#and he smiled and thinks those two dorks

[devildogdemon]

YOU DID IT 👏👏👏 AND IT’S DELICIOUSLY RIDDLED WITH TEEN PRETENTIOUS ANGST BRILLIANCE 🙌

High School AU Peeta Mellark listens to Iris by Goo Goo Dolls and leans his head against the bus window like he's in a music video.

[no-144444]

i love love your writing i probably binged some of them haha! i was wondering if you can write smth about their partner having intense baby fever. i was thinking you can do oscar or ollie or the whole grid, really up to you ❤️

꩜ summary: you say something, and it tips his world upside down

꩜ pairing: oscar piastri x fem! reader

꩜ a/n: thanks for requesting!

Family functions weren’t exactly Oscar’s forte, but you made them bearable. Kids running around, adults too drunk to remember to hold their tongues, and you and Oscar, usually sat in the corner of the garden on kid duty. You were wonderful at it, listening intently, sorting out arguments in seconds, all while holding onto one of Nicole’s friends daughter’s 5 month old baby. He’d tried to take her off your hands, but she’d started crying immediately. He watched in awe, totally enchanted by you. 

“We should have a kid,” you said, as casual as anything. His world tipped on its side. Yeah, maybe he thought about it occasionally. Like in those moments when you’re so wonderful with Penelope, or his own family, or Lando’s nieces and nephews, or maybe in those moments when you know exactly what to say to anyone to calm them down, or often those moments when he was balls-deep inside of you seconds away from cumming. “What do you think?” you turned to look at him with that innocent ‘I didn’t just give you a boner and make you want to cry at the same time’ look. He turned his attention back to the park in front of you both, Family Fun Day in full swing. 

“I’d like that,” his voice was a pitch too high and he coughed despite himself. “I mean- yeah. I think we should. Affirmative,” he felt like he’d passed out and woken up with his hand on his forehead, ready to salute. You chuckled and leaned against his shoulder, his cheeks already a bright shade of red. The baby in your arms wriggled, but it didn’t faze you. None of it seemed to. 

“You’re such a dork,” you chuckled, then you were quiet for a moment, soaking it all in. The garden in front of you, littered with kids of all ages, and you couldn’t help but think of you and Oscar with your own little hoard of kids who looked exactly like you two. You watched as he helped out one of the girls, she’d fallen and hurt her knee, and he sat her on the remaining space on the bench between you, and played ‘I-spy’ until she felt good enough to go back out there. “You’ll be a great dad though.” 

Again, his world flipped on its side. He cleared his throat, shocked that even after years of being together, you could still make him feel like this. He took a deep breath. It was the fact that it was definitive. Not ‘you would’ be a good dad. You will be a good dad. No questions asked. “You’ll be a great mum.”

“I hope so,” you answered dreamily. “Some little toddler running around looking like us.”

He swore he’d died and gone to heaven when he thought about that. Mornings with you, sunlight streaming in, a little girl or boy who had your eyes and his hair or vice versa, babbling away while he helped you make a morning coffee, and helped them with homework, or reading, or anything they’d ever want. It pulled at his heart more than he’d want to admit. “Yeah,” he smiled. “That’d be nice.”

mclaren masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

[dissolved-g1rl]

࿐ mark & his office siren gf ࿔*:･ﾟ

“You didn’t have to Mark.” You murmur, looking at him from under your eyelashes. “But I wanted to.” He replies back, he doesn’t think that bringing you a coffee and some lunch really warrants the adoring look you give him, but he’s happy to receive it.

You check the thin wristwatch he’d gotten you for your last birthday. “I have thirty minutes left of my lunch, wanna come up with me?” You ask brushing lint off the shoulder of his sweater, manicured hand running down to his bicep. He’s wooed easily, nodding and following you into the elevator, he really likes the way your ass looks in those slacks.

He follows you from behind to your cubicle, it’s not bad, you’ve got a framed photo of the two of you next to your computer, and cutesy calendar thumbtacked to the play grey wall. He likes all the stationary you have, doodling seance dog onto a little sticky note while you eat, leaning over whenever you offer him a bite. Looking at you sheepishly when you brush his lips with your thumb to remove the crumbs.

“Whatcha doin’?” You ask tossing the trash into the bin under your desk, lightly brushing your heeled foot against his calf. He flips the sticky note and smiles like a dork. A guffaw escapes your lips and you pluck the sticky note from his fingers, sticking it onto the wall of your cubicle. “Makes it a lot livelier don’t you think?” You croon playfully, reaching across rubbing just under his chin. He leans into your palm, “Yeah, ‘s like actually depressing in here.” He mumbles, he receives a flick to the forehead and he winces away. “It’s not depressing!” You chide. “Okay! Jeez…I take it back.” He says putting his hands up in defense.

He feels the seam of your blazer unable to resit the curve of your waist for any longer. Leaning in to slot your mouths together, getting your lipstick on his lips as he kisses you. You smile at him, handing him a tissue, Mark ends up leaving your cubicle more disheveled than he arrived, leaving with a little extra pep in his step. And if anyone sees Invincible pick you up with a bouquet in hand after work, that’s not really anyones business.

credit to @adornedwithlight for banners

[dazedantics]

One sided rivalry Mark Grayson x Reader

For that suggestion of: Reader hates Mark but still ends up as his friend.

There are some people who just rub you the wrong way. No apparent reason for it, but you just can't come around to liking them no matter what you try.

This is how you felt towards Markus.

You hated him.

But you don't know the exact reason why ... maybe it's cause you've been stuck with him your whole life. He was like those weird kids, the one that nobody likes but there's always some poor soul that gets stuck, forced to be tailed by them wherever they go.

That's what happened to you.

You remember your first day of kindergarten, walking into the classroom, wandering around, scanning each desk in search of the label with your name on it. Taking a seat at the desk big enough for two people and having the dark haired dork take the free seat next to you, too close for comfort, his legs brushing yours. "Markus" the second little label on the table top read. He was gonna be your table mate. For the rest of the year.

He was a nervous thing, all lanky under clothes that fit a little too big, stuttering a greeting after tapping your shoulder with a big ol' cheesy grin on his squishy face. Call him "Mark," he said.

Other than needing to do your crafts together since he was your table mate, you did everything to avoid him.

Yet he was still tagging along, ten steps behind, sometimes even peeking from behind trees too thin to hide his body, smiling and looking away shyly whenever you spotted him, inevitably running over to invite himself into your games.

You hated it.

Didn't he know anyone else? If he could so easily wedge himself next to you, couldn't he find some other poor schmuck to glue himself too?

You told him to go away. Many times. And he just laughed, thinking you weren't being serious. Or maybe he was just too stupid to know what those two little words meant.

So was it really such a shock that you started hitting him? Knocked his two front teeth out with one good wallop. Made his stupid little grin look even stupider.

The teachers got you in trouble for it.

Or at least, they tried. Markus stopped them though, grinning with a hand cupped over his bleeding mouth, the red dripping over his fingers and down his chin. Said it was okay, it was an accident, you were sorry.

It was not. You were not.

But you had to apologize anyways.

And then he had the gall to share his money that the tooth fairy gave him in exchange for the two teeth.

That stoked the angry fire even more.

What the heck was wrong with him? Shouldn't he be scared of you now or something? Keep away whenever possible? The other kids did.

You hated him.

You started kicking his feet under the table, flicking his ears, pinching his arm, tripping him, shoving him whenever you could. Yet he still kept on smiling, doing it back to you as if he decided this was a fun game for you two.

It was not.

Couldn't he see you were being serious when you said you didn't like his stinkin' guts?

Needless to say, the two of you got in trouble a lot. Which sucked cause it meant you were forced to spend timeout together, only you and Markus in the back corner while the other kids got cookies. And he made stupid little faces at you the whole time when the teacher wasn't looking. Maybe he was trying to make you laugh, he sure was giggling like an idiot the whole time.

You were looking forward to the day you moved up to bigger grades. You wouldn't have to deal him there.

Well, you wouldn't have if the world didn't decide to torment you. Every single grade after that, the two of you were in the same class. Different tables most times sure, but that didn't mean the teachers stopped making you pair up for any sort of project. Some even tried to bribe you with extra credit if you tried to get along and started working together.

But whatever, that was elementary school.

Junior high would be different!

... Yeah, right ....

Same classes, same projects, same fights, same old side by side seats together. But being older, staring to care about everything more, his presence just further angered you.

I mean, do you know how embarrassing it is to be in the middle of a conversation and that weird nerd boy comes up to you, smiling politely to your friends as he waited for you to wrap up your conversation. You could try walking away, glaring at him while discreetly ramming an elbow into his side, mouthing for him to go away. It doesn't matter. He just trails behind, mouthing you don't know what back.

And before you know it, you're all alone again. Just you and Markus. Your friends will excuse themselves as say they'll "leave you to your boyfriend."

... Boyfriend ...?

... Boyfriend?

... Boyfriend !?!?!?!

In what universe!?!?!

You and Markus? Ewwww!! You couldn't think of anything you'd hate more!

You'd shove him back, snapping at him to get out of your life, face red with rage.

He was going to ruin your life at this rate!

But he still doesn't seem to take your words seriously. Still trails along, still smiles and laughs, still pokes at you playfully every now and then, still says things like, "Hey you remember in first grade when (bla bla bla)?"

You hated him. Absolutely hated him. Why couldn't he see that?

After that, you started trying to make your distaste for him more obvious.

But he'd never fight back. Just took your punches with a sigh. Rolled his eyes when you shoved him against his locker. Laugh with a small "ew" after you'd spit at him "that technique needs a little work." You never laughed with him.

He just kept getting on your nerves.

But eventually, you started thinking that maybe he'd never care. And maybe you shouldn't either.

High school rolls along and you ignore him entirely.

He wants to walk with you? Fine, doesn't mean you have to talk to him. He wants to sit with you? Fine, doesn't mean you have to look at him. He wants to talk to talk to you? Fine, doesn't mean you have to listen.

And it kinda gets easier to block out his presence. Like a ghost who's been haunting you but you finally learn to live with it.

But then you start to realize where your indifference has lead you.

You don't talk to anyone else, cause explaining Markus' presence behind you is a hassle. You automatically go over to him for projects cause you know the teachers will pair you even if you request to be with someone else. You walk with him to your classes cause you have the same subject anyways.

There you sit one lunch, suddenly flashing back through ever moment of your life where he's in it.

And he's there next to you, thighs warm and close to yours as they always are. Rambling about something you haven't been paying attention to the whole time. Sure, it's not just you there, one other guy sits across from you two. But you've only ever noticed Markus.

Wait ... even if it was just one person ... did he always have someone else to talk to all these years?

The thought makes the storm boil in your chest.

Why then? Why did he stick to you like a stubborn piece of dirty old gum stuck to the bottom of your shoes?

Then you feel his hand under the table, trying to press something into your own.

He does that a lot, doesn't he? You've never paid attention to what is was though. Maybe now?

You look down.

It's ... a packet of one of your favorite candies.

How does he ...?

You stare at the side of his head, mouth busy talking the other guy's ear off.

You know how he knows.

It's the same reason you know what his favorite candy is.

What his favorite everything is.

You know just as much about him as he knows about you.

Which is everything.

Every little thing.

Even if you don't want to.

You tuck your face in your hands, fingers stressing your hair as you remember everything over again.

Was he ...? Is Mark ...? Oh god ... he is, isn't he?

"I'm gonna be stuck with you for the rest of my life ..." You whisper.

He whispers a, "You're welcome" back, clearly not hearing what you had actually said, before continuing on with his conversation.

And you start imagining your future.

It's impossible to think of one without his stupid smiling face there to follow you.

"... Goddamnit ...."

Markus is gonna be there til your dying days. And probably even follow you in your afterlife.

But why, oh why, did it have to be him?

[lavenderspence]

Cute, Outraged Genius | S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, Spencer being a bit of a technophobe

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: Spencer comes home only to find you using a kindle…instant outrage

A/N: This is just a cute little story about Spencer being our little technophobe genius. I actually don’t own a kindle, so don’t know how those work or anything, but physical books are in fact superior, so.

The quote at the end is from “Book Lovers” by Emily Henry

masterlist

You loved his apartment, sometimes more than you loved yours. Being in his space, surrounded by his things - his books, his clothes, the silly art he indulged in. Being drowned by his scent, meters upon meters of space he’d touched, it soothed you like nothing else could.

The peace you felt whenever you were in his space was unparalleled.

You loved his bedroom, the plushness of his bed, his closed, where you found yourself stealing his shirts and cardigans, never giving them back. 

Your favorite place in apartment 23 was his couch, where he found you often enough, when he returned from a case, curled up with a book. You loved the blanket thrown on the back and the windows that allowed for the whole apartment to light up with the sunlight. 

And then there were his bookshelves, in clear view from said couch. Filled with his favorite books, special editions he held close to his heart, or some that brought him knowledge. The shelves, that now also held some of your favorite books too.

Reading, books, was the thing that had brought you together in the first place, so when he’d made space for your clothes in his closet and your toiletries in the bathroom, he’d also made space for your books to sit beside his own. 

He’d insisted it made the place feel less like it was his own, and more like it was shared, even though you weren’t living together. It warmed your heart to know, that he saw his apartment as a home for both of you.

Seeing your books among his own, made you fall even more in love with him because he knew what they meant to you. So much so, he tumbed through a few, leaving sticky notes with his little thoughts between the pages.

As for your first meeting, it was funny.

You’d met a year ago, at a cafe close to his apartment. Stuck in a long queue, waiting for your turn, your nose had been buried into a book, completely oblivious to your surroundings. Spencer had been standing behind you, and like the nosy dork he is, had been reading along with you, over your shoulder.

When he’d pointed out an inaccuracy in the plot, compared to real life, you’d screamed, slamming the book shut, and successfully making a fool of yourself in front of the whole cafe. 

He’d apologized bashfully, and asked to buy your drink for you, and then lingered for a short conversation before he’d been called away on a case. 

In his hurry to get to the FBI on time, he’d forgotten to take your number. Two weeks later, and after a lot of blaming himself for being a dumbass, he’d seen you again, nose buried into another book, sipping a beverage next to the window of the cafe. 

You hadn’t attached puzzling looks this time, and he’d gotten your number. A year later, you couldn’t be more happy for the fact that your boyfriend sometimes didn’t really get social cues.

You smiled, thinking back on that day. 

You focused on your book again, eyes dancing around the page, following with rapt attention. 

Reading was one of the few things that brought you peace, quieted your brain, and improved your mood. 

Sometimes you envied Spencer’s genius, being able to go through War & Peace at breakfast, without batting an eye. Reading, and reading, and still having the time for other things. If, in your lifetime, you could read as many books as Spencer had read thus far in life, you’d be happy. 

You were giggling, kicking your feet, and enjoying your book, when you heard the telltale sign of Spencer arriving home - his key being inserted into the lock. 

You didn’t move your eyes away from the book, having reached a great part of the book. 

The door opened, and in walked your boyfriend, a peep in his step, happy he’d get to see you and spend time with you after 6 days of being away. 

He left his keys in the bowl next to the door, freed himself of his shoes, and set his messenger bag down. 

He walked further in, noticing the vanilla and chocolate scent in the air - you’d followed tradition, baking a small tray of chocolate chip cookies as a welcome for him. 

He stood behind you, draping his hands around your neck, and leaned over to kiss the side of your head gently, finally diverting your attention away from the book. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” he murmured, warm breath tickling your neck next, as he kissed around your ear and pulse point. 

“Hi there, babe.” you were whispering too, finally happy to be in your own bubble. “How are you? How was the case?” you asked, just like you did every time, just like you did every day. You always wanted to know how he was, you wanted to know about his day, and he’d gotten so used to it and had done it so many times for you too, it had become routine, a way to show each other you cared and loved each other. 

“I’m good, a little tired maybe,” he nuzzled your neck, eyes shut in contentment, “The case was tough, but successfully closed at the end,” he rarely elaborated, only if someone was hurt, or the case had taken a toll on his mental health. Other than that, he didn’t like bringing the gory details of the cases home with him. 

Home was his space with you, where you laughed, and sometimes cried. Where you cuddled and made love, read together, or to each other, where you cooked, where you relaxed. It was no place for the realities of a BAU profiler. 

“What are you doing?” it was a simple question. 

“I’m reading,” and there was an even simpler answer, except if you were Spencer Reid, a doctor with three PhDs, three bachelor’s degrees, an FBI agent, and a complete, and utter technophobe. 

You felt him lift his head before he choked out a high-pitched “You’re what?” and you turned around to see him, shock and betrayal written on his face, his eyes as big as saucers. 

You looked at him like he’d grown two heads, but you knew you should have expected this. 

You’d made the decision to get a kindle last week, and you’d used the time he hadn’t been home to set it up and try it out. 

“What are you even reading on that thing? That’s not a book!” he was outraged, but at the same time, he looked so cute, that you started laughing. You brought a hand to your mouth, in hopes of muffling the sound a little because you were losing it, laughing with everything you had. 

“Stop laughing, it’s not funny. I’m serious.” you just laughed harder, even though you tried to reign it in and stop. 

Around a minute later, your laughter started dying down, and you looked up, only to see him with his arms crossed against his chest, an expression between bewilderment, and those deep brown puppy eyes staring straight into your soul.

“It’s a kindle, Spence, it’s all digital,” you told him

“No, I know that, but you can’t be serious,” your brows furrowed, a bit butt hurt, until he continued, “You know, readers prefer physical books. A recent study found that only 21% prefer e-books, as little as 14% audiobooks, and 65% are physical book readers. Another study found that your brain absorbs less when you read on a kindle than on paper.” You laughed again, loving his brain, and then patted the space next to you, waiting for him to sit down.

“I thought you were pro saving the planet Mr. Three PHD’s.” you joked, waiting for him to sass you back. After all, one of your favorite characteristics of his was how sassy he was. 

“Well, yes I am, but statistically, physical copies are superior. A book needs to be physical, not whatever bullshit that is. Come on, let’s just return this, and I’ll buy you all the books you want,” he went to stand up, and you pulled him back down by the back of his shirt. 

“Aww babe, I know you will!” Spencer loved buying some of your books for you, he loved seeing the smile on your face when he bought a book you’ve wanted for a while. You buried your face into his neck, hugging him to you. 

“Come on, let’s cuddle before dinner, get a cookie, and I’ll read to you for a bit, I just reached a good part,” you whisper into his neck, and he exhales, reaching towards the coffee table to get a cookie before you relax into each other, and you pick up the kindle, reading where you left off. 

“We really are two opposing magnets, incapable of being in the same room without drawing together. I want to scrape my fingers through his hair and kiss him until he forgets where we are, and everything and everyone that ever made him feel like he was a disappointment. And he’s looking at me like I could, like there’s an ache in him only I could soothe.” you read, hand running through his hair, happy to have him back.

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[readreidsworld]

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky lets down his guard in your arms, wrapped in bubbles, warmth, and love.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The water was warm. Almost too warm. But Bucky said it helped his shoulder, so you didn’t complain.

The tub was oversized, one of those ridiculous “luxury” upgrades you never thought you’d use. Until now with Bucky’s long legs stretched out under yours, his arms around your waist, and his breath soft against your neck it made perfect sense.

The air smelled like vanilla from the bubbles you’d dumped in without reading the label. A few stubborn suds clung to Bucky’s arm , catching the candlelight and making him look almost ethereal a little less soldier, a little more storybook.

“Comfy?” he asked, chin resting on your shoulder.

You nodded, humming. “You make a good pillow.”

He chuckled, his chest rumbling against your back. “Not too bony?”

“You’re all muscle, Bucky. You’re basically a human mattress. His fingers brushed along your arm, slow and absentminded, tracing patterns into your skin.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You could hear the soft plink of water droplets sliding off the edge of the tub, the muted flicker of candlelight, the slow rhythm of your breathing syncing with his.

“I used to hate baths,” he said eventually, voice low. “Back in the day they weren’t peaceful. It was always rushed. Cold water. Scrubbing down like I was washing off a war.”

You turned slightly in his arms, looking at him over your shoulder. His hair was damp, pushed back from his face, revealing every quiet line of him. You reached up and gently dragged your fingers through it, combing it back.

“But now?” you asked softly.

He looked at you, blue eyes warm. “Now it’s not about scrubbing anything away. It’s just… this. Peace. You.”

You leaned in, kissing the corner of his mouth soft and slow.

“You’re allowed to feel safe, Bucky, you’re allowed to be soft” you whispered against his skin.

He swallowed, jaw tense not from discomfort, but from the emotion you knew he still didn’t always have words for.

“I know,” he murmured. “I feel it. Every time you look at me like I’m not broken.”

“You’re not.”

His eyes closed. “I think I believe you.”

You turned fully now, straddling his lap, careful not to splash water out of the tub. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and he held you like you were something precious. Because to him, you were.

“You know what I call this?” you said, smiling.

He raised an eyebrow. “This? Our bath?”

“Mhm. It’s your bubble armor.”

His brow furrowed. “My Bubble armor?”

“You always think you need to be the tough guy. But in here? You’re just mine. Soft, sleepy, surrounded by bubbles and vanilla. It’s like a forcefield.”

He smiled then a real one, wide and bright, the kind that made you fall in love with him all over again.

“You’re such a dork,” he said, and then he kissed you.

You curled into him, your cheek against his shoulder, water lapping quietly around you both.

In a world that had always taken so much from him, Bucky finally had something the world couldn’t touch.

Peace. Warmth. You.

His bubble armor.

The bathwater had gone lukewarm by the time you climbed out, skin wrinkled and cheeks flushed with warmth. Bucky wrapped you in a thick, fluffy towel without saying a word, gently tucking it around your shoulders like he was wrapping up the most precious thing in the world.

“You look like a sleepy dumpling,” he said softly, brushing a kiss to your temple as you stood on your tiptoe’s to towel off his dripping hair.

“You look like a soggy lion,” you mumbled, still half lost in bath stupor, ruffling his wet curls with both hands.

He grinned, letting you fuss with him. Bucky liked when you touched his hair though he’d never say it out loud. But the way he leaned into your palms told you everything.

Eventually, the two of you made your way to the bedroom, sleepy and wrapped in towels. You tugged one of Bucky’s long-sleeve shirts over your head (it reached your thighs) and crawled into bed while he pulled on a pair of flannel sleep pants and shook out his still damp hair like an overgrown dog.

“Do not shake your hair like that near my pillow,” you warned, pointing.

He smirked. “Oh no. Not your pillow.”

“That’s right. My sacred pillow. You have your own, Barnes.”

“You say that, but I always wake up on yours.”

You couldn’t argue with that. His head always found its way to your pillow and you always woke up tucked against his chest like gravity didn’t apply in your bed unless you were touching.

He climbed in beside you and immediately pulled the blankets up to your chins, wrapping his arm the warm one around your waist and pressing his face into your neck.

“Cold nose!” you squeaked, squirming with a laugh.

He only held you tighter. “You’re my heater. Deal with it.”

You giggled, running your fingers through his hair, slow and soft. His breathing slowed almost instantly, and your heart swelled at the way he melted under your touch the way he only ever truly relaxed with you.

“Hey, Bucky?” you whispered.

“Mm?”

“You okay? Really?”

He shifted just enough to look at you sleepy blue eyes meeting yours in the dim light. “I’m okay,” he said quietly. “I think… I’m happy.”

You kissed the tip of his nose. “You’re allowed to be, y’know. You don’t have to earn it.”

He didn’t answer, but the look he gave you full of something heavy and beautiful said everything.

After a while, his breaths evened out. You could feel his fingers still curled loosely around the hem of your shirt, like he needed the contact even in sleep.

You whispered, just for him: “I love you. So much.”

And maybe, just maybe, he murmured it back slurred and quiet right before the two of you drifted off into the kind of sleep you only get after long baths and being wrapped in love.

[luveline]

Hey Jade!!! I was just wondering if you could do a soulmate au with Spencer please? Maybe something along the lines of those cheesy ones like the first words are tattooed on or they have the same tattoo idk, whatever you u feel like 😊

—Spencer meets his soulmate. You’re as lovely as he’s always pictured. fem, 1.3k

Someone will love me one day.

Spencer must think it a thousand times. When he has to put his mom in the sanitarium and he feels more alone than he ever has in his life, he knows one day someone will love him anyways. When he gets called ugly, too skinny, nerd, dork, and a handful of words that are even worse, he knows one day someone will say the opposite. He won’t be alone forever.

He was two when they appeared, dark black cursive words tucked against his pulse. Spencer felt ugly nearly every day of his life, wrong and weird, but the words on his wrist have never changed, ‘You’re so handsome I can’t believe it’s you.’

One day someone’s gonna look at him and see handsome.

Today, he feels pretty good. He’s back home in Washington, D.C., the grocery store he loves is open again after a long reconstruction, and they had a bunch of fruit from South America that he’s never tried before. He carries a white plastic bag full of fruit, bread and cheese back to his apartment, each step in the sunshine, the kiss of it warming his cheeks. A busker plays music near the mouth of the subway station. Nobody has yet to scowl at him for being in the way.

He’s wondering what he forgot when he sees you. You’re smiling, the sun on your face and arms, which are strangely full. Books slide against your chest, but besides a little huff and a shift of your elbow, you don’t seem to notice the slim paperback working its way through the crowd in your arms. It drops down onto the sidewalk but you keep walking. You must be in a hurry.

Spencer darts forward to your dropped book, thumb under the title. Charlotte’s Web by E. B White. The spine is flaking and soft from use.

He should call out for you. You’re already getting too far away.

Spencer crosses the road and dives deeper into the city with you. Washington, D.C. isn’t without grandeur —it’s the capital of the USA— and so he finds himself surrounded by potted trees and stretches of well tended grass. School’s broken for the day, children weaving around on bikes and scooters or holding hands with their parents taking up altogether too much space. He loses you in the crowd.

Spencer stops in defeat.

Maybe if he puts the book back in your path you’ll see it on the way back.

He’s not sure why he doesn’t. Spencer keeps your book and starts to walk home. This isn’t how he’d usually get there, but he can manoeuvre around the park.

He keeps an eye out for you. Ridiculously, he’d thought about giving the book back to you and making you smile. He hasn’t talked to anyone who wasn’t a cashier in two days.

“Hi.”

Spencer looks down. “Hi,” he says, spooked by the little girl in front of him.

“Is that for the library?”

He shakes his head regretfully. “No, I– I found it. I’m trying to give it back.”

“Okie dokie. I never read that one before.”

“I’m sorry, it’s not my book to give away… Where’s your mom?”

The little girl points at a mom and a younger child playing on the grass near a circle of benches. There’s a huge dark cabinet with its doors skewed open in the middle, and when he squints he realises it’s full of books. “Oh, is that the library?” he asks.

“Yes!” the little girl insists.

“Okay, well, here’s what we’ll do,” he says, looking desperately for you, disappointed when he can’t see a sign of your nice blue shirt or your sunny smile, “let me go see if I can find the lady who dropped this book, and if she says it’s okay, I’ll keep it for you to have. But you can’t run off from your mom again. Deal?”

The girl grins, thick hair shiny in the sun. “Deal!” she says, running in a burst toward her mother, who startles when she realises she’d left in the first place.

Spencer creeps toward the library. He can’t leave the book here now, he’s promised he’ll try to find you.

You come around the back of the library cabinet with a smile. Free Library, the sign says. Take one if you want, leave one if you can.

You stop in your path when you see him. You smile again, you’re prettier for it, lovely with the sun on half your face, your slight squint. You open your mouth to speak.

Spencer beats you to it. “Hi, I’ve been trying to catch up to you,” he says, raising your copy of Charlotte’s Web to his chest. “You dropped one of your books.”

You take a half step back.

Spencer grimaces. “I promised a little girl I’d ask if she can have it, I’m so sorry. I get stuck and I don’t know how to say no.”

Your eyes flash down to your hands. “You’re so handsome,” you say, and Spencer’s heart stops dead in his chest, your lips shaping each word without measure and somehow the prettiest anyone’s ever looked as they move, “I can’t believe it’s you.”

His shoulders sag with a deep breath.

You raise your arm to show him the contrasting font laid against your pulse. Hi, I’ve been trying to catch up to you.

Spencer shows you his. You’re so handsome, I can’t believe it’s you.

“It’s you,” he says.

You press your hand to your mouth. “I was walking too fast, right? When I was a kid I thought if I made everybody chase me that eventually somebody would have to say it, but then it stuck, and I rush everywhere I go.” Your voice turns breathless. “But you’re the person who was supposed to catch up to me.”

He smiles softly. “I think so.”

“And I just told you you’re handsome. I’m sorry, I bet that was embarrassing to… carry around, all this time.”

“It’s the best gift anyone’s ever given me,” he says honestly.

“I didn’t think you’d be so pretty,” you explain.

“I knew you would be.”

You hold your hand out. He’s about to tell you he doesn’t shake but he finds he really wants to, and you’re not shaking his hand anyways, you’re holding it, looking at the cursive on his arm with a disbelief he echoes in his own smile. You rub the tip of your thumb over the word handsome.

“Do you like books?” he asks.

You nod distractedly. “I love them,” you murmur, looking up.

His entire arm is alive with tingles.

“Do you read much?” you ask.

Every word you trade with one another has this shy longing he’s never felt, like you’re desperate to know about one another but worried you aren’t allowed to ask. Spencer’s about to tell you all about it, how he’s always reading, how books have been with him through everything, but there’s a tug on his shirt that stops him.

“Hi,” the little girl says.

Spencer laughs. “Hi.”

“What did she say?” the little girl whispers.

Spencer looks to you for guidance.

“Of course you can have it. It’s an amazing book,” you say.

“Thank you!” she says, holding out her hands.

Spencer doesn’t mind handing it over. If she didn’t ask him for it earlier, he might’ve never had the courage to look for you. He could’ve left the book in the cabinet and turned around, but he didn’t. And now he’s met you.

You step into his side. “Did you– do you want to get coffee?” You peer down at the bag now slipped from his elbow down to his wrist. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Do you want to have a picnic with me?” he asks.

You nod for so long he has to laugh. “I’d love to,” you say, offering your open hand.

Spencer threads your fingers together. That one day he always dreamed of seems a lot closer than it did before.

[applecidersturniolo]

hate to be lame.

in which..you’re falling in love with your best friend, is that okay?

your laptop screen aluminates the glow of blue light directly in your face.

how do you know when you lik-

no. that’s stupid.

how do you know if your best-

still no.

how do you know you are falling in love?

bingo.

you read article after article, page after page. different sappy poems, stupid scripts about finding the one. but was he actually the one? or did you just think he was?

maybe you just weren’t used to guys being so..friendly without them wanting something in return.

you don’t really trust the internet, but maybe this one time, maybe it’s worth trying. you hate to admit to yourself that you’re desperately in love with your best friend, it’s truly embarrassing, but you can’t help it, the feeling of longing..it’s always on the tip of your tounge. in the back of your mind.

“it’s gonna change everything.” you breath out while shaking your head, “it’s not.” chris says blunt, “it is.” you argued.

chris scratches the stubble on his jaw, “so do you wanna do it or not?” his patience running thin, not with you. never with you. just with the situation.

“yeah..yeah just. just do it.” you spoke moving your legs from under you to crossing them in front of you. you can feel chris’ tender hand graze your jaw as he pulls you closer, your breathes mix together. before you can pull away, before you can say it’s not the right time or something dumb he presses his lips against yours. it’s the most gentle thing you have ever felt in your life. it was over quicker than it happened.

your lips swollen, his eyes meeting yours. “so?” he whispers, you lick your lips, the faint taste of his caramel chapstick lingers on your tongue. “no um..no i didn’t feel anything.” you muttered as you fiddled with you shirt. you’re such a god damn liar. you felt every little thing those stupid websites described falling in love as. you felt every little butterfly swarm in your stomach. and you hate to admit it but you think he knows it to. he knows that you love him, that you need him. but is that enough to make him stay? is it enough to make him feel the same way? absolutely not.

so now you guys are right back to where you started from.

if you could rewind time back to last week when your lips collided with chris’ and you told him the truth, the real truth. would that really change everything? would there be some butterfly effect? would the stars genuinely align.

maybe.

but it’s too late for that now. because now, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, your feet on the dash board as you two sat and shared an orange. the smell of the peel filled his car, “you fond of oranges?” he questioned popping another piece in his mouth, “i’m fond of the way you say the word” you spoke simply, chris lets out a dry chuckle, “what? orange” he repeats furrowing his eyebrows, his thick boston accent coming out clear as day, making you chuckle and shake your head, “you don’t even realize how you’re saying it!” chris’ head falls back against his head rest. “you’re a fuckin’ dork, you know that?”

a grin plasters onto your face, “no. but you love to remind me” you spoke taking the piece of orange he was offering from between his fingers.

chris let’s out a soft chuckle and smiles to himself. silence fills the car for a moment, chris’ attention is out his window, staring at the street lights that brighten up the almost empty parking lot. “i know you’re in love with me” he spoke gently.

you could’ve thrown up onto your lap right then and there. “you what?” you whisper, you heard him. you heard him clear as day. “don’t make me repeat myself, you know i hate that shit” he muttered as he takes a sip of his drink, he glances at you, seeing your well nervous expression. “i know you’re in love with me.”

all you can do is slowly nod, chris places his hand on your knee, his thumb going back and forth, he’s trying to comfort you but it only makes your mind race more and your heart beat faster.

“you know how i feel..about relationships and shit” chris chokes out, his throat clearing. “but fuck.”

a sliver of hope cuts through you like a knife, the simple word but opens up flood gates to a whole new world, a whole new relationship between the two of you.

“i mean, i hate to be lame but..i love you too” chris shrugs.

you lick your lips, “yeah?” you breath out, “yeah.” he echos.

“so kiss me.” you blurt out. chris smiles and leans over the center console, his lips melting into yours, the sweet yet sour taste of orange seeps between the two of you.

orange is your new favorite flavor. chris is still your favorite person.

yall does this fic make sense SAY YES OR NO 🫵🏼😖

divider creds: @bernardsbendystraws

TAGS FOR INTERACTION: @sturns-mermaid @oopsiedaisydeer @slvt4chrissturniolo @owenstar @lyingonchris @malsmind @bernardsbendystraws-bookshelf @mi-co-uk

[ultimate-shipper-blog]

I'll Send an SOS to Your Heart

-------

"Ok, I'm imagining things."

Steve is laying on his bed watching his lights flicker.

He plugged in one of those space projectors that's supposed to make your ceiling look like the night sky.

It's not weird that they're flickering, the light was a dollar at Melvads he wasn't expecting it to work long.

The weird part is that the stars keep making a heart shape.

He sees the heart flash a couple of times before he flips over and hides deeper into his pillow.

"No." He groans. "No more upside down shit."

If some upside-down monster was flirting with him he quits.

All the lights in his room surge to maximum brightness.

"Fuck off."

The lights draw a middle finger.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" He jumps out of bed and points at the orbs.

It draws a winky face. (;P)

"Who are you?"

His blood runs cold. An upside down monster can't flirt with him. They don't know English. He has an idea but it can't be true.

They left him there. He's dead.

...isn't he?

'SOS' the lights read.

"Fuck." Tears spring to his eyes. "Eddie?"

'Hiya'

-----

He spends a while talking to Eddie.

It's tough.

It takes a while to write everything out and Steve is still trying not to hyperventilate or cry or pass out so it's taking a lot of energy to keep up the conversation.

'Sleep?'

"No."

'?'

"Nothing I'm just...not tired."

'Liar'

"WHAT! I'm not I just-"

'-_-'

"Fine."

':)'

"I'm scared."

'Me?'

"No, I'm scared this is a dream. That I fell asleep hours ago and I made you out of my guilty conscious. I just don't want to lose you...again."

'Back'

"Back?"

'Bring back'

"Bring...you back?"

'YES'

"You think we can bring you back?"

'Plan'

"Yes! I'll call everyone we can figure it out. Oh! We have El to help us this time! You're gonna love her Eds she's just like the kids you look out for and she's magic! I'll call them right-"

'NO'

"No?"

'tom- sleep now'

"I think this is a little more important than-"

'Sleep <3'

Steve looks over at the clock, 4 am.

Shit.

"Ok. I'm going to sleep. Will you...will you be here in the morning?"

'W STEVIE'

"Ok. Goodnight Eddie."

'GN <3'

----

The plan goes off without a hitch.

It takes them about two weeks to formulate and execute the plan.

Steve spends his days and nights talking to Eddie, keeping him updated. Keeping him in his life.

He speed runs a crisis or two when he realizes he wants to spend the remainder of his days speaking to Eddie.

He can't wait until he's here with him.

Alive.

-----

So it's more complicated than he thought.

Maybe there's a hoard or bats blocking them from Eddie.

Maybe Steve throws himself in front of the kids and fights off the creatures long enough for them to find Eddie and get him back home.

Maybe Steve bleeds a little too much and collapsed as soon as they reach the other side.

----

He wakes in the hospital to nine pairs of eyes staring at him.

They're all arguing with each other. Their voices low as if they're trying not to wake them.

He wants to talk he wants to reach out.

Eddie is standing by the door in a baseball cap and sunglasses as if he was trying to be inconspicuous.

As if Eddie could ever hide from Steve. Steve would find him anywhere he is.

God, he's here! He's in the room! All this time apart and he's so close!

"Mphahhpsh" he can't form words but it doesn't matter.

Everyone stops and Eddie's eyes meet his. His eyes look wet and he looks skinny and exhausted.

He's never looked more beautiful.

Eddie's eyes turn down into a determined glare. He pushes past everyone until he's inches away from Steve.

He takes a deep breath and then leans down and kisses him.

Flat on the mouth. In front of everyone.

The shocked noises are what pulls them apart.

"I'm so happy to see you, I really like you," Steve says.

"That's my line." Eddie smiles and kisses him again.

"Don't ever try to save me again I can't ever see you in a hospital again," Eddie presses their noses together.

"That's my line."

Eddie chuckles and pushes his nose into Steve's cheek. "Dork."

"Yes, yes, you're both terrible. Now what the fuck is happening."

They break apart to see the crews shocked faces. Mike's face is pale and Dustin is an interesting shade of red.

Robin is staring at him a little proud.

He sends a wink her way and pulls Eddie in closer.

They'll figure it all out later. They have time.

----

This started with once sentence in my brain and grew into three different plot points I put together in a rush. :P

Please comment I love to read em!

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

YOU ONE OF THEM QUEERS???

Yandere Conner Kent x Weird black!reader

So what if you invited your brother's best friend to watch One Piece with you? He said he never had! What kind of psycho has never watched One Piece? You thought, but then again, the psycho was a test tube baby; he wouldn't know about the amazing run of Disney Channel back in the day, how it used to be, or how hyped everyone was for the Kaido fight with Luffy, or understand the cultural significance of a DBZ movie in theaters. You had to show this little lab rat the greatness of TV. Sure, he knows, but he doesn't know more. I mean, he never rushed home to watch Toonami after school. You had to teach him, and well, your little guinea pig was eager to know. Connor wanted to get closer to you in every way possible—be your best friend, be your favorite superhero, maybe even boyfriend if you catch the hints he's dropping. No, he doesn't just want to play Smash Bros; he wants you guys to be more than tag team buddies, but you'll only see him as something friendly. He calls you "babe," and you hit him with a "bro," you're breaking the poor boy's heart. He holds your waist; you think it's just a friendly gesture. He leans his head on your shoulder, smelling the cocoa butter you spread in your dreads and how it sticks to anything he wears. But to you, "Awe, the little guinea pig is sleepy," you teased, and this was the night you invited him over to the mansion. I mean, there's literally an entertainment room; it would be a shame not to watch the best story created by my man on a freaking projector!

"Wow, you're early; the popcorn ain't even poppin'!" you joked, a coy little smile on your face.

"I like being on time, babe," he smirked back, entering the mansion. "Hey, no boots, mister! This floor is hardwood, and I know you walk around in mud!" you warned, but there was still a playful edge to it.

“Ugh, babe, buy me a drink first before you see my feet!” Conner said with a big grin, and you made a fake gagging sound, causing the two of you to laugh. You took him by the hand and pulled him to the entertainment room.

"So how far are you in One Piece?" you asked. You forced him to watch it, but you couldn't call it force, because he watches it with you, telling him to listen and obey whatever you say. "Don't watch the movie; it's a waste of money." He was looking forward to it, but if you hate it, he hates it too. "Yuck, I hate the comic writer; he retcons almost everything if he can't fit it into a plot." If it's that bad, he won't read their comics.

"This fandom is pretty toxic, but come on, the merch is amazing! I mean, look at these MHA pins; they're too cute!" If you like those pins on your bag so much, then he'll wear a Todoroki pin on his leather jacket to make you smile.

You sat with Conner in the theater; it was the whole Cake Island arc. You were already on Wano, but Conner was new to the game, so you didn't mind going a couple of arcs back for him. His head was laid gently on your shoulder; you felt him sniff you and nuzzle his nose into your neck, which made you giggle.

"Dude, quit staring in. Try to pay attention; this is important for later arcs," you always say, but you're way more important to him.

"You say that every time," Conner huffed.

"Cause it is!" you gave a half-hearted laugh.

You looked down at him, and for some reason, the glowing light of the projector made you look stunning. The blue light cascading on your dark skin made you look so surreal, as if you weren't from this planet.

"Come on, Conner, just pay attention for a minute. I promise it'll be worth your while," you said softly. It felt so intimate, like you guys were in an actual movie theater, and you were like.

"Shhh, baby! We can't make out right now; the fight scene is happening." You're such a dense dork, but oh, it just makes it even better.

"Yeah, I'll pay attention." News flash: he won't. He'll be too busy staring at you and how your face lights up during the fights. His super hearing means he'll still listen, but he'd rather watch you, and maybe later he'll watch a YouTube video explaining the arc.

"God, I wish I were as cool as Sanji. He looks so wicked in that red cape! You know, you should really get a cape like that. I know your whole thing is leather jackets, but come on, you have to try out red. Plus, I heard it makes a person's eyes..." You trailed off as you turned to look at Conner, who had his full attention on you, and, God, it made you blush a slight purple.

"Shit, I'm rambling again. I know you don't want to hear me yap. Good, I feel like such a skeeze-"

"No, you're not," he said softly but firmly. It made you giggle like a schoolgirl.

"What?~" you said, nervously

"I like your voice a lot, baby." Now, when he says it like that, it doesn't feel like a cute little nickname he came up with.

"And I like it especially when you talk about shit you like. You're so passionate about it; you don't see that with regular people. You're so genuine," he continues, getting closer. You turn away, covering your face. God, you're such a dork. He just wants to take you right here and now, but that would be unlawful.

"So what, you think I'm cool or something?" You laughed with a half-hearted smirk.

"I think you're amazing, babe," he answered, grabbing your face to look at him, and you laughed, covering your mouth with your hand. This made Conner laugh too.

"I'm trying to be smooth, and you're laughing at me!" Conner chuckled.

"Smooth? Yeah, right! You're as smooth as the acne on my forehead!" Then you both burst out laughing, your foreheads connecting. "Goofy-ass motherfucker!" you said in between giggles.

"Come on, baby, you know I've moved some; they say I've got rizz~" You pushed Test Baby to the side, snorting.

"Who the hell lied to your bum ass?" you snickered.

"No one!" He protested.

"Uh-huh," you pulled yourself closer to him, wrapping your long arms around his neck. "You have no game."

"You just don't want to admit I'm cooler than you," he quipped.

"In your clone dreams," you snapped playfully.

"You're in my cloned dreams," he said, your face getting uncomfortably close; it made you laugh.

"That shit was corny as hell," and you and Conner giggled some more; he felt your touch ever so gently.

"Can I?"

"Can you?"

He then pressed his lips to yours, and Conner could have sweated as he ascended to another state of being. Your lips tasted like buttered popcorn and cheap soda—something he loved more than anything, especially if that flavor was you. He pulled you closer, his hands wrapping around your slim waist. Your hand was now placed on his cheek as you felt him slowly start to get on top of you, and you let him. And shit, who cares if you're kissing your brother's best friend? He should have called dibs by now.

You gasp for air, but Conner doesn't let you recover. He presses his lips against you hard this time, passionately. He has kissed a whole ton of people before, which gives him the experience you lack. You feel him suck on your tongue, and you whimper just a little, shivering. Is this how it feels to kiss? ‘Cause if it is, God fucking bless! You feel his gloved hand reach underneath your Wonder Man hoodie. You grab his arm and pull away. He hears the great Superboy whine like a puppy, and it makes you snicker just a little. Your hand that was on his cheek moves to his now swollen lips.

"Kon, pay attention; this part is important. This is when Luffy fights Katakuri, and we get to see his Devil Fruit," you whispered against his lips. Da fuck? You stopped good kissing and touching for an anime fight??

Your lucky he thinks your hot.

(Made this one while listening to chapple roan God I love that little lesbian)

[dixonsstinkysock]

It���s Temporary

AN: This was going to be a random blurb but I’m too into this and he’s such a dork. Guys don’t tell anyone but I kinda wanna write smut, I’m not going to because I’m scared but y’know.

(Heavily inspired by a bot on C.AI, pretty sure the user is @/zetali_09 so if you see this i love you.)

Warnings: Swearing, mention of an apartment blowing up….suggestive???

Set during Season 1, before the timeskip…

The cold, Upper city, night air chilled you to the core. The dark streets only illuminated by the few street lights scattered here and there. You wrap your cloak around you a little tighter as you made your way to the meeting spot. Making a sharp turn down a dark alleyway, you narrowly miss a couple of enforcers doing their nightly rounds.

Leaning against the cool, damp, brick wall. Enjoying the noises of the city, letting time pass by as you wait for your companion. Around a half an hour later, you hear heavy footsteps and the soft click of the high-cost, well made shoes echoing throughout the alley. You recognized those steps, he saved up for a long time to purchase those shoes, no way could you forget them. You open your eyes, turning towards the culprit of the noise. “Took you long enough, thought I was gonna rot out here.” You smiled at the shadowed man, stepping into the moonlight.

“Sorry, had a few things to finish up with my work. Left later than I expected…”

You walk up to him, trapping him into one if your famous bear hugs. An unfamiliar scent wafts from him, its sweet…it’s expensive. Definitely not his signature cologne smell—no, something different. You both stay there for a moment, enjoying the new company. Everything seems to fade away when your with him, it’s like he’s the cure to your disease.

“Been a while since we last talked—“

“Yeah, I…” You pull back, looking Jayce in the eyes. “I’m sorry. There’s been alot going on.”

His hands come up to your face, gently caressing it. He’s always gentle with you, a contrast from the rough, dangerous streets you grew up in.

“Hey…What’s going on?” His voice is soft and smooth, with the occasional voice crack, it’s not fair. His looks already make him desirable, but hearing him talk to you with that tone? Drooling.

“It’s my siblings, they’ve been getting into more and more trouble.” You fully pull away from him, turning towards the lit up entrance of the alleyway. “It’s like Vi doesn’t even realize how bad things can really get.”

“Hey—“ He takes a step foward, gently grabbing your shoulders and turning you to him. “I’m here. I’m here to help—with anything. We’ll figure this out okay?”

A bittersweet smile graces your lips, you close your hand over his placed on your shoulder.

“You don’t know the Undercity, Jayce. I don’t think there’s anything you can do to help me on this one…”

The two of you stood there, unspeaking. You can practically hear the gears burning inside Jayce’s head. You can almost smell the smoke coming from them, It’s obvious he’s thinking of ways to try and help you and your family. After a moment, you rest your head onto his chest, defeated, and looking for comfort.

“I can’t let you risk you life for this. You have too much ahead of you.”

You feel his arms wrap around you, bringing you closer. He buries his face into your hair, breathing in your scent.

“There is nothing ahead of me without you.” You lock your arms around him, holding back a few tears. Jayce feels you taking fast, deep breaths, attempting to keep your composure. It’s all been alot, apparently your kid siblings were being nosy—blew up some guys apartment. Now every enforcer in Piltover is searching for them. You take a deep breath, leaning up straight to face him again.

“I won’t let you risk your life for me…risk your future—”

“I’m not some idiot throwing himself into danger for fun! I’m protecting someone I love.”

That. That catches you off guard. Yes, you two have been messing around every other night, cuddling after, speaking soft sweet words to each other…but love? He didn’t really love you did he? You’re from the Undercity. The scum of the scum. He’s from the top, he’s perfect. No way he actually means this…does he?

“I’m choosing to do this because I care about you, I care about your family. You aren’t alone in this, no matter how much you think you are.”

Time stops for what feels like hours, you gaze into his eyes, trying to find some kind of sign to tell you he isn’t being true. You can’t. His caramel eyes look gold from the street lights, determined and dead set on aiding you. You let your head fall onto his chest again, giving him your unspoken permission to help with your situation.

“I just realized I didn’t ask about how you’ve been.”

His arms tighten around your body, gently rocking you both back and forth. “Ha…” Jayce lets out a breathy chuckle, preparing himself to recount the most recent and life changing events. “It’s been different…Some guys blew up my apartment.”

You freeze. There’s no way they did that. It can’t be the same apartment right? How many apartments blow up in Piltover? Oh my god. My siblings blew up his fucking apartment. “Uh…” You can’t even form a sentence, still shocked at the new information. What are you going to tell him—

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah—are you okay? You’re fucking apartment blew up!” You pull back from him, facing him again. Your hands find their place on his waist, trying to ground yourself after what you were just told.

“My back’s still a little sore but I’m fine.”

“How much did you lose?” His mood darkened, eyes darting to the ground. “Alot.” You take a deep breath, This shouldn’t have happened. He is a good man, maybe a little crazy sometimes but—good. This whole thing is a mess. Jayce doesn’t know your sisters are the ones who blew up his apartment, you can’t go and get onto them for this because they don’t know you’re with him. You’re stuck, with no one to go to, maybe Vander but…he’d get upset that you’re up here with a topsider. Just so happens, he’s the same topsider your sisters were targeting.

This is fucking stupid.

After giving him your apologies, you realize it’s getting light. You should start heading back home, hopefully without Vander noticing you were gone.

“Jayce, It’s getting early. I gotta start heading back…”

“So soon..?” He smiles, he’s clearly up to something as he brings his hands up to your jaw. The sun is slowly rising, changing the sky into beautiful hues of orange and blue.

“Have to get back before Vander wakes up, I do not wanna hear that lecture.”

“Do you have to? Maybe you could…stay with me?”

“Stay…Topside. With you.”

“Yeah, I mean we could spend the day together. Go and do something…” He takes your hands into his own, engulfing them. You take a moment to think about his request. It’d be fun spending time with him, you’d be able to really enjoy his company. Not waiting for something or someone to come out of the shadows, trying to rob you or worse.

“Okay…What did you have in mind?” A smug look slowly plagues his face as he takes your hands into his, leading you out of the alley and in the direction of his temporary home.

“Trust me?”

You grip his hands tighter, letting him lure you into whatever devious plan he’s set up.

“Maybe…”

Two shadows danced against the stone road, slowly disappearing as the sun rose higher into the sky. One by one, doors open, carriages roll by, and the occasional stray kid runs in front of you two. None of that matters, not when his callused, warm hands are handling you so gently. When he looks at you like you’re his world…like he can’t live without you.

It definitely doesn’t matter when he pulls you into his hotel, hands roaming each others clothed figures as he closes the door behind you.

Guys…Part 2?? What y’all think 😈

[day1dream]

Andrew!Peter Parker as your boyfriend

he's such a tease, but still awkwad

probably the dumbest genius alive

makes all those lovey dovey things like bringing you flowers or writing you love letters

smiles like the biggest dork as soon as he sees you smile over something cute he did

stays late at the lab with you and it doesn't really matter for him if you help him or just sit there

as long as you're there, he's happy

drifts into a daze when he looks at you, and starts to blurr out everything around you two

loves to go on museum dates with you

takes photos of you (yes, also that kind of photos, but only after a few months of being in a committed relationship)

combined with the cheesy yet generous line "I always take photos of what I think looks beautiful. And I can't think of anything more gorgeous than you.“

[daddydindjarin]

Chapter 1: After Midnight

Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!Reader Rating: M- nothing in this post, but it'll get there, so we're going to mark all the shots as M. A/N: The way this show has sparked my imagination back into full gear is absolutely insane. I've not been able to get these characters out of my head, and the FMC feels like she jumped into life fully formed. If it wasn't for @lowlights and @write-and-buried I wouldn't have had the courage to write or post so I'm so thankful for them listening to my ramblings about these dorks. And as always, the dividers are by @firefly-graphics

---

PTMC Emergency Department, 2:13 a.m.

You’ve been at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center for eight years, and the hospital hums in your bones by now. You started here as an intern, matched fresh out of UNC Chapel Hill, more nerves than skin. Somehow, you stayed—intern year, residency, boards, senior year peds elective that cracked something open in your chest. Now you’re two years into a pediatric emergency medicine fellowship, and you’re still covering every inch of the ER. Peds. Adults. Whatever rolls through the ambulance bay.

You’re good at it. Everyone says so.

It doesn’t make tonight easier.

The air smells like vomit and bleach, and the kid from North 2 coded in triage before you even touched him. Seized twice. You got him back, got him upstairs, but it took something out of you. Something you’re pretending you didn’t need.

The charting desk blurs in front of you, your fingers hovering uselessly over the keys. Your body is moving because it has to, but your brain…your brain’s somewhere else. Blank. Fuzzy. You’re wearing betadine on your sleeve like a medal, your hair’s half out of the tie, and your stomach’s been twisting empty for hours.

The paper coffee cup appears like a miracle.

You blink. Steam curls gently into the fluorescent light and you can smell the sugar before the coffee, and you know, one sugar, no cream- exactly the way you drink it when you’re too tired to argue with yourself. The hand that brought it disappears from your periphery, and when you glance sideways, Robby is already leaning against the counter.

He’s still in scrubs and a half-zipped jacket, sleeves pushed to his elbows. His hair is messy in that way that it only gets after he’s run both hands through it four times in a row. He signed out hours ago.

“You looked like you were about to fall off the stool,” he says, as if it explains anything about why he’s suddenly here.

He places something else on the desk, and the crinkly yellow packaging is immediately recognizable. It’s a granola bar- oats and honey, your favorite, and he doesn’t even say anything about it. Just places it on the counter like he does this every night.

You take it without thinking, not bothering with a thank you. You’ve known him too long for that. Since your intern year, when he used to watch your traumas like he was waiting for you to sink or swim. Robby never said much during those moments. Just handed you gloves, tied your gown for you when your hands were shaking. Once, when you were crying in the stairwell after a loss, he said, “You stayed. That mattered.” You think about that more than you should.

He was the first one you left a sticky note for.

You’d written a question on a chart you felt dumb about- basic trauma math, something you already knew but doubted yourself on anyway- and you drew a little cat beside it, giving a thumbs up. You meant it as a joke, a little self-directed kindness. You didn’t expect a reply.

Later that day, your chart came back with a short answer and a doodle of a matching cat, this one with a stethoscope.

You’ve been trading them ever since. He doesn’t know you save them all.

“You’re off shift,” you murmur around a bite of granola.

He shrugs. “Dropped something.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You dropped something six hours ago and came back for it now?”

“Wasn’t important ‘til I realized it was gone.”

You snort. He doesn’t smile, but his mouth twitches at the corner. You sip the coffee (still hot, thankfully), and you try not to wonder how long he stood in the staff lounge waiting for it to finish brewing. How long he watched the monitor board before walking over.

His knee knocks yours under the desk, light, unthinking. He doesn’t move away. Neither do you.

“You finishing notes?” he asks.

You nod, resisting the urge to scrub your face. “Trying.”

“You want help?”

It’s a soft offer. He already knows the answer- you always finish your own charts. But you shake your head and smile anyway, just barely, because the question still matters.

You both go quiet. Not awkward, just familiar. There’s a hum to it, like a routine you’ve both walked into without planning. He doesn’t speak again, just leans on the counter beside you while you finish chewing and try not to let your hands shake on the keyboard.

And when you shift sideways, just barely, just enough for your arm to rest against his, you don’t say a word.

He doesn’t move away.

Five minutes later, the granola bar is gone, and so is the worst edge of your headache. You’re not okay, exactly, but the world feels a little more manageable with him nearby. A little less like it’s closing in on you from all sides.

You start typing slowly, your fingers still stiff, but moving now. The chart is basic enough- chest retractions, fever, positive RSV. You double-check your med orders, update the time of transfer to PICU, then hit sign and save. It only takes two minutes, maybe three, but he stays through all of it.

When you look up, his eyes are on you.

Not watching you work. Not judging. Just… there. Steady. Present.

You lick the granola dust off your fingers. “You really came back for something you dropped?”

He lifts a shoulder like it doesn’t matter. “Something like that.”

You let the silence stretch between you. There’s a smudge of blood on your sleeve you hadn’t noticed until now- faint, rust-colored, streaked across your cuff like it didn’t want to be remembered, and you tug it down over your wrist.

He notices. Of course he does.

“You need a break,” Robby says. It isn’t a question.

“I need to finish notes.”

“You’ve been sitting in the same spot for twenty minutes and finished one.”

You roll your eyes, but he’s not wrong. You’re only half here. The rest of you is still in that trauma bay, still hearing the mother’s voice break when her toddler stopped seizing and went limp in her arms.

He shifts closer, subtle but unmistakable. “Come on.”

“I’m on shift.”

“You’ve got five minutes. I’ll cover.”

You almost laugh. “You’re not even on tonight.”

“I think I can cover you in my ER for 5 minutes,” he says, already turning like he plans to guard the door if Jack comes looking.

You glance toward the break room. “You just want the last of the good coffee.”

He arches an eyebrow. “You saying you didn’t want the one I made you?”

You’re not sure how to answer that. The truth is, yes, you did want it. You always want things from him that you don’t know how to name.

You stand as if it were never even a question, following him towards the break room.

The hallway is dimmer here, further from trauma. The sound of suction and crying recedes behind you as you push open the door to the staff lounge. It smells like someone’s burned popcorn and someone else’s vanilla lotion. There’s a half-full pot of coffee on the warmer and a chair in the corner with your name on it. Not literally, but it’s the one you always take when your legs give out halfway through a double shift, and tonight is no different as you collapse into it.

Robby follows you in. He doesn’t sit, just leans against the counter and pours himself a cup- like it’s his personal kitchen, like this is just another shift you’re working together, not some strange middle-of-the-night orbit you’ve both chosen to fall into.

“How’s Abbott?” you ask, assuming correctly that Robby had stopped to see him before finding you. You’d seen him come in at 7 when you started your second half of your double, but not since, attesting to how busy the pit always stayed.

Robby sips. “Still teaching residents how not to kill people.”

You grin. “So angry, but effective.”

He nods. “And bored out of his mind. He said to tell you that if you don’t start bringing muffins for night shift again, he’s going to start baking his own, and no one wants that.”

You let your head fall back against the chair, choosing to ignore the fact that Jack knew Robby would find you. “I’ve created a monster.”

Robby snorts. “More like unleashed one. Abbott’s been talking about buying an apron. Pink. With ruffles.”

You laugh, sharp and sudden. “If that man bakes half as well as he burns through residents, I’ll be out of a hobby.”

Robby leans back, arms crossed. “Guess you better get back to baking, then.”

You grin. “Maybe I will.”

His eyes flicker down to your hands. He doesn’t say anything, but his mouth curves, just barely. It makes you feel warmer than it should.

He sets his cup down. “I’m gonna grab a blanket. Don’t move.”

You watch him go.

The moment he’s out of the room, your chest tightens like you’ve been holding your breath. You don’t know what to do with yourself. You never have, not around him. It’s been years, and still this soft ache in your chest hasn’t dulled. You told yourself it was a crush. Told yourself it would fade once you stopped needing his approval, once you finished residency, once you got your fellowship, once you found something real.

But he keeps showing up with coffee. Keeps remembering what you like. Keeps bringing granola bars without asking.

And you keep saving every damn sticky note he leaves you.

You’re still thinking about that when he comes back in, a thin fleece blanket in his hands, and he tosses it toward you. It smells like the linen closet. A little like him.

“Five minutes,” he says, settling into the chair beside yours. “Close your eyes.”

You do. Just for a minute. Maybe two.

And when you feel your head start to fall sideways, when you feel your temple brush his shoulder and he doesn’t shift away, you let it happen. Just for five minutes.

The blanket is thin and hospital-issued, scratchy in the corners, but it’s warm. You pull it tighter around your shoulders, feet tucked under yourself in the awful break room chair you’ve collapsed into a hundred times. Usually alone and vibrating from caffeine and cortisol. Tonight, your pulse is steady. You blame the granola bar.

Robby doesn’t speak. He doesn’t shift, just sits there beside you, long legs stretched out, hands folded loosely in his lap like this is something the two of you always do.

You wake up, god knows how much later, to the sound of someone knocking softly on the lounge door.

Robby stirs beside you. You shift from where you’ve fully slumped against him without realizing it, your cheek sliding off his shoulder. He doesn’t move away until you do.

Kim pokes her head in without waiting, gently calling your name. “Five-year-old with an asthma flare in South Three. She’s stable but climbing.”

You rub your eyes, belatedly realizing you were smearing your mascara. “On it.”

Her gaze flicks to Robby, eyebrows arched. She doesn’t say anything, but you can read her smirk like it’s printed on a chart. You’ve been on the receiving end of enough nurse gossip to know when you’ve just handed them material.

“Thanks, Kim,” you say, voice scratchy. She disappears, and you stand, stretching out your back, wincing at the pins and needles in your feet. Robby stands with you, slower.

You hand him the blanket. “Thanks. For this.”

He just shrugs. “Figured I owed you one.”

“For what?”

His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t answer.

You step out into the hall together. You should split off. He’s not on shift, you’ve got a patient waiting, but you hesitate for a second. There’s something about the quiet between you, the way it softens your jaw, makes the ache in your shoulders a little more bearable.

“Get home safe,” you say.

He says your last name like a secret kept between the two of you. “You too.”

He always calls you that when he doesn’t want to say something else.

You turn down the hallway toward South Three, and you don’t look back.

You’re halfway to the locker room when the day shift rolls in like a slow, caffeinated tide.

Princess is the first one through the bay doors, still in her coat, coffee thermos under one arm, muttering about traffic on the Fort Pitt bridge. She spots you immediately and tsks your last name like a disappointed aunt. “You look like death and poor decisions.”

You grunt. It’s the most language you’ve got left in you.

“Did you even eat?” she asks, already digging into her bag. She doesn’t wait for an answer, just slaps a protein bar into your palm and points a perfectly manicured finger at your chest. “You will eat this before you drive. Swear on my ovaries.”

“Your what now?” you mumble.

“Swear it.”

You nod, obedient and sleep-drunk.

Then Perlah breezes in behind her, laughing before she even hits the desk. “Don’t listen to her, ngulót, she gets dramatic when she skips breakfast.” She gently pinches your cheek on the way past. “You okay?”

“Pulled a double,” you say. “Still standing.”

“Barely,” she mutters, and reaches out to fix the collar of your fleece, hands warm and quick. “You going home or collapsing in the on-call room again?”

“Home. I think.”

“Good.” She leans close and whispers, “Jack left twenty minutes ago. Said if you didn’t get out soon, he was coming back to carry you.”

You snort. “Sounds like him.”

“Did you tell her what he called that kid in trauma last night?” Perlah asks Princess, eyes alight.

“Oh my god, yes. ‘Little bastard’s lungs are doing a samba.’ Right in front of the mom!”

You groan into your hand. “Why do we let him near people?”

“Because he saves them,” Dana answers from behind the triage desk, voice steady as always.

You turn, don’t even remember pivoting, and there she is. Reading the board like she can feel which rooms need her without walking in. Her eyes flick to you and hold.

“You’re still here?” she asks, not unkind.

“Just leaving.”

She nods once. No fuss. No scolding. “Go. Rest. You’re no good to me burnt out.”

It’s the closest she’ll come to I worry about you.

You clutch the protein bar a little tighter.

Then there’s a shift in the air.

You don’t hear his footsteps, but you feel him.

Robby’s voice calling your last name is somewhere behind you, low and easy: “Morning.”

You turn.

He’s in a clean set of scrubs, hair damp from a shower, badge clipped to his collar. He smells like eucalyptus shampoo and maybe cinnamon. You don’t know what to do with your hands, so you stuff them in your pockets.

“Morning,” you say.

He walks past you toward the desk, nodding at Dana, fist-bumping Perlah, stealing Princess’s coffee without asking. Everyone’s talking around you, but all you hear is the echo of your head on his shoulder. The weight of the blanket. The heat of the coffee cup in your hand.

Robby glances back just once, mouth quirking. “Go home before you end up unconscious in triage and really get the pit treatment.”

You should say something clever. Something funny. Something like I could be unconscious anywhere, really. The on-call room, my room…your room.

Instead, you watch him walk away.

It’s almost 6:45 a.m. by the time you leave the hospital. Pink is just bleeding into the sky over the Allegheny, and the wind cuts sharper than it did last week. You don’t have a hat, but you pull your coat tighter around you and keep walking toward your car, parked somewhere near the construction zone that’s been eating the south lot for months.

Your body is running on crumbs. You didn’t even realize how hungry you still were until you hit the air.

You unlock your car, slide inside, and grip the steering wheel with stiff fingers. You sit there for a long time just breathing. Thinking about the coffee. The granola bar. The way he didn’t even ask before handing it to you. Like he already knew.

You think about the first sticky note. The way he drew the little stethoscope on the cartoon cat. The way you stuck it in the pocket of your white coat and never took it out.

You think about his shoulder under your cheek. Solid. Warm. Unmoving.

You think about marching back into the ER where you know he’ll be clocking in soon, and asking him what he really came back for.

You don’t.

Next ->

[oddballwriter]

Calling Them your Husband

Warnings: nothing really 

Author’s Snip: I just wanted to make some tooth-rotting fluff so enjoy

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Steven Grant

When you call him your husband, it was originally a joke, sort of

Your friend called you while you were out doing errands with Steven and they asked what you were doing, to which you said "I'm out with my husband getting stuff done."

Steven just blushes and does that goofy little smile he does because he's never heard you say that but now he wants to hear it all the time now

You guys are in a long committed relationship together and you two have been living together for some time now but he's been too anxious to ask about possibly getting married some day. Not knowing if that's something you want or if you just want to cohabitate as a couple instead

But now that he heard you refer to him as your husband (even if it was a little joke) he wants to marry you in a heartbeat so that you can actually call him your husband and he can call you his wife/husband/spouse

He just thinks about it the whole day but doesn't say anything to see if you will call him that again in case pointing it out will cause you to stop. He is a bit more affectionate though, sneaking in a pick on the cheek or something and secretly making goo-goo eyes at you

When you get home and you aren't in range of seeing it Steven starts looking up engagement rings and prices to see which one would look nice on you and try and save up money

Steven also starts to subtly, at least as subtle as he can be, ask you about if you want to get married someday

He's such a dork though, bless his soul, in his brain he's just kicking his feet and giggling. He's looking at prices for venues and planners already.

Marc Spector

Marc has it in him to get married, we know that

But in his mind he doesn't really see himself as "husband material". He thinks that he's got too much baggage that you'd have to deal with if you were married

He acts like you two haven't been living together and splitting the bills and stuff, which is sometimes what marriage is, in the most domestic way possible

To him, he can't really see himself being able to do the whole marriage thing all over again

That was until some drunk creep was hitting on you while you and him were on a date and you told the guy "I'm with my husband" which warded that guy off

For some reason you calling him your husband while you locked your arm with his just washed those feelings of doubt out. Something about it just made him feel so confident

Like "Yeah I'm their husband! Back off!"

After that Marc was more open with himself about the idea of letting that title back into his life and getting to call you his spouse too

He more so likes the ability to call you his spouse. Possessiveness is in him and by god does getting to call you his spouse feed it

Marc will ask about the idea of marriage sometime after that just to see if you like it

If you want to get married then he's on board. But if you think cohabitating suits you better then he's fine with that too

So long as you're there together and you love him then he's content and happy

Jake Lockley

Damn right he's your husband

Honestly ever since you two got serious with your relationship, became committed to each other, and moved in he's just been like "We are married now" in his head

He's never said that out loud but he knows that the feeling is there with you too

It wasn't until you semi-jokingly called him your husband when some girls were checking him out and you huffed and puffed about it

"What's the matter? I wasn't flirting back." "Well, excuse me for not wanting some giggling college girls to be eyeing up my husband."

And that just... made him feel something, in his heart and in his pants

No but seriously. After that night cohabitating and acting like a married couple wasn't enough. He needs to put a ring on you and vice versa

He will go down to town hall and get those damn papers and buy the rings right now

Jake was originally just going to wait until you said that you wanted to get officially married, but he just can't anymore

In the morning you guys are going to buy rings, get the papers filled out, and planning the wedding

He's got the wedding planner on speed dial and a house with a picket fence in the nice part of town ready to go, just say "I do" please

Honestly at this point he never wants to hear his name come out of your mouth ever again. To you, it's either "hun" "hunny" "dear" or "sweetheart"

Light of his life, air in his lungs, fire in his loins

Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[junnieverse]

— SOOBIN AS YOUR BOYFRIEND ! 💭

➙ boyfriend soobin thoughts

pairing: choi soobin x gn!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: lowercase intended, not proofread, soobin being so boyfriend that it is in fact lethal, this just got longgg because I can’t stfu about how perfect soobs is

a/n: it doesn’t get more boyfriend material than soobin in txt, go argue with a wall

we already know choi soobin is one of a kind

im probably the biggest advocate for bf soobin agenda

like bf material = choi soobin!!

he’s tall, funny, pretty, hot, cute, smart

it’s giving cute college bf every girl dreams of

I genuinely could go on and on glazing him im afraid

BACK HUGS are a major yes >>>

you could casually be doing anything and he will just wrap his arms around your waist and snuggle his head between your neck letting his body heat radiate to you

most occurrences being when he’s just woken up, still feeling sleepy and you aren’t next to him so he goes on to find you and just hold you and close his eyes again

the second being while you both get ready for the day in the morning or for bed at night together

he may not be super clingy but he just loves the physical intimacy between the two of you

the sort of boyfriend you just can never shut up about and you probably have thousands of different wallpapers of him already

and im saying this coming from a place of how effortlessly bf this man looks in all his pictures

he’s caught you recording him on multiple occasions but he just lets you and he gets flustered but that just makes him look cuter in the pictures and videos

you both have highlights dedicated to each other, he’s constantly on your instagram stories too

just as much as you’ve got so much content on him, so does he on you

but a lot of it is candid and when you’re not paying attention because he’s tryna be slick

90% of his gallery consists of pictures of you either sleeping or mid laugh because that’s when he thinks you look the cutest

members have caught him smiling at himself like a dork looking at pictures of you whenever he’s away from you and misses you

he has mentioned on multiple occasions that he’s the passive type that “likes to be dragged around” or lead by his partner

and I can soooo see that

he would just be down for whatever if that’s what you want

if anything, your outward boldness was probably what drew him to you in the first place

“hey guys so im dating someone now.” soobin tells his friends

“dude what-“

“they came up to me and said I was cute and wanted to go out on a date. The waiter got me the wrong order and they called them out for it.” he explains shrugging his shoulders

everyone was too stunned to speak but he thought you were a badass and he has been head over heels since then

bake for him and you have his heart

and to those that aren’t the best in the kitchen, that’s okay too but as the saying goes, “a way to a man’s (soobin) heart, is through his stomach”

so I just think he would find it so cute and would be touched if his partner ever cooked or baked him anything

the type to give you piggy back rides and carry you

whenever he’s with you and he notices you getting tired, he just props down in front of you silently and waits for you to get on his back fighting back a small smile

if not that, usually at home when you’re tired or fallen asleep on the couch, he will just carry you up to your bedroom bridal style before tucking you in and kissing your forehead

small acts of service that sometimes you don’t even notice or you’re oblivious to

bending down to tie your shoelaces, carrying your bag for you, walking on the outer side of the pavement near the road, buying you medication whenever you’re sick, giving you his jacket when you’re cold, etc

the judgemental bf

and if you’re a hater then you can be judgey together!

it’s giving, he makes the face and you say it (soulmates)

he absolutely cherishes quality time

probably one of his biggest love languages might I add (alexa play love language by txt)

as previously mentioned, he is so down to do whatever you wanna do but he also loves the small moments where he just gets to cuddle you, play games together and watch a movie or a show with you

he also gives the warmest cuddles known to man

it’s like hugging a big teddy bear because he’s so warm (and squishy?)

in moments where he thinks you’re asleep while you both cuddle you catch him whispering sweet and soft words of affirmations to you

simply expressing his love and telling you how absolutely amazing you are and he’s just so lucky to have you

as much as he could tell you this consciously, he just gets too shy to say it to your face a lot of the time

he loves cheek kisses sm

be it giving or receiving (mostly receiving because he’s soft like that)

and just whenever you cup his cheeks or poke his dimples make him get all shy and feel all giddy

whenever you do touch his cheeks, he has gotten into the habit of leaning in into your touch and placing his hand on top of yours before kissing your palm (I want this so bad, I am unwell)

if you are a bit on the shorter side (which atp everyone is cause mans is HUGE) he would love the height difference

this also makes him love seeing you in all his clothes because of how much bigger they look on you and just swallow your frame

take all his hoodies, he would die from the cuteness aggression

and just to revel in that fact more he loves bending down to be at eye level with you while looking deep into your eyes before smiling with his dimples full on display

he knows very well that makes you weak in the knees and he loves that

the type to carry your favourite necessities with him in case you forget your own (eg. an extra hairband, lip gloss, anything of that sorts)

probably has a cute keychain you got him on his bag too that he gets teased about but he flaunts it like a badge of honour because it’s from you and so he loves it

always yapping to his friends about you and finding a way to bring you up into the conversation

“wow i heard this place has great pasta.” taehyun says looking through the menu

“that reminds me of this one restaurant I went to with (y/n) and they loved the pasta there…” and he just goes on and on yapping their ears off

he’s just a man that loves his partner and wants everyone to know that too

[munv]

DIASOMNIA X !FURINA READER

ohmydays ive been itching to pop these fics out for a while..im learning consistency!!

MALLEUS

At first, he thought you were just one of those eccentric faces he would never have the chance to properly meet, but alas, you proved him wrong. The way your theatrics light up the room, the way your voice changes in pitch and its just right, down to the way you move your arms about.

He's invested.

He humors the dramatics with a calm smile and crinkled eyes. "mal, can you believe this?! my brilliance..oh great sevens..!". Maybe he spoils you too much in this aspect (not as much as lilia)

He appreciates the big contrast between you and other people, since not many people are willing to be affiliated with him willingly. However, in the moments where you are vulnerable, he will cradle you.

Not often is he accustomed to speaking with other people, so instead of asking questions as to what is bothering you, he just sits and listens. Opting for quiet companionship over words.

He's the type of hypeman that will watch you perform some dramatic script in the rain, holding the umbrella over both your heads and he smiles at you performing away.

It's a nice change from the quiet, he thinks.

LILIA

If Malleus is your hypeman, then Lilia is your partner in crime. He fuels your ego and spurs on the madness. There has not been one moment he has not supported any of your ideas, so you two completely bounce off one another.

He's one of the few people who can actually match your energy and join you on your stage rather than merely supporting from the sidelines.

He respects the fact that you wont always be yourself, and in those times where your ego fails you, he wont.

There was this moment where you were having a moment of crippling depression, and he just randomly started playing opera music as you acted out your woes.

Whenever you mess up, he ends up providing confident and supporting words, although they may have a teasing undertone, it helps.

SEBEK

The yelling matches never cease. If Diasmonia has known peace, it will never know what peace is ever again. He actually despises you to some extent

It's disgusting (in a good way) how much Sebek claims that he hates your guts and then the second your back is turned? He's boasting about your glory and whatnot.

Sebek is worse than Malleus when it comes to emotions, because he absolutely sucks. He would say something and then only realize afterwards that he was too mean and then apologize.

He's so awkward (Dork #3) when it isnt you boasting about how amazing you are, but he does enjoy your plays. He respects the passion you have for acting and it drives him to become better as well!

Learning something from Sebek is hard when hes too busy yelling at you all the time, but he likes to sit you down at times (lilia told him too, this wasnt of his own violation, though he isnt completely against it) and teach you that you dont always need validation

You two balance each other out to some extent. He gets embarrassed and starts another screaming match when you tease him though. All in good fun, of course.

SILVER

Silver is concerned about you. The way you would flop right next to him on the couch and spout something dramatic, and he would wake up halfway and go "did something happen again..?"

Silver, like Malleus, is a listener. Silver does nothing but stare at you whenever you exaggerate your day.

What he does seem to show interest in is the stories that you recall from your world so he can sleep. He likes the stories that you describe about Fontaine, it makes him smile lightly whenever he sees the big grin on your face right before he falls back asleep.

Does he know that you and Lilia use him as a damsel in distress for a mini play when hes asleep? No. Does he also know you both force Malleus to watch and Sebek to be his shining armor? Not a clue