirting more with the crowd after the show instead of just during it, how he was seen at two bars over the last week when he usually doesn't go out after shows.

It went on to say that these pictures were taken shortly after they'd been seen sneaking away from a group of people they'd been hanging out with and that they seemed very close for the entire night. The article said the guy was a male lingerie model who made it big posing for Gucci last year. He'd just landed his first film role as a supporting actor and was looking to land a lead role soon.

Steve hated him. And he was getting a terrible feeling in his gut about what was going on.

He had 26 unread texts, most of them from Robin, Dustin, and Gareth.

All of them had said mostly the same things:

I can't get ahold of Eddie.

He wouldn't do this.

Something else is going on.

Call me when you can.

The last one was Gareth, and it's not that he and Gareth weren't close, but they never talked on the phone.

He tried not to think about he didn't have a single message or missed call from Eddie.

Steve called Gareth.

"Steve. Shit, I'm glad you called."

"What's going on?"

Gareth sighed. "Ed's kinda losing it. But before you call him-"

"Why would I call him? Shouldn't he be the one to call me? If he wants to be with some supermodel, he should probably be the one to break up with me, right?" Steve could feel tears gathering in his eyes, stinging the back of his throat. "I'm not sure why I have to be the one to hurt and do the breaking up."

"Steve-"

"Is there something you needed Gareth? Or were you just trying to defend your friend?"

"There's nothing to defend! I swear-"

"Yeah. Well. Tell him to call me if he wants to explain anything, I guess."

Steve hung up just before a sob ripped from his throat.

He never had to worry about Eddie being a famous rock star, spending 6-7 months of the year gone, meeting all kinds of flashy celebrities. Eddie loved him so much, he never had any doubt that he'd always be his first choice.

Until now.

It was a shitty feeling and he had to be at work in less than an hour.

No time to wallow.

He sent a quick text to Robin to let her know he was okay, but needed to focus on getting through work, then shut off his phone.

"Is everything okay?" the art teacher, Mrs. Phineas, asked him on their lunch break. "You seem out of it today."

"Just a migraine," Steve gave a half-smile, hoped it was enough to convince her to leave him alone. He still hadn't turned on his phone, and at this point, he didn't really want to.

She tilted her head to the side. "When are you off to see your man?"

"Don't know," he shrugged, ignoring the tug in his stomach, the sudden weight in his chest.

"Ah," she said, turning back to her soup. "Something happened."

"Nothing happened!"

"You look two seconds away from crying," she gave him a deadpan look. "Did he hurt you?"

Mrs. Phineas was a little older than Wayne, close to retirement, and had been his closest friend from the moment he started teaching at this school nearly six years ago. He'd told her everything about Eddie, their relationship, his hopes of Eddie taking a longer break after this tour so they could have some time just the two of them, maybe make a real plan for their future.

Steve nodded once.

Her hand covered his and she squeezed his fingers in her own. "I may not know him half as well as I know you, but I know that boy loves you. You two will get through this, whatever it is."

"I dunno if we will," Steve whispered, scared to speak louder and risk the tears falling. He'd been doing so well today.

She patted his hand and went back to eating, saying nothing else about it.

His students had caught on early that he wasn't quite his usual self, and the group of second graders had been on their best behavior because of it. As the dismissal bell rang and he started calling for bus riders to line up, someone walked through his door.

Eddie walked through his door.

He bit back the anger, knowing his students loved Eddie and wouldn't know he was here for any reason other than to say hello.

"Mr. Munson!" A few of them yelled as most of them ran up to him instead of getting in the line Steve asked them to.

"Hi kiddos!" Eddie was faking it, but luckily the students couldn't tell. "Sorry, but you guys have to listen to Mr. H right now. I promise I will come say hi again tomorrow."

The students grumbled about it and Steve took in his appearance.

He had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept the night before, his hair was in a messy bun instead of perfectly arranged to fall on his shoulders, and he was wearing Steve's hoodie that had suspiciously gone missing the last time he'd been home.

The fact that Steve's first thought was how badly he wanted to pull him into a hug was not a good sign.

He checked names off the list as they filtered out the door and then called the car riders to line up. He went through the list and made sure everyone made it into the hall where they'd be called when their parent pulled up before turning back to Eddie.

He closed his door and made his way to his desk, ignoring the way Eddie awkwardly stood by one of the student desks in the front.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, signing off of his work email and organizing tomorrow's lesson plan.

"I needed to explain-"

"Right."

"That article wasn't supposed to come out yet."

Steve's jaw dropped. So he wasn't going to deny it, he was just gonna act like it was the media's fault for releasing it before he could talk to Steve.

"Yeah. So you decided to come break up with me in person because you got caught cheating instead of doing it over the phone right before the article hit online. Got it."

Steve was not going to cry about this. Not in front of Eddie.

He was going to go home, shower, try to eat something, and then he was going to cry for the next 10 hours.

"No, Steve, you don't understand."

"You're right, I don't. I don't understand how you could throw away a 10 year relationship for a model who doesn't even know your middle name. I don't understand how you can fly all the way here and interrupt my day at my job to try to explain to me why you were so cozy with a guy who doesn't even know that you like your hot chocolate with Bailey's instead of regular milk. I really don't understand how you couldn't even bother to text or call me one single time since the article to even try to explain anything." Steve wiped his eyes furiously, angry that his tears were betraying him. "I don't understand why you would expect me to care for reasons."

Eddie wordlessly picked Steve's phone up off the desk and powered it on. He set it down in front of Steve and waited.

Texts and calls and emails came through all at once, hundreds of notifications lighting up his screen.

Many of them from Eddie himself.

"Go ahead. Open them," Eddie didn't sound mad, he just sounded resigned.

So Steve read through the texts, many of them different renditions of 'please Steve, call me' and 'I love you sweetheart I'm sorry.' Not promising.

But then he started playing the voicemails.

"Stevie, it's really not what it looks like. It's never what it looks like. You know that. Please call me as soon as you can. I love you."

"I can explain everything if you call me back. I promise you it isn't anything more than a business thing. Everyone in the band can tell you. I swear. Just. Please."

"I'm getting on a flight to you now. I'm gonna keep trying to call you even when I land. I need you to know what's going on."

"Just landed. I'm on my way to you. The guys are a little pissed, but you're more important than the show tonight. I'm not doing my own thing until I know you understand."

Steve looked up at him, tears still falling down his face.

"Well?" He asked, broken.

"His name is Wyatt. He's trying to make it in the acting world and he was pretty much told he was the top choice for playing lead in a movie that's in early stages of development," Eddie spoke quickly.

"Great for him."

"It's actually great for all of us. The movie is a biopic of Corroded Coffin. He's expected to play me."

At any other time, Steve would be proud, he'd be jumping up and down at this chance for them, and he'd be kissing Eddie without a care in the world.

But he still saw that picture and that article, and no matter how much "business" was going on, it was pretty clear that wasn't all that was going on.

"So you thought sleeping with him would help him get into the role? Or did you just wanna get into him?" Steve bit back.

"The article was wrong! The picture was just really conveniently timed! You know the media are vultures, Stevie. How many times have they written about us breaking up? How many times have they said Gareth and I have secretly been married for the last two years? How many times have they tried to post shitty things about your relationship before me to prove that you can't possibly be queer?" Eddie pulled Steve to his feet and cupped his face in his hands. "I've been spending the last two weeks talking with him and the producer and the guys to see what might work best for production. They want us involved in as much of the writing and filming part as possible. And he had time in his schedule to come to a show last night, so we all took him out after so he could get a taste of what it's like for us. He's really excited for the role and all of us are really excited for the movie."

Steve felt stupid. Well, maybe not stupid. His feelings were valid and he wasn't dramatic about what he'd seen.

But he did feel a little shitty about doubting Eddie.

Eddie, who had literally flown across the country to explain in person so that there was no way Steve could misunderstand him. Eddie, who once Doordashed him soup from his favorite restaurant when he was sick even though he was in Europe. Eddie, who sent letters to the kids in his class once a month to talk about how important music is and following your dreams. Eddie, who loved him for ten years and wouldn't have let anyone get in the way of what they'd built.

Steve fell against Eddie, buried his face in his neck and his hands in his shirt. Eddie's arms wrapped around him, his voice saying something against his shoulder. Steve couldn’t hear him, but he didn’t think he needed to.

He just needed to feel him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said against his neck. Tears soaked the hoodie under him, and Steve could feel tears against his own button down. “I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Eddie shook his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone until the article hit, but I was still gonna call you and warn you but I didn’t and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. This is part of the whole lifestyle. I should be used to it,” Steve shuddered as Eddie’s hand scratched at his scalp. “I should’ve reacted better.”

“We both didn’t treat this the way we should’ve.”

Steve snorted, nodded as he found the spot Eddie had tattooed on his neck a couple years earlier. He pressed his lips over the tattoo of his lip print.

“You flew across the country over this,” Steve pulled away and looked at Eddie, vision blurred from crying. “Just to make things okay.”

“I needed you to know. I needed to hold you. I needed to have you in front of me. And I wanted to celebrate the fact that we’re getting a movie about our lives,” Eddie smirked. “I wonder who will play you. Someone with a nice ass is a must. Their hair will have to defy gravity. Don’t know if they’ll find anyone with that smile, though.”

“Me? Why would they need anyone to play me?” Steve played with the string of the hoodie. “That might be kinda boring.”

“How would they make a movie about me and not include you? You’re the reason I ever made it past Hawkins, sweet thing,” Eddie leaned in to kiss his bottom lip. “Maybe they’ll just cast you. No one else could pull it off.”

“Eds-“ Steve blushed. “Wait. Okay, I trust you, but what were you doing in the picture?”

Eddie laughed. “He had just finished telling me about his boyfriend who lives in Italy. He’s apparently just a regular guy in finance who has no interest in the whole fame thing. Sound familiar?”

“Sounds like you two have a lot in common.”

“The picture was me asking if we could crash at their home in Italy next summer on our honeymoon,” Eddie said casually.

Steve froze. “Honeymoon?”

“I’m open to other places, but you still haven’t been to Italy and I know how much you wanted to see Rome and Florence,” Eddie was smirking.

That bastard.

“You are ridiculous, you know that? I’m over here planning how I’ll survive a breakup with you and you fly across the country to propose with a honeymoon planned before I’ve even said yes! You know how crazy that sounds, right?” Steve shook his head. “You’re lucky I love you. You’re lucky I’m not interested in big romantic gestures.”

“Damn. Hold on, let me make a call,” Eddie reached into his pocket for his phone.

“What?”

“I gotta cancel the big romantic gesture,” Eddie explained as he typed furiously on his phone.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It was a whole thing. Robin was involved. There may have been 500 flowers ordered. I think it’s too late to cancel the singing telegram though.”

“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re being serious,” Steve wouldn’t be surprised if at least some of that was true.

“Oh, I’m serious. The ring was being set on the bed in the middle of a heart made of rose petals. I didn’t half-ass a fucking thing, angel.”

Steve pulled his phone out of his hands and set it on his desk. “Don’t cancel anything. I changed my mind. I am very much into big romantic gestures when it’s you doing them.”

“It was a team effort. I mean, I had to move it all up unexpectedly, but this was all gonna happen next month when I came home." Eddie pulled Steve into a long kiss, tongue tracing his lips. He pulled away to rest their foreheads together. "I'm not doing this just because of what happened, but I need you to know you're it for me. You've stuck by me through failing senior year, through being broke trying to book gigs all over the midwest, through the stress of our first album being released and the unexpected overnight fame, every album and tour since then, every time I've had to miss things that matter to you because of the band, all of it. You love me anyway. I don't always deserve it, but I'm grateful."

Steve's lips pressed against Eddie's again. "I love the life we have. I love you."

"I'm not asking you without the ring. I made so many plans. Robin will murder me in my sleep if I don't go through with them," Eddie laughed. "So can we get out of your classroom before I do something inappropriate and get you fired?"

"I mean," Steve glanced at the clock. "Technically all the students should be gone. We could lock the door..."

"Steven Harrington! How dare you suggest I fuck you over your desk in a school! I can't believe you would tell me to unbutton your jeans," he said as he unbuttoned his jeans. "And get on my knees." He got on his knees. "And suck you until you can't stand anymore."

"Eddie!" Steve chuckled, shoving his hand in Eddie's hair. "We should at least lock the door."

"So you're not saying no?"

"Why would I say no?"

"That's what I'm saying!" Eddie got back up and ran to the door, flipping the lock and turning back to Steve with flushed cheeks. "This is like, maybe three of my biggest fantasies in one, so I may actually come in my pants."

"You're ridiculous."

"Baby boy, my hand is my only friend on tour, you know that. How can I possibly hold myself back when I've got your dick in my mouth?" Eddie dropped to his knees again, looking up at Steve with something close to reverence.

"It's not in your mouth yet," Steve smirked as he tugged his waistband down enough to free his cock.

"Oh, I missed you," Eddie said directly to Steve's hard cock. "Steve, I want you to fuck my mouth until I pass out."

"I'm not doing that."

"Okay, well I'll settle for until I have to tap out."

"Fine. But it's not gonna be long for me," Steve shook his head. "Missed you, too."

"The sooner the better, sweetheart."

[literaila]

stress baking

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you bake a cake and satoru tries to distract you

warnings: mom guilt (angst), fluff, satoru, etc.

last part | next part

*

year five.

“ooo,” satoru reaches a hand across the counter, fingers about to contaminate everything in the kitchen. “frosting.” 

you're slouching against the oven, trying to pretend like the cakes have been cooling long enough to frost when he comes in. 

and you know immediately that you've been caught. satoru can read your mind with a mere glance most days, and so you try to avoid his eyes. because really--you don't need (or want) his input about this

you slap his hand away, turning away from the cakes. “don’t touch,” you tell him, glaring. “i don’t know where your hands have been.” 

satoru grins at you, leaning against the counter so he can observe your corrupted workspace. “i can assure you that you do.” 

you roll your eyes, flipping a cake pan over. it shouldn't take too much longer, really. just a couple... hours. 

“what is this? did i forget about a birthday?” he looks up suddenly, startled. “was it yours?” 

you scoff, moving every edible thing away from his reach, and still don't look up at him. but you can still feel every moment he makes, like a secret intuition. 

as if knowing this, satoru smiles, leaning his elbows against the counter, face in hands, just watching you. “nah, i wouldn’t forget that.” 

“hmm, when’s my birthday again?” 

“it’s… uhhh a day. once a year," you make a face, scrunching your nose away from him, and he resolves. “the best day of the year?” 

you ignore him--and your stupid instinct to look at his face, in his eyes, and observe every expression he makes--wishing that cakes were sturdier. it's late enough that you already know this is going to be a disaster. can you make cement appetizing? 

“no, really,” satoru waves a hand in your face. “what is this?” 

“it’s a cake.” 

“for what?” 

“tsumiki.” 

he raises a brow, tapping on your forehead to get you to pay attention to him. “is it her birthday?” 

“no, you deadbeat dad, her birthdays in may.” 

“right.” 

you roll your eyes again, cutting the top off of the cake. still, you try to keep your eyes concealed from him. your entire being--even though you're well aware that it's futile. 

satoru can feel it when you cut yourself shaving in the shower, so it's likely that he already knows what you're doing. 

and exactly why you're doing it. 

but, you can play chicken with him for hours. you're very used to pretending like he doesn't know what you know that he knows. very very good. 

“sooo..." satoru drawls, voice bright and smiley. like the demon he is. "what’s it for?” 

you sigh, wanting to throw the excess cake at him. “can you use some critical thinking skills? just once, please?” 

“why would i do that when you could just tell me?” 

unforunately, the two of you both know that he's not going to leave without an answer. he's purposefully using your greatest weakness--his face, your heart, your irritating want to tell him every thought that crosses your mind--against you. 

but who's fault is that if not your own?

“she’s worried about a test tomorrow,” you say, slowly, finally turning to look at him, trying not to wince. “so i’m making her a cake.” 

satoru is already grinning, hand partially covering his mouth. you glare at his terrible attempts not to laugh at you. 

at least his eyes are pretty. his cheeky eyebrows and stupid knowing look. without the view, you know, satoru would mean absolutely nothing to you (and everything, of course).

“will it give her superpowers?” 

“shut up, gojo, what are you doing to help?” 

“not worrying about it," he answers easily, "tsumiki’s a genius, she doesn’t need your anxiety too.” 

“i’m not anxious.” 

he smiles at you, tilting his head. 

you crack, trying not to squeeze the offset spatula in your hand. “whatever. last time she got in a fight with akio you tried to buy her a kitten. i’m not taking your criticism," you look away from him, frowning. but before he can say anything, you add. "or your advice."

“the kitten wasn’t just for her,” he says, whining. “it was an addition.” 

“an addition i was going to take care of.” 

“tsumiki wouldn’t have to worry about a test if she had a soft, cute, cuddly little baby kitten to cuddle with.” 

you refrain a smile. “that’s redundant.” 

“you changed the trajectory of her life by telling me no. she'll probably go to prison now," satoru sighs, shaking his head at you. 

“yup. it’s all my fault.” 

he laughs, reaching a long arm over you to try and steal some frosting again, but you grab his wrist and push it away. he frowns, but asks, “are you going to let her eat this for breakfast?” 

you pause, looking back at him (he's already smirking because you've had that conversation a dozen times) then you look back at the cake you’re currently mutilating. “um…” 

satoru shakes his head. “so she doesn’t even get to have any until after the test? what's the point in that?" 

"the point," you say, glaring at him. "is that it's nice. i want to do something for her." 

"bake a cake?" 

"shut up." 

he laughs again. "you're such a nerd." 

"you can leave now." 

"what'd she say?" satoru asks, smiling up at you, brow perked. "'i have a test tomorrow?'" 

you huff, waving him away. "fine, no cake for you." 

"tsumiki probably didn't even tell you," he continues, cockily. "you probably read it in an email and immediately turned on the oven." 

"you are not helping." 

satoru snorts at you one more time, and then he stretches as he straightens up. 

your eyes dart towards him--and the sliver of skin you can see peaking out from under his shirt, very attuned muscles--and then away. you're not being caught again. 

but satoru is already smirking at you as he rounds the counter, hands traveling to your waist automatically, squeezing you to him--in a very uncomfortable position, by the way. 

he nuzzles his nose into your hair, breathing obnoxiously. 

"satoru, i'm busy," you say, trying to sneak out of his hold. unfortunately, he's way stronger than you are.

your hands have been blocked by his hold, and you set down the spatula, forced to bend to the will of this very irritating co-parent of yours.

"you're so cute," he says, cooing into your head.

"i'll pour oil in your hair." 

he laughs, again. "then you'll have to take a shower with me." 

you push him away, finally, scowling. he only moves back a couple of inches. "not happening." 

"you realize that you're crazy, right?" satoru asks, still smiling, but a bit differently. it's less arrogant and more adoring. like he's completely star-struck, lost in the entirety of you. "this isn't news to you?" 

"i'm not crazy. i'm being nice." 

he continues to smile at you, ignoring your carefully pointed scowls and the harsh way to continue to frost the cake. "tsumiki will be fine. even if she fails her test, or gets sick, or..." he shakes his head, shrugging. "pulls the fire alarm so she doesn't have to take it." 

"i hope you're not encouraging the children to fake an emergency." 

"she's the smartest kid in that class, sweetheart, she'll do fine. and would it really matter if she didn't?" 

you pause, biting your lip. no, it wouldn't matter, you should say. you should just tell him the increasingly worrisome thoughts that have been collecting in your head the past couple of weeks. you should've just helped her study more or made sure that she was feeling comfortable, or double-checked on her grades another time, or--

"well, she can have her cake as a reward," you say, instead, ignoring that last bit. 

you both already know the answer anyway. 

satoru is quick to wrap an arm around your shoulder, gentler this time, pulling your head to his chest with an impenetrable hold. "what's this really about?" 

"nothing." 

satoru's lips twitch, and it's silent for a moment, your disheartening 'nothing' ringing through the kitchen. 

he's so stupid. and you hate that he knows what's wrong already, but that he's gonna make you say it. and you hate that it's sweet, in its own, very annoying way.

and then you break.

you sigh, a grumble coming from the back of your throat. "i just think i've been too worried about megumi lately. i mean school and missions and..." 

satoru raises a brow at you. "okay?" 

"and then there's you, too," you add, giving him a look. but it's dropped very quickly, as you look down to the floor. "do you think i've been paying enough attention to tsumiki?" you ask, softly. 

tsumiki has always been good at taking care of herself, that much was obvious when you met her--when satoru told you what the two kids had been doing for months, all on their own. 

but you don't want her to have to take care of herself. or feel like she should, just to make it easier on you both. 

she's far too people-pleasing, far too sweet to tell either of you if you're missing something. she could have a broken arm and walk around like nothing was wrong until you finally asked. 

you swallow, then continue. "you and megumi are important, but i don't want her to feel ignored just because i've been preoccupied." 

"wow. i'm just a distraction to you?" satoru asks, pouting. 

"you know what i mean," you whisper, shrugging. 

really, you know these are just venomous thoughts. trying to hit you where it hurts. 

but there's that part of you that isn't sure. if you're usually wrong, why shouldn't you be right this one time?

"you pick them both up every day, feed them, put them to bed, help with their homework..." satoru shrugs, never seeing the things that you do; stronger than you'll ever be. "how could she feel ignored?" 

"well, i've been spending more time with megumi trying to figure out his shikigami. and you and i have been going over those books, and tsumiki can't be a part of any of that so she probably feels left out, and i haven't been doing anything with her anyway--" 

"woah," satoru interrupts, a brow raised. "what's wrong with you?" 

you glare, trying to push him away to no avail. "get out, satoru. i need to finish this." 

"no, i'm serious." he holds a hand to your forehead. "are you sick? did you hit your head on something?" both of his hands grab onto your face, squeezing your cheeks together. 

"stop," you say, muffled from his pinching. 

"you're so..." satoru shakes his head, every word going unsaid. "she doesn't feel ignored. she couldn't, because you're very clingy." 

"not as clingy as you." 

satoru laughs, pinching a bit harder in retaliation. "okay, so there's two of us. at this point, tsumiki is probably looking for other families to go live with." 

"she wouldn't leave megumi." 

his grin widens. his eyes are thoughtful, careful. "you spend time with her every day. you probably know more about her schedule than she does. megumi is..." satoru tilts his head. "difficult, and a priority. but tsumiki knows she is too." 

"i just don't want her to feel lonely. or unimportant," you whisper to him, eyes darting down to his chest. 

you know that it's a natural reaction, to want more for your kids. to want to protect them from your own feelings, however different the situations might be. 

when satoru tells you that tsumiki reminds him of you there's that scared, cowardly little girl who recoils in response, flinching away from that idea. you never want her to feel like you do, to be like that little girl. 

but unless you can erase history, you're not sure that it's possible.

satoru's eyes soften, looking at you. he breathes out, letting go of your face finally. then he leans down so his forehead rests against yours, shaking his head. "you're the most ridiculous person i know." 

your eyes are forced upon his and you finally crack a smile. "have you met yourself?" 

"megumi spends more time with us because he doesn't have any friends," satoru tells you, ignoring your glare at the statement. "tsumiki's just cooler than him." 

"i'm gonna let him hide your blindfolds." 

satoru rolls his eyes, but he shakes his head again. he's just staring at you, so you know that he's not going to entertain your pity party any longer. 

at least he knows that there's no point in arguing when you're not going to listen to reason.

you nod, looking away from him, back to the counter of destruction. "okay, i'll just finish this for her. i already started, so i might as well--" 

"finish it in the morning," satoru says, finger forcing your face back to his.

"not how that works, satoru." 

"put everything away, and finish in the morning," he repeats, trying ridiculously hard to sound stern--but it's almost impossible with the smile that leeches onto his face. "she can have some after school." 

"but i just want--" 

satoru shakes his head, shaking your jaw with his hand. "you're tired. go to bed." 

you cross your arms. "since when i have i ever done anything you said?" 

"since i said so," satoru answers, as a finality. 

and then he lets go of your face and wraps his arms around your waist, getting a secure hold so he can pick you up, hoisting you across his shoulder before he can say anything. 

it's about as gently as satoru does anything, but still surprisingly comfortable.

you squirm against him, though, ignoring that thought, making sure not to squeal at the sudden feeling of being swept off your feet. the children are asleep. "put me down,” you hiss at him.

"nope. it's bedtime." 

"satoru gojo, i swear--" 

he just laughs, removing you both from the kitchen and continuing down the hall. 

but instead of stopping at your door and depositing you in your bed--probably finding a key to lock you in with--he continues to his own room, opening and door and spinning around so he can shut it softly. 

you don't have the time to question his motives or meanings before you're already trapped in the enclosed space with him, with none of the willpower to argue with him. 

your room is cold anyway. 

satoru walks you both over to the bed, laying you down in his usual spot, head against the pillow (he ignores the glare you have pointed up at him). 

he shrugs off the sweater he's wearing, throwing it somewhere behind him like the teenage boy he is, and then lays down. 

right on top of you, of course. 

his body is sprawled across yours, your shoulder digging into his chest. but his arms are on either side of you as he holds himself up so that he can continue to look at you. 

he has boxed you in completely. and just his eyes on yours keep you from any viable means of escape. 

you breathe in his face and frown. "i hate you." 

"shhh," satoru is grinning, his face bright enough to be seen in the dark. "we're sleeping. can't hear you." 

"you're heavy, satoru," you complain, pushing at his chest with an ounce of strength. it doesn't work because you don't want it to. 

satoru pretends to snore, but he's still several inches above you. his face is close enough that you can see little scars, and the flecks of white in his eyes. he's looking at every part of your face, every single inch of your being. 

your eyes should focus on his, but you're used to this. so, after a moment, they trail across his face, to the bridge of his nose, and down to the swell of his lips. 

there's light coming in from his window, the moon flattering satoru completely (not that he needs any help). 

and, right now, as he keeps himself just above you, satoru's smile is gentler than ever. 

it lacks the bravado, the carelessness he usually exudes. but it's full of something else, probably something more. 

and you're the only person that gets this smile. the slightly drowsy, completely sure one. 

so you keep your eyes on it for a moment too long, but it's really not your fault at all. 

you could just kiss him and fall asleep.

he's looking at you like that's what he wants you to do, and you know that you're probably looking at him the same way. a simple kiss and the two of you would pass out, unbothered by the aches you'll wake up to, or the body weight that could suffocate you.

but you've never made things that easy. 

when satoru leans down, his entire back tensing, muscles probably straining from staring at you for this long, you sigh. 

satoru pauses, moving back a centimeter, checking your eyes for something--his are bathed in temptation, basking in desire, and you're sure that yours are just an echo of all of that. 

but it's the perfect opportunity. 

he leans in again, but you interrupt. 

"i still need to put everything away," you whisper to him, cheek twitching. 

satoru groans and his head falls against your shoulder. 

you tangle your hands through his hair and giggle into his ear until you can feel the goosebumps across the skin of his biceps. 

*

"so, tsumiki, how'd your test go?" 

you glare at satoru, trying not to look at how tsumiki reacts. you've decided that you don't care. 

tsumiki is always happy, satoru told you this morning, she might be on drugs. 

and, well, you couldn't quite disagree with him (the first part, not the second. he got a smack for that).

she nods, forking her piece of cake again. "good," she answers, through the bite that's already in her mouth. 

"was it a hard one?" 

"nope!" 

satoru gives you a look. a very familiar 'i told you so' look. 

you roll your eyes, giving megumi a piece of cake which he takes begrudgingly. 

"shut up," you tell him.

*

next part | series masterlist

[ddejavvu]

This might be terrible, but Eddie and Steve relentlessly teasing you because they think the reader has a crush on someone but the crush is them and Eddie is just being pervy about it while Steve is making light hearted jabs like "I know who you like" and the reader freaks out a bit.

Sorry for the ramble 😅

part I | part II | part III | part IV

—

"Why so tense?" Eddie's ring-clad fingers grip tight at your shoulders, the heels of his palms digging into your neck. You tense at the sudden contact, his frizzy curls dangling over your face as he leans over you from behind.

Your shoes raise off of the sticky food-court floor, a sickening squelch coming from the soles. You stiffen under Eddie's touch, feeling his fingers prod relentlessly into the sensitive muscles in your shoulders. He has no idea what he's doing to you.

"She's looking for the guy," Steve offers with a sly smirk, "She's got a crush."

Your heart stops in your chest. Steve knows. Eddie knows. They know. You tense impossibly tighter at Steve's bold statement, and Eddie picks up on it, a shit-eating grin sneaking over his face.

"Oh," Eddie practically purrs, "Do tell, Harrington."

"I'm not telling you who it is," Steve scoffs, and your heart leaps in your chest: he knows who it is?

"Baby," Eddie cranes your neck up with a finger to your jaw, peering down at you indignantly, "You told him, but you won't tell me?"

The pet name sends butterflies swarming in your tummy, "I didn't tell him," You insist, "Honest! And- and I don't have a crush on anyone! You guys are mean."

You dismiss them huffily, poking at your pitiful pasta. You shouldn't have gotten spaghetti, the sauce is watery and the meatballs are dry. But it keeps you distracted from the hot water you've just landed yourself in, and you stuff your mouth so they can't get any further answers from you. The mischievous smirk on Steve's face had been wildly attractive, and Eddie's finger is still hooked under your jaw.

"Right," Eddie drawls, his well-manicured digit slipping beneath the strap of your bra and giving it a sharp snap to your skin, "That's why you wore your pretty pink one?"

"Dude," Steve grimaces at him, "You know which bras are her good ones?"

"'Course I know," Eddie boasts, "I pay attention."

To your tits?

Your cheeks flare with heat at Eddie's flirtatious statement, and Steve watches you squirm. He reaches over to swat Eddie's hand away. The metalhead sits down with a huff, propping his chin up in his hand and staring imploringly at you with his big brown doe eyes.

You're not sure which is worse. Steve's kind concern for your comfort, or Eddie's relentless banter. But then both happen at the same time, and you realize they're both equally terrible for your health.

"You know if you get a big dumb boyfriend," Eddie speaks, his voice soft to your ears, "You can't leave us in the dust."

"He's right." You know Steve will regret saying those words for the rest of his life, but he squints suspiciously at you, "We want you to be happy, and all. But if you stop coming over for movie night, we'll start a riot or something."

"A riot," You scoff, busying yourself by poking at your cold pasta, your voice downtrodden, "I'm not gonna get a boyfriend, Steve."

"Hey, don't say that!" Steve reaches out to swat gently at your shoulder, "He must be really dumb if he's gonna reject you or something."

He is, you think, watching Eddie's amused smile at your growing embarrassment, though concern hides behind it. Then Steve, who, bless his heart, hasn't ever picked up on blatant flirting, now claiming himself to be the pinnacle of stupidity.

Something is absurd about the situation, and you let out a snort, "Yeah, he's fucking brainless."