#and he’d always tell me that he’ll move them in a second but he doesn’t

[kingkatsuki]

Do you ever think about the pet peeves you’d have if you were dating your fave?

[classyrbf]

YOU'RE PREGNANT! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...how the jjk men(toji, gojo, geto, nanami, choso) act when you’re 9 months pregnant and ready to pop

INFO...jjk men x fem!reader, fluff, comfort, reader is pregnant (obvi), mention of mood swings, cravings, emotional reader, jjk men being great dads

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

TOJI

toji has already dealt with this kind of thing before when it came to megumi, but it’s been so long that he’s almost forgotten what it was like. You’re waddling around the house, a stank look on your face as you stare at him. “Yes?” He questions, eyebrows raised. “I want food,” you simply answer. “Okay, what do you want?” He asks. And when you tell him you’re not sure, he lets out a long sigh because he knows this is gonna end in you getting emotional. You’ll complain your back hurts, your feet hurt, and then you’ll end up cursing him out for putting a baby in you. So all he does is walks over to you, and hugs you because he’d rather do that than get into a stupid argument about food. “Toji!” You cry into his arms. “I’m just so hungry and I don’t know what to eat!” You sniffle. To help with your problem, he starts listing off every fast food restaurant and food he could think of in hopes you’d find one appealing enough. “Chinese food?” He shrugs. You gasp with excitement. “Ugh, yes! Me and the baby could go for some orange chicken!” You smile. Toji just chuckles, “making the call right now, sweetheart.” He watches as you waddle over to the couch, smiling like a kid in a candy store.

GOJO

ever since he found out you were pregnant, he was at the stores buying whatever supplies he saw, doesn’t matter if you needed it or not. And till this day, when you’re about a few weeks from popping, he’s still buying the baby things. “What do you think of this, eh?” He smirks, holding up a onesie that says “my dad is the best”. “You’re gonna spoil her rotten, is what I think,” you groan as you reach into the bag to see what else he bought for your daughter. “More toys?” You hold up a fake set of plastic keys. Gojo snatched them from you. “I’ll have you know that she will be learning life skills at a very young age, thank you very much,” he scoffed. All you did was laugh, shaking your head at him in disbelief. Your daughter’s room was filled to the brim with clothes, toys, blankets, you were starting to wonder if you had any more room. “I can already tell she’s going to be a daddy’s girl,” you said with a sigh, rubbing your belly. “Yes she is,” Gojo leaned in towards your very plump belly, “isn’t that right?” He placed a kiss on your stomach.

NANAMI

nanami is the type that doesn’t let you do a damn thing by yourself. You’re reach for something to high on the shelf, he’s sprinting towards you, ready to be at your service. “Be careful,” he says, rubbing your back. “Kento, I got it,” you chuckle. His eyes are always on you, watching your every move. Especially when you’re in public, he hates when people get too close to you. He knows others don’t watch their surroundings and could easily bump into you. “Ken!” You shout from the bedroom. “Yes?” He peeks his head around the corner. “Can you help me get my shoes on, I can’t even reach,” you pout. Within seconds he’s on his knees, slipping on your sandals, and tying them around your ankle. He will even go as far as to paint your toes if you forgot because he knows how much you hate not having them done. Like I said, he won’t let you do a thing by yourself. “Thank you, Ken,” you kiss his lips.

GETO

geto literally pampers you. I’m not saying he acts like nanami, but I’m saying that he makes your pregnancy as comfortable as possible. “Sugu, baby, can you rub my feet? They’re swollen.” You frown. “Of course.” He grabs the lotion and casually massages your feet while you’re both watching a movie, and literally over the course of your pregnancy he’s become the best masseuse ever. He’ll also randomly creep up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist before lifting your belly, feeling the weight off of your back. “Feel better, mama?” He kisses your cheek. “So much better.” You nod, closing your eyes as you embrace the moment. You’ve even found it hard to shower while being pregnant and geto takes it upon himself to help you, albeit jumping in the shower with you or sitting on the edge of the tub while you’re in the bath. “Is the water too hot?” He rubs the soapy water over your shoulders. “It’s perfect.”

CHOSO

I’m sorry but choso is clueless. Not in a bad way, but in like a panicky way. You’re an emotional wreck through your pregnancy, moods swings like crazy. “Can you just get out please?!” You’re annoyed with him, bothered about the littlest thing ever and then in the next two minutes you’re walking out the room just crying and apologizing to him, kissing his cheek. He has no idea what the hell is going on, and you’d think he’d learn after nine months, but no. All he can is just sit there and comfort you. “It’s fine,” he assures. He gets your favorite food that you’ve been craving for the past two weeks, eating it non stop and then within a split second you’re gagging, pushing the food away. “Oh my gosh, Choso! Please throw it away, it tastes so bad.” You gag again. “But…I…you were just eating this yesterday…?” He’s says, confused before throwing the bowl of food in the garbage. Quite literally doesn’t understand anything, just confused to all hell, but he’s trying his best.

[luveline]

would you ever write about hotch pining after r because he thinks she’s interested in someone else but then she confesses to him that she’s only ever had eyes for him 🥹

You’re shocked Hotch will let them look at him, honestly. When was the last time you saw Hotch receive medical attention? He doesn’t seem happy about it, suit jacket folded in his lap, his shirt cut in three places, most noticeably the left sleeve. 

“His arm is definitely broken,” Spencer tells you. 

“Do you think he’ll let me give him some comfort?” you ask, the two of you with your arms crossed against the side of the second ambulance, where Morgan undergoes a similarly reluctant checkup for his bloody temple. 

“No. You can always try, though. He’ll appreciate the effort.” 

You ready yourself with a deep breath and begin the short walk. It feels long then suddenly over at the same time. The only thing between you and Hotch now is a shoe’s width and the EMT securing his temporary sling. 

“They’re making me an emergency appointment,” he tells you. 

You fight the urge to rub the toe of your shoe into the ground. “Are you in pain?” 

“No. They gave me tramadol.” 

Hotch pushed you hard out of the way of a brawl and took blows meant for you in turn. He never lets you get hurt in the field. At first you’d assumed him to be the overprotective boss, and careful of women in the team, but you’ve caught on now that his motivation wells from somewhere deeper. 

Hotch loves you. He won’t tell you. You have no idea why. 

The EMT says she’ll return and takes her leave. You nod to the patch of metal flooring beside him, legs too tired to keep standing, and Hotch moves over to leave a gap between you suitable for turning into. You sit down with a sigh. Face to face, this close, you can see the different colours of his iris and the scar under his eyebrow clear as day. 

“You okay?” 

“Are you?” he asks with nothing more than a single short nod. 

“I’m worried about you,” you confess. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. I can take care of myself, okay? I don’t like you getting hurt in my place.” 

“I’m your Unit Chief.” 

“If it were Morgan, you wouldn’t have pushed him out of the way. If it were Emily. And we both know I can hold my own.”

He doesn’t look away from your face. “I know.” 

You’re finding it hard to want to scold him. You love him, too. You appreciate what it takes for him to take a fight that was meant for you, and the sentiment behind it. You’d quite like for him to protect you, just not at work. He could glare down potential suitors or argue with people who are rude to you at the grocery store. He doesn’t need to do your job for you. 

You raise your hand tentatively to his face, ignoring his confusion as you rake the hair that falls against his forehead back up. “It’s getting a little long for you.” 

“I’ve been busy.” 

“Me too. I keep meaning to do so much stuff but we get home and I get to my apartment and I just sleep for days.” 

“I wish I did something that sensible.” 

You curl your fingers over his shoulder. Without his suit jacket, you can feel the solidness of his muscle and soft tissue clearly. You rub your thumb in a half circle. 

“Why don’t you sleep much? I wish you would.” 

His eyes flare momentarily. His only tell, a flicker of movement you can’t miss. He’s surprised by something, your question, maybe your tone. “I do sleep.” 

“Not enough.” 

“No, I guess not.” 

You press your cheek to his arm. Can’t help yourself. He’s this strong, stern guy, so used to trying to save everyone that he barely looks after himself, and it makes you sad to think he’d love you and not want to tell you, because why wouldn’t he? Something in him must stop him from acting on it, but that something isn’t in you, not anymore. “Can’t believe you got your arm broken for me,” you murmur, lips to his shirt. You let out a breath, feel the warmth of it pass onto his skin and his following shudder. 

“It wasn’t purposeful.” 

“No? That’s good.” 

“I would do it again,” he says. “I thought you’d be with Morgan.” 

“Morgan’s a big boy.” 

“As opposed to me.” 

“I want to be here with you. I’m worried about you.” You press your face further into his arm, scared to say it even though you know it’s returned. “I care about you so much, ‘n’ you never let me show it.”

“That’s not true,” —his voice climbs higher— “I thought… You and Derek are close.” 

“He’s my friend, Hotch. It’s not like that.” 

Hesitant, tender all the same, Hotch’s uninjured arm slinks around your side to hold you, to bring you closer to his side where you’re hiding. You’re much too old for this, and still you have to confess. 

“I don’t like him,” you say. 

“As opposed to me.” 

You laugh at his repetition. Too embarrassed to say anything more on the subject but wanting to cement it in his head, you raise your head and your hand at the same time, knuckle to his jawline, nudging him to one side. You lean up and kiss his cheek. 

“Please don’t push me out of the way again,” you say. 

Hotch smiles at you, a proper, soft-eyed smile. “I won’t.” 

It’s an obvious lie. 

“Maybe when we go home we can nap together,” you suggest, heart slamming considering the innocence of what you’ve suggested. 

His fingers cradle your side. “You want to?” he asks carefully. 

“You can finally get some rest.” 

He closes his eyes, resting his face against yours. 

[matsunoluvr]

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ the love and deepspace boys favourite body parts

warnings: characters may be ooc, some suggestive writing, limited knowledge on xavi and zayne (rafayel stan…)

characters: rafayel, xavier, zayne and sylus

link to master list here!!

information: these are based on the idea that the mc and LIs are either dating or very clearly romantically (and possibly more lol) attracted to one another!!

author’s notes: xavier’s affinity for physical affection infected me and now i can’t stop thinking abt it curse abyssal chaos and their stupid stories wdym we were cuddling w xavier ARGHH

more below the cut!! :3

as a painter, rafayel is, naturally, drawn to the whole figure - he’d say things such as “the body can show what words don’t speak” and such.

in the past he’s dabbled in figure painting, after all he is an artist at heart - he had to try everything - but he found that overall he much rather paint sceneries and landscapes. he just saw no appeal in the human body, it was all rather dull in comparison to the beauty nature held.

that was, of course, before he met you. ,and, well, every since then he found it difficult to paint anyone, anything, that didn’t include any aspect of you. from the exact hues of your eyes to the supple red of your lips after you two kiss, rafayel would incorporate your essence into any painting of his.

so it’s obvious that he loves your body, he loves every inch, but what was his favourite?

well… rafayel is obsessed with your hands… like so obsessed it’s insane. always wanting to hold them, kiss them, caress them, everything.

feeling your skin on his, no matter if your hands are soft or rough, large or small, fingers are long or thinner, he just loves the intimacy of intertwining his fingers with yours.

sometimes you can feel his gaze on you when you fiddle with them, if you run them through your hair or finger as a loose thread in your clothing - his eyes are fondly observing your every move.

if you ask what his obsession with hands were, he’d deny any specific attraction to them

“Hands? They’re just like any other body part.”

but then you ask specifically, what’s the obsession with your hands, and then his ears are turning red.

“Y-your hands? Nothing, no- I do not have an obsession with your hands…”

but then you grasp his chin, tilt his face up and trail a finger along his jaw and he’s shivering, flinching deliciously to your touch

tease him for it and he’ll get flustered - frowning but not denying anything at this point, because your finger is now trailing down his neck and gently brushing against his collar bones.

of course, his affinity for your hands can be exploited.

for example, when rafayel ignores you for sustained periods of time working on a painting.

“Wait a second, I’m painting.” and you get sick of waiting, so you decide to toy with him a little

he’s so engrossed in painting he doesn’t even notice you creeping up behind him, he doesn’t notice you until your hands are sneaking around his small waist, moving forwards until you’re toying with the buttons on the front of his shirt.

his small yelp of surprise is adorable, and the red that creeps up his neck to his ears is beautiful - you can tell his attention is now narrowed in on the way your fingers creep through the gaps in his shirt and your nails gently scratch at his abdomen

you can hear his breathing stutter and his heartbeat quicken, and if you turn him around to face you - well you don’t need to be a mind reader to tell what he was thinking when you looked at the tent growing downstairs…

“Please… I won’t ignore you I promise… so please keep touching me.”

we all know xavier can’t keep his hands off you, from purposefully pulling you a little too close to him when a wanderer seems too angry to cuddling into your chest when taking a nap.

he’s sly, sly like a little minx, and he knows exactly how to tease you.

with this in mind, his favourite part of your body is your neck - just like how his neck is his weak-spot

he is a very possessive man, and god does he love acting on it to prove to the world that you’re his (though with the glares he gives other men/women, I don’t really think he needs to make any other point that man is terrifying when he is jealous)

he shows his love by literally devouring your neck, sucking hickeys and giving little love bites all over your neck - if you tell him to stop he’ll definitely be giving you a petulant pout.

xavier just loves the fact that he’s the only one allowed to touch you there, that he’s the only one that’s allowed to nibble at your sensitive neck - the most vulnerable part of your body. the control he has over that area of your skin drives him NUTS

like seriously, you two will be making out (see this post for the lnd boys giving first kisses teehee) and all of a sudden he’s lunging at your neck and kissing it like there’s no tomorrow - all whilst sporting red ears and furrowed eyebrows.

xavier looks so concentrated, really dedicating all of his energy into making sure everyone knows you are his. also trying to focus the blood anywhere but south LMAO

by the way, you can exploit this by purposefully wearing low-cut v-necks, exposing your neck all for xavier.

even the opposite can work… wearing turtle necks or scarves, restricting his access when making out can get him riled up

one time he almost ripped your turtle neck with how far he was tugging it down so he could suck at your collar bones…

one time you and xavier went on a mission where you dressed undercover as a rich couple and went to a masquerade ball

when you and xavier split up, a man that you recognised as your ‘neighbour’ - who lived in the apartment next to the one you and xavier rented - approached you and started up a conversation - to be honest it wasn’t exactly flirtatious nor suggestive but you suddenly found yourself being yanked back into a solid chest

when you looked up you could see the seething possessiveness that simmered in xavier’s irises, and his grip on your waist was tight.

“Are you okay, dear? Is this man bothering you?”

his voice is much, much colder than you’ve ever heard it before, and there’s an edge to it that was so un-xavier like.

needless to say, the man scurried off as fast as possible

that night… well xavier made sure to pretty up your neck in lovely blotches of purpled-pinks…

his tongue is surprisingly skilled, swirling and caressing your sensitive skin in sensual patterns…

the next morning when you accidentally bumped into the man from the night before, you could definitely feel a sense of smug satisfaction come from xavier as the man’s eyes widened upon seeing your marked up neck

“What? I didn’t mean to… I just got carried away.”

zayne is a gentle-man, and his pure and innocent answer would be your eyes, and it’s not wrong. he loves gazing into your eyes - even though he doesn’t like it when you reciprocate the action.

whenever you’re lost in thought, or gazing into the distance, he finds himself searching your irises, or losing himself in your pupils.

but, if we really unveil dr zayne’s thoughts… he really loves your lips

like of course there’s the romantic and thoughtful side to it, he loves the little quirks and silent give-aways your lips can tell, such as the way they twitch a little when you lie or the way they look when you smile

he loves how you sometimes nibble on the bottom lip when deep in thought, and finds it especially cute when you sulk when he acts clueless to your flirtation

he especially loves, however, the way they glisten after you lick your lips with your soft tongue… or after he’s done having his way with you…

zayne loves when they turn swollen after a long make out session, or the way they pout when he teases you - leaning in for a kiss only to pull away and tuck some hair behind your ear

he loves the way your lips change colours, shades and hues, on warmer days they look velvety and on cooler days they’re more dry, and when he’s nipping at your bottom lip and kissing you deeply they turn a richer, more sensational shade of red…

sometimes he enjoys just watching you eat, seeing your mouth relax into a satisfied smile as you greedily swallow up your favourite dish

you can, obviously, use this to your advantage.

when he’s talking all mr professional-cold-hearted zayne mode, just draw attention to your mouth, whether it be by wetting your lips or by bitting your bottom lip, it’ll almost definitely cause him to hesitate

“…concerning your heart medication…” and then he drifts off ever so slightly before continuing his tangent on your health. it’s not a huge pause but coming from dr zayne? ANY sign of hesitation is a huge thing!

and sometimes, well he enjoys a little bit more…

the first time you really acknowledge his thing for your lips was when you two were out on a little date.

summer was at its peak and it was fucking boiling, even with your walking AC unit - dr zayne - it was still way too hot to handle

in response, you and zayne decide to take a trip to the local ice-cream parlour - he orders some form of ice drink - not too sweet - with whipped cream, whilst you order your favourite.

at one point - one thing led to another - and zayne ends up with some cream on his finger… and fuck if you were going to let this opportunity pass…

you grabbed his hand just before he could protest and took the tip of his finger in your mouth, wrapping your lips around him and gently sucking off the cream.

needless to say his rationality was lost, the only thought in his brain dissolved into the carnal need to claim you.

you can literally see the moment in his eyes, from confused to extremely, whole-heartedly, soulfully, biblically aroused - it’s actually a spectacle to observe

needless to say he took you to your apartment within the next 30 minutes and let’s just say… you didn’t get a good night’s sleep LOL

“I didn’t know you liked playing games this much. Let’s see how long you can play my game then.”

guys… i’m sorry… i can’t help it even if it falls into the stereotypical fuck-boy sylus core head cannons…

he’s an ass man.

sylus just loves a good ol’ ass, and unfortunately due to his unashamed nature he absolutely does not hide his admiration for your… assets.

gifts of form fitting leggings, dresses/suits, god sometimes even hunters uniform that flatter your lower half - he’s absolutely transfixed on your ass it’s actually concerning

“Your old trousers didn’t fit, they were too large. Wear these.”

if you did wear them sylus is going to explode. explode as in watch you with a starved look in his eyes, just begging for you.

when you’re out and around his residence - e.g. by the kitchen sink, don’t be surprised if you randomly feel a large, firm hand situate itself right on one of your cheeks, and i’m not talking about the ones on your face LMAOOO

and god if you bend over in front of him he’s going to be walking up behind you and observing very… very closely - at what you’re doing of course..

if you look up you’ll where his eyes are looking and it’s certainly not at what you’re doing (he’s appreciating your ass)

why he likes your ass, do i even need to explain?

does a man really need a reason to like ass??

he also likes love handles and tummies, i can totally see sylus absolutely adoring every part of your body tbh i wholeheartedly believe in love-sick loser boyfriend sylus who accidentally falls head over heels in love with you

love handles - he likes the look of them, he thinks they compliment your body, whether your body presents more masculine, feminine or neither!!

he also loves uh, grabbing onto them when he needs something to hold whilst… performing activities with you lets just say that

if you’re on the thinner side don’t worry, he doesn’t discriminate when it comes to ass, all shapes and sizes are sylus approved!!!

i can imagine how sylus would suffer if you acted oblivious, wearing tight trousers or wearing dresses/suits that clearly were tailored by his personal designer to compliment your figure

at balls that you were forced to attend with sylus in the n109 zone, he always stood suspiciously close to your back - either hiding/protecting your ass from creepy men or keeping it all for himself…

if not your ass, and if we are talking about more… appropriate parts of the body, he’d probably go for your hands.

he just loves how small they are against his, and especially loves biting them gently

speaking of which sylus 100% has a thing for biting that i don’t think people talk about enough - a lot? possibly, i haven’t seen much, but definitely not enough.

after your evol linkage ordeal and having to have his hands close to yours all the time, it really made him realise how much smaller your hands were

also, the idea of intwining fingers, holding hands… maybe even your hands wrapping around something else… yeah he can sometimes get carried away thinking about your hands…

in the café when you get all handsy on him, he definitely has one too many nsfw thoughts about you as he notices how warm and small the palm of your hand was in relation to his own body.

“Dont stop, keep touching me, kitten.”

AN: tl;dr the LND men are absolutely smitten for you and love your body no matter what. for the first 3 it was pretty simple for me, but i struggled with sylus. he seems to be a touchy man who doesn’t shy from physical contact so I got a little carried away… oops

[emocheol]

first kiss with seventeen

seungcheol

gets all nervous

has been planning this for weeks

wants it to be so good so bad that he ends up colliding his forehead with yours when he’s going in

gets all red from embarrassment and makes you swear to never tell anyone about it (so of course you tell everyone)

“please tell me that wasn’t the worst first kiss you’ve had”

“well if that’s what you want to hear…”

jeonghan

makes you make the first move

can tell that you’ve been wanting to kiss him since you’re always looking at his lips, just wants to make you work for it

will spend the entire day teasing you by getting close and then pulling away

you have to grab his face and hold him there to finally kiss him

he won’t ever let you live down the fact that technically you made the first move

“you’re obsessed with me, huh?”

“you’ve been teasing me all day!”

“doesn’t change the fact”

joshua

extremely confident

just makes out with you when he feels the timing is right

can’t get enough and will not stop kissing you

becomes a norm in your relationship for him to kiss you every second he gets

“why are you always kissing me?”

“why? can’t i show my partner how much i love them?”

jun

shy shy shy

makes a whole romantic date and at the end he asks if it’s okay to kiss you

is soooo nervous that you’re going to say no, but of course you say yes

swears that fireworks explode when your lips touch

he is so whipped for you

“i think im in love with you”

“what was that?”

“uhhh i think we need more glue!”

soonyoung

gives it no thought

just spontaneously kisses you when he gets extra happy one day

“babe! look our song is number 1!” and presses a bunch of kisses on your lips

all he remembers is how nice it feels to kiss you

continues to kiss you whenever he feels like it and loves it twice as much whenever you initiate it

“soonyoung! you just kissed me!”

“yeah! did you not like it? :(”

“no it’s okay, do it again”

wonwoo

quite simple about it

will pucker his lips at you and wait for you to kiss him

won’t get embarrassed over it either

he’s in love with you! he’s not scared to show his affection

“wonwoo what are you doing?”

“waiting for you to kiss me, angel��

jihoon

heat of the moment kiss

everything feels so right

feels like he’d be doing you a disservice if he didn’t kiss you

is the most gentle man on the planet and holds your face in his hands

will let you take control of the kiss, just this one time

you’ll be grinning like an idiot

“what was that for?”

“just felt right”

minghao

encourages you to kiss him first

you just got promoted at your job and you’re over the moon about it, so you’re celebrating with minghao

“you can kiss me if you want” he’ll say as if it’s the most casual sentence ever

you get all shy and press a sweet kiss to his lips

he’ll take the lead

“don’t be shy, sweetheart”

“you’re just too handsome :(”

mingyu

he’ll be sick and sulking because he wants to go on your planned date but he can’t get out of bed

profusely apologizes but you won’t accept them because it’s not his fault!

when he won’t stop rambling you’ll lean down and kiss him to shut up him

when you pull away he has a dopey smile on his face

“do that again!”

“i can’t risk getting sick…”

“i’ll nurse you back to health”

pulls you down to him, and pecks your lips a bunch of times

seokmin

#1 gentleman

wine and dine

“i totally understand if you’re not ready but, can i kiss you?” SWOON

makes you feel like the most special person on the planet

will still ask you if he can kiss you multiple times after that

“can i kiss you?”

“seokmin we’ve been together for a year”

“doesn’t hurt to ask!”

seungkwan

smooth so so smooth

you’ll be playing a game and the prize is the winner gets to make the loser do whatever they want

seungkwan wins (of course)

pretends to think about what he wants even though he knows

“kiss me”

“what?!”

“i won so i want you to kiss me”

cue you being a blushing mess and giving seungkwan a light kiss

vernon

gets home from work one day and kisses you when he walks through the door

you’re shocked and he’s acting like it’s an every day occurrence

doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it

(he’s secretly been wanting to kiss you for weeks)

“what was that for?”

“just missed you, baby”

this becomes a regular occurrence when he gets home from work now

chan

nervous as hell

wants to be smooth and he is!

until he’s not

accidentally bites your tongue (a/n: i have had a man bite my tongue before and it hurt for a week)

profusely apologies but he’s such a cutie, how can you be mad?

“i’m so sorry, do you want me to get ice?”

“no, chan, just kiss me again”

does it right this time

[tootiecakes234]

Your Ex-boyfriend Katsuki Bakugo

The ex boyfriend who acted like he couldn’t care less when you told him you were leaving.

The ex boyfriend Katsuki, who told anyone that asked that about you, to shut the hell up.

Ex boyfriend Dynamite who was on the front page 2 weeks later because a reporter wouldn’t stop asking him about you.

Ex boyfriend that still has to see you often because you have the same group of friends.

The same ex boyfriend that can’t keep his eyes off of you when you’re around. And he tries, he really really tries but it’s instinct to always know where you are and if you’re safe.

Ex boyfriend Dynamite that uses chunks of his patrol time to follow you when you’re out and about. You never even notice him, but he’s there.

Ex boyfriend Katsuki who gets drunk one night and calls you sounding like he’s in tears. Spilling his guts to about how he’s so so sorry, and you’re still all he thinks about. He knows you always deserved better than him and even though it’s ripping his heart out, all he wants is for you to be happy.

Katsuki who can’t meet your eyes the next time he sees you because he remembers every word he said to you and he knows it doesn’t make a difference.

Ex boyfriend whose heart nearly stops beating the first time Mina mentions you have a date because he can’t believe it. You’re moving on.

You’re at a party when he finds you outside alone and tells you that if any of the guys you’re dating ever do anything to hurt, he will hunt them down and end them. Fuck his hero status.

Ex boyfriend who ends up chatting with you for a good long while time and then you laugh and he hasn’t heard that laugh in so long. It melts the ice he’s been feeling in his chest since you left.

Ex boyfriend Katsuki that kisses you in the midst of you laughing.

The man you melt against because it’s second nature. He keeps kissing you as long as you’ll let him because he knows, this is probably the last one he’ll get.

Ex boyfriend who cuts you off before you call that kiss a mistake and says he won’t do it again. He just wanted to say goodbye.

But then you kiss him again. When you pull away you tell your ex boyfriend that maybe you want to try again but you both have a lot of work to do. That it can’t go back to being the way it was or you’d leave and there wouldn’t be anymore chances after that.

“Ex” boyfriend Katsuki who swears on his life that it won’t be the same. That he’ll be whatever he needs because he doesn’t want to live this life without you.

Fiancé Katsuki Bakugo who still thinks of those 4 months without you as the worst 4 months of his life.

Fiancé that 100% keeps his promise and proposed to you 2 years later to the day and was honestly shocked that you said yes because in he is still convinced you could still do better than him. But if you were willing to settle, he’d give everything he had to try and be enough.

*i tried with this but honestly, I ain’t leaving that man.😭

Katsuki Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be added the the tag list💕

Tags: @dreamcastgirl99 @xxvendettaxx @justbepeace @moonpieshawdy @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @mintsbubbletea @darkstarlight82 @anon-mouse223 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @i-literally-cant-with-this @flowerbedbaby @kit-katsukii @blaize-hewwo @sweetblueworm @tippy-toes @superlegend216

[deantfwinchester]

Neighborhood Walgreens

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, Joel x Teacher!Reader like always

This one takes place before the other two timeline-wise, I guess - just a few months into knowing each other. No established relationship, and some ridiculous flirting.

Summary: A busy, sick Joel gets a little care from the people in his life - including the neighbor and friend he's been crushing on for the past few months.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff-fluffity-fluff. Bout to get a standing root canal appointment, tbh.

A/N: The bulleted fics are piling up in the notes app, but boy are the well-crafted girlies a bit of a trek. More to come, if the functioning part of my brain has anything to say about it.

Word Count: 5.9k. absolute unit.

——————————————————————————————

Joel wakes up feeling like shit. He’d felt a bit of a scratch in his throat the night before, but tried to write it off as allergies or something - until he woke himself up coughing before his alarm could even go off. He knows he has a cold the second he tries to breathe through his nose - no dice. His head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and it’s pounding before he can open his eyes. He shivers when he moves the blankets aside to get up, and each muscle in his body begs him to crawl back into bed.

Ever the trooper, he rises anyway, heading to the bathroom and checking the medicine cabinet to find what he’d feared - no cold medicine. Awesome. Resigning himself to trucking through the day, he blows his nose, pops a couple tylenol, and gets ready. His respiratory system isn’t too fond of the assault, however, and he’s coughing up a lung before he can finish. Today should be fun. He’ll need to stop by the drugstore on his way home. 

Once he’s dressed for the day (trying his best to look alive), Joel trudges down the stairs to see Sarah at the kitchen table, half-eaten bowl of cereal in one hand and a pencil in the other as she finishes the last of her homework. She hears him shuffle in and looks up just as he sniffles, locking eyes right before he can still his features into a facade of rested wellness. The  look on her face tells him he’s not getting away without worrying her, and he hates that. She doesn’t say a word as he makes his way to the coffee pot, she just watches him, only speaking up when he shivers at the mug’s warmth in his hands. The weather’s typical for an early autumn morning, but nowhere near chilly. Though the temperature should drop today with rain in the forecast, Sarah knows her dad and he’s never cold. 

“You know, I could just head next door. I guarantee she’d be happy to drive me,” she says smiling into her textbook, trying to be nonchalant with her concern. She was referring to you, their neighbor of a few months now, who’d given Sarah rides, helped her with homework, or checked in on her when Joel needed. You’d been around since the day you moved in, and neither of them could complain — certainly not Joel. Maybe she was hoping to fluster him a bit as well, suspecting his feelings for you were a bit more than the friendship he insists they are. 

He chokes on his coffee and coughs a little, shaking his head as she closes her book and begins leafing through her notes. Joel’s been worried enough lately that he’s taking advantage of your kindness too much — afraid he’s inconveniencing you and you’re too nice to say no, despite your insistence to help on more than one occasion. Besides, he already feels crappy, the last thing he wants today is for you to see him like this, hardly able to keep himself together. Or worse, to get you sick as well. Absolutely not. He opens his mouth to respond, but she speaks first. “It’s not like she hasn’t before. Maybe just one day? You need…,” she trails off, losing the battle with her expression as her eyebrows knit together and she notes the pallor and exhaustion on his own.

He takes a swig of his coffee hoping it will soothe the growing soreness in his throat before responding, “That’s alright kiddo, I-,” but the words catch in his throat before he can finish, and he cuts himself off coughing harshly into his elbow. Sarah grabs a glass and fills it with water while he coughs, longer than he has all morning, and hands it to him when he catches his breath. The look on her face is challenging now — she knows she won’t win this game, but she’ll still put up a fight. Predictably, Joel continues his previous thought as though unfazed by the fit, though his voice tells another story. “It’s just a cold, I’ll be fine. You don’t need to be worryin’ about me, babygirl,” he says hoarsely, waving her off with a sniffle. “You got a science test today, worry about that. You feelin’ ready?,” he asks, subverting talk of both his illness and mentions of you.

Sarah relents with a sigh, “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she says, gesturing to the textbook and notes on the table. He’s more confident than she is, and he smiles brightly at her.

“You’ve got it down, not a doubt in my mind. Now finish getting your stuff together before we’re late. I’ll get the car runnin’,” he says, moving his coffee to a travel thermos before grabbing her lunch from the refrigerator and getting it packed up. She looks back at him hesitantly before leaving the room to gather the last of her school stuff. 

Joel’s got his coffee in hand and Sarah’s lunch in the seat next to him as he waits in the truck. It’s nice enough outside, but he’s still chilly, and wonders if he should run back in and grab a jacket. He forgoes this idea when he realizes Sarah’d put up more of a fight if he did, knowing he’s warm-blooded as all hell, and vocally hot until at least November. Not to mention Tommy’d see right through him the second he shows up to work. No, it’s just early in the morning. The day will warm as the sun climbs to its apex for sure. He’ll be alright. 

While he’s thinking too hard through the fog in his head, Sarah climbs into the car with her backpack on, pulling it off to throw into the seat next to her. But not before she’s placed two additions in the seat between them - a box of tissues and a water bottle. She doesn’t say anything to him, just gives him a knowing look before loading her lunch into her backpack. Joel stills a moment — he’s not surprised by her care, but softens at the gesture. As Sarah shuts the passenger door, Joel wonders how the hell she turned out so sweet, and kisses the top of her head in silent thanks before pushing the truck into drive.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Joel gets to work, his headache has bloomed into pain behind his eyes, leaving him squinting hard in the bright morning sun. He’s also used quite a few tissues since he dropped Sarah off at school. He’s definitely grateful she thought to grab them, but unfortunately, his congestion won’t budge. He’s not naive enough to think he can hide from Tommy, but hopeful that his brother might at least leave him be today. He can muscle through if he’s just working and not being nagged by his brother for hours. He’s sure of it.

—--------------------

Tommy’s not an idiot, but he lets him slide for the first few hours. It’s clear he knows something’s wrong. Joel’s a quiet enough guy, but never this silent, only speaking up when the work demands. He noticed when Joel got out of the truck this morning looking particularly drained - both in face and demeanor - and had checked in as casually as possible, hoping to avoid his brother’s evident and exceptional irritability. Joel, of course, had promptly brushed him off and clammed up for the remainder of the morning. Speaking only when spoken to hadn’t stopped Joel from making noise, though, much to his brother’s dismay. Tommy had seen him all morning, breaking into intermittent fits of coughing he’d attempt to mask beneath the racket of power tools. Tommy’s just about as good at hiding his concern, and Joel catches him looking in his direction in the thick of it on more than one occasion. After which Joel would rip his eyes from his brother’s fretful gaze, hoping to deter him from moving forward to give him a once-over. 

Despite his many efforts otherwise, Tommy knows Joel’s sick - too sick to be working like he is today. It’s when the guys break for lunch around noon and Joel just quietly nurses a bottle of water (which he only has because Sarah made sure of it, no less), that Tommy decides he’s got all the evidence he needs. Tommy sidles up next to his brother who’s leaning against his truck bed, and by the looks of it, allowing it to hold most of his weight, too weary to do so himself. Tommy sighs next to him, and Joel braces for what’s coming.

“You know, we’ve pretty much got it covered over here today, not a lot left to do before we pour anyhow. Probably a good thing, bottom looks like it’s gonna fall out before long,” he says, gesturing to the darkening sky above them. “We can manage for the day if you wanna head on home, maybe take a nap? Hate to tell ya, but you look like hell.” Tommy nudges his brother’s shoulder with his own playfully, attempting to lighten the mood. Joel rolls his eyes at Tommy, sniffing and clearing his throat to talk.

“Nah. ‘S just a cold. I’ll be alright,” Joel says, hoping to end the discussion with his curt response, but failing when his throat catches on the last word. Tommy’s face is etched in worry at the sound of the cough tearing up his brother’s throat. 

While Joel attempts to catch his breath, Tommy takes in the reddened flush on Joel’s otherwise pale face, and the distant glassiness in his eyes. Taking advantage of his distracted state, Tommy places the back of his hand against Joel’s forehead. He’s barely there long enough to get a read on his temp before Joel swats his hand away, but it’s enough. No wonder he’s caught Joel shivering more than once today. 

“Dammit Joel, you know better. We’ve sent guys home for less and you know it,” says Tommy, face twisting in frustration and concern. 

“Tommy it’s fine I-“ Joel attempts to reply, but Tommy cuts him off. 

“Did you even bother to check it before ya left? You know this is a fuckin’ hazard on the job. Damn accident waitin’ to happen,” his tone is grave, but his expression is worried and achingly sincere. Joel pushes the thought from his mind and shapes up - not his little brother’s job, he can take care of himself. 

“No. I’m fine to keep workin. That’s it. We got stuff to do,” Joel says with finality, turning on his heel and promptly returning to his tasks. Tommy’s not happy about it, but he could spend all day arguing with his bullheaded brother, tiring him out more without making any headway. No, he’ll just keep a closer eye on him while they work. That’ll have to do.

—--------------------

It’s when the rain starts coming down a little after two that Tommy hits his limit. Once he notices a couple drops beginning to fall, he looks to Joel, just in time to see his brother shivering when the drops make contact with his overheated skin. That’s enough of that. Tommy stalks over to his brother, whose reaction time is significantly slowed, and Joel turns to look at him a bit dazed. 

“Alright, that’s it. Rain’s coming down, you’re shaking like a fuckin’ leaf. Go home.” It’s Tommy’s turn to remain steadfast in his convictions. Joel looks over at him with tired eyes and Tommy can’t help but soften. 

Only when a few chilled drops hit Joel’s face and neck making him colder than he’s felt all day that he concedes. “Yeah, alright.” It’s clear he doesn’t have the energy to put up a fight, especially when Tommy pats his shoulder comfortingly and he slumps a bit. Joel’s shivering again as Tommy ushers him back toward his truck. 

“We’re heading out soon as we get cleaned up anyway. How ‘bout I pick up Sarah? Just go home and get some sleep?” Tommy asks, hopeful now that his brother’s folding. 

“Okay,” he breathes out, running a hand down his face before trying in vain to rub out the pain behind his eyes. Joel stops just outside the driver’s side door and looks to Tommy to thank him. 

“‘Course. Now head home. I’ll see you in a little bit,” Tommy responds, to which Joel nods, then climbs into the truck. Tommy takes another look back to find his brother sitting in the driver’s seat gathering himself, mildly satisfied with this result 

_____________________________________________________________

For once you actually make your way to the parking lot right after school on a Friday. You're notorious for staying too late, grading, planning, or straight up yapping, but today you’d made a rookie mistake. You’d showed up to work on Day 2 of your period without checking your advil stash. Fuck. 

After a day of cramping, crabbiness, and guilty apologies after being kind of a bitch to your students a couple of times, you head to your car as soon as the bell rings. You’ll stop in the Walgreens around the corner from your neighborhood for a quick supply run, then head home to be comfortably horizontal for the remainder of this fine Friday afternoon.

—--------------------

Truth be told, Joel is relieved to be done for the day by the time Tommy makes him leave. The last of his resolve had crumbled and fallen with the first raindrops and the chill they set in his bones. He turns the heat on in his truck and settles in, letting the air warm him up and willing the pounding in his head to subside just long enough to focus on the road. A few minutes and a bout of coughing later, he finally works up the strength to drive home, only to realize he’s still horrifically unmedicated. Shit. Guess he’s stopping at the drugstore on his way home if he wants even a little relief.

—--------------------

Joel’s standing in the cold and flu aisle of his neighborhood Walgreens, sniffling miserably and squinting heavy-lidded at different cold medicine boxes in each of his hands. He remembers one particular medicine helping at least a bit more than others last time he was sick, but for the life of him he can’t remember which one it was. Dammit, he really just wants to get out of here. He’d much rather keep this cold to himself than be hacking in public, but he needs something if he’s ever gonna stop coughing long enough to get the sleep he desperately needs. 

The tiny white letters on the back of these orange and green boxes are starting to run together, and the pain behind his eyes digs its heels into his frontal lobe. He squeezes his eyes shut and curses a little louder than he realizes, triggering a coughing fit in the middle of the store. Great. Now everyone in the store knows he’s carrying a respiratory plague. He’s sniffling and feeling like a walking germ when he hears his name called.

“Joel?” you call from the end of the aisle, having heard his voice from a few lanes over. Joel turns his head to see - oh no. Jesus. Boy did he wish you weren’t the one seeing him look so gross right now. As you come closer to find him squinting under the clinical brightness of the drugstore, you get a good look at him. He looks… rough. His hair’s a bit damp, and more disheveled than usual - not the fresh, styled damp you see when he leaves the house after a shower, but a clammier mix of sweat and rain. His posture is far from the typical confidence and swagger he typically wields with each step, and is more evidently haggard. You notice his eyes first though, with dark circles and brows creased in confused exhaustion. They’re half-closed too, like he’s fighting to keep them open. 

He tries to open them wider and stand up straighter as you approach, clearing his throat to speak, but he’s coughing again before he can get a word out. He’s shaking with the force of it and you notice his shirt is damp in places as well - must have gotten caught in the rain. Just minutes ago, he’d have been uncomfortable under your scrutiny, but he’s too wrapped up in catching his breath to be embarrassed at this point. You draw nearer with pure concern in your eyes as his coughing subsides, and his resolve melts a bit more.

“Whoa, hey, you okay over there? That sounded painful,” you say, finally meeting his eyes. He notices the fretful tone in your voice — it’s gentler than his brother’s but carries the same intention. 

“Yeah, can’t say it feels great,” Joel says hoarsely before attempting to clear his throat once again, hoping his lungs will cooperate this time. “Can’t seem to remember which of these damn pills will give me a hand though.”

“Didn’t I just see you on Wednesday? When did you start feeling bad?” you ask, leaning against his side to take a closer look at one of the boxes from his hands. Maybe with some details you can help figure something out to get him feeling better, or at least let him rest.

“Last night, I guess. Came on pretty quick. Was workin’ okay this morning, but once the rain started, Tommy sent me packin’.”

“You went to work like this, Joel?! Isn’t that like, dangerous? You could really hurt yourself,” you chastise, rubbing his upper arm comfortingly while staring up at him looking utterly devastated. Christ he may melt into a puddle right here. He’s seen this look before, and though he doesn’t want you close enough to catch this, he doesn’t have the heart to shove you away like he did Tommy. He bothers to look at least a little guilty, and you sigh before continuing: “Bad idea. And you know it. Now, let’s figure this out. You’ve got the cough down for sure - what are your other symptoms?”

Before Joel can respond, he looks down into the small basket hanging over your arm and notices its contents: a box of pads, tampons, a bag of peanut M&Ms, a resealable bag of bite-sized chocolates, sour gummy worms, two different pain medications, and a box of peppermint tea. Pain relief, pads, and candy salad. Caught. This is not a conversation you want to have with Joel — men get weird about periods for some childish reason, and you’re really not in the mood. You glance down and move the basket behind you a bit, ready to brush him off and keep the conversation on him, but when you meet his eyes they’re wider and his brows are furrowed above you, drinking you in.

“You sure you’re feeling alright?,” he asks, gesturing to the contents of your little black basket. His tone mirrors the worry you’ve been bleeding since you turned onto the aisle. You’re taken aback by the question at all, given the obvious nature of today’s dilemma — one most men you know wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. His voice doesn’t waver, and his expression doesn’t falter, or express an ounce of discomfort. It’s interesting, but you’d rather not dwell on it, and laugh him off anyway.

“Oh, yeah. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before of course,” you smile and wave your hand in the air to brush off his concern, but his eyebrows inch closer to one another, and his head tilts slightly to the side. You’re the one growing warm under his perusal now, so you turn the subject back to him. “Anyway, talk to me. What’s the matter?”

Joel stares a moment longer, but begins to rattle off a list of fairly standard cold symptoms. You’re glad it isn’t anything too serious, he’ll probably just feel crappy for a couple of days while his immune system does the heavy lifting. Now to figure out what can be done to make him more comfortable in the meantime. One thing you know for certain after hearing the growing congestion in his voice and the rasp in his throat — he’s gonna need the stronger stuff. You take the boxes from his hands and return them to the shelf. He looks at you perplexed, struggling to sniffle against the congestion that — according to the pained squinting he’s still doing beneath the fluorescent lights — is giving him a hell of a sinus headache, and keeping him from breathing through his nose. Fine as he may be in a few days, at the moment he looks devastatingly uncomfortable. 

“Yeah, this crap on the shelf isn’t gonna work. Let’s get ya some of the stronger stuff,” you say, patting his shoulder before tugging him along to the pharmacy. He doesn’t ask any questions, just quietly follows your lead. Along the way, you explain the useless nature of the phenylephrine in the easy stuff, and how the good stuff requires you to show your ID. You tell him why the drugs with the pseudoephedrine are more helpful, and he nods and snuffles in understanding. Sounds good to him, he’ll let you take the lead on that one. As smart as he knows you are, he more than trusts your judgment.

You approach the counter and begin perusing the options, talking with the pharmacist about what you need, when Joel starts coughing again. You can’t help but rub his back and whisper soft words in comfort when his face twists in pain from the fit wreaking havoc in his chest. As your hand moves in soothing circles across his back, you can feel the heat of his skin through his t-shirt. Shit, he didn’t say anything about a fever. You need to get him home as soon as possible. 

When he’s composed a bit, you wrap up with the pharmacist, and she asks for your ID. You pull yours from your bag and hand it to her, but pause. Should you show her your own? Does she need to see Joel’s too?

“Oh, for sure. Uhm, do you need to see his too, since he’s the patient?” you ask, wanting to get done with this as quickly and smoothly as possible so you can get him out of here. She’s looking at the card in her hand intently and entering your information into the computer, busy with the transaction.

“No ma’am. We don’t need your husband’s ID since you’re the one purchasing,” she responds, not lifting her eyes from the computer. You blush at this, but she doesn’t seem to notice until Joel’s eyes go wide and he chokes, forcing him into another bout of harsh coughing. Jesus, his throat must be torn up. You reach for him with one hand and place your own basket and a few other sick day supplies on the counter with the other before she finalizes the transaction. 

“Thanks for all your help!,” you say a bit frantically as you begin to usher him toward the exit. You walk out of the store in silence, neither one of you looking at the other, each of you trying to keep a nervous smirk at bay. Only when the automatic doors shut behind you do you turn to look at each other and laugh heartily, extremely entertained by the pharmacist’s assumption. The laughter only ceases when it sends Joel coughing again — you need a read on that fever he’s sporting. Once he’s mostly caught his breath, you move closer and place a gentle hand on his forehead, then move it down toward his cheek. Joel closes his eyes and without realizing, leans forward into your soft touch. When your hand leaves his face, his eyes open to find that look again, and he muses that you may make him sweat before the fever gets the chance. 

“You didn’t mention this earlier. Did you know you’re running a fever, Joel?” you ask him, and he looks guilty toward the asphalt. 

“Tommy mighta mentioned somethin’ about it earlier, but I’ll be alright,” he responds, but fails to suppress a shiver when the breeze kicks up. Your heart breaks a little seeing him shaking — how did you miss that earlier? You sigh deeply before telling him you’re hesitant to let him drive home. He insists it’ll be fine, and you understand it’d be more of a hassle to come get his truck later on. You concede since it’s such a short trip back, but you’ll follow him back to your adjacent homes. 

—--------------------

After parking your car in the driveway next to his own, you meet Joel at his truck. You bat his hand away when he attempts to grab the bags from yours, and tell him to go unlock the door. Ever the gentleman, he’s a little perturbed, but follows your instructions anyway. Once you’re both inside the house, you set the items on the table and sit him down next to it before heading for the cabinet and filling a glass with water. After passing him the glass and watching as he slowly sips, you unload the bags, and begin reading the back of the box from the pharmacy. 

“Have you eaten anything today? It’s probably not a great idea to take this on an empty stomach,” you say. He goes a little green at the thought of eating anything before swallowing and huffing a response.

“No, haven’t really felt like it. Don’t think it’d sit well right now, to be honest. I’ll be alright with just the medicine, I bet.” You sigh in response, a little anxious it’ll make him feel worse, but either option could do that at this point. At least the thought of the medicine isn’t nauseating for him at the moment. You’ll let it slide, for now. 

“Fine. But you’ll definitely need to eat something substantial later,” you tell him, giving him a once-over, taking advantage of the single instance he’s below you to get a good look at him. You’re already thinking through take-out options that might help tonight. Another day, you’d make some soup for him — get him full and warm him up. Hell, tomorrow you might. But today you’re exhausted, with the period fatigue and the cramps that won’t let up, you’re definitely ready to get into some more comfy Friday Afternoon Clothes. 

“Alright, you get changed and get comfy on the couch. I’m just gonna run home and get outta these work clothes, then I’ll be right back.” 

“You’ve done plenty already today, darlin’, really. Helped me out more than you know. And I’d hate for you to catch this too,” he explains, looking guiltier than you’d like. You’re plenty aware of the risk here but at the moment you couldn’t care less. You don’t really feel like sitting by yourself in your house right now anyway. No reason both of you should feel crappy alone. 

“Uh, Joel, did you forget that we’re ‘married’ now? I’ll be back in just a minute to check on you,” you insist, smiling at him. He looks at you admonishingly and smiles back, shaking his head. You have no idea how happy that makes him — his stomach flutters at the joke, and it isn’t from his illness. You hesitate on the way out the door, and turn to check with him once again. “If having me hovering is gonna keep you up though, I can totally leave you be. I don’t want to keep you from getting the rest you need.” Your voice and expression are apprehensive, afraid to be a bother. 

He probably doesn’t still his face well enough, and he’s certain you can see desperation in his eyes when he shakes his head. He can’t tell you quite yet, but he’s over the moon you want to stick around. All semblance of nobility is dropped - having you near him could never be unwelcome. “You don’t hover, sweetheart. Nothing about you is bothersome. I’d love the company, actually,” he tells you in earnest.

Your expression settles at the reassurance, and you smile back at him. “Good. I’ll just be a few minutes,” you begin, but your smile turns to a grimace with the last few words as you feel a sharp twisting in your stomach and lower back. Your hand instinctively grips your stomach, hoping to ease the pain. There’s definitely no escaping that one. Joel’s eyes widen, but you cut him off before he can ask if you’re okay. “Yep, I'm gonna get out of these pants and into something loose before my uterus tries to kill me,” you joke, reaching for the knob. 

Joel chuckles in response but he’s frowning a bit. The look from the drugstore is back, and you don’t know what to do with his sympathy. You can’t look long before heading out. 

He hates seeing the pain you’re in, but what upsets him most is the way you brush it off. Like your pain is smaller, or insignificant by comparison — one he wouldn’t draw anyway. It sticks with him more than it probably should, but he can’t seem to shake it. He needs to act, somehow. Once he’s changed, he grabs a few blankets from the closet and the heating pad they keep around for his back and for Sarah’s own cycles. He knows how much it can help her, so he figures it couldn’t hurt to offer, at least. 

He sets up a spot on the couch for you both — a little nest for staring at the tv and, (he hopes), cozying up just a bit for extra comfort. He’s still not hungry, but he microwaves a bag of popcorn and grabs some other assorted salty snacks to join the candy you’d picked up. He’s seen how snacky you can get after school sometimes, and wants to make sure you have an array of options, prepped for any craving. 

You return as he’s placing the last of these items down on the coffee table — he’s rather proud of his little presentation — and sees your hair up and a comfy set of sweats that are just a little too long in the arms and legs. Lord help him, you look fucking adorable. He can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face when you walk toward him. 

“Well don’t you look cozy,” he says with eyes shining at your improved expression. You give him an exaggerated little twirl to show off the baggy outfit you’ve adorned yourself in for this evening’s activities. 

“Damn right! I’m ready for anything now,” you say, stuffing your hands in the pocket of your hoodie. He’s laughing in response before it catches in his throat again and he starts coughing. 

“That makes one of us,” he jokes once he’s caught his breath. 

“Yep, I want you on the couch. Right now. Go ahead and get comfy and I’ll get the medicine. We gotta get you drugged up enough if you’re gonna get any sleep.” You’re ushering him to the couch when you stop in your tracks. When you catch sight of the coffee table snacks and the heating pad set up on one side of the couch, already plugged in and waiting, you nearly tear up. You’re speechless for a moment — no one’s ever done anything like this for you before. This little thoughtful gesture means the world, and you’re not sure what to say. 

“Joel! You didn’t need to do all this. You’re sick, I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you insist, nudging his arm with your own, leaning lightly into his side. 

“Wasn’t hardly anything, darlin’, just some stuff I know helps Sarah when she gets to feelin’ like you do. She likes her snacks salty, and always feels better with this little fire hazard next to ‘er,” he says, gesturing to the heating pad on the couch. His grin turns mischievous before he starts again: “Besides, you said it yourself, we’re ‘married’ now, huh? I oughta know what my wife needs just as well,” he finishes, voice too satisfied, and eyebrows raised in jest. 

You’re giggling when you grab his hand and squeeze it, thanking him. “This goofy little bit we’re doin’ ends the second Sarah and your brother walk through the door, by the way. Not looking to scare her, that’s the last thing I wanna do,” you instruct.

“‘Course, but fuckin’ with Tommy sure woulda been fun,” he says to you, and you laugh in agreement. Once you see he’s settled, you make tea for the both of you, hoping it’ll work magic with the medicine to get him resting comfortably and — with any luck — napping before long. He’ll probably protest, but with a little coaxing, you’ll get it into him. 

When you return with the tea, he takes it from you with both hands, before using one to pull you down on the couch next to him. He’s pulled you a little closer than you may have sat yourself, and he’s pleased when you don’t pull away or readjust. You just grab the heating pad, crank it up, and stick it behind your lower back while leaning forward to grab the medicine. You check his temperature again with the back of your hand while he’s preoccupied taking the medicine you’d doled out to him. He’s a little warmer than he was outside the drug store. 

“Maybe we should get a number on that. Where do you keep your thermometer?” you ask, worry written on your face all over again. You attempt to rise from the couch to go hunting, but he grips your hand again, keeping you in place.

“Nope, nope, it’s fine sweetheart, I promise. You need to get some rest too. Sit,” he directs, his tone leaving no room for discussion. You roll your eyes, but wriggle back against the couch again before pulling a blanket into your lap. Joel fiddles with the cord of the heating pad and readjusts it behind your back, making sure it isn’t folded or sitting uncomfortably against you. You sigh in relief and fall a bit toward him as you settle in, and he inches you way as well. You arbitrarily turn on a movie you’ve both seen, fully aware neither of you will be making it to the end, and snuggle closer. The fevered heat humming beneath his skin is pleasantly warm against you as he settles deeper, and he’s slipping in and out of conversation within minutes. 

_____________________________________________________________

Sarah walks through the door with Tommy in tow while end credits roll across the tv. They head into the den to check on Joel, but conversation falls silent and they stop in their tracks at the sight they discover. You’re sleeping peacefully, legs tucked up under you and head lolled against the back of the couch. Joel’s head has somehow found its way into your lap, and he’s resting warmly on your stomach, no doubt alleviating some of the pain with his warmth and weight. Your hand rests on his shoulder, holding him securely.

Tommy’s face goes slack, but Sarah’s smiling ear to ear, and turns to her uncle, trying to quiet her laughter. He looks at her wide-eyed, but says nothing, and she holds her hand out between them, fingers curling toward her palm.

“Pay up,” she says, way too satisfied for Tommy’s liking, and far too much like her father. He rolls his eyes, and digs his wallet out of his pocket. He really thought his brother would be too chicken to do anything about this — at least for a little while longer.

[maiiuelle]

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ᡣ𐭩 ⋆ ˚｡⋆

“oh, babygirl. that’s horrible.” jj maybank runs his thick fingers down your back, tsking under his breath at the story you’d just told him. he knew rafe was an idiot, but he never imaged he’d fumble you, no matter how much he dreamed about it. yet, here you are, sitting in his lap with tears streaming down your face as you tell him exactly how rafe had ruined everything. “you doin’ alright after all that?”

“i don’t know.” you sniffle, leaning into his touch and setting your head on his shoulder, peering into the crackling fire in front of the two of you. you came to the chateau looking for sarah, your best friend, to give her the details on how things ended with rafe, but instead you ran into jj. he was always the nicest of sarah’s pogue friends, and turns out he’s a great shoulder to cry on. “i just can’t believe he’d do this to me.”

“yeah, well, dude’s a loser — even i could tell you that.” jj mumbles, holding a joint between his lips as he flicks his lighter open over your shoulder. “trust me, he ain’t worth your time.” he lights it and takes a long drag, turning his head to blow the smoke away from you.

“i guess, but he really didn’t seem that way. maybe i’m too gullible.” you dig the heel of your palms into your eyes, the irritation from crying making them red and raw. the blonde shakes his head as you speak.

“nah, nah nah. you didn’t do nothin’ wrong, cupcake. i bet you he’s cryin’ more than you. shit, i would be.” jj takes another hit, flicking the ash into the fire pit. “he doesn’t deserve a sweet girl like you, clearly can’t treat you right.”

you move your hands to look up at the pogue boy. “you’re such a sweet talker, jj. you know just what to say.”

“s’not that, i just know i’m right. i got no clue how you could even deal with that guy. you couldn’t pay me.” he whistles, offering the joint to you. you accept, brushing your fingers over his as you take it, already giving him heart eyes. “you dodged a bullet, sweetheart. maybe literally. he’s a fuckin’ psycho.”

you laugh, assuming he can’t be serious as you put the joint to your lips. the smoke fills your lungs and sends you into a coughing fit. “sorry, it’s from my cousin’s stash — hydroponic.” jj takes the joint back from between your fingers, starting to rub your back again comfortingly.

he lets you cough it out, looking over your pretty face in thought. “y’know.. you should stick ‘round me. promise he’ll steer clear.”

already getting dizzy from the high, you slump back into your spot against his shoulder. “but, i thought you didn’t like kook girls.” you pout, and he scoffs.

“who told you that?” he takes another hit, cursing sarah for trying to cock block him. “doesn’t matter anyways, i like you.”

“i like you too, jj.” you giggle, rubbing on his arm like a cat. you’re too overwhelmed with emotion to worry about embarrassment, and jj’s making you feel so much better already. “thanks for listening, i dunno what i would’ve done if you weren’t here.”

“it’s my pleasure, cupcake. don’t sweat it.” he smiles that charming smile at you, his eyes flickering between yours and your enticing lips. he clears his throat after a few seconds, his eyes lost in yours. “uh—i could think of a few other things we could do to help get your mind off him. if you uh, catch my drift.”

before the moment can go on for too long, the twinkie pulls up the gravel driveway and parks with a squeak. jj peers over his shoulder, putting the joint to his lips one final time as he smacks the side of your leg. “c’mon, sugar. i got just the thing.” he chats as he helps you to stand, immediately meeting john b’s curious gaze when he hops out of the twinkie.

jj jumps to speak first in hopes of avoiding any uncomfortable questioning, he couldn’t risk anything tarnishing the mood he worked so hard to set. “perfect timing — fire’s already lit, so is a joint, if y’all wanna hop on that.” he points to the set up of lawn chairs around the fire pit lazily, far more focused on leading you across the lawn and up the chateau steps, all the while toying with the hem of your tank top. “poor little lady’s havin’ a bad day, needs some one on one time with papa j.”

“ew, oh my god.” sarah scrunches her nose, having predicted jj would try to get with you. as much as she wants to be angry, seeing you all gooey in jj’s arms rather than her psychotic brother’s is a little refreshing — but she would never tell jj that. she just rolls her eyes and looks the other way. john b gives his best friend a proud look behind her back, flashing a silent thumbs up as he ushers you inside.

the second the screen door slams shut behind you, he’s pulling you back onto his lap on the couch, his big hands sprawling over the back pockets of your jean shorts. you giggle, biting your lip nervously as you climb on top of him. “jj.. right here?”

“gotta take care of you, don’t i?” you can hear his smile in his voice, even with his face buried in your neck as he covers it in gentle kisses. you hum at the feeling of his lips, so sensitive it almost tickles. your little whines only make him want to go further, his hands hooking under your legs to lift you and carry you to the bedroom. “yeah, don’t you worry, m’gonna make you feel all better, pretty baby.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ᡣ𐭩 ⋆ ˚｡⋆

[causenessus]

cold kisses

part 0.16. "LET ME HOLD ONTO YOU, PLEASE"

PLAYING FROM KODZUKEN'S STREAM . . . count contessa by azealia banks & lone

he’s barely seen her in the past few days. he’s not complaining. in fact, he’s being rather dramatic putting it like that. she’s been coming home every day around 10 at night, trying to muffle the loud sighs she’ll let out as she closes the door behind her. she’ll shuffle around, clean herself up, and then always ends up falling onto his bed, where he’s already lying, switch in hands.

“you should come up here,” he always says, because half of her body is currently hanging off the very end of the mattress.

she’ll then whine at him, saying something about how much effort it is to move another inch so he’ll put down his switch and help her clamber up to lay next to him. while she’s tucked in under his comforter, he’s slouched against the wall behind him, not quite lying down nor sitting up. she wants to be close to him and that’s not a problem; he’ll put an arm around her, resting it on her shoulder so that she’s hugged close while he can keep playing his switch. or, he’ll decide it’s time to sleep as well and run a hand through her hair until they’ve both fallen asleep.

however, that all happens in around two hours at the very end of the day, and other than that, he doesn’t get to see her. he’s gotten used to her convoluted directions (“take a left, then a right, then another right, oh and that right is actually down a pretty long hallway, keep going straight, take a left, then you’ll see a really narrow hallway, it looks a little sketchy but go through it…”) leading him around buildings and past security so that he can visit her in the middle of the day while other events are going on but it’s never for long.

the point is, he misses her. a lot. but today is her day. yesterday was the short program, they’d ended in second place. she’d come home that day with anxiety eating away at her. she'd closed the door softly behind her, wandered down the hall, seen him, and then immediately started shaking. they had sat on the couch for at least an hour, him holding her hands tightly, telling her to focus on the pressure he was pressing into them and breathing with her. it was all sobs and cracked whispers of how worried she was of disappointing people, how worried she was about the twist.

he couldn’t pretend he knew how difficult the twist was, or that he knew what to say. he knew not to say it would be alright. he knew it was their most difficult move; she always came home with a bright smile on her face whenever practicing the move had gone well. and then two days ago it hadn’t. atsumu had dropped her and it hadn’t been a big confidence booster for either of them. getting second place was only more of a detriment. he didn’t say anything about it, because he knew that wasn’t what she wanted. he didn’t know enough to say anything about their twist, but he knew what second place felt like.

he knew from volleyball tournaments how much it hurt to almost be there. to win game after game, ignoring thoughts of failure no matter how anxious or humble a person might be, because they needed to focus on moving forward. he knew what it was like to be on a team, to worry about holding others back, and he knew what it felt like to stand there on a silent stage after performing a sport in front of thousands of people and be almost good enough, but not good enough.

that night he had wiped away her tears and kissed her, saying, “focus on tomorrow, not what others will think, not what’s already happened. it doesn't matter what other people think, and you can only control yourself. tomorrow will be great. you and miya will be great, and i’ll be there for you no matter what happens.”

she’d given him the biggest pout ever at his words, looking up at him with glassy eyes, “can i have that good luck kiss now, then?”

“anything you want,” he’d responded, kissing her and muffling her huff of laughter.

“you can’t ask me to kiss you and then laugh in my face,” he had said when he pulled away, staying close enough that their noses bumped into each other.

she’d continued laughing before trying to answer him, “i’m sorry, i’m not laughing at you." she stopped when he wiped away a stray tear that had escaped her eyes, "i was just thinking about how crazy it must have been for me to come home and then immediately start hyperventilating and ranting to you and then turn around and ask for a kiss.”

“i told you not to worry about things like that, i’ll love you no matter what. i've just been worried. nothing else,” he sighed, resting his forehead against hers. 

her hands reached up to run through his hair, holding the sides of his head, “i love you, kenma. thank you for listening. i'll need another kiss tomorrow if I'm gonna do this.”

“i’ll give you as many as you want,” he’d replied.

now he was standing right by the edge of the ice rink. y/n and ukai had both pulled strings and forced him into a seat up close to the rink, right next to her coach. he wasn’t sure how to feel, sitting there feeling like an uneducated commoner amongst famous people who actually knew the name of every trick going on, but he stayed there for her. when she came out onto the ice, her eyes scanned the crowd, immediately finding him and blowing a kiss towards him.

he smiled back, eyes flicking up to the screen hanging above in the middle of the rink, displaying atsumu and her skating towards the center of the rink, hand in hand. the applause that erupted at their entrance only served to make his heart beat faster. he’d given her an entire speech about remaining calm yesterday and today, but he felt like he was about to throw up. he’d witnessed a skating pair fall just before their performance and he and ukai had both simultaneously sat down, hands in their heads and eyes burning like they were on the verge of tears.

he tried to clap along with the crowd, trying not to overthink how big of a crowd was forming in this stadium. he knew atsumu and y/n had been popular, but not even the cold mist from the ice rink could help him regulate his temperature or panic.

and if he felt this way, he couldn’t imagine how she felt. she and atsumu were both in each other arms, and he could see the way both of their shoulders rose before falling together, trying to calm each other down. he had been better about overthinking them being so close to each other now. atsumu seemed to respect her boundaries more than before and kenma knew that at the end of the day, he’d be the one kissing her, not him.

the blood pounding in his ears was so loud he barely realized they were starting. their song had grown familiar to him, and it helped him feel the slightest bit calmer. the pair started apart, spinning in time with one another, before coming back together and skating backwards, picking up speed as they glided past him and then across the center of the rink.

he held his breath watching their first real move, watching her position herself in front of atsumu, his hands on her waist before he lifted her and threw her forwards. he heard ukai let out a breath with him as she landed.

ukai had drilled many terms into his head, and they came to mind without him having to think about it. they skated past him again, grabbing each others hands and facing each other before y/n arched farther and farther down. that was a death spiral, he could remember that one easily. the name and actual position had fascinated him, and he watched closely, hands pulling at the fabric of his pants.

“fuck,” ukai cursed as they slowly stood back up, atsumu pushing her out with their hands bridged above.

kenma immediately threw a look his way, he hadn’t noticed anything wrong. “what happened?” he asked, his breath feeling short again.

“they just–they got up too fast,” ukai pinched the bridge of his nose, “it won’t affect them much, but i know they’re both thinking of it and–” he covered his face with his hands, knees bouncing.

“oh, the twist is soon,” kenma finished for him, looking forward again.

“kenma,” ukai’s voice immediately made him look back again, frowning in confusion.

“let me hold onto you for this, please, i might have a heart attack if this goes wrong,” ukai was looking at him with the widest bloodshot eyes he’d ever seen, rivaling how bad he could look after a few consecutive nights without sleep, and kenma couldn’t even blame him.

“oh, yeah. go for it. whatever you need,” he answered as nonchalantly as he could, unsure of what to do but offer himself to the older man.

there were two hands on his shoulders, holding him firmly as they both watched, frozen in place as they watched the two skaters.

there atsumu’s hands went on her again, her own hands moving to hold onto his wrists as he lifted her up.

ukai was murmuring a prayer of pleas and “oh my god”s next to him and kenma joined him in his head.

his eyes were burning from how long he’d kept them open, not wanting to blink for even a fraction of a second. watching y/n perform on the ice in front of millions of people total, in person and through screens, only added to all the emotions he felt. if it wasn't from how dry his eyes were, he could probably start crying from how he felt. he was so proud of her. no matter what she won today, she was perfect in his head.

when atsumu caught her again flawlessly, slowly letting her back down as they circled the rink, facing each other. he felt the goosebumps run across his skin as the entire crowd roared.

ukai and him had both stood up screaming, and ukai was shaking him violently as kenma ended up grabbing back onto him. 

they were both panting as they tried to calm back down and the rest of the performance seemed a blur trying to remember it. in the moment, he had been completely present. he knew he had screamed a lot–at almost every movement they did after that twist; adrenaline had completely taken over any rationalization in his head. when atsumu and y/n ended back in the middle of the rink, they were clutching each other, both shaking with sobs.

ukai next to him had a few tears rolling down his face and he was sure he did, too.

the second after their song ended was silent before the stadium was filled with applause once more. groups of spectators stood up one by one before everyone was on their feet. the skaters took their turns bowing before bowing together, twirling each other around a few times.

then he realized he hadn’t even looked up at their scoring and she almost fell to her knees, too, before her partner caught her, realizing what they had won.

“hey,” atsumu’s giving her a wide grin when she steps out of the locker room, “you did great.”

she returns his smile, relaxing her shoulders at his words, “you did too! i felt so relieved after that twist, but ukai’s definitely chewing us out for that spiral later.”

“oh definitely, i could already hear him in my head the moment i realized we stood up too fast,” he uncrosses his arm as he steps away from the wall he’s been leaning on. “so,” he begins, tilting his head slightly down to look at her as he comes to his full height.

“so?” by herself in the locker room, she was fully ready to break his heart if he asked about partnering again next year, but being alone with him in person made some of that confidence die down.

“you’re choosing him over me?” she’s already opening her mouth to respond before she freezes, processing what he really asked.

“what? what are you talking about?” she looks at him, trying to read his face.

“i just thought…maybe you’d say something. especially after that performance, you’d pick me over him,” he’s holding her gaze, revealing nothing in his eyes about what he’s feeling.

“kenma? you thought i was going to break up with him for you?” she backs up a little, trying to put distance between them.

but he follows after her, maintaining the proximity, “yeah. i mean, especially after that fight you guys had. you’re really gonna stay with a guy who hides behind a screen all day? and makes you feel shitty for just hanging around another guy he barely knows?–"

"what? how did you even know about that?” she cuts him off.

“because i knew what i was doing, obviously, taking you out somewhere like that,” he retorts, cornering her into a wall.

“he got upset because he knew you were trying to play him. you’re the one that doesn’t know him. he doesn’t hide behind a screen, and i’m sorry if i gave you the wrong impression. i thought that you were actually trying to be a good person,” she holds her ground, eyes darting ever so often to the hallway to her left, hoping someone might appear.

she sees his fists clench and then relax, “i….i was trying. i am a good person. i tried to be patient and nice, and i backed off because i care about you. i thought i could win you over and show you how good i am. and we’re perfect for each other. the whole world thinks so. did you see the crowd we had? the way they all stood up at the end? kenma’s just someone who manipulates money out of others, but look at us, we bring actual enjoyment to other people.”

that's the last thing he says before she loses her control. his head has been sharply turned to the side and his skin quickly turns red from the hand she slaps across it, and she doesn’t feel bad about it. “don’t you dare fucking talk about him like that. i keep fucking telling you that you don’t know who he is. he’s not a manipulator like you, i mean, seriously. can you step down from your self-appointed podium for one second and listen to the words coming out of your own mouth? you just told me you tried to manipulate me into breaking up with my boyfriend to date you after you tried to make him jealous. you’re full of bullshit, miya. what he does is just as honest and good as what we do. and i’m never working with you again. i don’t give a fuck if you’re little team can prevent me from ever going to the olympics again. do whatever makes you feel better about how pathetic you are. it doesn't matter to me."

she shoves off the arm he had pressed to the wall next to her, walking away. she turns the corner sharply, trying to put as much distance between her and atsumu.

she lets out a breath immediately, feeling a weight lift off her chest before she runs into someone. “oh, sorry–" her voice dies out when she realizes who it is, exclaiming as she pulls him into a hug.

kenma hugs her back for a second before unwinding her arms from him, “y/n," he's holdings her wrists in his hands, eyes scanning her face for anything wrong, "you didn’t answer any of my texts, is everything okay?” she can’t help the smile that breaks across her face before she wriggles her hands out of his, grabbing hold of his face to pull him in for a kiss.

he freezes before kissing her back, holding her closer with a hand pressed against the back of her head but she can feel how stiff he still is with worry.

when they break apart she sighs, resting her head on his shoulder, turning to face his neck and place a kiss on it. “i’m great, kenma. don’t worry,” his hands move to wrap around her waist, pulling her in closer when he’s sure she’s okay. “i just slapped atsumu across the face and gave him an entire speech about how much i love you to his face, you just missed it.”

“damn,” she feels his chest expand as he takes in a deep breath before sighing. “now i wish i hadn't waited so long. i had my phone ready and everything, i was pretty sure i was gonna turn the corner and see you beating his ass.”

"i wish you came sooner too,” she nuzzles her nose against his shoulder before pulling back to look at him face to face, “i would've treasured that video forever, but it's okay. i also may have just ended my career, but we’ll find out about that later.”

he freezes again in surprise at her last comment but she continues, “if it is, we'll find a way, but i think it’ll be fine. maybe atsumu will finally learn his lesson.”

he’s silent for a moment before he decides what to say, “if you say so.”

she can’t help the laugh that spills out of her mouth at his response before it goes quiet, the both of them still looking into each others eyes.

“you know i’m going to ask you what happened later, right?” he gives her a small, teasing smile.

“i do. and i’ll tell you, but right now i’m just focused on you,” she answers with a shrug, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“wanna know something else?” he asks.

“what is it?” she tilts her head.

“your lips are still cold from the ice rink.”

“are they now?”

“ i could never forget the feeling. but maybe you should let me kiss you one more time. just to make sure.”

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

COUNT CONTESSA!!! if you were not apart of my two day freakout over what song atsumu and y/n would actually perform to it was what won the poll i made which is all thanks to the music mastermind @eggyrocks

THANK YOU SO MUCH TO @kitnootkat FOR BEING MY PERSON TO GO TO WITH ICE SKATING QUESTIONS THIS CHAPTER WOULD NOT BE POSSIBLE W/O YOU and also my 50 wikipedia tabs that have been opened over the course of writing this chapter

also the u.s. figure skating account i fr just copied whatever posts they had

thank u nathan chen for all the work u put in just for a random haikyuu fanfic author to plaster oikawa tooru's name over today (HE'S REALLY GOOD AND HIS PERFORMANCE GAVE ME GOOSEBUMPS I MEAN NO DISRESPECT)

i also had no idea the quad axel was like the hardest move ever i FR JUST COPIED THAT FROM A U.S. FIGURE SKATING POST AND THEN FOUND THAT OUT LATER ON GOOGLE SO I PROMISE I DID NOT JUST PULL A WATTPAD AND BE LIKE "oh what is the hardest thing someone could ever do teehee and let me have my mary sue character do it with no flaws whatsoever"

EPILOGUE IS NEXT!!!

i feel like the quality of the written portions really went 📈📈📉📉📉📈📉📉📉📉📉📈📉 i am sorry

also i still had no idea what i'm writing and i am so sorry to any ice skater offended by what they just read and i hope skipped over my horrible descriptions and lack of knowledge writing

that's why this chapter took so long because i was so confused trying to understand the scoring system and what it looks like to the audience and skaters but i really really tried i promise

ukai and kenma were basically holding onto each other the entire time screaming and shaking the other person at every move atsumu and y/n did

ukai is a very proud father and 100% approves of kenma

when y/n wouldn't respond to kenma's texts bc she was busy bitch slapping atsumu kenma was like "i'm going to go find y/n"

ukai did not bat an eye he just pointed in some direction and was like "yeah go that way and turn right. go get your girlfriend. and go get married or something. if security tries to stop you tell them ukai sent you"

that sounds so ominous LMAOOO

in the suna-iwa dorm they were planning to have a civilized, peaceful night watching the olympics together as they cheered on y/n but then got a knock on their door

oikawa got to go and see y/n's performance in person but the rest of them just came over to the suna-iwa dorm to watch y/n together

it would be silent besides the tv in the dorm and then hinata and noya would lead one of those wii golf reactions to everything going on

they'd see yn position herself in front of atsumu before he would lift her so they'd be like "ohhhh" and then he'd throw her and they'd cheer

hinata would also sometimes just death grip kageyama's wrist (holding a paper bag) because he thought he was literally about throw up

atsumu definitely just stood facing the wall where y/n had just been for at least a good 10 minutes in silence before walking down a hallway he had never been down to think about his life choices

then proceeded to call y/n a bitch when a news reporter found him

honestly that did not go well for him

kenma and atsumu x yn fans were not very happy with him

i'm going to stop yapping now

i hope u enjoyed this chapter!! thank u for reading cold kisses <3

taglist: @rinheartshyunlix @kettlepop @cr4yolaas @httpakkeiji @keioover @does-directions @calx-bdo @staygoldsquatchling02 @cherrypieyourface @iluv-ace @kitty-m30w @h3xi2g0n3 @mylahrins @thechaosoflonging @momoriii-i @localgaytrainwreck @a-pastel-edgelord @bugglesboop @polish-cereal @osakis-gf @phoenix-eclipses @faesix @ryeyeyer @skylarkalchemist @kunimix @sereniteav @kodzubaby @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @r0seandth0rns @gsyche @seillarium @tamimemo @myromanempiree @coldcigarette @eclipticnikki @squiishymeow @vivian-555 @cryptictheseus @eclecticeggknightpsychic @kodzukein @kawaii-angelanne @luvly-writer @kodzuken-hoe @kodzuken88 @bookworm-center @theweirdfloatything @glitch-karma @spicana

[kleftiko]

Hi! Idk if your request is opened or not but if it is, I'd like to request a headcanon for Knb if that's alright?

My request is : How would GOM + Kagami react when their s/o walk in on them taking a shower naked and just casually invite themselves taking a shower with the boys?

❦ SHOWER TIME

cw: this is fluff, but language and nudity [ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP]

—kuroko

in a strange turn of events, you end up startling your boyfriend. the bathroom door is slightly open, the sound of running water and slight humming floats through the apartment. you decide that you should probably get clean too as you step into the steamy room. tetsuya doesn’t hear you undressing, or stepping into the shower. it’s only when your cold hands wrap around his waist that he shrieks and spins around—nearly slipping—eyes wide and startled for a split second until he realizes it’s you. then his expression falls into his signature calm smile.

“hi, sweetheart.”

—kagami

you go in the bathroom to pee, and as soon as you make a noise, taiga peers around the curtain with a judgemental look.

“what are you doing?” he asks, shampoo comically in his hair.

you blink. “using the bathroom.”

he sends you a stink eye before closing the curtains and going back to what he was doing. you know he likes his alone time in the shower, but the apartment only had one bathroom, and you like to annoy him (with love). so when you strip down and attempt to join him in the shower you need to wrestle the curtain away from him because he’s using it to cover himself lol.

—murasakibara

he likes when you sit in the bathroom while he showers. you can tell him about your day and he can poke his head out for you to feed him a little snack. it’s not often that you shower with him because the logistics of the shower head and the height difference was always a hassle. until you renovated your shower to a ceiling head, now when he’s finished his himemaru, you can just join him under the water and he can pull you close and prevent you from moving cause “you’re so cute and cuddly, y/n-chin.”

and you stay like that until your body feels like two different temperatures.

—aomine

you enter the bathroom.

“fuck, daiki, it stinks in here.”

“i had to shit, you’re the one that interrupted my shower.”

despite that, you strip down and pull the curtain dramatically to announce that you intend to join him. and this motherfucker is under the water, head tilted back to rinse out his shampoo, eyes looking down at you with a smirk as he says, “just can’t get enough of me, huh?”

so turn the water to cold so he shrieks :)

bonus fem!reader: soapy tits are his weakness. if you ever want anything from him, hop in the shower and ask lol his eyes don’t leave your chest but he’s nodding along to whatever you’re saying. you could ask for a yacht and he’d agree

—kise

doesn’t want to shower without you tbh. he’s usually inviting you to join him, but not in a sexual way. he’s one of those people who blasts music while in the bathroom and likes to perform concerts, so he needs his back up singer. he’ll shampoo his hair into spikes and start screaming punk, it’s your responsibility to play air guitar and ad lib. on the rare occasions that he’s showering by himself and you decide to join him halfway through, his smile is wide, and his introduction goes, “ladies and gentlemen, my backup guitarists!”

—akashi

literally love him. if you open the bathroom door while he’s showering he assumes something is wrong.

“darling? are you alright?” his soft voice just makes you melt, but you assure him that you just want to join him. and he is delighted! in fact, he proposes a bath after you two wash up. he loves having you between his legs, back against his chest while you’re surrounded by bubbles. he’s one of those people that loves non sexual intimacy, so if you turn around and give him a bubble beard, he’ll just watch you with hearts in his eyes.

—midorima

locks the door so you can’t get in. if you’re persistent—knocking, calling his name, etc.—he’ll step out of the shower, towel around his waist, and open the door with an annoyed scowl. you just smile sweetly and hop under the running water. he’s muttering under his breathe at how much of a handful you are, but he’s washing your body carefully and making sure soap doesn’t get in your eyes <3

[wickedscribbles]

whoever makes my baby cry (is gonna lose some teeth tonight) ch. 1

Masterlist Ch. 2 Summary: Saving the timeline and moving in with Wade Wilson is one thing. Going on his first, real, official date with the man is another thing entirely.

*or*

Logan struggles to tell Wade that he doesn't want Wade's idea of perfect. He just wants what they already have. Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Logan Howlett/Wolverine

Rating: Explicit

Tags: established relationship, domestic fluff, porn with plot, mental health issues, dirty talk, biting, bottom Logan/top Wade, blowjobs, come swallowing, praise kink, dry humping, PTSD

Word Count: 3.5K

If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated.

It wasn’t always this easy to wake up.

Before his new and surprising way of life, there were thousands of days when Logan hated this particular reminder of his immortality. Like he and the sun were in competition – which of them would outlast the other? And the worse the night before had been, the more bitter and ironic the morning. Day after day after day.

Lately, though, things are different. Things are good.

Today, Logan stirs awake in a warm bed shared with one other man, an ugly little dog, and a cat. Something that could almost feel like a family, even in their cramped apartment with all its issues. A hot and aching feeling hits his chest to even think the word; too many times he’d had that and lost it. Though he can’t lose Wade the way he’s lost others in the past, that fear isn’t quick to go away.

Wade’s face is buried in the collar of Logan’s t-shirt, and Logan doesn’t have to pull away to know that he’s drooling in his sleep. Maybe if it were someone else, he’d be irritated. With Wade, he’s just gotten used to it. Hell, he likes Wade too much to even care. Despite the constant chatter (yapping, as Wade says people call it now), the large generational gap, and the unconventional way they’d met, Logan does more than tolerate him.

He really, really likes Wade Wilson.

Though regenerative capabilities are a massive bonus, Logan also just enjoys being around him. He’s got a wicked sharp wit and sense of humor that get to Logan even when he’s trying to pretend they don’t. Wade’s damn good in a fight, light on his feet and agile in a way that Logan’s not sure he’ll ever be. He’s sweet, underneath all the talk.

The guy's interesting, talented, caring, and – fuck. This is a long list. Yeah, Logan knows where these sorts of feelings tend to lead. He’s not quite there yet, but he wants to be. He wants to try. Even if there's still a part of him that tells himself to get the hell away before something goes wrong. Because something always goes wrong.

In the tangle of fresh blankets and soft sun, Logan just lets himself lie there for a while. Get a little uninterrupted peace before the day has to start. It won’t be long before Puppins is hauling herself up and licking their faces, demanding breakfast and her morning walk. Currently she’s tits up at the foot of the bed, snoring. Bonnet is curled into a tight ball not far away, tail and paws tucked in.

Tranquility can’t last forever, though. Logan’s arm is at an uncomfortable angle under Wade’s body, and when he gently tries to pull it free, Wade begins to stir awake.

“Mm,” he mumbles, taking the time for a long, dramatic stretch. “Morning, kitty cat.”

“Morning,” Logan answers, leaning down to kiss him on the side of the head.

At their feet, Puppins is already beside herself with excitement, flipping and twisting to get upright so she can stick her tongue in someone’s nostrils. Logan takes advantage of the few seconds he has to shift a little closer, slinging a leg over Wade’s hip.

“You sleep okay?”

“Mmhm.”

Wade kisses him back after nodding, something sweet that could be their version of chaste. Logan would have a better time believing he actually meant it to be, if not for the way Wade slowly grinds his morning wood into Logan’s own, teasing even with a sleepy grin on his face.

“Yeah, I sure d–hey!” He’s interrupted by the inevitable dog in his face, tail going crazy as she plants her pointy little paws on each of them for leverage. “Okay, sweetie, we get it, you’re a bigger whore than Papa and you really want to go out.”

Bonnet cracks an eye open. He briefly looks at Logan as if to say what the actual fuck? before slipping off the bed and out the door.

“I’ll take her, you stay here.”

Logan eases his way out of bed and holds out his arms for Puppins to hop into, and she does so with gusto.

Wade gives puppy eyes almost as good as the dog does.

“Aww, you’re the best, angel face.” He gives them both a little wave from the bed as Logan carries her out. “Be good for Daddy, okay girl? No staring into the distance for thirty minutes like you’ve seen the ghost of a Victorian child.”

Trying to look annoyed at the antics and falling short, Logan shakes his head. The juxtaposition of being called kitty cat and then daddy within the same five minutes does something to him that he’s not even going to attempt to rationalize. Better to stuff it into the waistband of his shorts so that he doesn’t scare the neighbors.

She’s pretty fast about it, thankfully. Logan trots her outside the apartment in her little matching harness and leash and she does a lap around the block, sniffing at all the familiar spots. By the time they make it back inside, Wade’s got her fancy wet food ready and waiting, and Puppins launches herself into it like she’s never had an honest meal.

Not that he can really single her out. Bonnet eats in much the same way, his body hunched possessively over the bowl, growling through bites as if someone’s about to take it away from him. Like they’d risk their hand trying.

“Our sweet little freak shows,” Wade says fondly, bumping his hip into Logan’s as they take a minute to make sure there’s not going to be any roughhousing.

(Roughhousing loosely translates to Puppins finishing her food and wandering over to Bonnet, then screaming out her drama when she gets smacked in the face. She somehow fails to remember, every day, that he likes a firm boundary with his breakfast.)

Logan hums his agreement, sparing a sideways glance at Wade in nothing but Logan’s own boxers and a loose tank top that reads Satan Loves My Gay Ass. If he’s right, they’ll have about two more minutes before his cat– as Wade sometimes refers to Bonnet – horks down the rest of his food, leaving the household in peace. Then they can have their fun.

Seems like Wade’s right there with him. As soon as Bonnet prowls away from his empty bowl, extra claws clicking on the linoleum, he snatches the bowl up – just in time for Puppins to collide with his forearm on her way to lick it clean.

“No no no, my delicate little scrotum-faced wonder,” he coos at her. “We all know what cat food does to your already tumultuous digestive tract.”

No fucking kidding, Logan thinks. They’d had to rip out and replace a good strip of the carpet the first time they’d caught her in it.

“Anyway!” Wade deposits the pet bowls in the sink with a clang. “I’m pretty sure our dicks were in the middle of something?”

Logan grins, often unable to help himself where Wade is concerned. “They mighta been.”

That affirmation is all it takes to get them back to the bedroom, this time shutting the door with a click. Logan pins Wade to it in two seconds flat, his mouth hungry as they kiss, running his hands up and down the other man’s exposed biceps with a quiet sound of want.

He can’t help how good Wade looks wearing his boxers. They’re too fucking big for him, for one thing, slipping a little on his slightly slimmer build. Almost giving him the whole show, depending on the angle. Not a problem now, because he’s straining them hard with his tented cock. Like he’d planned on getting Logan this worked up before breakfast.

Their lips dance and tease each other for a while in that way they both adore; a little pain, a little fun, all of it mixing together until things are indistinguishable. Teeth nipping and pulling before tongues get involved, Logan’s hips pressing deep into Wade’s, a push and pull of oxytocin. One of Wade’s hands works its way into Logan’s hair, sending a thrill of pleasure up his spine as he gently scratches at his scalp.

“Should we take this party to the bed?” Wade asks as they break away for a moment. “Or would you rather I fuck you against the door so hard that the neighbors think we have a really insistent visitor?”

Honestly, that sounds fun – until Logan pictures banging his shoulders into the unforgiving door frame hundreds of times.

“Bed,” Logan decides.

It’s only a few steps away. Wade walks him backwards until the back of his legs collide with the mattress, and Logan lets himself fall. The bed gives a hellish squeak underneath the sudden weight, reminding them both of the four bed frames that they’ve gone through since they’ve started dating. They may be on their way to the fifth if this one keeps up.

They’re quick to arrange themselves more comfortably at the head of the bed. Logan surrendered long ago to the idea of how nice it felt to have Wade on top of him, like a weighted blanket that won't shut the fuck up. The same stays true now – Wade’s talking up all the things they could do and the many ways he could make Logan feel good, all pressed between fervent neck kisses that make him arch and pant and whine.

“Yeah, big guy?” Wade purrs down at him. “Aww, look at you. We’re all riled up this morning, aren’t we?”

As an answer, Logan locks his arms around Wade’s back. He grapples him, swinging a leg over until their positions are switched yet again, drinking in the broad grin on his boyfriend’s face.

Boyfriend. What a vast and terrifying concept.

“And whose fault is that?”

Logan pulls at the edge of Wade’s tank top, stretching it down until he can lick and bite at enough of his chest to be satisfied. Covering his skin with little nips and marks, then sinking down lower, hovering over his abdomen, pushing the shirt up to Wade’s ribs so he can lavish over his scarred and puckered stomach. The scent of arousal colors the air, thick and sweet, and Logan nudges his head against the waistband of Wade’s boxers – his boxers – with a moan.

Breathing faster with the anticipation of what’s about to happen, Wade’s having a difficult time keeping up with any potential banter. One of his hands returns to Logan’s hair, where he knows he likes them. Logan rises into the touch, his eyes dark and needy.

“I’d like to plead not guilty, Your Honor,” says Wade, watching with unmatched interest as Logan pulls down the boxers and slips his cock free. “Pretty sure you’re the one who started this whole shebang.”

Pausing to shrug as if to say you got me there, Logan smiles up at Wade before pressing a kiss to the base of his dick. If he really wanted to, he could argue that the way Wade looked in his boxers had compelled him to be a little hornier than usual. But honestly…he’s too eager to suck him off.

Because he fucking loves this.

Getting to turn his brain off and do something with his body that feels incredible instead of awful. Quite literally the polar opposite of what he’s been doing for the majority of his life – the fighting and violence, the brutal misery of it all. Sex with Wade still feels like something he shouldn’t let himself be doing, especially when Wade indulges all the guilty little pleasures that have long gone untouched in the back of Logan’s psyche.

Most of all, it feels so good to let go with a partner. Sure, he’s tangled with other mutants in the past, but there was always a part of him that had to hold back. Whatever he could possibly do to Wade, Wade can not only take, but will likely even enjoy. The possibility of anything and everything melts on his tongue like mint chocolate, something to savor. Something rare.

And now that he’s had a taste, he is never, ever letting go.

He tries to take his time, to make this sultry and teasing, but it’s so hard. Wade’s cock is inches from his face, dripping and straining for attention. Logan doesn’t stop to do any of the usual tricks – no fanning his breath over the length of it or lapping up the pre-come. No pausing to tease that extra-sensitive spot right under the head. Logan only has the patience to kiss a fierce, hungry line, look right at Wade, smirk, and then swallow him down.

“Fuck, kitty cat,” Wade hisses. “Going straight for the kill shot today, huh?”

Logan raises an eyebrow, giving him wordless snark. Pausing for a moment to see if this particular merc is keen on giving him more mouth before he continues what he’s trying to do. When the answer seems to be no, he continues, sinking down deep between Wade’s spread legs to take as much of him as he can. Opening up the back of his throat to make more room, aware that he’s going to start drooling any second.

The attention leaves Wade nearly senseless. When Logan remembers to look up – to get the eye contact that the other man loves, but still sometimes leaves him feeling vulnerable, even despite the intimacy of what they’re already doing – Wade’s gazing at him with the most punched-out expression of need. As if Logan’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen (though he's got greying hair and wrinkles and all the other things he secretly worries make him unattractive).

The way his mouth hangs open a little bit drives Logan fucking crazy. He can hear every gasp and whine, Wade’s earnest brown eyes on him, his throat bobbing, sweat beginning to shine on his exposed skin. Logan makes a desperate sound of his own, achingly hard in his boxers as he sucks Wade’s cock sloppy and fast.

“Baby, that’s so good, you feel so fucking good, fucking perfect on my cock, aren’t you?”

He increases the pace in response, growling low and pleased in the back of his throat.

“Such a good boy,” Wade gasps, the hand in Logan's hair twisting harshly. Logan whines again, feeling his cock jolt at the sensation. “God, you're perfect, first taking the dog out and now this – oh, I'm definitely about three paragraphs away from coming in your mouth –”

Logan can’t wait anymore. He ruts against the firm line of Wade's calf, aching to be touched in any way he can get. His eyes slip closed, a shiver of pure relief traveling down his sun-freckled shoulders. The simple friction is clumsy, reminding him for one burning second of the way he’d jack off as a much, much younger man – but he can’t be bothered to give a fuck. Especially not with the way Wade’s fucking into his mouth now, his voice threatening to pitch into a whimper.

Forcing himself to look up to catch the look on Wade’s face, Logan’s just in time to see him arch, gorgeous, off the bed, hands scrabbling out of Logan’s hair to cover his face.

“Logan, sweetheart, so fuckin’ hot, don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop–”

Breathing hard through his nose, Logan fucks his leg in earnest, slobber dripping down from his mouth to pool all over the base of Wade’s cock. Only seconds later, Wade bucks his hips one last time and comes, gushing praise that Logan can hardly make out. He's too focused on wrapping his free hand around what he doesn't have in his mouth, milking Wade for everything he's worth, swallowing down what he’s given. Pausing his own enjoyment for a minute to focus on his partner’s – because that in itself is beyond sexy.

When it's clear that he's too sensitive to take any more, Logan lets up. Wade, still a little starry eyed, pats the mattress in a gesture for him to scoot up.

“C’mere, peanut. Your turn.” And he goes, like a domesticated animal, crawling up until Wade can reach him. Hardly pausing to peel off his underwear, annoyed when they hinder the process. Knocking his forehead gently to Wade’s as he collapses on his side, sighing out a sound that turns into a moan of relief as a hand finally wraps around his cock. Knowing he won’t last more than a minute and knowing that he won’t get any shit for it, at least not any that would actually hurt his feelings.

On their sides, Wade jerks him off fast and rough, just the right way to get Logan to come if he needs it right now. He can feel more than see Wade grinning at him, quick open-mouthed kisses landing on his face and mouth and neck as Logan feels the rush of orgasm coiling up tight. One hand curls and uncurls into a fist, an unconscious effort to keep from slicing through Wade or the mattress below them.

Of course, Wade notices. He never misses a fucking beat.

“You’re alright, princess,” he says softly. “Go ahead. Give me your best.”

“M’gonna come,” Logan chokes out. He’s meeting Wade’s hand with his hips, shaking the bed. “Wade –”

The orgasm hits like a waking dream, and as promised, Logan covers Wade’s hand and stomach in warm spurts.

This is far from the first time he’s come, hard, while slicing through various parts of his boyfriend’s body. Today it’s his side, spearing into his skin like it’s butter. In the back of Logan’s mind, he registers which organs he’s punctured before the claws are sliding out, Wade’s skin knitting itself neatly back into place. Blood dribbles down his stomach and onto the sheets below – lucky for them, they got smart about buying dark sheets several romps ago.

Unfortunately for Logan, his fight or flight response doesn’t always think these sorts of things are consensual. His heart will sometimes stay pounding for long minutes after they’re done when the claws are involved. Which is fucking annoying, because they’ve already talked circles around it. Jess, his therapist, says it probably has something to do with a lot of unresolved trauma he’s had over the years. Like he’s supposed to just unpack all of that in the span of a year or even ten.

Wade notices him again. Their foreheads bump.

“Good?” he asks.

Logan nods. “Good.” He takes a deep breath, willing his pulse to resemble something normal. “What time are we headed out?”

“Hmm…” Wade rolls over on his back, contemplating. “Probably gonna need at least… two hours to up my glam factor? Maybe three?”

Scoffing, Logan hauls himself out of the bed on wobbly knees. He extends a hand to help Wade do the same.

“Thought this was a date, not your runway premiere,” he says, grinning at the resulting look on Wade’s face as he strips out of his blood-stained, come-covered tank. They open the bedroom door to a very excited Mary Puppins wagging her tail. Wade acknowledges her while Logan steps into the bathroom to get the water running for their shower. These things go easily now; most of the time, neither one of them has to ask the other how sex is going to go down. They flow through it, and help one another untangle any knots that might appear along the way.

“It could be both! I do things in my spare time that you don’t know about.”

Together, they step under the water, comfortable enough to know who wants to go under the water first and who’s washing what when.

“Haven’t seen you on Drag Race yet, so you must not be that prevalent.”

“Oh you are a catty bitch –” Logan ducks as Wade attempts to ram his face into the tile wall, laughing a little. Their shower is definitely not big enough for roughhousing, but that’s never stopped them. It does, however, piss off their landlord every time there’s a new crack in the wall. They’re on the verge of being some of her least favorite tenants – surely held back only by all the sweet talking Wade does and all the peace offerings Logan brings around in the form of homemade meals.

(Standing 4’11’’ at full height, nothing scares Wade more than Logan yelling it’s Rhonda over his shoulder from the front door – and Rhonda peering under his elbow, barking out Wade I swear to God if your ugly ass little rat dog pisses in the hallway one more time –)

He invokes her wrath now, and it’s enough to make Wade settle down and wash.

Once they’re thoroughly scrubbed clean, Wade drops the towel over Logan’s head, playfully tousling his hair.

“Seriously though,” Logan hears as he fights his way out of the towel. “I’m gonna need a hot minute, so you go ahead and get your war paint on first, peanut.”

“If you’re sure,” he shrugs. Not like he’s been on a date for far longer than he’d like to confess to, but Logan’s go-to takes less than twenty minutes.

“‘Kay bye!”

Wade shuts the bathroom door, leaving Logan alone with his reflection in the mirror. He’s smiling, all soft and stupid, the look almost unfamiliar on his own face.

Yeah, mornings could be pretty damn good around here.

[mondaymelon]

— 𝘀𝗼 𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲! ♡

໒꒱ || :feat~ xiao, kazuha, heizou, wanderer x gn!reader:

⤷ a handful of my faves since it’s my birthday!! ♡ (july 27th pspspps send me bday wishes i promise i dont bite)

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @solxima, @poweredbyghostadventures, @haliyamori

⤷ how they confess their love to you.♡

Is it really love that XIAO’s feeing? He can’t be sure, especially when he can’t even identify the complicated emotions that are making his heart flutter.

However, there’s no time to sit here pondering and examining, not when his heart longs for you at the very mention of your name, or how he just can’t seem to get the thought of you out of his head. He has to find a way to express what he’s experiencing, and soon, before the three words he dreads to speak escapes his lips against his will.

“I love you.”

You’d think it’d be such an easy task to complete, yet the adeptus grows uneasy at the mere thought of it. Perhaps denying him is the worst possible solution, but what should happen if you grow wary of him? Would you stray from his occasional touch, and fail to meet his eye? Xiao can’t risk finding out, yet by the day his quickened heartbeat seems to be growing all the louder.

“Ah, Xiao.” A faint smile crosses your face as you glimpse the familiar male at his usual spot, standing alone by the balcony railing, his arms crossed over his toned chest. “You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes,” he speaks slowly, wanting to prolong this moment - to see your warm smile just a fraction longer. “There is something… I must tell you.”

You cock your head, letting out a little laugh upon seeing his troubled expression. “There’s no need to be nervous, go ahead!”

Would there be a need to if you knew what he was to ask of you?

He shakes his head lightly as to clear his meddling thoughts, his hair ruffled from the breeze. “I…I don’t know how to put this, but I-“ His breath catches in his throat, and he forces a swallow. “You’re all I think about, all I dream about. I’d do anything and everything for you. I love you, so please… let me call you mine. I just, I…” Xiao can’t even begin to explain what he’s feeling right now, or give a valid explanation for his actions. His gaze doesn’t miss the shocked expression that flits across your face, his own eyes hesitant to meet yours. But they do, upon hearing the melodic sound of your voice uttering his name.

“Xiao, I… archons, do you know how happy you’ve just made me?” Your words are breathy as you take in a shallow inhale.

He blinks once, and suddenly, you’re in his arms, pressing against him like you never want to let him go.

Warm.

In the pale moonlight, the smile that graces his lips is slight, but catches your attention all the same.

“Perhaps I was made to love you.” ♡

Yes, he’s heard tales of this adoration before, and however unfamiliar, KAZUHA as to convey these feelings before he’s unable to contain them a second longer.

Perhaps that was why he had unconsciously invited you out for a quiet stroll around Guyun Stone Forest, where the Crux was currently anchored. It was an innocent request, but the male did have some ulterior motives in mind - perhaps you’d understand if you read one of the many poems he’s written while thinking about you… lips pressed together in thought, a quill in his dominant hand as the other sat beneath his chin, the dim candlelight illuminating the focused expression on his face, his cheeks just slightly flushed with red…

Ah, but there’s no chance in Celestia that he’d ever show you his works of you. Those words are for him to read, just like what he’ll say to you tonight is for only you to witness.

Kazuha takes you by the hand, his touch warm in the cool night air. His bandaged fingers intertwine with yours, and while you don’t make a move to retract, his grip on you tightens all the same.

“Kazuha? Why’re…” While your companion has always been rather open to displaying his physical touch, he had never been this daring before, to take your hand and not even uttering a word about the manner. Something about his air was different this evening, but it was difficult to put a finger on it, especially with the distracting smile he sent your way that seemed to make your mind go blank.

“Hm? Is there something wrong?” He can’t possibly ask a question with that charming face of his and expect to receive a proper answer. Instead, you just sheepishly tilt your head to where the two of you’s hands meet. At that, he lets out a low chuckle, the gleam in his eyes proving his amusement. He doesn’t know what has given him this amount of confidence, how he’s become bold enough to pull you closer… perhaps it was the sake Beidou offered to him earlier? That’s the only possible explanation.

Gently, like the warm breeze, he lifts your hand, swiftly getting down on a knee as he brushes his velvet lips against your skin.

“Have I made my infatuation towards you apparent yet? I love you.”

The moment seems to pause time, everything, all of it, but you can sense how your lips move despite how you’re still frozen, “I love you too, Kazuha.”

Ah, the way his name rolls of your tongue so naturally sends his heart racing.

“It’s always, always been you.” ♡

As much as he’ll try to deny it, WANDERER, who doesn’t even have a heart to ponder these sensations, knows that what you’re doing to him is something he doesn’t wish to admit.

It’s unfair, really, how easily you’re able to sway his resolve. Every part of you is simply infuriating, from the way you say his name, to the way you gaze at him, it makes his face warm, and seemingly nothing he does is able to prevent that. And it’s strange, how he can still experience these… affections, even with his missing core. If it makes any sense, you bring a sort of humanity to him.

It was a philosophy he had crafted for himself - that there were certain aspects of what made one human, requirements that the puppet had been unable to fulfill. That is, until you appeared, because you made him feel something he didn’t want to confess, and bearing… love… made him like you.

At the same time, it scares him. Love is a foreign concept, if anything, and he’s constantly afraid that he’ll make a mistake that’ll cause you to leave him. He can’t let that happen - he can’t even imagine his life without your warmth now. Ah, but if he told you how he really felt, would that keep you by his side? He’s paranoid, yet desperate for your affection, and a confession seems to be his only solution.

A letter bearing your name arrives at your doorstep, the only evidence of the sender being a small sparrow perched upon the paper, chirping insistently until you had taken the envelope.

Meet me at our usual spot at dusk.

Those seven words are all that’s written on the blue-rimmed parchment, with no signature to identify the individual, yet you let out an amused laugh. There’s only one companion with this amount of audacity, and you can already picture his scowl as he wrote these words.

“Hello?” You tentatively call out his name into the evening air, glancing around yet seeing no sign of him. There’s a great gust of wind, and there he appears, donning his signature ridiculously large hat, the dangling charms on it swaying with the breeze.

“There you are.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you smile. “For a second, I thought you were going to ditch me for the fun of it.” Truthfully, you wouldn’t put it past him.

He ignores the comment. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

You’re slightly startled by his suddenly serious tone, but nod along. “Alright…?”

“I like you.”

“…Sorry?” How strange, it seems like today your ears have decided to play tricks on you?

A light scowl makes its way upon his face as he visibly grits his teeth. “Augh, fuck it- I said, I love you, idiot.”

There’s no mistaking the flush that’s descended upon his expression, dusting the tips of his ears and his cheeks. “Uh?” You sound stupid, but that’s the only sound you’re able to utter as you stare at the male in utter shock.

“I’m not repeating myself three times.”

You shake your head, frantic as you can feel your heart rate increasing. “No- I heard you the first time it’s just that- I…” it’s hard to explain what you’re feeling right now, so you don’t, instead wrapping your arms around and pulling the two of you closer.

He seems to melt in your hold.

“I can’t even begin to fathom my life without you, so please, stay by my side.” ♡

(a/n) ive grown old. ive… ripened

[strayy-starss]

Hii! Could you do some Elliott Headcanons? If not, don't be to shy w the Alex smut🤭

✧A/N: Yes of course!! Elliot is definitely my second favorite bachelor, so this is absolutely perfect!! And don’t you worry, Alex smut will be coming in the future 😏. Also, I wasn’t sure if you wanted NSFW or SFW, so I just did them both! Hope you don’t mind :)

✧Warnings: eventual mentions of sex and kinks

☆SFW & NSFW Headcanons for Elliot☆

✧ SFW:

Elliot definitely reads a lot of books (like, a LOT). I feel like this is a given, seeing that he writes them and has a library when he moves in with the farmer. Let me tell you, though, if the farmer is also a reader, he will be ecstatic. And I mean, like, through the roof. He’d want to talk about them all the time and he’d likely recommend lots of books for you to read based on both your preference and his.

I think he’d also love to read books out loud to you, whether or not he wrote them or not. His voice is angelic though, so it’s not like the farmer is complaining.

Speaking of books, he’d definitely ask you for your opinion on plot lines or scenes for his stories, regardless of whether you’re a bookworm or not. Mostly I feel like he’d just seek validation that his writings are as good as the ones that he’s read, or just good in general. 

I feel like sometimes, and I mean VERY rarely, Elliot will spiral into a place of despair when it comes to his writing. When that happens, he can go into writer’s block and will push you away to think of ideas. If this happens, depending on the severity, I think you may be able to pull him out of it with reassuring words and cuddles. If he’s in too deep, however, it’s best to give him space until he makes it to a better place, where he either figures something out, or decides it isn’t worth the trouble. He’d definitely apologize to you after the fact and make it up to them with lots of TLC.

Elliot doesn’t use the words “pretty” or “handsome”. No, he uses words like “gorgeous” “stunning” “glorious” and “ravishing”. I’m sorry, but this man is way too sophisticated to use simple words. Make that shit fancy and pair it with a silky voice and you get Elliot.

Elliot’s a wine kinda guy. He’d definitely have those nights where he feels compelled to make a charcuterie board with all those cheeses and grapes and have some red wine with you.

Now, I know you’re all thinking it, and I'm thinking it too: Elliot with a ponytail. I bet you he loves his hair, but it does get annoying sometimes when it falls in his face when he’s trying to write or help out around the farm, so he definitely keeps a hair tie on his wrist in case he needs it. He’ll always offer it to you, too, if he thinks you need it.

He’s an early riser, too. He’ll be up before you and he’ll be sitting and reading a book with a cup of coffee and he’ll greet you like, “Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?”

And like the gentleman he is, he probably does a lot of extra and unnecessary, but thoughtful, things for you. Like, if you’ve had a long day, he’d sit you down and take your shoes off for you, even though you insist that you can do that yourself. Then he’d take off your jacket if you were wearing one, and make you a nice cup of tea so that you can wind down with him.

✧NSFW BELOW THE CUT✧ ⬇

✧ NSFW:

I firmly believe that Elliot’s a switch. He’s always willing to take initiative, but we all know that Elliot is a pretty princess at heart and sometimes just wants all the attention.

God help me this man knows how to talk dirty. He’s read enough books that he knows exactly what to say to you in every circumstance, and exactly how to turn you on or get you in the mood. And then the next day he’ll act all innocent like he wasn’t just whispering how much he was gonna ruin you last night. He’s the type of guy to say, “I don’t want you to be pleasured. I want you to be trembling.” (Jesus FUCK I’m down bad for him.)

I feel like Elliot would set up a safe word with you, but he’d want it to be something symbolic or fancy or something. Like instead of “baseball” it would be “nightingale” and you'd have to spit that word out when you want him to stop. Speaking of, as soon as you do say the safe word, he’ll stop everything and just gently hold you, whispering that he’s sorry and that he hopes you can forgive him, even though you really aren’t that mad at him at all, just a little shaken.

As far as kinks go, I think Elliot is open to almost all kinks with a few restrictions on things that he just isn’t into. I feel like he’d especially be into bondage and blindfolding. It’s more of a spiritual thing for him, as it opens you up fully to him, like you can’t hide anything from him anymore and you completely trust him with your body. If you aren’t into that, then he’ll be a little disappointed, but would get over it quickly as long as you promise to let it happen on his birthday. 

Elliot absolutely loves to be tied up, though, for the same symbolic reasons. He trusts you with his whole being, and knows that you only want to make him feel good.

He's a sucker for neck kisses, so give him a hickey or two. He wears that collared shirt for a reason, right?

He hates the idea of a gag. He loves to hear you crying out in pleasure. It fuels him and makes him feel happy that he could pleasure you so much. If you want it, though, he'd never deny his lover what they want, even if it means he can't hear you as well.

Elliot naturally isn’t rough when it comes to sex, but he most definitely can be. This man will be on his knees to do exactly what you want him to. He prefers it that way, actually. So long as you give him the guidelines of what you want him to do, he can take it from there. If you don’t, though, he’d probably be asking a lot of: “Is this okay?” Because like the gentleman he is, he would never want to overstep your boundaries, even though he probably knows everything that one can about sex.

He’d definitely use writing as an excuse to see you naked. It would be something about him needing to know the anatomy of a person, regardless of your gender identification or sex. It would be funny if you were a man, too, because then he’d get all flustered when you’d ask why, as he’s a man himself. He’d make up something like how your body is shaped differently than his, and he needs a reference that isn’t himself.

Same thing about writing goes for sex. He might ask you to touch yourself or even him for a scene, and he’d take notes as he’d try to hold himself back from touching you. He’d jot down every little sound you make and every single word you say to “make the scene more real,” though it may or may not be for him to read and masturbate to later.

You later figure this out and tell him that he doesn't need an excuse to have sex with you, but he gets embarrassed and insists that it truly is for his writing, though he will be a little more open-minded about it in the future.

✧ That’s all, thank you for reading!! I also need to make a longer list for Alex. I feel like I didn't do my baby justice, seeing as I wrote much more for Elliot.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday! I would love some more rarepair dot/jack and miss fisher's murder mysteries. You write them amazingly 💚

Dot feels guilty for agreeing to go on this date. Her divorce from Hugh has only just been finalized, never mind that they’ve been living separately for the last year. She’s grateful it’s over with now – she doesn’t know how she would have felt if they’d been separated for longer than they’d been married under one roof, and that’s exactly what would have happened if everything had taken a couple more months.

It still feels too early, and it’s not like she’s ever dated before, Hugh having been her first relationship. But her neighbor Andrea had insisted that this would be good for her, and that her brother’s friend was perfect for her, and Dot is running low enough on friends that she hadn’t wanted to offend her and risk this new friendship collapsing in on itself.

She’d kept Jane and Mr. Butler, and Burt and Cec, of course, but all their other friends had landed firmly on Hugh’s side in everything, which she can’t even say is unfair, considering. But it is a little lonely. There’s a reason one of the first things she’d done was move back to Melbourne, toward the people who still liked her and away from everyone else. Her mother is appalled, but her priest is excited enough at having her back that he’s apparently willing to overlook the whole divorced bit.

She resists the urge to smooth back her hair again, wonders if she should have chosen a dress with a longer hem, but being a divorced woman provides so few benefits that it seems only fair that she take advantage of them.

“Dorothy?”

She looks up, breaking out into a smile at the familiar face. “Detective! How are you?” She gets to her feet, although she still has to crane her neck to look up at him. She forgot how tall he was. “You look well.”

“As do you, Miss Williams,” he says, a teasing lilt to his voice.

She flushes. She never would have worn anything like this a few years ago, but lots of things were different then. Besides, Miss Fisher is always encouraging her to take risks in her letters. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Well,” he says, lips pulled up on one side. On a second look, it seems like she can figure that out for herself. He doesn’t look old, really, but he does look tired, something weary about his eyes and shoulders that he didn’t have when she saw him last.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, cutting off whatever answer he would have grave.

The relief on his face makes her think she made the right decision. “I’m meeting someone, actually, although I’m not sure who. Andrea wouldn’t even give me her name.”

Dot blinks once, twice, then raises her hand to her mouth, heat crawling it’s way up her neck. “I’m going to kill her.”

It only takes Jack a second to catch on. “Ah. But,” his eyes flicker down to her hand, “I see.”

Hugh hadn’t told him, then. He’d called her Miss Williams, but that could have been habit more than anything else. Maybe they don’t talk. She assumed they did, but she’d assumed a lot of things.

Jack’s hesitating. If she lets him, he’ll make some sort of excuse and she won’t see him again unless she starts stalking crime scenes again.

“I’ll tell you the dirt details, if you like,” she offers, sitting back down looking expectantly to the chair across from her. He takes it, some of his hesitance bleeding away as he leans forward. “It’s not that exciting, I’m afraid.”

He smiles at her. He really is very handsome. “I bet I can guess.”

Dot raises an eyebrow, waiting.

“You outgrew him,” he says. “He was always struggling to keep up with you.”

It sounds so cruel put like that, but it’s also entirely correct. Hugh’s a good man and he’ll probably be a good husband – to someone else. To someone like she used to be, perhaps, but not at all for who she is now. “Well, I wish someone had told me that.”

“It didn’t seem appropriate,” he says, almost apologetic, and his eyes start to dip lower before guiltily jerking back up to her face.

“No,” she says, almost breathless. “I suppose not.”

[finemealcreates]

Hell of a Meeting, Huh?

July 20: Attending a funeral | aid

Danny wishes it was raining. He wishes the weather was foul, that there was an overcast, something to reflect the way he was feeling inside. 

But it wasn’t. It was a nice day out. Not too cloudy, not too cold, just right. 

An awful day for such nice weather. 

Vlad has been trying to get close to Danny the entire funeral, but he’s been dodging the other man. Danny had very publicly stated that he didn’t want anything to do with Vlad, and he wasn’t his dad. That Vlad was barely his family’s friends, and he’d die before he had anything to do with the man. 

It had mostly forced Vlad to keep his distance. This was the man’s chance to casually get close to Danny and make it seem like an accident. 

Except for the fact that Danny was overly aware of Vlad’s closeness to him. He kept moving, except when neither of them could, further and further away from the other man. No one cared, they knew it was a day of mourning for the boy. He had lost everything. 

Sam, Tucker, Jazz, his parents. All of them, gone. 

What is Danny going to do, now? They’re not going to force him to live with Vlad, will they? He saw what happens when he lives with Vlad, it doesn’t go well for anyone. 

No, he’d die before he lived with Vlad. He won’t allow that future to exist. 

The social worker had allowed Danny to stay with the Foley’s, too overworked to fight Danny when he sobbed when removed from them. The Foley’s hadn’t minded, as far as Danny could tell. They clung to him as tightly as he clung to them. 

All of them had lost someone. Even the Manson’s had been kind to Danny. Well, Bubba was always kind to Danny, but Sam’s parents hadn’t always been. Yet, earlier that day they had hugged Danny. Cried with him. Thanked Danny for being such a great friend to their Sammy. 

Grief will do a lot to a person, even lead you to hug a kid you used to hate apparently. 

Maybe the Foley’s would be willing to take Danny in? It’s not what Danny wants, he doesn’t think he can stomach moving into his best friend’s old room, but anything is better than Vlad. Perhaps he can argue with a judge to be placed with someone not Vlad. He’s fourteen, they might listen to him, right? 

Who is he kidding, Vlad’s got more resources than Danny does. If Vlad has to, he’ll overshadow the judge to get what he wants. 

Oh no, what is Danny going to do? 

A person gently taps Danny on the shoulder, causing him to turn. 

There stands a blonde-haired man with cool blue eyes. He looks tired, and he’s got a … weird sort of energy about him. Not bad, just … different. 

Danny raises an eyebrow, too tired to speak to a stranger offering condolences. 

He’s tired of people apologizing to him. As if they understand. No one understands. Not even the Foley’s or the Manson’s. They lost their children, Danny lost everyone. 

“You’re Danny Fenton, correct?” the man asks, offering a hesitant smile he probably intends to be inviting. 

“Obviously,” Danny snarks, glaring at the man. 

“Sorry,” the stranger says, scratching the back of his head. “I just uhh … I didn’t want to do this here but the state insisted.” 

Danny narrows his eyes at the man. What is he prattling on about? 

“I got a call late last night, and didn’t hear the voice message until this morning. I’m Barry Allen, you’re dad’s second cousin?” 

Danny feels his eyes water at the mention of his dad. 

“I’ve never heard of you before,” Danny states suspiciously. 

“Sorry about that,” Barry apologizes sincerely. “Our grandparents didn’t get along, so we weren’t really close. I’m surprised I was even in the will at all—”

“You’re in my parents' will?” Danny interrupts, surprised. 

Barry laughs slightly, offering a small smile. 

“I’m just as shocked as you are, trust me,” Barry says. 

“So that makes us, what, third cousins?” Danny questions. 

Barry scratches his head, humming as he appears to contemplate it. 

“I think we’re technically second cousins once removed?” the man says distantly. “Anyway, the point is I’m your new guardian.” 

“Guardian, huh?” Danny questions, eyes moving to Vlad who has gotten a lot closer than he would’ve liked. “Anyone’s better than Vlad Masters.” 

Barry’s face scrunches. 

“Vlad Masters? The Wisconsin billionaire?” Barry questions. 

“Yeah,” Danny answers, making sure to keep conscious of Vlad moving closer to them. “He is … was obsessed with my mom. A friend my parents went to college with. He’s really creepy, been trying to adopt me since I met him months ago.” 

Barry’s face twists in disgust. 

“Don’t worry, Danny, I’m not gonna let that man do anything to you. I’ve already filled out all the paperwork,” Barry assures. 

“But he has more resources than you do, surely,” Danny replies. 

He’s not trying to be insulting, just realistic. Vlad will fight it. He’ll insist he should be Danny’s guardian. He’ll throw money around if he has to, and use overshadowing to get what he wants when money doesn’t work. 

“Well, he’s not the only one with friends in high places,” Barry assures, giving Danny a sharp grin. 

Danny’s not sure he can allow himself to hope for the best, not when he’s seen the future. Not when he’s seen what Vlad has done to get what he wants, before. But he musters up part of a smile for Barry.

“I hope you win, cousin Barry,” Danny says, just as Vlad approaches. 

“Daniel! So sorry, didn’t see you there,” Vlad says, putting on a show for folks around him. 

Barry moves and places himself partly between the two of them, back to Danny. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Barry Allen,” Barry introduces, stopping Vlad from talking to Danny. 

Vlad eyes the other man, glaring slightly at being interrupted. 

Yet, Vlad is aware that eyes are on them. Vlad had made it so. Therefore, he’s unable to refuse shaking the other man’s hand and offering a smile. 

“Vlad Masters.” 

Barry hums, dropping the other man’s hand. 

“I don’t think Maddie ever mentioned you before,” Barry comments, purposefully. 

Vlad glares, eyes tinged red for a second. Danny just feels a wave of grief hit him at the mention of his mother. 

“I didn’t realize you were acquainted with the deceased,” Vlad says shortly. 

“Well of course I am,” Barry replies smoothly. “We’re family, after all.” 

Vlad’s eyes find Danny’s, narrowing slightly. 

“Oh?” Vlad’s voice is sharp, dangerous. “How so?” 

Danny can’t help but hide more behind Barry. He’s not afraid of Vlad, but he doesn’t like the look in the man’s eyes. He doesn’t like what that look means. He doesn’t like looking into Vlad’s eyes and seeing Dan. 

“Cousins,” Barry answers, keeping it short and to the point. ��Was just talking to Danny about what we need to do to get him moved to my place.” 

“Daniel’s moving in with you?” Vlad seems to grit out. “How interesting, I think you may be mistaken. You see—” 

“Nope!” Barry interrupts. “Got the paperwork all figured out this morning. It’s already a done deal.” 

Danny can practically feel Vlad’s glare on him through Barry. 

“Interesting,” Vlad says. “Very interesting. Well it was nice to meet you Barry, talk to you later Daniel. Sorry for your loss.” 

Then Vlad is gone, and Danny feels himself relax. 

“You weren’t kidding, kid. That dude gives me the hibbie-jibbies,” Barry comments, turning towards Danny. 

 “He’s going to fight it, somehow. Then I’m going to be forced to live with him,” Danny states plainly. 

Barry’s eyes soften as he squats to be more eye level with Danny, resting a hand on his shoulders. 

“Let me worry about all the legal stuff, you just focus on mourning, okay?” 

Danny nods, eyes filling with tears. 

Barry pulls Danny in for a hug, and Danny can almost let himself believe that everything’s gonna turn out okay.

[cherryredstars]

Hello hello!

Can you write about reader biting Miguel's ass...

It can be silly/ fluffy/ smuty, your pick.

Just please give us a nibble of his sweet cheeks 😋

Thanks

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!reader

Warnings: None

A/N: Hello! I held off on this one for so long because I had no idea where to take this idea, but I hope you enjoy!

Unedited

He feels hunted most times than not.

It’s not the most ideal feeling to experience the second you walk through your own front door, but he’s grown used to it. He knows it’s just a fun little game- more for you than him- and he finds a hint of joy and acceleration from it. He considers it additional training when he’s off duty, a way to sharpen his senses without the usual built in setting most of the other spiders have.

It’s not all that difficult, not even bordering on a warm-up. He can easily avoid you, can sense the grabby hands you make towards him as you attempt to hit or pinch his ass before you’re even a foot away. Always targeting him when his back is turned or in his “least suspecting” moments (he’s learned very quickly that all moments are to be moments of suspension). But he knows it isn’t as fun for you when he avoids your advances all the time, so he makes it a point to let you have a victory every now and then. The occasional ass grab when you go to “innocently” hug him. The “surprising” pinch when he walks past you a bit too slow while you’re on the couch.

What he doesn’t suspect, however, is that you would use anything besides your hands.

He hasn’t had any reason for suspension, considering all your strategies are the same basic and recycled moves. He’s just always assumed that he’d have to have his mind subconsciously trained on your hand movements, charting them in his peripheral. He believes that to be true when you walk into your bedroom after your shower.

It’s late, the moon already well into the sky. Miguel is laying stomach down on the bed, already comfortable for the night. The sheets rest at his feet, the summer night too hot for him to use it without quickly growing sweaty or uncomfortable. Despite his eyes being closed, he’s awake and waiting for you to join him in bed.

He can hear you walking around, moving between dressers and drawers as you find appropriate attire for the hot night. The sounds of domesticity are comforting to him, a small smile growing on his face. The smile grows slightly when he feels you hesitate at the side of the bed, giving him a dead giveaway about the debate going through your head. He decides this will be one of the times he’ll let you win, his mood already light and content.

But he instantly regrets it when the sharpness that shoots from his cheek is too powerful to be from your nails alone. He springs up, angling his back away from you. He can tell from the cheeky smile on your face that you’re proud of yourself and he scowls.

“Did you just bite me?” He accuses, eyes squinting in false annoyance.

You giggle in response, shrugging your shoulders and continuing your night routine as if you didn’t harass him. “I don’t know what you’re talk about.”

Miguel keeps his eyes trained on you for the rest of the time it takes you to settle down, eyes narrowed with caution.

You better watch out, because he’s definitely going to get you back for that.