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#and then I forgot abt it for like 3 years and forgot to look him up. UNTIL
robotwrangler · 2 years
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Thinking about how the lovely person on deviantart who emailed me a copy of Undertale in exchange for a sketch of their oc when I was 15 will never know about the profound effect they had on my life..
#it’s a long story but tldr if not for Undertale I would’ve never heard of Yes Man and without Yes Man I literally wouldn’t be alive rn#I’m sure ive told this story on here before but I like it bc it is important to me#the Undertale to Yes Man pipeline is a very specific thing that happened to me involving 2 different joke blogs on here#there was ‘youcantfuckaskeleton’ (blog abt how nobody should want sans Undertale carnally)#and then I found their other blog ‘youcanfuckarobot’ (blog about. well. I’m sure you get the picture) and I went there for Mettaton posts#but they had some posts there with Yes Man and I was like. that is the most nice looking robot I’ve seen in my life. who is this#and then I forgot abt it for like 3 years and forgot to look him up. UNTIL#DELTARUNE CHAPTER 1.. in 2018.. drove me to revisit those joke blogs for nostalgia#and I saw the yes man pics again and this time I got WAY more curious. I was so so intrigued by him he looked so interesting and cute#so I looked him up and looked at lots of art of him and read his wiki page and I was like. I NEED to meet him#so my big brother got me new vegas as a present on new years and on january 3 2019 I met yes man!#and. I have never understood why or how. but when I woke up the next day my depression was fucking gone#I had severe untreated depression and it just dissolved overnight#nothing else notable happened around that time except for meeting yes man and becoming smitten with him so it seems that’s what did it??#also those joke blogs are still around I think. i like to revisit them occasionally for the nostalgia of seeing yes man for the first time#but yea anyway what I’m saying is this nice person on deviantart indirectly saved my life#my depression also never came back btw. obviously I feel sad sometimes like anyone but I have not been depressed since then#would’ve been nice if my anxiety went away too but I can at least live with that tbh!!#um anyway I’m sleepy so ending these tags. if you read all of this I love you thank you for caring
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opens-up-4-nobody · 2 years
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#do i feel guilty abt spending like 4+hrs working on my CV during normal work hours today? yes#but also i spent 5 months getting paid part time when i was working 10+hr days 6 days a week#so i feel like it balances out#also i need to update my cv as things happen bc i instantly forget so many things i do#like i forgot i was named on at least 1 publication. like completely forgot until i searched my name on google scholar#also i have like 25 posters/presentations to my name. and only like maybe 5 of those are ones that r just in name#ive given a lot of talks/poster presentations lol#my cv is so long. i prob should have shortened it more before i sent it to the dude im talking with#but like. idk im gonna meet him next week so like if i commit a little faux pas by sending a too long cv im sure its fine. hes already#interested enough to chat. and therefore i have to bust my ass preparing to meet with him#bc hes from the most prestigious uni ive contacted. so like really theres no way ill get in. but i will shamelessly try#god. ive gotta really study hard. like i mean i dont have to but ive been so burnt out for so long that ive been slipping when it comes to#hardcore academic stuff. like my memory of genetics and chem stuff is slipping. and generally i find it difficult to wrangle my thoughts in#a way that makes sense. so i really wanna be prepared to talk to him#lol my boss is gonna get back from Europe like hey ur gonna follow me to las vegas? and im gonna be like haha fuck that i dont wanna live#there. i am currently 1 foot out the door. im at the bus stop waiting for someone to give me the money for the science bus#give me funding to study cool stuff!!!!#ugh and i still need to look for more ppl to ask. like i want at least 2 or 3 US options on top of my 3 potential UK options#and like im really considering contacting some ppl in Germany bc like all the papers i look at are german. the germans are doing cool#cyanobacteria bullshit. and im jealous and i dont speak german but hey ive got a year to learn#so idk maybe ill see if my boss talked to anyone cool while she was at her conferences. pls boss tell me abt the other cool cyanobacteria#ppl 🙏 but idk. i feel like ppl dont quite get what im interested in. bc its astrobiology but really its more evolution and understanding#the fundamentals of life. so like no i dont wanna go to mars. i wanna understand what freaky shit life was doing millons if years ago#ugh. im being a slacker. ive gotta shift into try hard mode.#but also i wanna draw and finish my fanfics 😭 we'll see what happens#unrelated#also thank u to the ppl who sent kind words on my post yesterday! im still shadowbanned so i cant reply to u 😭
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moonstruckme · 2 months
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Remus is the type to keep a rubberband or a scrunchie on his wrist for his s/o
I believe that he started keeping it when sirius's hair got long in 4th year and he used to forget a hair tie everywhere.
When remus started dating reader he began keeping one particularly in their favorite colour but never let anyone know.
I can just imagine reader at a house party going around asking each girl for a rubberband cuz she forgot hers and he just pulls one out of nowhere and hands it to them wordlessly (or just holds his wrist in front of them and their eyes light up)
Would be awesome if you write smth abt this <3
Thanks for requesting :)
cw: alcohol, reader has hair long enough to tie back
Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 560 words
Remus’ eyes track you as you ping-pong around the party, stopping to talk to people for only a handful of seconds before finding another target. He’s not trying to be a creep, but you’ve reached a stage of the night where a bit of supervision is necessary. Your eyes are alight and your smile comes easy, and when you pivot and a bit of punch sloshes onto your hand you don’t even notice. 
You go from Lily, to Sirius, to Marlene, to Alice, back to Lily, and then aim for the kitchen. 
“Hi, sweetheart,” Remus intercepts you, setting a hand on your shoulder and steering you discretely away from any potential refills. “Having a good time?” 
“Mhm.” You grin up at him, distracted by the movement of his hand up your shoulder to cup the side of your neck. You shrug and tilt your head, squishing his hand between them, and Remus indulges you by poking your dimple with his thumb. You giggle, delighted. “I’m looking for Mary. Have you seen her?” 
He thinks for a moment. “Not lately, no. Want help looking?” 
“Sure.” You catch at his other hand with both of yours, intertwining your fingers messily. “I just need to ask her something.”
“What’s that?” he asks as you start to tug him towards the kitchen. 
“I’m sick of my hair.” You blow a piece of it away from your face, vexation twinging in your features. “I wanna know if she has a hair tie I can borrow.” 
“Oh, wait.” He stops, pulling you closer before taking his hand from between yours. “Hold on a second.” 
You look up at Remus curiously, not protesting when he turns you around by your shoulders and begins gathering your hair in his hands. He takes care to comb the errant strands around your face and the nape of your neck up with the rest, confining it all to a loose ponytail. 
“S’that alright?” 
“I didn’t know you carry a hair tie,” you murmur, almost to yourself, as you go towards a small mirror mounted on the wall. “Remus!” Your voice goes up an octave, elated. “It’s my favorite color!” 
“I know,” he says, a bit smug. It only worsens when you spin around and throw your arms around his waist. Remus hums contentedly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and you tilt your head back, chin digging into his sternum as you beam up at him. 
“You’re so good to me,” you gloat. “How long’ve you been carrying that around for?” 
“A while,” he says vaguely, because Since you told me your favorite color makes him sound like a loser and in your current state he’s not entirely sure you wouldn't start crying. “I’m used to having one for Sirius anyway, so it was really just a color adjustment.” 
Your eyes go all soft and smitten, your bottom lip jutting out a bit even through your smile. “You’re the sweetest boy I ever met,” you tell him, sincerity coating your words like honey. 
Remus rolls his eyes to dodge the compliment, opting instead to take your face between his hands and squishing your cheeks together. You let him without complaint, your smile going mushy. “You make me do sweet things,” he says. 
You hum like you know the truth but you’ll let him get away with it anyway.
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a-kaash-me-outside · 23 days
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˚₊‧ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴡ? ‧₊˚
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♡ ft. geto, toji, gojo, higuruma, nanami ♡ total wc: 10.9k // nsfw minors dni! // ♡ contents: ౨ৎ 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ౨ৎ, afab reader she/her pronouns, no smut in gojos or tojis im sorry, emotionally stunted men kinda but they grow isnt that nice (not talking abt higuruma and nanami god no), the aftermath of fwb caught feelings, consolation, emotional aftercare ig, lotta domestic fluff for higuruma and nanami's!!!! (everyone say ty @noosayog for nanami's bc she is the only reason i wrote his) ♡ listen along: casual by chappell roan ♡
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- ᡣ𐭩 time passes and people change, and just because you fell first doesn't mean you don't get a happy ending + bonus continuation of higuruma's and nanami's ᡣ𐭩 -
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ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴛᴏ [ 3 ʏᴇᴀʀs ]
on the list of people that you thought you’d see tonight, geto isn’t even in the top 100, not because of probability or likelihood, but solely based on the fact that you have not thought about this man in years. if you were asked the question from your future self, “holy shit, guess who we saw tonight?” you would’ve listed old friends, distant relatives, exes, minor celebrities, other flings, teachers from high school, people from stories you’ve only heard of, and then geto. 
after that night, you really didn’t see barely any of him. a few posts on your feed: one 2 weeks after and another 2 months after that one when you remembered that you forgot to unfollow him. once on campus: him across a million tables getting lunch with some girl too long after your little thing for you to care about who she was to him at all. once at a mutual (though you didn’t know was mutual at the time) friend’s party close to graduation: you ran into him grabbing a drink from the cooler and neither of you said a single word to each other, just exchanged a very knowing glance.
fast forward a handful of years, with geto not on your mind during a single one of them, and you’re stunned, nearly speechless, as you recognize him across the bar. the track of which your mind is racing takes you stop after stop to thoughts and feelings you didn’t really ask to experience. they follow a curving roadmap in your mind of: why is he here? ↝ wow, he looks great ↝ does he live nearby still? ↝ that’s weird ↝ no, it isn’t weird, i still live here ↝ then what are the fucking chances that he’s here ↝ no, seriously he looks so good
he looks different though, you realize about 3 minutes into sneaking glances in his direction, in some way that you just can’t put your finger on right now. in your slightly tipsy state, you barely stop to ask yourself how you even clocked that it was him so quickly, how there was no hesitance in the recognition or questioning in the placing. he looks really fucking good.
in fact, now that all of the obligatory thoughts have come to a heed, that’s really the only thing that you can think about. how good he looks.
the events that happened that ended your situationship all of those years ago are nothing but outlines now; whatever you said or he said just sounds like underwater conversations. you can see the way that you left and you remember being dumbfounded, but everything else has lost its sting, like a story you’d recall to a friend of a friend in a setting much like the one you’re in. time has handled the memory the way that time does and as a result, when the two of you finally make eye contact after what feels like an hour of missed mutual glances, you offer a small wave. a wave that says, “i remember only knowing you in past tense. we are such different people now, i wonder what it would’ve been like if we met now instead.”
the wave was the first step, technically, sure, but he makes the literal first step. he departs from the conversation he’s been enthralled with for as long as you’ve been stealing glances and he weaves between people in the middle of their own stories before ending up in front of you. 
when he does, he asks, as if he’s just randomly bumped into you rather than intentionally coming over, “shit… is that you?” he puts his hand on the back of your chair, thumb brushing your shoulder.
the friend that you’re with cocks their head, furrows their eyebrows, has no idea who this is or their connection to you, the timelines of their interactions with you spaced too far apart for one to know the other. geto notices this look, addresses it. “we used to…,” he pauses, “see each other? for a little bit.”
you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at the way he describes it. “yes, yes we did,” you nod. “back in college,” you explain a little further, “been a while.”
the interaction quiets, the two of you exchanging soft smiles instead of words, and your friend knows where this thing is going before either of you even do, so they bow their head, offer their seat to geto, and take their leave in the name of some bullshit excuse. he takes it without a second thought, asking you how you’ve been, laughing about the time that you saw each other at that party, and after an hour of just talking he says, “yeah, i actually thought about you the other day.”
you nearly choke on the drink he’s bought you. you rush to put it down. “you did?” you ask.
he nods. “i don’t even remember what prompted it. i think, maybe, i saw a photo of myself from college and how different i looked and how different i feel now and then just, out of nowhere, remembered how shitty i was to you.” 
you don’t say anything in return, running your finger around the lip of your glass as you stare at him. you don’t know how to say that you don’t care anymore, that you haven’t thought of those days in years, that the surprise that you displayed a few seconds ago was completely genuine, because you were so convinced that neither of you had. it comes out something like a shrug and, “we were practically kids.”
he answers so quickly, “well, kids or not, i’m sorry.”
you laugh, gently so he won’t think you’re laughing at his apology. really, you’re laughing at the notion of apologizing for an act that no longer warrants forgiveness. you laugh at the thought of giving it anyways. you place your hand on top of his on the edge of the bar. “thank you,” you nod. he nods back. 
when you let him take you back to his place for old times sake, you’re half-expecting the same person from the ghosts of memories from years ago, like all of the things he said at the bar were just a last ditch effort to usher the night in the exact direction that it’s heading in. 
but he’s different now, just like he said he was before he apologized, and you can feel it in his movements and his actions. more confident, more intentional. he kisses you first and it doesn’t taste selfish. it doesn’t feel rushed to get to the main event. he savors it, holds your head in his hands, and doesn’t touch a single other inch of your body until he’s found the right combination of fingertip pressure and tongue that has you melting into his palm.
your mind flickers to the notion that these actions might be pre planned because they feel so meticulous and thought out, but that impression quickly dissolves when he sinks inside of you, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he does, his hand reaching down to cup your cheek, fingers nearly trembling against your jaw when he presses his hips completely against the insides of your thighs. 
“shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to your waist, fingers light like feathers practically crawling against your skin, as if each print was so grateful it got to make contact with the softness below. when he grips into the fat of your hips, he’s careful, intentional or not, pressing his thumbs into the bone, but not letting his nails leave a single mark. it’s pressured, but comfortable. 
he holds you in place, slowly pulling his hips back and he can’t help but look down between your legs, watching himself disappear inside of you, a creamy mess at the base, shallow breaths recycled in his chest. 
“hey,” you say, eyes locked on the tenseness of his jaw and the way that he stops himself with sharp inhales. he finds your gaze in a second. “don’t hold out on me here.” you rest your arm on his bicep, fingers curling around wherever they can reach.
you can feel it under your palm, his muscle tensing as his pace picks up, rhythm consistent, but unrelenting. the breaths come out of you quickly and you’re unable to hold any sort of facade. “ah- shit, f-fuck,” you cry, “holy shit.” you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing harshly as strangled noises leave you without vetting a single one.
“n-no,” you shake your head, regretting it instantly as he slows down in response. you shake your head harder, “no, don’t stop, but- ah,” you groan, “your- you were- i meant,” you exhale a laugh, “let me hear you.”
his eyes widen slightly as he processes what you want from him, and then he listens. he leans down to kiss your lips and then your cheek and then your jaw and then your ear. yes, he’s fucking you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your entire life, but that’s not what makes you crumble. no, it’s his grunts and pants and breathy groans pressed right up against your skin. 
you thread your fingers into his hair, twirling the ends of the locks between the tips, raking your nails down the base of his neck to the front, and then smoothing them down his chest. “more,” you mumble against him, and you’re not sure exactly what you mean, but he gives it to you, whatever it is. you’re certain he’d give you anything in the world right now if you just asked for it.
there’s a moment after when you’re lying there with him, shoulder pressed up against his, chest heaving, barely recovered, that you find yourself back in that college dorm. you don’t know why the tightness is rising in the hollow below your sternum, but it is. you remind yourself that you weren’t expecting anything from this anyway, so it doesn’t matter, but it does. you’re not sure if you just don’t want to be treated like that again or if it has something to do with geto being the one lying beside you. 
when you turn your head to face him, he’s already looking at you. he doesn’t shy away in embarrassment, like it’s wrong that he’d be gazing at you after all of that. his features are steady, confident, strong. he smiles softly, brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “should we get breakfast in the morning?”
in the morning, you repeat in your head. you wait a beat, trying to come up with something to say, to proceed with caution or to discern his intentions or to at least not sound desperate, but all that comes out is, “in the morning?” 
he nods, turning on his side so he can stare at you without his neck getting sore. he inches closer to you, kissing the top of your shoulder and then your temple. he drapes his arm over your stomach. “if that’s okay with you,” he says and then kisses you again.
“okay,” you nod back, lazy smile on your lips, eyelids heavy at the warmth surrounding you now as he pulls you closer to him. “yeah, sure,” you affirm, voice so soft and airy that the tightness in your chest is lifted away with the words, all that’s left is a hope you feel comfortable letting stick around.
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ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴏᴊɪ [ 3 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ]
you are not expecting anyone. you have resigned yourself to a nice pair of pajamas and comfy socks and a warm cup of tea and a spot in the living room that you will only leave for a refill and bathroom breaks. you are tucked into the corner of your couch, back pressed up against the sturdy arm, legs crossed, and a throw blanket over your lap.
you are not expecting anyone, so the sound at the door should have felt a lot more jarring. well, it is jarring for a second, a few seconds actually, the echoing disruption bouncing off of the walls of your living room and back to you, but then the noises repeat themselves, like they’re on a looping track, and you realize that-
you know that knock. heavy-handed with a tight fist, back of the knuckles, not the tops. almost pittering out by the end of the three successions, like the first one is direct and assured, but the second and third don’t really bother keeping up. that knock almost makes you run to the door. if it were 3 months ago, you’d be skipping to the door. 
but you hesitate for a few reasons. firstly because when the connection hits that you know that knock very well, you remind yourself to proceed with caution. secondly because it sounds the same but with a difference as small as a hairline fracture. you heard that knock far too many times during the span of a year and a half, and this one sounds almost completely identical, but there’s a half second pause between the first knock and the second knock and the raps feel less impatient. 
you don’t have to look through the peephole to know who’s standing on the other side of the door, but you’re glad you do anyway. if for nothing else, it gives you a slight edge, you’re convinced, like you’ve seen him first, you have the upperhand now. at least, that’s what you tell yourself. 
toji hadn’t contacted you since he left that day. no texts. no calls. no showing up at your apartment at 3 am. nothing. you kept telling yourself that you’d hear from him. when that didn’t happen, you started telling yourself that you didn’t care if you heard from him. you’ve actually been waiting for this moment, replaying what it would look like if he came back, the things you’d say to him and how you’d say them.
now, looking out at him just standing there, you’re frozen. every scenario you’ve replayed in your head, all of the emotional venting and blow out screaming that you’ve rehearsed and you can’t recall a single scene. you think about leaving him out there, about telling him to go away through the door or just pretending like you’re not home.
“i can see the shadow of your feet under the door,” toji calls out, muffled by the barrier between you guys, and yet it still rings out through your entire body. 
you slowly open the door. though, even if it took an entire hour to open the door, you’re not sure it would’ve mattered. you don’t think time is something that could’ve prepared you for seeing him. seeing him didn’t even prepare you for seeing him. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything, folding your arms over your chest. you just wait. 
“i-,” he starts, but then immediately stops, half sighs/half scoffs as he leans his chest forward, eyes scanning the inside of your apartment, for what exactly you’re not sure. 
“what, toji?” you ask, voice stronger- and more annoyed- than you anticipate it being. you’re grateful for that. “why are you here?”
“shit, this is already hard enough for me t-,” he says, shaking his head, corner of his mouth tugging upward in frustration. 
you narrow your eyes, cutting him off, “sorry, this is hard for you?” you feel like laughing or strangling him more than you do crying, which is a desired outcome in this situation, you suppose. “you know that you haven’t talked to me in three months, right? you haven’t talked to me?” you ask, and you can feel your pulse in your wrist and your chest now, because the lines are coming back to you slowly, one by one, circling your brain, fueling your confidence. 
“yeah, no, of course i know that,” he combats, like you’re the one that’s being an asshole right now. 
you smooth your fingertips against your eyes, blocking the sight of him out for just a second before gesturing with your hand as you ask, “are you going to answer my question or…?”
“look, i said that this is hard enough as it is for me to just be here,” he snaps, and if you were a little less annoyed, if he hadn’t come at this whole thing exactly how he was, you might’ve clocked the desperation in his voice or the uncertainty in his pupils. 
“do you know how fucking stupid you sound right now?” you ask. it’s a rhetorical question. 
one week after he left, you were certain he was going to come back. you and toji had gone a week without seeing each other or even speaking. you had even gone two weeks. sure, the conversation felt much more serious and, sure, really deep down you knew this time was different, but still, you held out dumb hope. 
one month after he left and you realized this was not just him being weird and distant. this was something brand new that you had never had to deal with before. you were still trying to figure out how to navigate it when the two month realization hit: that maybe he wasn’t coming back at all, ever, maybe you had done something wrong. if he had shown back up on your doorstep during that time this conversation would’ve gone very differently you think. 
but he didn’t. he showed up at month three when your reaction to random memories of toji were no longer tears and guilt, but laughter and bitterness. there weren’t many things that toji could say right now that would warrant anything more than you standing in your doorway for 4 minutes or less. 
“i-,” he starts, but then sighs. he looks left, down the hallway of your building, eyes shifting from object to object out of your view. 
“please don’t waste anymore of my time,” you reply and it’s softer than you intend. you thought it’d come out angrier. that seems like a theme for you tonight: everything sounding different in your head. when he doesn’t reply, you start a countdown, promising yourself that when you make it to 15, you’ll close the door in his face. you only make it to 13.
“i’m not here to waste your time,” he says, with no air of disgust or annoyance, the first halfway decent thing he’s said to you tonight. “i-,” he huffs again, “i’m here to say sorry. and-,” he hesitates. 
you wait, just listening. the longer that he hesitates, the more time you have to think about what he might say and how you’re standing with your door open for the entire floor to hear your conversation. you’re not sure what’s worse, having this conversation in the confines of familiar grounds or the openness of neutrality.
“and ask… are you already seeing someone else?” he finishes. 
you’re dumbfounded, blinking at him slowly before responding in the only way you can think of right now, “goodnight, toji.” you shake your head, cursing yourself for expecting anything more.
“no,” he rushes to say and then stumbles over the rest, “i- i tried to see somebody else, quite a bit of other people actually…”
you scoff, squinting at him, saying more sternly this time, with an added attestation of closing the door in his face, “goodnight, toji.”
he reaches out with a quick reflex, grabbing the door before you’ve barely even moved it. “wait, no, i- fuck,” he mutters, scrambling, “can i just come in?”
“so that was your plan then?” you drop your hand from the door. “to come back here unannounced, be shitty to me, ask if i’m sleeping with anyone, tell me that you’ve slept with lots of people, and then ask if you can come inside?” you ask.
“i didn’t have a plan-,” he replies.
“clearly,” you interject.
“but i’m trying,” he finishes, and you’re waiting for there to be more, to explain exactly how this constitutes as trying, because you don’t really see that here.
“fucking christ, toji, you’re going to have to try harder than whatever the fuck this is,” you sneer. 
“we- we had a good thing,” he tries again. you don’t understand how every time he opens his mouth it gets worse and worse. why are you even entertaining this anymore?
“fuck you, man,” you scoff, and it feels like all of the anger has left your body, and in the void where it once was present is nothing but disinterest. 
“no, not like that,” he backpedals. maybe if he would say more than four words at a time, or four better words at a time, then you wouldn’t have to keep filling in the blanks or being pissed off or- “for the last six months of our relationship, i didn’t sleep with anyone else,” he admits like it’s the answer to all of your problems. the word relationship burns at the forefront of your mind so hard that you don’t realize what he’s said for 10 whole seconds.
“i, so what?” your voice is unconvincing even to your own ears. you had slept with other people even 2 months before that last day. that wasn’t the issue. you guys were allowed to sleep with other people. you had an explicit conversation about the fact that you could sleep with other people, something along the lines of, hey, we can see other people right? yeah, we’re not fucking dating. okay, just checking.
the so what, you had already answered for yourself, inner voice replying to your own question, screaming, you guys were exclusive, unknowingly to each other, for 2 whole months before you confessed and he left. 
his answer is much different. he says, “so nothing really. i just- i needed you to know that.”
“well, what the fuck do you want me to do with that?” you ask, and it comes out bitter and discouraged, but what you really mean is, please tell me what you want, please, can you just tell me that you missed me. 
“whatever you want,” he answers instead.
you take a deep breath, a million emotions coursing through your veins and up your throat. “you know what?” you say, and it doesn’t sound angry, it sounds playful, “no, seriously,” you smile and then you laugh, “fuck you, toji.” you close your mouth like you’re done talking, like that’s all you needed to say, but your heart disagrees, forces more words out into the air no matter how hard your jaw is clenched shut.
“you show up here and you’re an asshole and then you’re decent and then you say shit like that and then- then i ask you what you fucking want from this, what you’re trying to play at here and you tell me whatever i want?” you say, exasperated. 
“what i wanted was for you not to leave me three fucking months ago. that’s what i wanted,” you spit, “i wanted you to tell me this shit three fucking months ago before i sat alone, by myself, sad and then angry, and the entire time, fucking missing you, you fucking asshole. that’s what i wanted.”
and then it’s there, out in the open, airing for the two of you to witness and to face, and no matter what happens, you know you’ve done everything and said everything that you’ve needed to. he’s quiet for a few moments and you let him be, not tapping your foot or rolling your eyes or being pissed off, but just letting it play out. if this is the last time you ever see toji, why not just let it play out?
“okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way you’ve only ever heard from him one time in your entire relationship. “i’m sorry.” he pauses. “i really don’t know how to do this,” he admits and you believe him. it feels different from when he told you something along those lines earlier, but you have a feeling that this is what he was trying to say all along. 
“do what?” you push, because your mind is making assumptions, but if he’s going to prove anything to you, he needs to start now. 
“ask for forgiveness?” he says, like he’s thinking out loud, “apologize? date someone?” you don’t say anything. you’re looking for something more concrete than that. it takes a handful of uncomfortable seconds before he says, “actually care about someone.”
“and do you?” you ask.
his lips press into a thin line, his eyes shift from left to right again. you can feel him getting antsy with the conversation and he’s barely said one vulnerable thing. you look at him, eyes soft and pleading, silently begging him that if he’s grown from this, you’ll let him back in, you swear, but you’ve been hurt before and you know what you’re worth, so you’re going to need some sort of evidence as collateral. “yeah,” he mumbles, but it’s audible. “you,” he says like it isn’t obvious, and it’s quiet and daunted, but you really appreciate the effort.
“okay,” you say, and that’s all you say.
“okay?” he questions, confused. “that’s it?” 
“yup,” you say, but your small smile and the fact that you’re not slamming the door in his face again gives away a bit more than that. 
“can i… come in?” he asks, hesitant, like he’s still being tested.
you shake your head, hand gripped onto the edge of the door. “no,” you say, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your eyebrows. “because if you come in here, we’re going to have sex,” you admit, half because it’s the truth and half just to see the look on his face. (it’s worth it.)
“wait,” he says, placing his palm flat against your door, but not moving it. his hand is now inside of your apartment, the only part of his body that’s made it past this invisible barrier of hallway and your place. “that sounds like a great thing. why am i not allowed in?”
“because this is me having self-control,” you explain, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing the small portion of him that’s crossed the division back into the hallway. when you feel his skin against your pinky, soft fabric of that familiar shirt underneath your palm, you almost make a fool of yourself right after you say the word self-control, but you remind yourself what’s at stake here, what you really want. 
“i came all the way out here to see you-,” he starts, but he doesn’t make a move to replace his hand on your door, letting his arm fall back to his side. it’s for the better, too, because you’re not sure how much more self-control you have already, no matter how much you tell yourself about longevity and whatever. 
“if you really care,” you interrupt him, using his few vulnerable words against him, “and you weren't just trying to sleep with me tonight,” you pause, letting those words sink in, “you will go home and you will call me tomorrow morning and we will get breakfast- the least sexy meal of them all- and then maybe coffee if i enjoy hanging out with you outside of just having sex with you, and then we will go from there.”
“i-,” he starts to protest, but you cock your head. the truth is, if he said another word, reached out and touched your cheek or your hip or really anywhere on your body, if he kissed you, or just walked inside of your apartment and sat down on your couch, you wouldn’t have stopped him. you might even have gotten breakfast with him anyways. he doesn’t know that, you don’t think, but even if he does, he doesn’t act on it. he bows his head slightly, conceding, and says, “okay. i will just… talk to you… tomorrow… then.”
you nod. “goodnight, toji,” you say, hand on the door, closing it as slowly as you opened it. 
“uh, yea, night,” he says back. you won’t tell anyone, and neither will he, about the stupidest small smile you see on his lips as he leaves your apartment that night or the fact that he wakes up extra early the next morning, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous dating is before he calls you at 9:30 on the dot.
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ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴏᴊᴏ [ 3 ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ]
being away from ɢᴏᴊᴏ feels like detoxing. not from like hard drugs or alcohol, but… coffee. 
like you know it’s not necessarily good for you, drinking it every day, but it’s a habit you’ve had for a while now and you just can’t seem to break it. it’s not really hurting anything in your day-to-day and you’ve been doing it for so long that it’s probably fine to just keep doing it.
but out of nowhere it hits you that maybe drinking coffee as much as you do is a waste of money and even if you don’t feel the negative effects constantly in your daily routine, you remind yourself of the times where you could distinctly feel the thump of your heart and the unsteady of your hands. you recall the time that you stayed up all night for the promise of a cup of coffee to get you through the day. in every memory that you’ve ever had in your entire college career, you’re holding a cup of coffee.
so one day you make the choice to stop. you stop buying coffee from coffee shops and pods for your coffee maker and cups from diners and accepting free ones from friends. you don’t really need a good cup of coffee as badly as you think you do. and it’s stupid, you think, because it’s just coffee. it doesn’t mean anything. just because you’ve been drinking it consistently for quite awhile doesn’t mean it has any sort of hold over you. it’s just coffee. 
but then the headaches come and the irritation sets in and nights are hard, but for some reason mornings are unbearable, and you feel antsy all the time and you haven’t left your room in the past three days and the only thing you want is a cup of fucking coffee and you can’t relapse with coffee; it’s fucking coffee. 
yeah, being away from gojo feels a lot like detoxing from coffee. 
you try to just not see him. it’ll be easier for you if you just don’t see him, you tell yourself. you go out of your way to avoid his walking path on campus and you refuse to leave your dorm when you don’t absolutely need to in fear of bumping into him or worse, just seeing him from afar, and god forbid you even come within three streets of the corner where his apartment resides. you block his number and you delete social media off of your phone for the time being, too many mutual friends to make casualties, and you do not let yourself think about him. not falling asleep, not when you wake up, not while you’re doing homework, not in your dreams or in the shower, not when something reminds you of him, not when you see his favorite show on your recently watched, not when you really need a good cup of coffee. 
and it works for a while.
but not forever.
three weeks into your detox and you’re doing such a good job at not thinking about gojo that you mix up his monday schedule with his tuesday schedule and on your way back to your dorm, you see him. if you keep walking at the same pace that you’re walking, you will collide with him. if neither of you do anything, one of you will get hurt. 
you look down at your phone, hoping, in the forefront of your mind, that he didn’t see it was you. (in the back of your mind, you’re hoping that he’s the one to break the longest bout of silence the two of you have had since you met.) when you sneak a glance, he’s already almost reached you, jogging to catch up with you. “hey,” he calls out, just in case you haven’t seen him.
“hi,” you say, stopping in place and letting him approach you.
“i’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he offers, like you wouldn’t have known that.
“oh, sorry, haven’t been on my phone,” you lie. he knows that you’re lying. he can tell that you’re lying, so you don’t really know why you lie in the first place. maybe to prove a point. maybe to make him feel bad.
“look, about…,” he trails off, trying to remember how long he’s been without you, “about that… day…,” he opts for instead. 
you put your hand up, waving the topic off. you mean to say something like, don’t worry about it, see you later, but it comes out like, “we don’t have to talk about that here.” here. fucking here. if you would’ve left those four letters out, it would’ve been a perfect line to walk away with, but you don’t. your stupid coffee-craving brain tacks it on, hopeful. 
“right,” he says, nodding, “should we get coffee maybe, then, or?”
it’s not out of the ordinary, or it didn’t used to be, but now it feels taboo. you want to snap and ask him if he’s sure, because coffee sounds a bit too much like a date for people that aren’t together, but you realize very quickly that the irritation from your coffee detox is maybe a little bit too much to hold in without any closure. “sure,” you agree, “i just got done with class so we cou-.”
“i know,” he says, because three weeks hasn’t erased your schedule from his brain either. 
you order an iced tea. you’re still convinced you’re done with coffee for good. he looks surprised at your choice, like he’s never seen you order an iced tea before, because he hasn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. you sip on it throughout unpleasant pleasantries and it’s refreshing, but it’s lacking something. in fact, the longer that you drink this stupid drink that has caffeine anyways and isn’t as good, the irritation bubbles higher and higher until- “can i start?” you ask, tapping your fingers against the table in rhythmic succession. 
“yeah, sure,” he says, bringing his coffee to his lips and taking a sip.
“if at any point in this conversation your answer to anything i have to say is that we weren’t together, i don’t think we should have this conversation,” you reason, and you mean it, but his reaction takes you aback. you notice the smallest flinch when you say weren’t.
“i wasn’t-,” he shakes his head, sighing, “no, i wasn’t going to say that.”
“okay,” you say, dragging your fingertips along the condensation on the side of your glass. “then what were you going to say?”
he thinks for a minute, like he didn’t assume that he’d get this far when he brought up the idea of coffee. “i wanted to stop you from leaving,” he says.
“but you didn’t,” you rebuttal.
“i didn’t,” he affirms. it’s quiet again. you can hear the scrape of the cups against the table as they’re picked up, drank from, and put back down. the chatter in the coffee shop drones over the sounds of hesitance and nerves. “i’m sorry,” he says after a while.
“so, do you think we were together?” you ask, “and be honest. i’ll know if you lie.” you search his face as he answers, and the only thing that comes up is another flinch when you talk in past tense again.
“yeah,” he says, honest. “being apart from you these past three weeks has been one of the shittiest things i’ve ever been through.”
“ever?” you ask, quirking your eyebrow, as if it isn’t somewhat true for you too. 
he nods in response, continuing, “it’s been hard.” he pauses. “i’m sorry i was so shitty.”
“pretty shitty, yeah,” you agree, but you can’t hide how nice it feels to just talk with him again, to call him shitty and to sit across from him at a coffee shop table. “i’m sorry i ghosted you these past few weeks,” because it deserves to be said too. 
“i really missed you,” he says, and he doesn’t hide from it. he looks you directly in your eyes and you can tell that he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand. you want that too. 
“me or just, like, sleeping with me?” you ask, somewhat terrified of the answer, scanning his face for the truth once again. 
he laughs softly and, try as you might, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach or the warmth in your cheeks hearing that for the first time in too long. “please, i haven’t thought about sleeping with you once,” he jokes.
“oh, no? not at all?” you ask, scoffing lightly, a tiny smirk threatening to break.
he forces a thoughtful frown, shakes his head dramatically and says, “can’t say that i have.” you’re laughing now, but through smile-squinted eyes you can still tell that he’s actually being genuine. “not really,” he says. 
“so just me then?” you ask to make sure.
“just you,” he affirms. “a lot of just you.” you hum, content with his answer, but he gives you even more than thought he ever could, “i don’t want to just go back to the way things were. i don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.”
even though you’re sure a response like this would’ve sent waves of shock through your entire body, it doesn’t. it just feels right. you reply quickly, “good. i don’t think it’s enough for me either.” you reach across the table. the back of your hand brushes against his, and then past it. you wrap your fingers around the handle of his coffee cup and bring it to your lips. 
he doesn’t protest or snatch it away from you or make a snarky comment. he places his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow against the surface of the table, and smiles at you. you take a sip from his mug, warmth spreading through every bit of your body. 
why would you deprive yourself of coffee when it brings you so much comfort?
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ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]
you’re not exactly sure how many times something has to happen before it becomes a theme. 
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
“do you -huff- want to -huff- have kids someday?” higuruma asks from beneath you, palms resting on the tops of your knees, thumbs massaging up to the insides of your thighs. 
you slow your bounces and then you stop them completely. you blink at him once and then twice. “that is a really wild thing to ask while you’re inside of someone,” you scoff, searching his face for any kind of tone indicator. is he being serious? is he just saying something to get a rise out of you? is this a kink thing?
he smirks, placing his hands on your hips, coaxing you to continue your movements, and you do. you lift yourself off of him, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as you chase the feeling you lost when he asked the question. you’re breathless when he asks again, the repeated question no longer stilling you. the second time around it feels almost normal. “do you?” he asks on his exhale.
you shake your head and then tilt it side to side, closing your eyes so all of the conflicting fast paced movements don’t dizzy you. “i- don’t- know-,” you huff, “maybe- conversation- for- a- different- setting.” each word is punctuated by the slap of your thighs against his hips. he nods, completely okay with that answer, and then just drops it.
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
“shit,” you say in realization, hips circling, fingers combing through his hair. you pull your head away from his shoulder, pushing yourself up to look him in the eyes. “wait, how did your meeting go today?” you ask, and this time neither of you miss a beat. 
when he slows to think about it, you pick up his slack, rolling your hips, feeling the drag of him inside of you, a breathy moan floating up your chest. he answers over your noises, “really good actually.”
“everything as planned?” you ask further, genuinely just as invested in this as you are in the act. 
he nods, smiling. “yeah, to a t,” he says, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you against his chest. he kisses the side of your temple, holding you in place with a tight grip as he lifts his hips off of the bed, thrusting into you. “surprised you didn’t ask as soon as i came through the door.”
you shake your head against his shoulder, placing a soft kiss against his collarbone. “was thinking about it all day,” you explain. he fucks into you faster in response and it feels like a reward for caring about the things that are important to him. “but when- shit- when you got home…,” you grunt, “it completely- ah, fuck- completely slipped my- ah- mind, s-sorry.”
“ts alright, pretty.” he nudges his nose against your cheek, peeling your attention to his face. your cheek rests against his shoulder and you blink at him, focus dipping from the topic at hand as you feel that familiar tightening in your core. he can see it written all over your face, so he drops his head to kiss you, silently communicating that you don’t have to worry about finishing the conversation right now. he’ll bring it up again in a bit.
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
“should we get married?” he asks, back up against the headboard, looking you directly in your eyes, gaze following yours as you rise and fall. 
“you are not proposing to me while i’m riding you,” you say, shaking your head, but you don’t still or slow. conversations like this in a setting like this just don’t phase you anymore. honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did propose right now. you’re not even sure you’d say no.
the corner of his lip tugs upward and he exhales a laugh as he leans forward the smallest bit to kiss you. “i’m not, i’m not,” he assures, “why? would you say no?” 
you’re quiet for a minute, not because you don’t know the answer, but to keep him on his toes. you won’t lie to him, you don’t think, but you don’t want to come right out and say it. his questions are rhetorical anyways, half-jokes that he’s not expecting serious answers to; you’ve known higuruma well enough and long enough to be confident of that. you could’ve replied with an eye roll and a scoff and nothing else and he would’ve dropped it. instead, however, you answer, “course not. i’d say yes in a second.”
he nearly comes inside of you right there.
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
maybe it becomes a theme when someone points it out. 
you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, the way that the two of you keep having these serious conversations during sex. you know that you don’t do it on purpose; things will just hit you during the repetitive motions and you worry you’ll forget them and you know that higuruma won’t judge you for just saying them, so you do. whether this is the case for him, you’re not sure. 
but the interruptions just keep getting more casual. it starts with big conversations: weddings and promotions and thoughtful decisions, and then it’s like you just start remembering things in this position: work drama and mundane did you knows. it’s almost as if starting with big topics just made it seem so easy to talk about anything like this. 
it didn’t help, you think, that it’s just always easy to talk about anything with higuruma. you guys have been together, officially together, for over four years now, and conversation, no matter the topic or severity or setting, is something you’ve never struggled with. you continue to not struggle with it, inside of the bedroom and out. 
you’re not sure what about the position and the moment makes you so susceptible to remembering little things that you want to tell higuruma when he’s not around, and vice versa. in fact, you’re not even convinced that it’s something about the action that jogs your memory anyway, it’s probably just a really weird and common coincidence.
and then one night you can’t find your keys. 
you’ve searched everywhere for them, in your car, in your bag, every nook of your room, the places where they normally are, higuruma’s coat pocket just in case, and then everywhere else in your guys’ apartment. they’re nowhere to be seen. 
when higuruma walks through the front door, even from where you’re searching in the kitchen, you hear him let out an elongated, “woah.”
you pop your head into the doorway, “don’t say anything about the mess.” you can see his eyes resting on the overturned couch cushions and then on the various opened drawers. “hey,” you warn, pointing towards him as you walk quickly into the living room. you throw your arms around him tightly and give him a small greeting peck. it’s routine at this point; if you don’t do it your whole night feels off. “i said don’t say anything.”
he lets you hang off of his neck as he puts both hands up in surrender. “i didn’t say shit,” he says, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck, then moving his hands to your waist, “the fuck happened here though?” he laughs against your skin and you can feel the vibrations travel to your fingers and toes. 
you pull away from him, shaking your head. now that you’re back in the living room, it’s like you have to start this room’s search over too. you start checking under the couch and in the hall closet. “lost my fucking keys,” you grumble, smoothing your palms over your face, “i swear i’ve looked everywhere. i just can’t remember where i left them when i got home.”
“did you check th-,” he asks, walking into the kitchen, grateful that you’re not in there with him or he knows you’d yell at him for the way his eyes go wide at the clutter and chaos everywhere. 
you cut him off, “wherever you’re about to say, probably yes, ughhh. i’ve retraced my steps, i’ve looked in places that are fucking stupid to look in like every pair of shoes we own and in the fucking guest bedroom pillowcases. i’ve looked everywhere.”
from where he’s stood in the kitchen now, he can see you scrambling as you vent. he leans against the wall, “well, not everywhere or you would’ve found it by now.”
“i’ll kill you,” you say, eyes snapping up to meet his to show how serious you are.
he just laughs, “i’ve got a pretty good lawyer, you might not want to do that.”
“good legal can’t help you when you’re dead,” you snap, almost completely joking. he meets you back in the living room, helping you check all the places you’ve already checked. 
15 minutes pass and then 35 and then he stops abruptly. “oh my god, i have an idea,” he says, and you look at him, hopeful. “you know when you usually remember things?” 
your first reaction is joking annoyance, picking up a throw pillow and sending it his way. he catches it and sets it back down on the couch. “i’m serious!” he yell-laughs. 
you throw another pillow at him as your second reaction sets in. “that’s not going to fucking work,” you say.
“how do you know?” he asks.
“because,” you say, trying to come up with a good answer other than just blind doubt, “because i don’t remember things while i’m riding you. it’s not a fucking superpower.”
“you don’t know that,” he jokes back and braces to be hit with another pillow. “okay, okay, but i’m being serious! besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? you don’t remember and we’ve had sex, how horrible,” he reasons.
you let your arms fall, pillow in your hands resting against the tops of your thighs. you look at him, thinking, which, in hindsight, was a dumb thing to do, because higuruma can see the contemplation on your face. 
eight minutes later and he’s inside of you and you’re the most embarrassed you’ve ever been.
“this is so stupid,” you mumble. you haven’t moved an inch after slowly lowering yourself onto him. you’re fully seated against his hips, hands smoothing over your face and then lingering there, covering. 
he reaches up, fingers soft and kind as he wraps them around your wrists, pulling them away from your face. “ts not stupid,” he reassures, but you’re not convinced. you groan, turning to look away from him, but that just won’t do. he reaches up again, soft grip on your chin coaxing your gaze back to his. “hey,” he says softly, “just focus here, angel.”
you listen, somewhat, mind still flickering back to why you’re even riding him in the first place. “just enjoy yourself, okay,” he tries again, rolling his hips upwards, pressing himself inside of you as deep as he can. you close your eyes, and it’s quite easy to just focus on the feeling of being as full as you are right now. “good,” he whispers, “just like that.”
it doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself completely, moving on your own, letting the whimpers and whines take over any other thought you might think to say, chasing that feeling rather than worrying about whatever you’ve lost. 
it all kinda clicks at once: where your keys are and why you always remember shit when you’re like this.
in the midst of everyday noise, so many things get lost: important and unimportant thoughts alike. but now you’re not worried about anything else. you don’t care about anything else right now. you don’t have to. you don’t want to. and in this state of letting everything go, mindless and blissful, some things slip back through the cracks.
you collapse onto higuruma’s chest, spent and happily aware of this new revelation that you have not, for once, shared in the middle of sex, but kept quiet as a come down surprise. you hum softly as he rubs up and down your back, hum again as he presses a kiss into your forehead. “m sorry it didn’t work, angel,” he murmurs. 
you turn your head, ear pressed right against his heart as you gaze up at him. “i left them in the fridge,” you reveal, and he knits his eyebrows together. 
you assume that he’s going to say something about how did you leave them in the fridge? or why are they there? but instead he questions, “what? and you didn’t tell me until now?” like you’ve harbored a life long secret. you laugh softly, snaking your hands up and scratching your nails against his scalp, playing with the ends of his hair. “don’t think this is going to get you out of it,” he says, “‘ts my favorite thing when you just blurt shit while you’re on me.”
you can feel the warmth in your cheeks and your chest as you breathe a laugh. “you’ve never told me that before,” you murmur. 
“think it’s cute when you just can’t wait to tell me things,” he says, “feels more intimate than being inside of you.”
“ew,” you say, scrunching up your nose, even though you weirdly agree. 
he just laughs in response. a few seconds of quiet comfort pass before he backtracks, “wait, why the fuck are your keys in the fridge?” 
and you tell him all about it, about the day that you’ve had and how you remembered you hadn’t drank enough water so you were refilling your bottle from the pitcher in the fridge as soon as you got home from work, but your hands were full so you set your keys on top of the leftovers from yesterday, but then you had to go and set everything down and the fridge closed and by the time you left the kitchen you remembered you needed to do something else… and it just keeps going.
you tell him as you’re taking a shower and as you’re eating dinner together and as he’s brushing his teeth and you’re washing your face and laying in bed and setting your alarms. every room in the house is a mess, but you’ll deal with that later, you decide. you rest your chin on his shoulder. “and how was your day?” you ask, even though the clock reads much later than it should for how much sleep you both should get before you’re up early for work tomorrow. 
nevermind that, he decides, and tells you all about it anyways.
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ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]
“can i ask you something and when i ask you, you’ll know i don’t mean anything bad by it at all because i love you more than everything in the world?” you ask, putting down your phone only after you’ve finished your sentence. 
you wait a few seconds for nanami to take in what you’ve asked. he reaches over to the night stand for his bookmark and sticks it between the pages. he shuts it with an audible shuffling of paper and a sharp thump. 
nanami has been with you long enough to not typically be surprised by your out of the blue… questions. (dronings? is there a word like droning but the connotation is more positive? like you talk at him a lot and he loves to hear the ramblings in your brain, but sometimes he is just trying to read his book before bed. whatever that word is.)
he places the book on his lap and then turns his chest towards you completely. you now have his full attention. “is that a yes?” you ask. 
he inhales deeply, “if i say no, will you still ask it?”
you think on the answer to that question, really mulling it over before shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so.”
“then yes,” he smirks, “i suppose i have to say yes then.”
“great,” you say, tossing your phone onto your bedside table with a clunk. you sit up straighter, rocking forward to fully adjust your position on your side of the bed. you put your hand on his thigh and cross your legs, letting your knee rest on the side of his comforter covered hip. “do you ever regret not dating more?”
it definitely takes him by surprise. he thought you might drop another weirdly specific hypothetical about would he love you if… or request a glass of water even though you already told him tonight when he was getting into bed and he asked if you wanted one, that you did not. 
now he’s the one mulling over your question and despite how nerve wracking it could be to wait for an answer to a what if that involves not you, you’re not anxious in the slightest. you’re quiet, just waiting for his answer, and when he finally speaks, you know exactly why you weren’t scared in the first place, “i’ve honestly never thought about it since i met you.”
“really?” you ask, and you’re mostly feeling very lucky that nanami is yours and you are his, but there is an underlying feeling of guilt that he’s unintentionally caused with this statement. 
he nods. “sounds like you have though,” he says, and it’s not even a little bit judgmental. it sounds like he’s imploring you to keep talking, like he wants to hear exactly what you’re thinking, why you brought it up in the first place.
“i wouldn’t trade this security, this love, exactly what we have, you for anything in the world,” you start to explain, and it’s nothing but the truth, “but sometimes i just think about that first night when we were in that bar. the flirting, the risks, that feeling of not knowing where the night is going to end up. sometimes i think about that a little bit.”
he hums, thinking about that night, and after a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, “first date nerves,” he nods, “now that i think about it, i miss those.”
you cock your head at him. that’s a weird part of dating to miss, you think, but then he explains further, “like when we went out on our first date and i didn’t know what you were going to wear or if you liked the restaurant i picked or if you’d let me pay for your food.”
“or if i’d take you back to mine,” you joke, raising your eyebrows at him, but really you’re burning inside. your cheeks feel warm just hearing about these feelings he’s never mentioned to you before. 
“yeah, that too,” he laughs, getting back on track, “like, i’m still finding out new things about you all the time, but back then i was discovering who you were every second we were together, and that- that felt like…”
“like finding out soulmates were real?” you ask, because that’s what it felt like to you, that same exact phenomenon he’s describing. he smiles at you warmly, like you’ve just put to words what he felt he could only experience. “i know what you mean,” you smile. 
he leans forward, cupping your cheek with his hand and guiding you towards him. he kisses you softly, placing his other hand on your other cheek and kissing you harder. “should we go on a first date again?” he asks against your lips, barely pulling away to speak. 
you laugh, but when you pull away, you can tell he’s not joking. “what?” you ask, “what do you mean?” you’re already blushing though, already feeling the exact first date nerves he was just talking about. 
“let’s go on a first date,” he repeats himself. “i’ll pick you up at your front door and i’ll choose the restaurant and it’ll be a surprise and i’ll ask you questions that i’d ask you on a first date even if i know the answers to all of them and more at this point.”
you’re smiling so big that your cheeks are sore as you nod fervently at the concept. “okay, yeah,” you agree. 
“right, so we probably shouldn’t kiss or make out or sleep with each other until then to really play into the whole thing?” he teases, and you roll your eyes in response. 
“you’re very funny, kento,” you say, leaning in, brushing your nose against his. he doesn’t even last a second, closing the gap with a small peck and then another and then another and then a much longer one and then he’s putting the book on his nightstand so he can pull you into his lap. 
ᡣ𐭩 •。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
you get a text 5 minutes before 7 that nanami is going to be 3 minutes late picking you up. the text looks a little weird underneath a thread of:
>> nami <3 >> how’s work baby
<< read << if you love me you’ll come and pull the fire alarm to get me out of here early :) :) :)
>> nami <3 >> fine but that’s a class four felony in some cases. will you be providing legal assistance or should i look elsewhere????
<< read << how do u know that?? nerd!!!
>> nami <3 >> google tbh. 
<< read << wow. first i have to stay at work all day alone and sad and now i get to know my bf isn’t sexy and off the dome smart about everything. :(
>> nami <3 >> goodbye.
<< read << :(
>> nami <3 >> i love you
<< read << :)
you bite back the urge to reply with something you’d say to him after knowing him for years. rereading the text and thinking back to your first date, it makes you giggle. actually, it makes you kinda nervous. you text back a polite no worries! take your time! and he replies with a heart and you truly feel like you’re dating for the first time again. you feel honest to god giddy. 
arriving to the restaurant, you are genuinely surprised. you thought after knowing him as long as you have and having gone to as many restaurants with him as you have, you’d go back to somewhere nice you’ve already been. but that isn’t the case. 
he drives you to a pop-up restaurant 20 minutes out of town that you’ve never even heard of, but is the cutest place you’ve ever been, and the entire time he can’t stop sneaking respectful glances at you. he won’t stop telling you how nice you look. he even apologizes for it by the sixth time, pushing your chair in at the restaurant saying, “i know i keep mentioning it, and i’m sorry, but if i said it every time i thought it, it’d be a never ending string.”
if he keeps this up, you’re going to feel like you’re cheating. this seriously feels like a first date, like you’ve been in a relationship for over 5 years and you’re also going on a first date and it’s really messing with your head, but you never want it to stop. 
he stays true to his word, asking you questions he already knows the answers to, but hearing them again, they sound brand new. he doesn’t know if he’s just forgotten some of them or if the testaments of time have weathered your answers just enough to sound unfamiliar, but either way, he’s hanging on to every word. 
by the end of the night, you’ve truly convinced yourself that there are stakes to this date, like if you play your cards wrong, you won’t get to keep seeing this incredible guy. he pays the whole bill, even though you insist on getting your meal or at the very least dessert. he says, “you can try next time too.” and you can’t breathe, you feel so lucky. 
“i’m sorry if this seems forward, but i’d really like to keep seeing you tonight,” you say as the waiter takes away the paid bill, and your heart is thumping so violently against your chest, you swear he can feel it too. 
he shakes his head, “perfectly forward,” he smiles, “your place or mine?” you break character for the first time tonight, giggling at the reality of the question, hiding behind your hand as you do. “what’s so funny?” he asks, but he’s grinning just as big as you are. 
“just thinking about how dreary my life would be if i hadn’t gone on this first date,” you say, and it’s a little too meta, but he’ll let it slide, because he’s a bit flustered at the sentiment. “mine is great,” you answer, placing your hand on his, rubbing the tips of your fingers against his knuckles. 
everything about the rest of the night feels like a first too. it feels like your first kiss in front of your front door. it feels like he’s seeing “your” apartment for the first time. it feels like you’re making out on your couch for the first time. 
it feels like the first time he’s ever been inside of you. 
when he pushes deeper into you, eyes on yours shut tight, you tell yourself that you want to pretend you’re on a first date every single day of your life. you can’t stop whimpering, pleading for him to never stop fucking you ever, please don’t stop, please never fucking stop. 
you break character for the second time when you’re right on the edge. he keeps looking down at you with so much love in his eyes and his hands all over you feel like they know every inch of you, and you can’t stop yourself. you grab his face in your hands, “kento, baby, please, ‘m gonna- ‘m sorry, i- fuck, please. i love you, fuck,” you whine, and he can’t stop himself either, hips stuttering, head falling against your shoulder as he feels you clenching around him as he empties himself inside of you, murmuring how much he loves you right back. 
the way you’ve been feeling all night: blissful and coy, it’s not because it’s a first date, it’s because he’s nanami. it’s because he’s orchestrated the entire night and no matter how “new” everything feels, the underlying foundation of that newness, and the reason everything feels so good, is familiarity and safety. 
“i’m sorry that i-,” you breathe, but he stops you, reaching his hand up to drag his fingertips against your lips, and you laugh, pressing a soft kiss into them. “okay, okay,” you say, and he places his hand back down by his side. “done with the first date stuff, just want to be yours again,” you murmur. 
he scoffs, light, and you can hear his smile in it. he falls over onto his back, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “never weren’t,” he mumbles against your hair. “always will be,” he mumbles again, holding you tighter. 
“good,” you say back, settling into his arms like that’s the only thing you know to be true in the entire world. you wouldn’t trade that truth for a million first dates. 
sure, holding your breath at quick witted flirts and stolen glances is nice, but it’s a lot nicer just knowing that you will never be loved better and you will never love harder. 
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♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡ no bc the yelling really worked very well idk yell at me more to write a continuation for toji (maybe also gojo bc hes the only one i havent written even an inkling of smut for) idk i'm just thinking of so many scenes idk throw hcs at me in my inbox IDK! toji dating for the first time? got me fucked UP
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ᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴀɢs ᡣ𐭩 @igocrazyeveryday @vernasce-blogs @minty86 @abrielletargaryen @pompompompompompompom @mysticrays @lilolpotato @thisisew @pnkoo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @ryumurin @cisseadven @multi-fandom-fanfic @noosayog @anxious-chick @mintleafwrites @(tried to tag some other folks but couldnt!!)
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pinkaditty · 7 months
Text
Pervert (Obey Me! Shall we Date)
summary: You are suspecting that someone is stealing your underwear. It will go missing and randomly reappear like it was never gone. You pretend not to notice, but set a little trap for the culprit… And catch them red-handed.
content warning: fem!mc (listed undergarments are stolen, but Mc could be a crossdresser idk) and nsfw is all i think but please lmk if there's anything else here that i forgot to warn abt!
a/n: this is my first everrrr OM! blurb so idk i hope it does well! silent readers won't be blocked but psa that i do appreciate likes and comments <3 however ageless/minor blogs will be blocked thx!
psst! read part 2 here!
MINORS DNI. IM SO SRS. i promise waiting a few years sounds worse than it actually is. please respect my boundary <3
You had suspected someone had been doing it for a while. Your favorite pairs of bras or panties or even your matching sets would randomly disappear from your dirty clothes hamper while waiting to be washed. When you noticed they were missing, you didn't know how to bring up the issue. It wouldn't make any sense if the laundry was switched. As it kept happening, and the clothes kept randomly reappearing and disappearing, you began to feel suspicious. Could it have been possible that someone was stealing them?
When you breached this thought, the prospect nervously excited you. There are only so many reasons for stealing someone's used undergarments, and you were certain you could narrow it down. You did admittedly find it somewhat disturbing, but at the same time, you couldn't help but laugh. Why couldn't they just come to you and ask? It's not like your suitors to be shy. 
Then again, maybe you were overthinking it. Perhaps it was simple curiosity? Maybe someone is fascinated by humans and the clothes they wear or the way they smell? You weren't one to judge, but still. It felt strange regardless of whether it was pure curiosity or unbridled pervertedness.
You continued to put up with it for a while until one fateful day, you caught them. You had purposely left your dirty clothes hamper unattended after dragging it to the laundry room, leaving to grab some scent beads to freshen the wash. As you'd been coming back, you heard someone rooting around in your hamper. You could hear clothes being pushed to the side and frustrated sighs as the hamper teetered back and forth with their frustrated movements. You bit your lip, heart pounding in your chest. You gently turned your head around the doorway arch to peer at the culprit. Steeling yourself, you turned away and straightened up before walking in with a feigned surprised gasp slipping from your lips. It was just in time to see the culprit pick up your favorite pairs of lacy underwear. The culprit, hearing your gasp, quickly turns, color draining from their face before it is quickly replaced by a crimson blush.
Whatever excuses they attempt to stammer out, you don't hear. You simply stare at them, mouth agape, before your feigned surprise melts into a twisted smile. You put your hand over your mouth to stifle a chuckle, and look at them, mirth in your eyes.
"You… You pervert!"
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Lucifer:
To say Lucifer is beyond embarrassed is quite the understatement. He's utterly and undeniably humiliated. His glasses are crooked, his face a blotchy red, and his nose slightly wet from having buried it in the spoils of his efforts; your panties. He clears his throat hurriedly and desperately scrambles for any kind of excuse, including straightening up and attempting to intimidate you. But how could you be intimidated by a man who you'd just seen bury his nose in your panties, drunken look all over his face? You simply laugh at him and hold out your hand, a smirk on your face as you motion for him to hand the panties over, one eyebrow raised. He turns away ashamedly and gently places them in your hand, his shoulders trembling just slightly out of embarrassment.
With his eyes screwed shut and his lips pursed, he stiffly strode towards the exit, as if he could simply leave after all that has transpired here. You reach behind you and grab his vest, tugging him back beside you. In no position to argue, he does not resist. Once he is beside you, you begin to trail your hands across his stomach before going in a straight line up his chest. "You know… " you start, stifling a smirk and biting your lip. You turn to him, but he remains frozen, staring at the exit, as though desperate to escape. You simply continue to trail your hand up his chest, unphased. "Next time, you can just come to me and ask." Your fingers reach his neck, and he flinches, but shows no other movement. You trail your fingers up to his chin before grabbing it and turning his head so his gaze was on you. "There is more where this came from." You hold up your panties, the ones he was just so brazenly burying himself in moments before.
His blush deepened across his face, and he pulled away from you, stiffly making his exit. You only laugh and wonder how long it will take for him to release his pride and ask you for a pair… or two. 
Mammon:
Immediately he is blabbering out a multitude of excuses, excuses, and more excuses. "It's not what ya think, MC! I was just- ah, just um- just checking for my socks!" and "I swear ya've got it all wrong!" and "I'm yer first demon anyway! I should be 'llowed to-" and "Listen, don't ya dare tell Lucifer or Levi or anyone else!!" and more and more excuses and empty threats spilled from his lips, until he finally sank to his knees and quieted, as though asking for forgiveness. All you had to do was silently stare at him, smirking, hand still covering your mouth as you watched him slowly melt and grovel. His face is a deep red and his eyes are watery, lips wet from pressing them against your essence in the panties. He still gripped them in his hands and his fingers trembled as he held them.
Smirking wider, you walk forward to him and bend your knees to face him. "Look at me." You didn't even need to command him. He looks up, eyes still watery and his lips red from him worrying them between his teeth. His face was still a deep shade of crimson, and his heavy breathing made it clear it was a struggle for him to keep eye contact. You smile and hold out your hand, motioning for him to hand over what was rightfully yours. Defeatedly, he hands it over, and clenches his fists in his lap, still trembling. You would have thought he'd have more to say, but perhaps being caught like this was simply too humiliating.
"The Great Mammon is too embarrassed for words, huh? Poor thing." You tease him just a little bit, watching him continue to tremble. For a moment he opened his mouth to retort, but one look at you and he couldn't do it. His mouth closed and he looked down ashamedly.
You laugh at his demeanor, and reach out to gently take his chin in your hand and raise it so he could face you. "Awww, don't be shy. I understand, your first human is truly irresistible." You give him a challenging look, and he gulps nervously. "However, next time, Mammon… All you have to do is ask. I'd be happy to satisfy all your burning curiosities. Besides, there's plenty more of these in that hamper." You lift up your panties with one finger, dangling it in front of his eyes. He bites his lips and his eyes widen at your gesture. He begins to lean towards them, as though attempting to get another whiff. You smile and pull them away from him, laughing at his dejected expression.
"Come on, I have to wash these for now. How about you be good and go wait in your room? Perhaps I'll bring you the ones I'm wearing now." Your enticing offer immediately stifles whatever excuse he was about to shout about the unfairness of it all. He simply nods and scurries away, eager to receive a prize for being obedient. 
Levi:
Levi shrieks like a little girl, fumbling his grip on your panties and dropping them in the heap of other discarded clothes from his prior ransacking. "I… I-I-I… U-Um… I!!!" He stammers, desperately scrambling for an excuse, a way to escape from this embarrassing predicament. He lifts his arms in front of his eyes, shielding himself from your gaze. "I-I DIDN'T MEAN TO!!" He shouts, probably alerting the entire House of Lamentation. He slowly sinks into the corner of the room, curling into a ball as though you were hovering over him. His mumbled "I'm sorry"s and "I'm just a dirty otaku pervert"s are eventually lost to his hiccups and tearless sobs. Gosh, he's so dramatic. 
You just stand there, chuckling to yourself for a moment, before drawing closer, slowly taking short steps towards him. With every click of your shoes on the floor, the more he seemed to cave in on himself, even revealing his tail to curl it around him. His sobs were no longer audible, but he was still shaking, and muttering to himself about how he couldn't believe he'd let himself do that. You sank down to your knees and patted him on the back, partially soothing him and partially asking for his attention. After a few pats he looks up, the most comically distressed look on his face, and immediately hides behind his arms again to protect himself. Before you can say anything, genuine apologies spill from his lips, broken by extreme stammers. "I-I am SO sorry MC, I sh-should never have d-done that, I'll n-never look at you again-" and so on, so forth, each stammered promise more extreme than the last. 
You can only roll your eyes affectionately at his actions. You shake your head and gently tug on his arm, forcing him to peer over it at you. "Well, it's not exactly okay, but next time, please ask me." A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you say this, eager to gauge his reaction.
He blinks at you confusedly, before realization flickers across his face and a crimson blush spreads all over his features. "WH-WHA?!" He exclaims in surprise, jumping as soon as it hit him.
You simply smile and back away, picking up your discarded underwear that he held only moments ago. "Just ask. If you want some." You smirk at him, standing upright and gathering your clothes together to put them all back in the hamper. You glance back at him. "I don't have any except the ones I'm wearing now, so you'll have to wait." You smirk at him and turn away, focusing on the laundry before hearing him slither out of the room, his heavy breathing muffled. 
Satan:
Of all the brothers, to be honest, you least expected him. Even Lucifer wouldn't be much of a surprise, considering how he has no such outlet for being pent up. But Satan had books. And yet, despite all those books, some erotica and some educational, here he was, unsatisfied, seeking the real thing through going through your laundry. On second thought, maybe that was believable. 
He immediately froze, whipping himself around to face you and promptly dropping the panties on the pile of clothes in shock. He stared at you wide-eyed for a moment, before realizing he’d dropped his long-awaited bounty. He ripped his eyes away from you and set them on the panties instead, reaching down to pick them up again, and turning his face away, holding them out to you. He was flushed red, from the height of his cheekbones to the base of his neck. He probably knew that you never would have expected him, which was why being caught was so humiliating to him. You snicker into your hand, and he trembles in embarrassment at your laughter, still holding out the panties. You graciously reach forward and accept them, plucking them from the tips of his fingers. He quickly retracted his hand, still trembling and refusing to look at you.
You would have expected him to be shouting all sorts of profanities and curses alike, anything to deflect and avoid the situation at hand, because he is simply full of wrath. But he simply stood, trembling, and turned away, his eyebrows creased downwards in an unsurprisingly angered expression. Perhaps he was more angry at himself than the situation and that was why he was turned away? Regardless, you placed the underwear back in your hamper and moved to collect the rest of the clothes, and Satan wordlessly helped you, still blushing furiously and refusing to look at you. 
When the task was done and the hamper was full, he made to leave, but you commanded him to stay. Rooted to the spot and unable to move due to your pact, he stayed, but refused to turn to you. His neck was still very red. You approached him from behind and placed a hand on his back, making him jump. You simply chuckled in response and said “Please Satan, the next time those erotica books aren’t doing it for you, you just have to ask.” 
His breathing picked up and his flush grew redder and deeper. You could hear the slight wet sounds of his mouth opening and closing, as though he had something to say. You waited patiently for him to speak, but he eventually growled and stalked off, posture tight as a stitch. You knew he’d cave eventually.
Asmodeus:
Well, this guy’s shameless. The color did indeed drain from his face at first, but it was quickly replaced with a humble blush and a knowing smirk. He was still holding the panties rather close to his face. “Sorry, doll…” He drawls, gazing at you with lidded, suggestive eyes. “Couldn’t help myself.” He giggles after saying that, whisking the panties away from his face and hiding his hand behind his back. He leaned forward and put a finger to his lips, smiling devilishly. “You can keep a secret, right sweetheart? I don’t want my brothers to know about this…” He mock pouts, and you roll your eyes. You’d figured it was him because most of the ones that went missing were pink, and we all know who adores that color. 
You could also tell he knew you weren’t exactly uncomfortable with this, him stealing your intimates for his own personal desires. Of course you weren’t, he was your suitor. You sigh and shake your head. “Sure, Asmo. But, let’s be more polite and ask me next time, okay?”
He throws his head back and laughs, as though genuinely amused at your words. When he finishes laughing, he wipes a tear from his eyes and mutters “Politeness from a demon… Really…” He flips his hair over his shoulder and smiles at you. “If it is what you wish. However…” His voice turned sly and low, as he revealed his hand once again and dangled your panties from his hand. “I’ll be taking these for now, dear.”
You laugh at him, and he simply smiles wider in response. “Well, sure, but… wouldn’t you like a fresher pair?”
The words stop him in his tracks. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open as he realizes your offer. However, he is only shocked for mere moments before smirking again, another blush dusting his cheeks, a drunken look on his face. “Oh, dear!” He squeals, walking over to you and holding your face between his hands, bringing himself very close to you. “I would very much like a fresher pair~. You come to my room later, okay? I’ll be waiting~.” He taps your nose and begins moving away, blowing a kiss your way and winking as he drops the panties into your open palms. 
You wondered what the rest of the day would be like.
Beelzebub:
Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was doing this simply out of curiosity. You'd be willing to excuse it. Poor guy, didn't know how to approach you so instead resolved to innocently nick away your clothing for innocent, curious inspections. You were prepared to forgive him after giving him a slap on the wrist. 
You are surprised, however, when he starts profusely apologizing, clutching the panties in his hand, muttering about how he just couldn’t satiate his hunger. 
His face is red and his head is bowed forward, not making eye contact with you. Suffice to say this is not what you expected. You cock your head to the side, looking at him curiously. "Beel…" And he immediately looks up obediently. You don't even have to ask. "...What kind of hunger?"
You figured you knew what he meant, but couldn't resist a little teasing. He squirms under your gaze, bowing his head down again and clenching and unclenching his hands, panties still gripped in both. He purses his lips before explaining, "I'm not sure how to explain it, MC, but when I smell you, I get hungry." He is still avoiding your gaze, but you can tell he's being sincere. "And it's not hungry for food, it's more like… a strong, lustful hunger… And I've never felt that before, so I was curious." His head is still bowed shyly, and he's raised his hand to hold out the panties. "I'm sorry, MC. I won't do it again."
You smiled genuinely at his sincerity and apology, your heart swelling just slightly. "No worries, Beel." You take the panties from him and pile them into the hamper. "Will you help me put the clothes back?"
He nods and helps you pile your clothes back into the hamper, a light blush still on his cheeks. Once you're done, you turn to him, smiling mischievously. "Beel. The next time you want a pair, please don't be afraid to ask me, okay? I'll be happy to help you."
Beel bursts into a blush wordlessly, his eyes widening at your offer. Hesitantly, he nods, clenching his eyes shut before turning on his heel and walking away, probably off to the kitchen. He's a glutton, right? He'd be back. 
Belphegor:
Of all demons, the Avatar of Sloth is tirelessly rummaging around in your laundry? Of all types? He looks at you, color still drained from his face, before tiredly huffing and looking down at the spoils of his efforts, probably contemplating if it was all worth it. He sighs and looks up at you again, too tired to be embarrassed, and hands you the panties before collapsing into the pile of your clothes he'd created from his rummaging. He turns over like he's getting ready to sleep, and mutters a quick "Sorry. G'night."
You're tempted to laugh at his actions, and you almost do, but you decide to poke him back awake. He protests a little bit, rolling over back and forth and wiggling out of your reach, before huffing and whining. "Comfy. Smells like you. Tired. G'night." You roll your eyes and decide to use your pact to your advantage.
"Belphegor. Get up."
Suddenly overcome by the power of the pact, he finds it fit to rise off of the pile, taking his sweet time. He stretches, curving his back and whipping his tail around in annoyance. "What? What now?"
"I need to wash these, Belphie. I can't stuff you into the washing machine." You chuckle lightly, moving to gather the pile and place it in the wash.
Belphegor whines in protest. "What about me? Your smell helps me sleep…" He looks away, a light blush on his cheeks.
Your eyebrows rise in surprise. "And this is why you've been stealing my intimates?" He rolls his eyes and quietly mutters something about getting off but waves away his comment before you can respond.
"Doesn't matter." He quiets down and leans against the wall, waiting for you to finish. When you turn to him questioningly, he simply raises an eyebrow. "What? I fully intend to drag you to my room to sleep with me. If I can't have your panties then I'll just have you." He turns away and blushes furiously despite his words being quite direct. You simply laugh.
"Don't worry. I'll be done soon."
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a/n: waaaaaaaaah i hope u all enjoyed! it's a little cringe yea and i apologize if anyone was slightly ooc i did my best!! i don't have a masterlist or anything yet but if u liked this please lmk! i plan on writing one for the other dateables soon!
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sonderessence · 6 months
Note
What abt a
e42 miles x spiteful blk fem spider reader
so what if miles (1610) cheated on reader with gwen (😒..) and to get revenge on him for cheating on reader with.. gwendolyn.., we get with his earth 42 self!
(if you could make this a series i would literally cry of joy.)
Angst for 1610 Miles (IM SORRY I LOVE YOU POOKIE😭☹️☹️🩷)
Fluff and Romance for 42 Miles (🤭🩷)
DONT HIT MY LINE! ...
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1610!MILES & 42!MILES X READER!
WARNINGS: vulgar laguage (cursing), ✦ CONTAINS: 1610!miles being a bitch!!
a/n: imma be honest, i am such a gwen slander after the movie (still love her tho) 😒 but i so love this idea !!
layout inspo/creds: @hiimayee the best miles fic writer!! :3
NOW PLAYING: I HATE U - SZA
part one. ✦ part two ✦ part three
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your boyfriend 1610!miles had been acting strange since he saw gwen after all these years, but you just shrugged it off as him being happy his friend was back in his dimension.
you never thought that your suspensions were true when you found your now ex with his "friend" behind your back.
you looked around the predominantly empty library in search of your boyfriend miles, who was nowhere to be seen. it was highly unlikely for him to be late to anything.
maybe something was last-minute? you would go ask his mother, rio, since you go to her for everything in the more frequent months since miles had been acting — odd — but you doubt she would know since her and her husband were out of town.
grabbing the pile of books you and miles you used to study for the test you knew you were going to fail, you scurried your way you the hushed library.
the sky was temperate, the perfect temperature for the park you thought, smelling the fresh, cool air — but focus! miles has to be somewhere around campus. you stuffed your books it your bag and made your way to his dorm, maybe he was still asleep?
you made your way to his dorm and softly knocked on his door, careful not to wake him. there was no answer. "miles?" you called to the door. again, no answer.
you pulled out your phone from your bag and went to his contacts. maybe he was sick or just skipped school? you had fussed at him the week prior to get more sleep, since he always came knocking at your window to late at night.
wait, should you call him? he's probably busy. and with that thought, you put your phone back in your bag and made your way to the morales house. it wasn't far from the school you two attended, so getting there wasn't a problem.
you knocked on the front door, once, twice. where is he? "miles!! you home??" you heard footsteps from the other side and the door opened to see miles who looked like he was in a rush. his hair everywhere and shirt backwards.
"hey! you okay?" you asked, your voice laced with concern for the boy.
"yeah." he said, his voice coming out hoarse. he cleared his throught. "m'fine, wassup?"
"you were s'posed to meet up with me at the library." you meant to sound playful, but your words came out more of a scoff. "look," he started. "i just forgot."
"forgot?? miles, you could have texted me! i was fuckin' worried about you!" you were furious, crossing your arms with a frown. "you done?" he asked with an eyebrow raised — you could see the twinge on annoyance in his eyes and you could hear it in his tone. "am i done?" you scoffed "are you done running off and not checking up on people??"
he didnt know how to answer that. "look, i'm hella busy right now, we can do the study thing or whateva later." he pinched the bridge of his nose. "fine." you muttered as you walked out the door.
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a/n: how we feelin' about the first chapter?? i might have gone all out but part two is otw!
TAGS: @kazustqrzz, @kxllanxtdoor ( the tags are being annoying 😒)
©bachirasegoist, 2023 — do not steal or copy works
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allisonlol · 9 months
Note
HII !! could you do dazai, chuuya and fyodor with a s/o that forgot pretty much everything from their past/forgets a lot in the present due to trauma? if possible male reader, and if not gn works aswell! thank you :))
a/n: felt this req hard LOL
warnings: memory loss, past trauma (not elaborated on)
(Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor) With a S/O with Memory Loss From Trauma
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Dazai
i feel like dazai can relate in some ways because he too has immense trauma but instead of forgetting it, he remembers it too well
therefore in a way he's grateful that ur brain is blocking those memories so u don't have to remember the pain
dazai had noticed your forgetful behavior the second he met you, and had already categorized it as due to trauma in your past
honestly finds your forgetfulness adorable but it also enrages him bc someone hurt you enough to cause it
simply does not comment on any of this though. if you mention that you forgot something that happened literally yesterday he'll simply smile at you (is that a hint of sadness in his expression?) and reassure u that it's okay
will text u updates throughout the day to make sure u aren't forgetting anything
pictures pictures pictures!!!! literally photographs everything u guys do together so you can always look back to remember :)
but unbeknownst to you, dazai will secretly do some deep digging into your past to find out exactly what happened and who to get revenge on <3
^trust me when i say they will deeply regret everything they had ever done to you
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Chuuya
it's canon that chuuya can't remember what... the first 7 years of his life? so he totally understands
he won't question u at all abt the reasonings for your memory loss unless u wanted to talk abt it
does get worried abt your current forgetfulness though. with a job as strenuous as being in the mafia, having a good memory is important
^if any of the higher ups knew you weren't "sufficient enough" in that department, despite your other strengths, you would be disposed of
this added stress doesn't help you at all but chuuya does his best to keep you safe
^having a boyfriend who is also your executive is very useful in this aspect
leaves little notes and reminders on your desk so u won't forget anything important
hell, chuuya will even fill out reports for you if u were having trouble remembering the events that took place
i feel like he would also pay very close attention to everything u guys do together so, if you forgot, he would be able to tell you all about it
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Fyodor
another one who categorized your memory loss as due to trauma the second he met you
unlike the others tho, he will question u about it
if you’re honest with him & say that it’s due to traumatic events, he’ll ask if you want him to do anything about it for you (in other words, find and eliminate the ones who caused it 😊)
^if you say no to this, he’ll nod and agree with u but secretly hunt them down on his own
however if you lie to fyodor and say that you’re just forgetful (not due to trauma) he’ll frown & keep asking probing questions until he gets the truth out of u
has he heard of privacy? like damn
^its out of love tho. not saying it’s right but fyodor shows his care by learning as much abt u as possible. he needs to know everything, good or bad
finds your current forgetfulness adorable, albeit irritating at times (remember who we’re talking abt here)
if you forgot an event or important piece of information he will get slightly annoyed with you & might say some insensitive things 😬
^tho once he sees that he’s upset you, fyodor will usually sigh and apologize
recommends u keep a journal for reminders, however he also logs all events that u do alone or together so you won’t forget in the future
taglist: @deadmitochondria @miycutie @scul-pted @exorcisedstraydog @chuuyasboots @shy-socially-awkward-intovert @beandaifuku @stygianoir @sonder-paradise @dreaming-of-ambedo @nervousyetconfidentway @beautiful-is-boring @irethepotato @serenareiss @thescrunkly @ashthemadwriter @mrsdostoevsky @creamygojo @disa-ster
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x-noechi-x · 1 year
Note
for ur event: sae itoshi with the song void by the neighbourhood. i dont know abt you but. but this song makes me think “hahahahahah it’s sae from blue lo-“
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Ex husband Sae Itoshi
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"Void" by "the neighbourhood"
0:35 ━❍──────── -3:23
↻ ⊲ Ⅱ ⊳ ↺
VOLUME: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 10000%
»»——⍟——««
Playing next:
"All girls are the same" by "Juice WRLD"
"Soda" by "Nothing but Thieves"
"Dark Angel" by "Provoker
Warnings: Angst to fluff. Fluff only at the very end though
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Ex-husband Sae! who often sits alone in his apartment, just sitting on his couch while staring at the white ceiling of his apartment. His muscles ached because he just came from practice. Being a professional was always a dream, no matter what position he played in the end. He was the mastermind. Because of him, his team won.
Ex-husband Sae! who often questions if it was worth it. All the fame and money that he had felt worthless without a specific person around. But he was the one who was stupid enough to let them go. He knew he was the reason they left.
Ex-husband Sae! who thinks of the past every night. Two years ago he was still a married man and came home every day, just waiting to see his beloved. But he changed after he got an injury. He got more and more frustrated while you were always patient with him, letting him yell at you for no real reason.
But every human can only handle so much. You couldn’t handle being around him anymore. The constant yelling made you feel like you were the one at fault for his injury. The hatred in his eyes for everything around him; the love they once held being completely erased.
Ex-husband Sae! who found the divorce papers on the dining table along with your ring. You didn’t even leave a note, but he knew the reason why you left. It was because of him. He was the one that pushed you away when you wanted to help. It was his fault.
Ex-husband Sae! who thought that he was able to get over it and that moving away from Japan would help. It didn’t. It just made him even more depressed if anything. On days when he gets reminded of you, he just wants to stay in bed the whole day. He never dared to talk to you again after the divorce was settled. He wanted to know how you were doing and if you found someone new. Someone who could treat you right.
Ex-husband Sae! who always thought that he was better. That all he needed was himself. He tried to be happy or rather not feel like he was feeling right now. It was like he was swallowed by a dark hole, and he didn’t know how to get out. His injury was long healed but there was this pain all over his body that just didn’t go away.
Ex-husband Sae! who sometimes wished that he wasn’t himself. That he wasn’t born with his football talent. That he could do other things as well. All he could do well was football, but he wasn’t able to be a good husband for you. Was it because he took you for granted because you were married? Or was it because he knew that you loved him, and he just used it?
Ex-husband Sae! who came back to Japan for the holidays because he missed his home. He got a few days off from practice, so it was convenient. Sae wasn’t looking forward to his mother scolding him again that he had let you go. But this year, his mother didn’t even start to talk about you. She just looked at him for a bit before asking if he was all right because he looked a bit pale.
Ex-husband Sae! who didn’t even notice the changes of his body. He got a bit thinner because on some days he just forgot to eat. Sometimes he couldn’t sleep when he thought of you before going to bed. He would never admit that he cried.
Ex-husband Sae! who went to the store to get some soda to bring back to his apartment. He missed Japanese drinks in a way. Why did he even move away? That´s what he asked himself but the next moment he remembered why he did.
Ex-husband Sae! who bumped into someone in the small store near his childhood home. His body tensed up when he heard a familiar voice mumble “Sorry”. It was your voice. He looked at you shocked; you looked at him with the same expression once you realized whom you bumped into.
Ex-husband Sae! who doesn’t know what to say, but his hand reached for your wrist when you were about to turn around. He took his hand away immediately when you flinched at his touch. Just what had he done that you looked at him now with that fear in your eyes?
“Can we talk? I´m not asking for forgiveness. I just want to hear your voice”.
Ex-husband Sae! who talked with you. You didn’t talk much, and he wasn’t the most talkative either. But somehow it was enough for him. To see you and hear your voice was enough for him. He still craved your hugs and kisses, but he didn’t allow himself to be greedy.
“I´m sorry for being such an asshole. I can´t put in words how much I regret all the things I said to you”, he muttered before saying goodbye to you, knowing that he probably wouldn’t see you again.
Ex-husband Sae! who didn’t know how it ended up that way. He was just at a local bar, getting himself a drink because he didn’t want to be home with his mother stressing over the guests that would come today. He didn’t want to meet them, because he knew his parents would introduce him
He met you at that bar. Sae didn’t notice you until you sat down next to him. At first, you just talked normally as if you were friends catching up before it all took a turn. The conversation about your failed marriage came up.
Ex-husband Sae! who told you everything. From how he felt without you and how much he regretted the things he said to you. Sae didn’t dare to touch you, not even your hand. He didn’t have the right to do that.
Ex-husband Sae! who confessed that he still loved you that night. Maybe it was just the illusion of his intoxicated brain, but he felt like he felt your warm lips on his. Was it true or not? He didn’t care as he kissed you back, savoring the taste of your lips.
Ex-husband Sae! who woke up the next day with his arms wrapped around your naked body. He was naked as well. Anyone could figure out what happened, and Sae was quick to catch on even with his hangover killing him. He didn’t dare to move much, not wanting to disturb your sleep. You looked so peaceful.
Ex-husband Sae! whose body tensed when he felt you waking up. You looked shocked for a second when you looked at each other. Before you laughed. Oh. This laugh. Sae wanted to see it again for such a long time. He laughed along with you, holding you close.
“I have no right to ask you to start over, but I´m going to do it anyway, because I love you. We are both really stupid, aren’t we?”.
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This was so much fun to write. Thank you so much for the request :D I hope it was okay :)
@Noechi2023 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 凸( •̀_•́ )凸
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urtheloml · 7 months
Text
wonder how we got this far (i don't really need to wonder at all)
pairing: bakugou x reader w/c: 9k synopsis: you're excited about the prom, bakugou is not— disagreement ensues a/n: i'm back... first post of 2023 n the year is almost over... embarrassing 🧍🏼‍♂️this is the third n final installation to my little white lie mini-series!! read part 1 here n part 2 here!! this can be read as a standalone too :3 uhm... i started this fic in like... april (??) n completely forgot abt it until last week so i have no idea what the original plot was going 2 be but i think it turned out okay (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) also i know this fic is SOOOO overdramatic but i have watched every single movie that had a major prom scene (hsm3, the duff, mean girls, etc) n growing up, i looked forward it to SO bad that i literally used it as motivation to do well in exams. but then COVID happened so no prom experience for me so this is me basically projecting onto my writing!! okay mwah hope u like it xx o((>ω< ))o!!
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Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. The opening scene of the Bee Movie plays like a mantra in your head as you're searching for something in your closet. Your ears pick up the occasional grunt or cheer from your boyfriend, who's currently laying in your bed with his DS in hand, and your eyes roll affectionately.
You can't find what you're looking for so you abandon the mess you've made in your drawer and turn to Bakugou instead. "'Katsu, have you seen my can of body glitter? It's in a little purple spray bottle."
Bakugo barely glances your way, "No, why would I have seen that. Why d'ya need it anyway?"
Your body slumps against his comfortably as you cosy up next to him on your bed and even if it's been a while, your heart still skips when he immediately tangles his legs with yours. "I need it to make myself glittery for the prom, duh. You can use it too if you want before we leave."
"Huh?"
"The prom. The dance thing we're going to, in like three days?"
Bakugou's eyebrows scrunch up confusedly as he puts his DS down and immediately a bad premonition settles in your gut. "What are you talking about? I never said I was going to that shit."
Ah. There it is. You're glad he put his game down 'cause if he wasn't looking at you while you're about to have this conversation then his console might have landed outside your window right about now. You're looking at him incredulously when you say, "What do you mean you're not going? You're my boyfriend so you have to go. It's like an unspoken rule... you can't not go to prom. Who's gonna take me then? You want me to go alone, like some loser?"
The barrage of questions makes him smile amusedly at you, but for once the sight of it induces anything but affection in you. There's no way he's taking you seriously right now. Bakugou scoffs and turns back to his game, "Huff all you want, princess, but I'm not going to the prom."
Before he can start a new game, your body lands on top of him unceremoniously so you have his undivided attention. "'Tsuki! This is our one and only prom as high schoolers. Doesn't that mean anything to you? I want to go and dance with my girls and I want to dance with you. Please?"
His jaw ticks, and he looks away from you because he knows if he stares too long then he'll cave. He refuses to go and you're not about to sway him. He has his own reasons for not wanting to go and he'll stand by them if it's the last thing he'll do.
"I told you I ain't fuckin' going, alright? You can go with your friends and you can have fun and dance with them but I'm not going. Stop pushing me on this."
His voice comes out hard and unwavering, leaving no room for argument. Also, you can't believe he just called you pushy. Bakugou, who forced a confession out of you just because he wanted you to say it first. He underestimates your persistence though, because next thing he knows, you're leaning down like you're about to kiss him and his eyes are already half-lidded but instead you bite down harshly on his nose.
Bakugou yelps but that doesn't deter you. "Can you at least tell me why you don't want to go? Because you don't want to go to a lot of things with me but you always end up going anyway. Like the nail salon, or Bath and Body Works. Why's it different this time?"
His eyes narrow and he shifts beneath you, probably trying to escape your shit fuck ton of questions but you're caging him in. He stays quiet for a whole three minutes when he finally says, "I just don't want to go, fuck, can't you just let it go and compromise for fucking once?"
What. "What?"
“I’m just saying,” Bakugou sneers, propping his elbow up below his head, “you shouldn’t be forcing me to go. You said it yourself, ya know, it feels like I’m always doing what you want.”
You falter. "That's bullshit, Katsuki. You're being really mean right now."
It seems that you used the wrong choice of words because his face turns gloomy, and you can tell he’s biting the inside of cheek as hard as he can. He places his forearm over his eyes so he can physically block out your reaction when he practically spits, “Why don’t you go date golden boy Kirishima if you think I’m so mean, huh?”
Woah. That was a low fucking blow and he knows it. He regrets bringing up his best friend’s name the moment the words leave his mouth because the way you inhale sharply and get off of him fearing for his life. The hairs on his arms rise when you start speaking to him scoldingly, and he won't even deny that he deserves it.
“I cannot believe you’re still using that against me, ‘Suki, that was more than a year ago! And don’t give me shit about not knowing how to compromise because I always eat the food you make. Even when you make it spicy on purpose even though you know I can’t handle it. And you know what? I don’t particularly like going to the gym with you on the weekends, but I still always go! And maybe sometimes I wish we could have more than just study dates but I stay and read with you anyway. And I always, always, forgive you when you do stupid shit like forgetting our anniversary or- or when you make me cry."
Almost as if your body takes cue from your words, you can feel a familiar stinging sensation creep up behind your eyelids. It starts a chain reaction because somehow Bakugou barrels on. Even though his face blanches when he sees the water on your lash line, he can’t seem to stop his mouth from moving.
"Well, fuck, sorry I'm such a shitshow to handle, princess. You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to date me. But if you’re so tired of me already, then why don't you just break up with me, huh?"
No longer was there a trace of affection or playfulness in the way he calls you ‘princess’. The word drips with condescension and malice and your heart cracks a bit at the way he speaks about himself. Bakugou's sitting on the bed now, looking up at you as you stand before him.
Yet, your gaze holds nothing but warmth and frustrated tears when you look at him. Because, much to your dismay, you also always know when there’s something up with Bakugou . He leans away for a moment when your hands come up to touch his head, but decides to let himself fall into your touch in the end.
Bakugou buries his face against your stomach, gripping onto the back of your shirt with crumpled fists. Gently, your hand cards through his messy hair, “Baby, I never said that. I never said you were hard to deal with. You’re a very easy person to deal with, and an even easier person to love. And I have never, ever, thought about leaving you. Okay? I’m sorry for making you think that."
He nods into you, the movement tickles your abdomen and he does it again and again until you start giggling and pushing his head away. Bakugou rests his chin against your navel, looking up at you with slightly glassy eyes. He knows he doesn’t deserve the kindness you’re laying onto him, doesn't deserve you in general, but he still reaches up to swipe a thumb under your eye.
“No, I was out of line. I shouldn't have said all that. I’m sorry, I was bein’ rude as shit.”
The truth is, Bakugou isn't really that easy to deal with. You can handle him just fine because you've had years of practice. To an untrained eye, maybe it'll look bad for him when he scoffs a fuck off everytime you ask to hold his hand. But you know he never means it because he always takes your hand anyway, intertwining his fingers with yours. And then he'll squeeze your hand three times; i love you, i love you, i love you.
So no, he isn't easy to deal with. His body language and words don't always correspond to what he's trying to convey but it's still plainly obvious that he quite stupidly adores you anyway. He'll yell at you for forgetting your wallet, he'll call you an idiot the whole day and then he'll pay for your lunch and walk you home the same day. If you get cold for forgetting a cardigan, he'll tease and taunt you for a whole five minutes maximum before giving you his own that he just somehow keeps forgetting to take out of his bag, as he says. He'll make a face like he just ate a lemon when he tries and fails to not make fun of you if you don’t score so well on a test, and then he’ll tutor you for hours on end until you can get it right.
It gets quite predictable.
He pulls you down then, letting your bodyweight sink onto his lap and presses a kiss against your lips in apology and you hate that it works. Hate that he can erase every mistake with a press of his lips to yours, because he never kisses you without meaning it. And you know he means to say sorry with the way his tongue slips into your mouth.
Unfortunately, the argument does not end.
He pulls away, breathing heavier than before. The bubble of calmness and comfort around you bursts explosively however when he mutters, “‘M still not going to the prom, though.”
It's not like you didn't see this coming. You knew that he didn't really care about prom, no matter how badly you wanted him to. You just thought that maybe he'd take you anyway. The thought of going without him makes your chest clench because you could have the time of your life with your girls but it won't feel the same without him next to you.
Maybe he's right. Maybe you do make him do things he doesn't really want to. But then again, you do the same for him. You're left confused and defeated when it's time for him to leave and he's still adamant on not going. On one hand, you don't want to force him to go. But on another, you really do wish he'd change his mind.
You're silent as you show him out, and he notices but he stays quiet too and in his head, he beats himself for being a coward. He hates himself for not being able to talk to you properly. He knows very well that if he just told you what's up with him then you'd understand, and you could still probably convince to go to the dance. But he doesn't speak up.
Right before he leaves, he leans down to kiss you goodnight but you turn away at the last moment so his lips meet your cheek instead. Slowly, you press a palm against his heart, pushing him away and pretending you can’t hear how it stutters at your denial.
"Hey, before you go, I'm sorry if I'm being pushy again but you-,” your voice trails off, and you sigh defeatedly, “you can't keep making me cry and just expect to kiss it better all the time, okay? And I know you don't mean to do it, but it still hurts, Bakugou. I'm tired of getting hurt all the time and I'm not forcing you to go, but I hope you know that it really fucking sucks that my own boyfriend won't go to the dance with me, and it sucks even more that he won't even tell me why."
Bakugou? What happened to Katsu or ‘Suki, he mourns internally. He keeps a blank face but it feels like the blood within his veins just got replaced with pure fucking ice as he lets your words sink in. He refuses to let his facade break but it feels like someone is grabbing him by the throat and he can’t seem to breathe right.
"If you keep making me feel like this, one day I'm not just gonna let you kiss it all better. 'Cause sooner or later, you're gonna run out of chances."
Bakugou stays unanswering, and you look at him pleadingly for him to just talk to you but he doesn't. It's not until you go to close your door that he finally speaks, voice soft but accusing, "You just said you've never thought of leaving me, and now just 'cause I'm not taking you to some stupid dance, you're taking it all back?"
If Bakugou had superpowers, pissing you off would definitely be one of them. You resist the urge to stomp your foot childishly, because you know that won't help to get your point across. Your teeth bite down on nothing as harshly as possible because you don't want to start arguing again, it won't solve anything. He knows that too, and even though your hands stay right by your side, he feels like he was just punched in the jaw when you meet his eyes and he finds that somehow, he managed to make you cry twice in one night.
"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe this isn't just some stupid dance to me? I get it, okay, that it's not your scene or whatever, and it doesn't matter to you but it really matters to me," you tell him as placatingly as possible, and his eyes are as clouded as his judgement, "I've waited a long time for this, and I never thought I'd even be lucky enough to have someone who means so much to me to go with. And if you can't even see how important it is to me that I want you with me at this stupid dance, then you're the worst. The worst."
With that, you finally shut the door in his face. His muffled protests behind the slab of wood go ignored in favour of stomping back to your room. Bakugou's insufferable! He's stupid and stubborn and temperamental. He's a hothead that jumps headfirst into anything he does with everything he's got.
He's the worst. (he's the furthest thing from it)
⚝ ⚝ ⚝
Neither you nor Bakugou give in to the temptation of calling one another. When you see him in class, you don't look at him and you go straight home. The both of you being too stubborn to admit defeat by reaching out first. It hurts to admit though, that for once you wish he'd just call you. A mere three days of radio silence on both your ends doesn't do wonders for your relationship, it chips away at both of you until the hurt simmmers to a seemingly numb feeling in your hearts.
As you think of ways to spite him, your mind comes up with the idea of going with someone else. But you don't entertain that thought for longer than a second, because that would be cheating and you'd never stoop that low. He probably wouldn't even know if you did anyway.
The night before the prom, you sit on your bed forlornly, twirling the little charm bracelet that slings around your wrist. It's a cute thing that Bakugou gifted you a few months ago. It was a simple purple band with two star charms on its ends and a little saturn charm in the middle. He has a matching one in blue.
"It's beautiful, 'suki. Why saturn?" You had asked.
"Uh... I don't- I read somewhere that it kinda symbolises growth and commitments. And you know, that fits us." Katsuki answered, withholding the fact that he spent three hours reading multiple astrology sites about it even though he quite frankly thinks it's bullshit but didn't want to get the meaning wrong anyway.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. ‘Cause I wanna fucking commit to you and I'm gonna be everything you’ll ever need.”
The bracelet jingles lightly as you fidget with it. Your phone lays on your bed with no signs of him calling and a deep crushing sigh escapes you as you prepare yourself for another night of tossing and turning. The memory of what the bracelet meant lulls you to sleep and you're left wondering if he's still wearing it too, which makes you wonder even more if he's missing you as much as you're missing him or if he's missing you at all. It's hardly noticeable but you think your cheeks feel damp as your eyes fall close.
⚝ ⚝ ⚝
In his own room, Bakugou lets the dumbbell he's curling fall to the floor. He barely hears the resounding thud it makes or his mom yelling at him for dropping the weight like that. He flops onto his bed, arms spread and neck spotted with sweat. His mind swims with thoughts of you and he wishes it wasn't so hard for him to just fucking open up to you. His insides twist just thinking about the way he left things with you, it makes him feel stupid and he hates it.
It's not like he doesn't want to take you to the prom. If anything, he'd love to do that. He wants to show you off so bad. Have you all pretty, draped over his arm and looking gorgeous in whatever dress you wanted to wear. God does he want to, he wants everyone to see you with him and he'd bask in his smugness that no one else gets to have you like this but him. He'd relish in the absolute envy on anyone else's face as that saw you with him. Because everyone knows, including himself, that you're too good for him. And now he's gone and fucked it all up.
For all the confidence he exudes, Bakugou Katsuki is actually not someone who's void of insecurities. If anything, his confidence is just a front to his crackling interior. But not always, because sometimes he is quite the hot shit. Anyway.
Contrary to your belief, he doesn't want to go to the prom for your sake. He's heard the things people have said about you- or rather, he's heard what has been said about you in regards to your relationship with him. Just thinking about it makes him feel nauseous all over again. He wasn't supposed to hear it, he thinks.
He'd been walking past the girl's toilet whilst looking for you. It wasn't on him that girls talk so fuckin' loudly. Like c'mon, in his defence, if you're going to talk shit about someone, at least do it quietly so that the person aforementioned won't hear his own name like a siren beckoning him to eavesdrop. So really, it's not his fault for pressing his back against the wall to hear the rest. He can't put a name to the two voices (why would he be able to) but from what they're saying, they know him apparently.
..."... I bet he's forcing her. To date him, I mean."
"I don't know... they seem pretty lovey-dovey and all gross to me. If you ask me, she should leave now and find someone better."
"That's called conditioning. Or like, stockholm syndrome. I mean, let's be serious, who wants to willingly date Bakugou of all people. He's like if the word aggression was personified. He's mental, I swear."
They laugh, gaudy.
"I bet he's gonna show up to the dance with the poor girl, 'cause he's way too fucking clingy. Have you noticed that he's practically by her side almost 24/7. Hope they don't turn up together, like give that girl a break."
So. He wasn't supposed to hear that. He wasn't supposed to fucking hear that, and for a good fucking reason. At that moment, it felt like his heart was stuck in his throat while simultaneously, his stomach dropped to his ass. He doesn't cry. He's not that bothered by it. But it makes his head spin that people actually think of him like that.
By then, he wasn't thinking straight, because if he was, then he'd know not to make assumptions about how everyone felt about him based on two girls' conversation. Alas, he's not thinking straight, so, fuck it.
He doesn't know if you remember but he barely said anything when he walked you home.
It hurt him, but everything they said about him wasn't anything he hadn't heard before. It was the way they talked about you that got to him. How you were unhappy or being forced, they said. It's the way he's tried his hardest to pour his heart and soul into you and him and it's still seemingly not enough for people around him to think that you're both undeniably gone for each other.
It makes him upset, because he thinks he's been doing a pretty good job at showing you just how much you mean to him, but apparently fuckin' not. He's obviously not doing something right. Which makes him feel frustrated because he can't figure it out. He tells you he loves you plenty. Okay, maybe not plenty but he does say it. He says it and he knows you know that he’s trying to show it in his own words. He always keeps a jacket for you, he’s never let you fail a test since you got together and he always always makes you extra food that he makes for himself. Maybe he’s done something wrong along the way.
It's not like he unintentionally made the food spicy for you. Sometimes it just slips his mind that your portion can't be the same level of spicy as his is. And he knows how sad you get when you fail an exam, which is why he forgoes normal dates to sit and study with you. Of course he'd much rather do something like hiking or fucking, he doesn't know, laser tag with you, but he'd always put your education first. He knows how much it means to you after all.
An ugly feeling nags at him. It makes him want to pull away from you, show some distance so people would stop talking for a bit. But another part of him wants to run to your house right now and tell you I'm sorry. please don't leave. I can do better. Neither of those feelings actually make him do anything, though, because he's stubborn and refuses to cave.
Ugh. He thinks, before promptly passing out on his bed.
⚝ ⚝ ⚝
The evening of the prom arrives. You're standing in front of your mirror, all dressed up and pretty. Your dress accentuates your curves amazingly and you've adorned your cheeks with small star-shaped rhinestones and sprayed a generous amount of body glitter all over yourself. The shimmer makes itself known in every crevice of your room but it doesn't bother you right now.
An imaginary Bakugou makes himself comfortable on your bed. He's eyeing you up and down and groaning appreciatively at the sight he's been blessed with. Fuckin' gorgeous, he says, just like you know he would if he were actually here. You're wearing his colours after all.
Your hands smooth down your dress incessantly for the nth time that night, as if getting rid of the imperceptible wrinkles on your dress would get rid of the thoughts in your head as well. It doesn't, but it makes you feel calmer. Maybe some would call it dramatic, or stupid, but you don't even really feel like going without him.
You don't want to miss out on your prom, and you still want to dance with your friends and eat cheap shitty food though. So maybe your hair droops a little, akin to your mood, but you leave your house shining and smiling anyway.
And when you get there, things start looking up. Whoever's in charge of the music has been doing an amazing job of not playing Closer by the Chainsmokers on repeat yet so that's win in your book. In fact, they're not playing any songs that would give the average retail worker war flashbacks, which means they're doing a phenomenal job.
The hall is mostly full by the time you and your friends find a table near the back. There's a line at the punch table and you can already tell that it's probably spiked with something judging by the students practically dry-humping one another on the dancefloor, much to one of the school's chaperone's dismay.
The first hour passes by without a hitch. The buffet table is lined with cheap pizzas, stale fries and other questionable foods like jello cups that you're not sure is even made with real jelly. But your friends eat it anyway and you do too because food poisoning's all part of the party package.
At the back of the hall, there's a photo booth with props and signs for everyone to take. Your friends and yourself take ungodly amounts of pictures at the booth, laughing loudly without a care in the fucking world. You don't let yourself think about how Bakugou would scoff at the choice of props, you refuse to let yourself think about how he'd pose after choosing something equally stupid and you absolutely do not let yourself think about how much brighter you'd be smiling if he were here with you. You don't.
The sound system blares songs from bands you're somewhat familiar with, the bass of the songs echo and reverberate throughout the dancehall. It amplifies the adrenaline running through your veins as you jump around with the rest of the people in the hall. It feels silly and unnatural but you're giggling and swaying and it isn't so bad when you've got your girls right next to you doing the same thing.
It's easy to forget about all the aches when you let yourself get lost in the crowd. You're pushed into the middle of the dancefloor that's definitely filled with people who don't go to your school.
A song that you vaguely recognise by The Weeknd plays over the speakers and it's so fast paced that your heart thumps to the bass of the song. The tremors echo through the hall, shaking the floor and it becomes so easy to forget why you were upset in the first place.
The song ends and cheers from half-drunk high schoolers fills the temporary silence that follows. The DJ announces that he's about to slow things down a little for a kick of romance. He stretches out the word romance so it sounds more like roooowmaynceee and when the music fades into something mellower, it becomes even easier to remember.
It becomes increasingly harder to ignore the pitiful glances your friends send your way as they're whisked away by their own dates. Humiliation and longing pools in your belly as you watch your friends get their waists held and their bodies swayed and it fucking sucks. Even though you wave dismissively at them, it does look quite pathetic when you slowly move to stand against the wall by yourself.
Your eyes sweep over the couples dancing, and you pray that no one asks you to dance while you're being a wallflower. You don't think you'd want to dance with anyone but him anyway. Distantly, your mind wanders to Bakugou, and you're left thinking about what he must be doing at this hour. Maybe he's studying, or watching a movie, or cooking something inedible like always. Maybe he's already asleep. Maybe he's missing you and he's on his way over here right now.
Nobody is crueler to you than yourself, you think, as you let your mind wander dangerously into that false pretence of hope that he might change his mind about showing up.
There's a phantom feeling that glides over your skin as you watch your friends dance, and you wrap your hands around your elbows to soothe it. The sweat from your earlier dancing cools off as the air in the hall gets cooler and you're not sure if it's the crisp, cold air, or the fact that you're painfully aware of Katsuki's absence that makes your throat sting each time you inhale.
⚝ ⚝ ⚝
In the end, Katsuki's mother is the one who quite literally knocks some sense into him. Mitsuki Bakugou is not a force to be reckoned with, ever, and as tough and cool Katsuki makes himself seem, he'll always be a little bit intimidated by his mom. It's why he tries to seem as nonchalant as possible as he sits on his couch while staring unblinkingly at the TV.
Mitsuki pops her head into the living room. Fuck, he didn't think she'd be home so soon.
"Katsuki? What the hell are you still doing here?"
"You going crazy, hag? It's a Friday night, am I not allowed to take a fuckin' break or what?" He swallows.
"Language, asshat. And I just stopped by Inko's, brat, I know what day it is today," she sighs annoyedly before plopping down next to him, "She tried to show me Every. Single. Photo of Izuku in his tux. I had to tell her I left the stove on to get out of there. So quit the bullshit. Why are you still here?"
Katsuki has a pillow in his lap and he squeezes it until his knuckles turn pale so his voice won't waver.
"She didn't want me to take her," he lies, hoping his mom will take the bait.
Mitsuki shoves her son's head to the side good-naturedly, "I thought I told you to quit the bullshit, brat. That girl adores the hell out of you for some fucking reason, so don't try to lie to me."
It's that one goddamn line that has him snapping at her. It's her words and the stupid girls in the stupid fucking toilet and it's an amalgamation of everything that has him wanting to tear his fucking hair out that makes him lose it.
"Yeah, okay, fuck you too mom. You're right, I don't fucking know why someone like her wants to be with someone as fucked up and angry and- and mean and aggressive as I am too, alright? Everyone at school already fucking wonders why she even wants me so I didn't take her to this stupid fucking prom 'cus maybe they'll get off my back about fucking forcing her to be with me. I'm not in the goddamn mood to be hearing about this shit so fuck off. I wish I knew what the fuck she sees in me that's so good but I don't so just stop this fucked up interrogation, God."
He's not even looking at the TV anymore. He spits out his outburst while staring straight at his hands fisted in the poor pillow. It'll never uncrease now. His jaw is clenched so tightly he's scared his teeth might just shatter in his mouth. He doesn't want to look at his mom right now, too afraid to see her pitiful gaze directed at him. Doesn't want to hear her say you're right Katsuki, I don't know what she sees in you either.
Katsuki braces himself for an impact, knowing he's probably about to get smacked for talking to her like that. He doesn't expect the hand that gently lands atop his head, and he doesn't expect the hand that's curling behind his ears to turn his head towards her. Mitsuki looks at her son, making sure he really looks at her this time.
"Katsuki." She says, as gentle as the first time she held him in her arms. It doesn't matter how many years have passed, he looks just as small to her right now, and just like the day he was born, she will wrap him up and make sure he knows how loved he is.
"Katsuki, listen. I'm sorry for saying that," Mitsuki exhales, "It was a joke, but it was insensitive and I'm sorry. Every other time I said something like that about you wasn't true either. You're a good son and a good student and a good person. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, or says about you because the people who truly care about you know that you're a good fucking person, Katsuki."
Katsuki can barely hold eye contact with her. As embarrassing as it is, his vision blurs over and he will never acknowledge the way his voice breaks. "Mom," he shudders, "I'm always trying so fucking hard. I want to be good, please."
A noise that sounds like a choked back sob escapes him unwillingly. Mitsuki pulls his face into her shoulder and smiles when he barely resists. He fits just like he did before he thought hugging her wasn't cool anymore.
"You are good. You are so good, Katsuki." she whispers, "You always help to cook, and you keep the house clean and your grades up. You don't speak politely but you are honest and you are just like me. You use your hands, actions, to communicate rather than words. But you know, Katsuki, sometimes the people we love need to hear it from us too, okay? We'll both work on that."
A miniscule nod. "I'll start right now, Katsuki. You may be a brat sometimes, but you are my son. My sun. You are good, and kind and for everything you do not love about yourself, I love it tenfold."
He absolutely does not break at that. Katsuki bites back a whine, and exhales shakily again, soaking in her words like a sponge because he knows these moments for them come few and far in between. He doesn't mind. He thinks it's special that way, cherishing it whenever it does happen even more.
Mitsuki cards her hands through his hair, "You're a winner, Katsuki, that's why you have your name. Don't let whatever happened get to you like this. If you don't go to that stupid prom, you'll be making the biggest mistake of your life. Because I love you very much, and it might even be possible that that girl of yours loves you just as much, or maybe even a smidge more. Get your ass changed, and talk to her, alright? I know it's scary, letting someone in, but you care about her and you need to do this."
Katsuki pulls away from her, wiping his face roughly with his arms. He sniffles harshly, trying to erase all traces of the vulnerability he just showed. He bites his lip hard enough to almost draw blood. He wants to say he loves her back but the words fail him. Not yet, he thinks.
"I don't know what colour her dress is." He says instead.
"Wear your red suit. Don't ask questions, go get ready. You're already late, I'll call a cab for you."
Katsuki nods, getting up to walk to his room. He's halfway up the stairs when he pauses for a second. "Thanks mom. Love you."
Mitsuki waves her hand dismissively in his direction.
Katsuki stands in front of his mirror, inspecting everything he sees as if that'll change the way he feels about himself. His mom talking to him helped a lot, but he's still finding it hard to breathe and it's not just because his collar is choking him a bit. He fiddles with his bracelet. He tries to ground himself as he thinks about whether he should put on a different suit.
He really wishes he listened to what you were saying when you were talking about your dress. What if he shows up and his suit clashes with your dress? That would just make your night worse.
It's ridiculous. He knows he's just procrastinating. Because thinking about suit colours is easier than thinking about the crippling insecurity that still sits heavily on his shoulders, shackling him with the sheer weight of it all. He'd rather think about the colour of your dress than the fact that he feels like he can't give you what you deserve in a boyfriend.
His reflection frowns back at him.
The words you said play in his head like a broken record. You are the worst, you told him. He thinks of all the things he never really says to you because for some reason his emotionally constipated self just can't bring himself to say them. (Because he says I love you, but he means he hopes you never trip on your shoelaces if they're untied, that your hair never tangles in the wind, that if your drink spills not a drop of it would touch you, that your hands are always warm, that you'd never forget to bring your headphones before you leave the house and that you're always safe whenever he's not with you. Because he says I love you, but he means he hopes that if the sky were to drizzle, the raindrops themselves would feel privileged just to be able to fall upon your skin. Because he says I love you but he means he hopes you know he wants to say it right to your face, and into your mouth and kiss the words and every version of it's meaning into the space where your shoulder meets your neck every morning when he wakes up and every night before he lets himself succumb to slumber. He says I love you, but he means more than what those words convey. He says I love you, but he means stay warm, stay safe. He says I love you but he means my heart belongs more to you than me. He says I love you but he means he'll never want anything else for as long as he lives if it meant you'd always stay with him. He says I love you but he means come home to me and keep coming home to me, please.)
Oh.
If he could kick himself for being so stupid, he would. But he can't so he'll let you do it for him instead. I am not a coward, he tells himself as his unsteady hands try to make his hair look less of a mess. It doesn't work so he leaves it be and dashes out the door with an undone tie around his neck and he hastily side-hugs his mom- dodging her attempts to groom him- before throwing himself into the cab.
He doesn't make it a habit to show up late, but hopefully this time you'll forgive him. This time showing up late is better than not at all.
He's never made it a habit to show up late but maybe this time showing up late is better than not showing up at all. He drums his fingers nervously on his thigh throughout the entire ride. He hopes to God you're having fun. He hopes you know he's on the way. He hopes, and hopes and prays that he hasn't lost his chance.
When he arrives, he doesn't even spare a glance for his own friends, too preoccupied with finding you. The hall isn't very big but the space is large enough that he has to walk around a few times just to spot you.
The minute he sees you leaning against the wall, he wishes desperately he could go back in time. He'd do fucking anything to erase that faraway look in your eyes. He can see the way you're yearning to be one of the couples on the dancefloor and he wants to unwrap your hands around yourself and replace it with his own.
Katsuki breathes in deep and makes his way towards you cus damn it, if you wanted a dance, he'll give you a fucking dance alright.
⚝ ⚝ ⚝
The last slow song finally slowly tunes out, transitioning into a more upbeat one. The couples finally disentangle themselves from one another and you're just about to step back onto the dancefloor when a very familiar pair of arms snake around your waist.
You didn't even see him come in. It doesn't matter how he apparated here, because the only thing that matters right now is the fact that he showed up and the way his arms fit snugly around your hips. A breathless sound of disbelief escapes your lips as he pulls you into him when you turn around to face him.
If he's surprised by the lack of anger or disappointment on your face, he doesn't show it. All he knows is the feeling of your arms coming up to rest up on his shoulders. With the way you're beaming up at him, anyone would think that the only thing he did was show up almost two hours late. He knows better though, he knows he fucked up when all you wanted was for him to bring you to this stupid dance. And on God, would he try his hardest to make it up to you.
Katsuki leans into you, burying his nose into your hair that's all pinned up and pretty. He's getting glitter all over his face and suit and he doesn't care at all.
"I'm sorry," he exhales, letting the apology spill out of him, "'M so fuckin' sorry, princess."
It's so quiet, you almost think he never said it at all. In the background, you can just barely register the lyrics of Paramore's Still Into You that's currently playing. A litany of 'thank yous' is mentally conveyed to the DJ.
"And what are you sorry for?"
Katsuki clenches his jaw, his eyes darting away from yours like he's struggling not to look away. He groans before telling you, "There’s been rumours going on, people talking shit like they know us. Saying fuck all, running their fuckin’ mouths about how you could do better than me. And it’s stupid that I believed them for even a millisecond, I know. Then I realised that if I let you show up here alone then i’d just be proving those fuckers right. So, you win, princess. I took you to this stupid prom. I showed up, ‘m here right now."
Even though it's been said before, the lack of confidence Katsuki has in himself is absolutely baffling. It's like he can admit he has flaws and weaknesses and he'll know exactly what the problem is but he won't fucking talk to you for some reason you can't figure out.
Nvermind, you figured it out.
He's scared. Bakugou Katsuki is fearless. He's not afraid of anything, because he knows everything he's afraid of can be defeated one way or another. His fear of failure is conquered with his efforts in order to secure success. His fear of inferiority to anyone that's a threat towards him can be overtaken by brandishing his own achievements like a sword, or like armour. But when you come along, suddenly it becomes: Bakugou Katsuki was fearless.
The only thing he's scared of is losing you. That’s something that he alone can’t control, because you could very well decide to leave him if you ever felt like it. He realises that if he didn't show up tonight, the chances of that happening would be much much higher, and then if he lost you, he'd be a loser. Bakugou Katsuki is not a loser.
Your chest tightens at the thought that he actually believed that you’d leave him for someone better, as if someone like that even existed. One of your hands reaches up to curl around his neck, forcing him to look at you. You shake your head firmly when he tries leaning away.
You’re glad your voice remains steady when you say, "You should've talked to me. ‘Suki, I can’t believe you almost blew me off because of some shit some people we don’t even know thought about us. They don’t know anything about us, alright? They don’t fucking know how good I have it with you and you shouldn't keep all that to yourself next time, okay?”
His grip tightens, “You should’ve heard them though. Girls are fuckin’ ruthless. Talking about how easily you could just fuck off and get with someone better. Saying I... I'm forcing you to be with me. Fuck, it made me feel like shit ‘cause I knew there was some truth in what they said. I know I can stand to be nicer to you.”
Your hands find their way to his undone tie and you tug, “Katsuki, I don’t care about what they said. You hear me?”
Once he nods, you go on, "I couldn't do any better than you, because you're already the best. You said it yourself. If you think I deserve better, then be better, 'cause I don't want anyone but you. So stop trying to push me away. Whoever started all this can fucking eat our asses 'cause clearly they don't need their mouths if all they're gonna do is talk shit."
"Holy fuck, you really need to stop spending so much time with me." Katsuki snorts.
With a laugh, he twirls you around two times all while complaining that you're starting to sound exactly like him. But you’re not so sure he really minds so much judging by the way he grins wickedly at you. When his arms go back to their rightful place, you rest your forehead against his chest, "Also, let me? 'Suki, I did show up here alone. Which means that technically, you didn't really take me here, you know? 'Cause I had to come here all by myself."
Katsuki huffs and puffs, and leans back far enough to flick your forehead softly. He sways you slowly to the music, despite how fast the music is, "What matters is that I'm here. I’m fuckin' sorry for making you show up here all alone. Look, I’m even dancing with ya, ain’t that enough?”
Am I enough?
Katsuki says all that like he's exasperated with you but really he's posing it as a question. He's asking, and looking for a chance to redeem himself. Like always, you rest even more of your weight against him, knowing you can let yourself go boneless against him and he'll hold you all the same. He's all strong and soft and sturdy and you can hear his heartbeat thundering beneath his clothes and you make sure he can hear you when you say, "You've always been more than enough."
You can feel the way any lingering tension escapes him when you tell him that. He tells you softly, promises you that he'll start opening up more to you, and he kisses you on the cheek to really seal it in. The song echoes throughout the room, thrumming in your veins and making you feel weightless.
Some things just, some things just make sense and one of those is you and I.
His eyes don't waver as he really takes you in, savouring the image of how good you look. He sears the image of you into his brain and he hopes you know how serious he means when he rasps, "Fuck, ya look gorgeous by the way. Absolutely fucking stunnin' and I really fuckin' wish no one else but me could look at ya." His hands run down your sides slowly and squeeze at your hips, eliciting goosebumps all over your skin.
Heat quickly floods your cheeks and pools in your tummy, and his hands tighten his hold on you. You grin at him, "Well, ignoring your tie, I think you look very handsome as well. I'm surprised our colours didn't clash."
Katsuki barks a laugh at that. If only you knew.
It's quite the scene to see you and him swaying gently to such a hyped up tune. Everyone mostly crowds up around the front of the hall. But you and Katsuki hang back from the big mass of sweaty bodies, choosing to stand nearer to the opposite end of the room. If your friends look at you weird, you don't take notice. It's as if you're in your own little world; just you and him.
The second chorus sounds and Katsuki dips you as low as he can get before you yell at him. When you come back up, he's looking at you all starry eyed, staring directly at your lips. He can't stop himself, he cuts you off while you're singing along to kiss you right then. He swallows the little 'mmphrh!' that comes out of your throat greedily, sliding one of his hands up your back all the way to the cuff of your neck to press you even closer into him.
"Fuckin' missed you and your pretty fucking mouth, baby." he sighs breathlessly into you.
It's barely a chaste kiss, looking quite messy for a high school prom. Thankfully no staff member comes in between you and him, so he pulls away slowly before leaning back in. He kisses you once, twice and then some more and even a fifth and sixth time, like he's making up for all the days he didn't.
After he's satisfied with all the kisses he's peppered on your face, he leans away, smiling sillily. "She's right, you know?"
Your eyebrows furrow but your lips quirk up anyway, "What are you talking about?"
Katsuki spins you slowly, "The singer. She's right," and leads you back into him before singing monotonously, "After all this time, I'm still into you."
"You are such a loser, that was so cringe. Oh my god, what the fuck," you laugh, but your heart squeezes in affection.
Katsuki doesn't know if it's the haphazardly hung disco ball and the flashing lights that makes your eyes shine and sparkle or if it's just you, but he can't tear his eyes away from you. You're looking at him like he split the oceans for you, and he thanks every star in the sky that you're letting him hold you this close again.
If he knew how unreal you’d look when you’re dancing in his arms, he never would’ve ditched this thing. What a shame, he thinks, that he missed out on two whole hours that could have been spent with you looking like this. Maybe it’s the air in the hall but he feels practically giddy at the sight of you enjoying yourself, and it makes his heart fucking leap because it’s him that’s making you smile like that.
The sides of his mouth hurt from how much they've been stretched tonight, but he can't keep the smile off his face when you say, "You're right though. She is right."
He hums along to the tune, because denies it as he may, he absolutely loves this song just as much as you do.
Your eyes drink up the sight of Katsuki dressed up so… in character. His hair is as messy as ever, his tie hangs loose and undone around his neck and you’re sure his suit jacket has seen better days but he looks fucking ethereal to you. He’s all lethal grins and loud laughter and his cologne smells as spicy and warm as it always does and you realise again just how in love you are with him.
Katsuki’s eyes are gleaming, and maybe it’s just a trick in the light but you’re reminded of just how lucky you are to have him like this. Because maybe he is brash and harsh when he talks to you, but he’s never treated you like you’re anything but the most important thing in his life. To him, you’re his favourite person in the whole world, and he doesn’t need to say it out loud because he knows you know it too.
So maybe Katsuki isn't easy to read, or deal with. That doesn't mean he's not easy to love. Because loving him was like breathing— instinctual and  inevitable. You loved him the way the moon loved the ocean, and the way the sun loved the stars. Loving him was the easiest thing you've ever done in your life, and you knew that wasn’t ever going to change.
And baby even on our worst nights, I'm into you. Let 'em wonder how we got this far, 'cause I don't really need to wonder at all. Yeah, after all this time, I'm still into you
⚝ ⚝ ⚝
(extra)
Later, when the two of you have sufficiently made out against the wall enough for the chaperones to flick water at Katsuki so he'll finally pull away, you'll find his hand and pull him along to the rest of your friends.
Kirishima will see you two and laugh, telling Katsuki he's glad he pulled his head out of his ass. Katsuki will hiss, "Kay why ess..." and drag you to the photo booth. You won't tell him, but you're secretly glad that you were right. He does scoff at the assortment of props but he picks up a stupid styrofoam emoji of a bomb.
He pushes you into the booth and sets the timer for the picture. Right as it's about to go off, he looks at you very seriously as he says, "You put the boom-boom into my heart," before absolutely smashing the emoji against your cheek.
"KATSU I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU-"
The photos come out blurry and you're wide-mouthed and laughing in all of them. He's looking at you like you're the only thing that exists. There’s barely any inches between you and him like you’re the sun and he’s every planet that orbits your celestial body.
Katsuki walks you home afterwards, laughing and stealing your body heat as he delivers you to your doorstep. When you kiss him goodnight, he thinks he must have known you in every life before this one for him to have the capacity to love you as much as he does. He keeps his copy of the photo in his wallet, signing the back with 'still into you xx'.
Not that he needs the reminder.
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138 notes · View notes
wooahaes · 5 months
Text
why we work
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pairing: non-idol!han x gn!reader
genre: fluff.
word count: ~0.7k
warnings: mentions of couple's costumes (some gendered but reader is never specifically one or the other). reader is mentioned to be more introverted.
daisy's notes: i think abt the skz log where he just has a cozy day at home. relatable. parties can be fun but also sometimes... i simply want to curl up at home <3
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“I dunno… I just don’t know how many cute couple’s costumes there are.”
“Ji, my love, there’s absolutely something out there for us.”
From opposite ends of the couch, you and your boyfriend had been searching for a couples costume for the past hour. You didn’t want to be the Ken to his Barbie (why can’t we both be Barbie?), he didn’t want to be the Mary Jane to your Spiderman… And so forth. One of your friends had invited you to bring Jisung with you to her Halloween party next week, and you’d merely told her some kind of ‘we’ll try!’ to keep from fully committing. Jisung had shrugged when you mentioned it to him: he liked your friends well enough, and knew it was kind-of important for you to spend some time with them (not that you didn’t: you literally just met with several of them for lunch the other day) at things like this… even though both of you knew you weren’t always party people. The idea of a couple’s costume had been the one thing getting you through this.
“... You wanna be Mario and Luigi?”
Jisung frowned, looking up from his phone. “It’s not really a couple’s costume…”
“Do you wanna be Peach?”
He chuckled. “Maybe next year,” he said. “I’ll grow my hair out. We could try to be Eric and Ariel?”
You sighed, “I already heard one of my friends is pulling that together with his girlfriend.” 
Jisung groaned, flopping backward. “Then what’s the point? Are all the good costumes going to be taken?” He dropped his phone onto his stomach, burying his face into his hands. “We could be aliens.” 
“Jisung.”
He pulled his hands back. “Too out there?”
“No, that’s kinda cute, but…” You sat up. “Do you even want to go?”
Jisung stared at you, brows drawing together. “Of course I do. We could still pull something cute together. I think I know someone who has shimmery makeup. We could make it look nice, and—”
“It’s okay,” you said. “You can be honest. I don’t mind.” 
With a sigh, he looked away. “I overheard my boss talking about how next week was sure to be busier since the closer it gets to Halloween, the more people seem to be coming in for things… I don’t know if I’ll have the energy to go to a party. But I didn’t want to tell you because you seemed excited.”
You set your phone aside, crawling over to him. He didn’t even have to ask you what you were seeking out, already opening his arms so that you could snuggle into his chest. 
“Then I’ll just tell her that we can’t make it.”
“You don’t have to do that,” he said, still not looking at you. You could see the regret in his face in how glum he looked, lips slightly pouty at admitting something you had directly asked him to say. You could honestly guess what was going through his head now. They wanted to go to the party, and I ruined it. Except Jisung, when in his own head too much, often forgot that the two of you were a pair for a reason.
“Jisungie.” You looked up at him, head resting on his chest. “I mean it. I don’t want to go, either.”
He turned his head, eyes meeting your own. “... Really?”
“Mmhm. I saw how many people RSVP’d online. I don’t like big parties,” you turned your head, shutting your eyes as you listened to his heart beating in his chest. “You know that.”
He chuckled, slowly wrapping his arms around you. “Right,” he said, much more at peace with it all now. “That’s why we work.” 
You giggled, leaning up to steal a quick peck from him. “That’s why we work,” you reaffirmed. 
As much as you could enjoy spending time with friends… You liked the idea of curling up with Jisung a lot more, especially if it meant takeout and movies and cuddling. The two of you would just have to make it to the next party… As long as it wasn’t as packed as this one. 
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taglist: @twancingyunhao @weird-bookworm
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tyquu · 4 months
Text
Here's the Ben whump rant i talked abt in my last post,,,
Ofc heed the triggers and what not: Blood, injury, ect ect
Also take everything here with a serious handful of salt, im being dramatic as heck. So if you don't wanna see me get serious abt something that's not that deep, this probably isn't the rant for you <3
Anywho...
Do you ever think about just how often Ben gets the absolute crap beat out of him? Like in Grudge Match, I forgot how many times he gets flung about in his human form. He's ten years old, his bones are way too weak for all that. The amount of head injuries he must get is insane, and Max never once seems to take Ben's injuries seriously. 
Like that time Ben gets sick after sitting in the back of an ice cream van for like,, twenty minutes. He's ill to the point it's actively inhibiting his ability to play hero, blinding wildmutt with gunked up sensors and taking the heat out of heatblast. He's pale and sniffly and looks like shit, but Max still makes the executive decision to drag him out on errands instead of giving him time to rest. 
Also just cause he takes the majority of damage in his alien forms doesn’t mean those injuries suddenly have no impact at all. I think in alien force they were toying with idea of his injuries carrying over becoming more of a problem for him, with his busted knee in season one, and black eye in the episode where he gets grounded. Either way, it’s still implied that wounds translate over after he de-transforms, even if to a lesser extent. Not to mention all the scrapes and little injuries he must get from de-transforming mid battle (on the occasions he does).
FUCK, I mean Ben actually displays short term memory loss as a direct result of getting hit in the head in alien force, and Gwen isn't concerned about it probably because she grew up with Grandpa Max not being concerned about it. She doesn't realise just how dangerous this level of head injury is, what the brain inflammation and possible bleeding could do to him. She's probably looked him in the eyes, with his pupils blown wide, dazed and confused about his whereabouts, and then buried her concern because it's nothing new right? Ben's been dealing with stuff like this since he was 10, and Max, the ever responsible adult, never shows the appropriate amount of concern for it, so it makes sense that both Gwen and Ben don’t consider these things serious until its too late. 
Like not to get all dramatic about this and over think it (more so than I already am lol) but I’m positive this stuff would have long term consequences for Ben’s health as he enters adult hood, or even before then. Trouble recalling things, ringing in his ears, migraines and headaches as well a light sensitivity, all of these are symptoms of repeated and serious head trauma. Not to mention, paired with my personal headcanons about the burning chemical sensation of having the omnitrix fused to his flesh, leaking fluid into his bloodstream and scorching his skin. Or the chronic nosebleeds I think he would have as a result of all these other health complications. There's just a LOT that can be done with Ben whump, and I’m surprised it isn’t talked about/thought about more? 
Folks love the idea of Ben being functionally immortal (at least from injury related death), and the power fantasy that comes with being the weilder of the omnitrix, but what about the fact that he’s just some guy?? That the omnitrix failsafe doesn’t protect him from everything, and that if the injuries are bad enough to have triggered the failsafe in the first place, then where does that leave him in terms of recovering from them??? Sorry, sorry, crazy moment. 
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auspicioustidings · 4 months
Note
Hohoho open to tea shop au ideas i see
What abt my favorite trope that I forgot to ask abt before….
Carried over someone’s shoulder with their hand on ur thigh or ass, and then going abt their day in front of others w u just there
😏
Brat
Words: 800
You knew you were probably playing with fire here, but it wasn't like your ankle was that bad. Just a little sprain was all, you could still do your job just fine! And you wanted to, you couldn't stand the thought of closing up shop for the day on a Sunday.
You loved Sundays more than anything. It had been half a year since you had opened and Sundays had become such a wonderfully busy yet cosy day for you. The old book club was always in gossiping away at their table. They had actually brought their own tea set and it now lived on the shelf only to be used when they were in. It's neighbour was the Japanese teaset that the D&D group that came in on Sundays used (they eagerly explained at length how it fit with their setting and how your tea blends and mochi just really fit the vibes). The father and daughter who always came in just after lunch didn't have a tea set but you had overheard that he liked pink and she liked orange so you always used the little kitschy peachy and orange fruit patterned tea set for them.
And it's not like any of your more protective customers had been there yesterday when you twisted your ankle. None of them had been in today either (you sometimes went weeks without seeing any of them which was to be expected) so you were probably safe from getting a right talking to about being on your feet. Not that the book club hadn't fussed about it, they very much had, but you were pretty good at hiding how painful it was so they didn't push.
If only John Price wasn't the most observant man on the planet when it came to you. Him and his boys had just gotten off of a mission and of course after cleaning up and debriefing they wanted to come visit their girl. You hadn't noticed them come in, too busy chatting away and pouring more tea for the group who seemed like they were scolding a set of dice.
The first hint something was off was Herzogin. She was always rubbing right up against him, Simon and Gaz while being a mean little thing to Soap. But this time she didn't so much rub against his legs as dart nervously over and paw at him.
The second larger hint was his arch nemesis, that awful cow Agnes who just wouldn't die even though she had to be about 102, looking at him with her beady little eyes and then gesturing with her head over to you. She was telling him he needed to pay attention to you, telling him something was up.
It took him all of 3 seconds to see how you favoured your right foot. All of 5 to conclude that you absolutely should not be putting weight on your left ankle at all. 10 to get to your side. Simon was right there with him, understanding the mission without words as always as he took the teapot right out of you hands so Price could heft you over his shoulder, chest to his back and legs dangling over his torso as he secured you with a strong grip to your thigh.
Your smile had barely had time to reach full wattage at seeing them before you were in the air with a little screech.
“J-John! Put me down!”
“I’ll get you another pot, any more snacks?”
“Oh actually could I get one of the strawberry mochi please? Hm? Right yeah make it 3 then.”
“‘Course.”
“Simon!” you yelled, in disbelief that he was just doing your job and your customers were straight up letting him.
Price jostled you on his shoulder to heft you to a better position for him and then walked over with you to the table where Soap and Gaz were now sat.
“What’re we thinking then lads?”
“Ye have any of that smoky tea in hen?”
“Lapsang souchong and yes, I have it in” you answered on instinct, hands pushing against Price's back so you could raise your torso and twist to look at Soap and Gaz who were very much not acting like this was strange at all.
“Aye, we’ll take that.”
Price turned with you then to make his way to the kitchen and you started to kick your legs to be put down. The smack to your ass was both mortifying and maybe a little bit exciting.
“Behave yourself luv or I'll need to tame the brat right out of you.”
Well, at least you could just bury your head in his back to try and maintain some level of dignity at how you had reacted to that.
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jjskwonn · 7 months
Note
hii do you think you cld write abt gunwook ? maybe smth like popular!gunwook and shy!reader in a school setting
also, i rlly enjoyed ur yujin imagines! they're so adorable
omg! ofcc , recently gunwook has been biasing me lately after kcon 😭😭! thank you for the compliment abt my yujin imaginess <3 ! tbh i didn't know how succesful it would bee
young love 🫂 - p.gw
PAIRINGS: popular!gw + shy!freader
it was winter. your favourite time of the year - not just because it was the season of your birthday but because you loved christmas and the traditions of the mistletoe at school.
your school recently (by recently you mean 4 years ago) started this thing were they would leave mistletoes around school.
at first it was very controversial but they made it rule that you don't have to partake in the tradition if you didn't want to.
most people didn't because half of the boys in your school were ugly and smelt like canned fish.
however if they did wanna kiss someone, it would've been the f9.
f9? basically the most handsome, jaw-dropping, extravagant, elegant, heart-beating boys ever to be seen.
you had the 3seniorz - aka : sung hanbin & zhanghao from class one with kim jiwoong in class two
then you had the musicianz - aka : seok matthew & kim taerae from class one
and then finally the coocooz - aka : shen ricky, kim gyuvin , han yujin and your beloved park gunwook.
pretty much every sane girl in your school had a crush on them because who wouldnt?
the f9s pretty much run the school, if they ask someone to do something they would.
one time ricky asked a girl a year above him to buy him something from the school store, she bought the whole store for him.
another time taerae asked a girl to get his guitar from the music room, she got his guitar with the rest of the music room on her back.
so you could tell that these boys had every girl wrapped around their fingers ,
including you.
but no one knew of course.
you barely talked in lesson and never raised your hand and on top of that you sat the middle row in lessons and would always leave a sticky note on the teacher's desk ever day to remind her that you were in so she didn't need to call out your name.
and thats how you lived for pretty much all 3 years of highschool until today.
you made your way to your homeroom with your headphones in and got a sticky note from your bag to put it on the teacher's desk and plotted your bag on your chair.
whilst returning to your chair, you realised that someone must of forgotten their cleaning duty yesterday and forgot to clean your desk.
their was pen marks everywhere and gum under the table.
you sighed heavily, but too heavily so no one else knew your dissapointment. you were about to go to the toilet to get some tissue when your phone started ringing.
it was inhee your bestfriend
'Y/N!!' said inhee through her phone speaker ruining your eardrums forgetting that you were on speaker everyone in your class looks at you.
you smile back awkwardly and dash out the class room.
'omg inhee! you dont need to shout my name at 8:03 am in the morningg" you said complaing about your friends behaviour
'oh im sorry miss l/n but apprently seola from our class got a mistletoe with ricky! '
' WHAT?? damm she's so lucky! '
' I KNOW RIGHTT THAT'S WHAT I WAS SAYINGG ' says inhee and then for the next five minutes of your call inhee was complaining about how it should've been her instead of seola.
'ME AND RICKY HAVE FIRE AND WATER SIGNS WE ARE LITCH SOULMATES'
'okok i get your pointt~. it's not that deep its only a kiss he probably doesn't feel anything for her anyway.
'after all he is a player but that doesn't mean anything! i have been waiting for my first kiss to be ricky just to be knocked off by son seola who is a complete copy of me :>'
'inhee its just a one time thing, you can make a move to him on the last day of school or something'
'ONE TIME THING?'
she said again, at this point you thought she was intentionally trying to publicly embarrass you infront of everyone as well as make you deaf.
'inhee enough with this yelling over a boy! its not even past 9 am yett'
'well this boy is my lifeline, soulmate, couple, future hubby, fiance he is like my everything! he means the whole world to me just like gunwook means to you silly!'
gunwook. gun wook . park gunwook.
you loved his name.
you loved they way he talked .
you love his visuals.
most of all you loved his smile.
'yeah but gunwook is different - first of all he is not rich and spoilt , second of all he is classprezz and is not a player'
' okay but imagine if you got a mistletoe with him! like that would be so cute!'
'with who? gunwook' you scoff at her words.
'gunwook is way out of my league, i would never get mistletoe with him and that's how i like it and i wanna keep it that way for th-'
your phone fell out of your hand skidding across the marble floor of your school hallway.
you pick your self up and run to get it but another hand it there before you.
you look up to see gunwook.
'oh my god' you thought.
eugh this was so cliche for this to happen.
but even through those thoughts, you and him still kept eye contact
'ay gunwook did you get the homework for-
OMG YOU GOT A MISTLETOEE'
you look behind gunwook's broad shoulders to see his friend gyuvin running towards him whilst pointing up towards the ceiling.
and follow his fingers to see the mistletoe right above your head with you and gunwook
'BRO YOU GOTTA GIVE HER A KISS - A RICKY COME HERE GUNWOOK GOT A MISTLETOE'
'GUNWOOK HAS TO GIVE HER A KISSY WISSY OOOO~'
you look back to gunwook eyes as he meets you with an awkward smile after he elbowed gyuvin in his ribcage.
'you don't have to kiss me! it's j-just a tradition' you say excusing yourself slowly.
then all of a sudden gunwook holds you by your shoulder and mouths sorry before pulling you in for a kiss.
your lips clash onto eachother as you close your eyes not knowing how to react and slowly losen up to his touch.
those seconds then feel like minutes which feel like hours the kiss breaks up and you suddenly realise where you are.
you look around to see a whole entire crowd has formed around you two with phones everywhere.
you obviously freak out and gunwook being the man he is he drags you through the crowd and brings you too your class.
'thank you' you say smiling back with a bow
he laughs abit which make you feel embarrassed but he reassures you.
'it's ok, you looked so cute when you tried leave because i knew you liked me' he says giggling with his dimples showing.
your cheeks instantly flush and laugh back.
the bell rings meaning you have to go back to your seat and gunwook looks at his watch.
'ill get going now but if you want i can take you out for some ice cream later'
you nod back with a smile going back to your seat whilst inhee runs through your homeroom door slamming it against the wall.
'y/n. tell. me. everything.'
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sl-vega · 20 days
Text
✧Sticking to the Script✧-10
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⋆。°✩ 10-action!
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"Take five everyone!" you heard Furina yell as you saw her walk by with an ice pack covering her head. Chiori quickly followed her escorting her out of the room.
"What happened?" you asked Lyney, who was helping you run lines. "Some freshman accidentally dropped a sword prop on her head. Thankfully it was one of the lighter ones." he replied.
You watched Furina hold back tears as she left the room, she didn't want to let a minor injury get in the way of the play. "The show must go on!" as per usual.
"So now that we have a break, do you wanna talk about that?" he asked, gesturing to your ring. He grabbed your wrist and inspected the piece of jewelry. "Archons, that's one hell of a ring." he was still admiring the intricate design, observing the way the gems shone in the light.
You giggled, "Yeah, I know." you caught yourself admiring the ring more times than you'd like to admit. "Must've cost your boyfriend a fortune." Lyney joked. "Trust me, it did." you responded.
"How much?"
"$30,000." you winced, not wanting to be too loud, you weren't risking getting robbed.
"30K?!" Lyney shouted, shocked. The two of you got some questioning looks from the other students, before quickly resuming their personal converstions.
"30K?!" Lyney repeated, whisper-shouting. You nodded. "Well it was more like 20k-25k, Xingqiu wasn't sure of the price." you explained fiddling with the piece of jewelry. Lyney's mouth was wide open. "It was more of a present from his dad than from him though." you added.
"Wait-how long have you two known each other?"
"Two and a half weeks..."
Lyney looked at you, his mouth agape.
"Where did you find this guy? He's smart, rich, AND he treats you really well? And he's managed to make sure you know all that in less than a month?" Lyney asked, bombarding you with questions that seemed more like statements.
You chuckled, blushing. "Yeah, he's pretty great." you were grinning like a fool. You forgot that Xingqiu wasn't actually your boyfriend for a moment.
Even if we aren't together-together, I can still like him as a friend. Can't I? You thought to yourself
"Attention everyone!" the whole crew turned to Chiori who returned to the auditorium. "Furina just needs to rest for a bit, so she put me in charge of you all. We're going to do a brief run through of the prologue, then skip over to Act 1, Scene 5." she explained. Everyone quickly moved to their places on stage.
You and Lyney sat in the front row together watching the chorus recite the prologue together. You glanced at your script a couple times, skimming over your lines.
"So how does Xingqiu feel about this?"
"What do you mean?"
"Us playing a couple on stage. He does know we have to get pretty touchy with each other right?" Lyney asked. You told him that Xingqiu was a great guy, but he wanted to make sure if there were any boundaries he shouldn't cross.
"He hasn't brought it up with me, plus he isn't the jealous type, so we should be fine." you explained. Another thing that reminded you about your actual relationship with Xingqiu. He wasn't your actual boyfriend so he didn't have a reason to be jealous of Lyney.
The prologue finished, Chiori called you and Lyney up to the stage.
This was just another part you needed to play
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additional notes:
-yes that furina joke was intentional
-not gonna spoil anything for the canon game
-but if yk yk
-ALSO DOUBLE UPDATE LET'S GO
-not much else that i wanna say abt this chapter
-i'm proud of it
-y'all are gonna get some possessive xingqiu next chapter >:3
-be prepared
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masterlist
<prev ll next>
✧Sticking to the Script✧
Pairing: Xingqiu x FEM! Reader
Genre: fake dating, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst (?), high school smau, modern smau
⋆。°✩-Synopsis: Xingqiu just got entered into a special writing contest, the type that's invite only, the theme this year is love, the only problem is that he has zero romantic experience. but he really wants to prove himself as a writer. meanwhile, you just found out that your boyfriend cheated on you, and you need to show him that you're 100% over him, the only problem is that there's no way you can get an actual boyfriend that quickly. clearly, the solution to both of your issues is to fake date each other. it shouldn't be hard for an actor such as yourself, all you need to do is stick to the script.
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(OPEN) Taglist: @freyao7, @thatoneswordgirl, @sn1perz, @latay7, @willowcandletree, @nmriki0, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @httpsrenren, @cupid-spams, @aixaingela, @kaitfae, @luvkvni
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wasyago · 6 months
Text
episode 110 spoilers
just like, random thoughts and stuff, mostly bits that i remembered
i sat down to write this i forgot everything oh my god--
in chip's flashback. the black rose pirates following the king to the big sakura tree, and arlin holding baby chip's hand. this. the cutest shit ever, i think i almost cried at the image of this big badass group of pirates and this itty bitty child led gently by his hand. even if i didn't cry before i sure will right now, baby chip you're so dear to me...
QUEEN! they didn't remember anything aughhhhh 😭😭😭😭 and their and chip's little talk about how they're going to put the pieces together :( and their hug :(
whatever drey, finn and earl are doing on the ship... like, what? hello? glad they're having fun tho lol. also wait hold on a second. how did drey answer the call? i mean, probably with his leg or something, if i had to guess. or maybe finn held it up for him. not sure if finn is at it enough to be able to answer the shell by himself, so earl and drey are the only ones who can actually use it. and seing how earl is in a... predicament. hm.
jay saying that when she looks at gillion she sees family. AUGHHHHHHHHHH AUGH AUGH OUGH jay ferin i love you. and this is so important to me not only because like hell yes they're more than friends they're a family, but also for jay of all people, considering her relationship with her blood tied family and how complicated her relationship with this word is.
also girl please do something about your leg, im begging you. the bone is visible, this shit is not going to heal up by itself. i dont know how you're still limping around this must hurt so bad. i guess adrenalin maybe, but still. at least get some bandages or something, i don't know... what is it with jay and her legs actually. she fell off a roof in edison kingdom and landed on a piece of metal that fucked up her leg, and now this.
oh my god niklaus, how could i forget about my babygirl. i mean, what can i say i love this guy. i dont know how many times ive relistened to his intro song, but definitely more than i should've... um. there was a lot of big important lore that i don't have the brain capacity to process rn.... i want to say that niki is the nameless prince and/or the thing trapped in the hole in the sea. because he can only interact with one person at a time by inviting them to his pocket dimension (even with jay it was said that the time around her stopped while she was talking with niklaus), implying that niki is trapped somewhere and this is the only constricted way he can interact with the world. and to answer chip's questions he said he wants freedom more than anything, again implying that right now he doesn't have this freedom. which makes sense, right? but then, the big bad thing was supposedly trapped thousands of years ago (i think?), but niklaus was a world famous pirate lord not so long ago and not trapped anywhere, so.....? idk im probably missing something. can't for the life of me find the moment where they read the nameless prince book so like, whatever.
that moment where jay talked to chip about how she thinks its all her fault and she should've just gave up her arm and leg. and how chip reassures her....... them 🥺🤲 kind of inspired by that post abt chip and jay i reblogged earlier, but these two talking about their emotions and feelings is so dear to me. just, being human with each other and opening up. gill is great ofc, but i feel like for these two its much easier to talk to each other to feel understood and heard. i love them.....
chip is still very much dead and probably won't be resurrected any time soon, so... hooray new undead chip design! but also oh my god my poor boy... forever 19... (also charlie and condi being surprised that chip is only 19. yeah </3) my poor guy my poor baby, he sounds so beaten and depressed in the beginning of the episode, its just breaking my heart qwq...
star and zamia <333 hehe
chip trying to marry igneous. lol. darling chill out, you just got out of one unsuccessful marriage and it didn't teach you anything, you're dead, you're only 19, you've known this guy for like, 2 days? don't get me wrong, godspeed to chip, but cmon man take him out to dinner first or something
and uhhh. the end, that's all i got
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ayyeitssarahh · 1 year
Text
Kinkmas Day 2! Billy Hargrove x Reader(Spanking)
TW: Spanking, Fingering, squirting, slightly Mean!Billy, maybe toxic!billy(if you squint), Soft!Billy, aftercare.(I believe that's it but lemme know if I missed any!)
(A/n: This is super late but I lowkey forgot so sorry abt that. Also I mentioned a taxi once or twice here and they probably don’t have taxis in Hawkins cause it's a small town but lets pretend ok. Also, There's like 2 maybe 3 time skips to get to the Smut faster. Anddd I wrote this at like 5 am so sorry if there is misspelling  Lol, Anyways enjoy.)
Word Count: 2.1k
“Do you have to tell him when you got out all the time?” Claire asks as we get dressed in her room. 
“No. He just worries a lot so I tell him so he doesn't.” I tell her, buttoning up my jeans. 
“Mhmm, sure.” She replies in an unconvincing way. I roll my eyes. Turning around to look at her. 
“You ready? I told Billy that I'd be home by 11 and it's 9 now. I wanna get hom ebay then because he said he has a surprise for me!” I said, getting a little excited. 
“Yeah yeah, lets go, it takes like 10 minutes to get there so lets bounce.” She said, grabbing her house keys and walking out the front door. Locking it once I'm outside too. 
“We’ve got everything? Keys, wallet?” I ask, just making sure before we actually leave. 
“Yep! Let's get going. Hopefully the line isn’t too long” She said, walking down the driveway. I follow after her. 
“We can always use our special charm! You know, being a woman and all!” I smirk, sending her a wink when she turns around to give me a quick look. 
“Jeez Y/n. You are such a weirdo!” She exclaimed. Getting into the taxi she called 15 minutes ago to come get us, me getting in behind her. 
*Time skip to the bar. 1 hour in*
The music is bumping in the background. Claire found someone to dance with about 20 minutes ago and since then I've been sitting here slowly sipping on my 4th drink tonight. A Bronx Cocktail. 
Looking around, I spot a pair of green eyes staring at me, a male, maybe one or two years older than me. 
I smile and look away, not noticing them coming my way. 
I take another sip of my drink, feeling a tap on my shoulder. 
“Excuse me miss, I noticed you're all alone and was wondering if you'd like to dance?” He asked, politely, might I add. Totally surprising to me. 
I blush, realizing I haven’t answered him yet. 
“Oh I’m sorry. No, I actually have a boyfriend so I don’t think that would be appropriate but thank you for the offer.” I told him, giving him a small smile. 
He smiled and nodded, “understandable. Well then, you have a nice night…”
“Y/n” I told him, “And you have a nice night too…:
“Shane” he said. 
“Well you have a nice night too Shane” I said. Giving him one more small smile and a wave as he walks away. 
A couple moments later, Claire stumbled over. 
“Who was that?!” She asked, hiccuping after. 
I grab her hand, helping her sit down, waving the bartender over to ask for a glass of water.
He sets it down and I push it in her hands. 
“Down this and then I'll tell you.” I told her. 
She rolls her eyes, ”Yes mother.” She said, downing it and slamming the glass down after, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 
“Better?” I ask. 
She shrugs, “Kinda. Now, tell me. Who was that?” She asks again, shaking my shoulders. 
I chuckle, shaking my head, “That was Shane, I just met him tonight, he asked me to dance but I told him I had a boyfriend and he totally understood. We said goodnight to each other and he walked away. It was nothing.” I explained to her what happened. 
She shook her head. Getting another water. 
“He asked you to dance?” She asked. 
“Yes” I answered her. 
“And you said no?” She asked, like she was double checking I really did that. 
Annoyed, I nodded, “Yes! He asked to dance and I said no. I Have. A. Boyfriend. Claire. One that I don’t think would approve of me dancing with another guy.” I said. 
Leaning over, she took my shoulders, Looking me in my eyes. 
“Look girl, I’m not telling you what to do, you can do whatever you want. I just want you to have fun, and sitting here by yourself when I'm over there dancing, isn't fun. Now it's 10:30, before you have to get back, maybe asking for a dance, even just one could be fun. But if you just wanna sit here, by yourself for the next 20 minutes, then by all means go ahead. However, I am going to go back over there and dance with Danny, and then maybe go home with him, if you know what I mean.” She said, winking. 
I laughed, shaking my head, “I know what you mean. I just, isn’t it cheating if I dance with another guy?” I ask her. 
She shook her head, “No, not if you guys are friends and it's friendly. You said it yourself that he understood you had a boyfriend. If you just ask him to dance as friends, you're fine. And even if it's one dance, it can still be fun before you leave.” She explained. 
I nodded, ”Yeah, I guess you're right.” I said, thinking about it. 
“You don’t have to of course, but you have 15 minutes and like I said, one dance couldn't hurt and could be fun. Just think about it, ok?” she asks, standing back up, getting ready to head back over to Danny. 
I nod for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
“Thanks babe. I'll see you later ok. Call me when you get home or call me in the morning if you don’t go home tonight. If I don’t hear from you by noon tomorrow, Imma call the police. Understand missy.” I tell her, jokingly but also serious. 
“Yes, yes, I understand. I'll call you later. Love you!” She yelled, already walking away. 
“Love you too!” I yelled back. Turning back towards the bar. 
I sigh, rubbing my head before finally making up my mind. 
“Excuse, Sir? Can I get a shot of tequila please? Thanks” I said as he set it in front of me. 
I grab the glass, counting to three before taking the shot, making a face at how strong it was before shaking my head. 
I stand up, smoothing down my shirt, turning around, ready to have a bit of fun. 
*Time skip. 45 minutes later*
“You did not!” I exclaim, slapping Shane's arm as I die of laughter. 
“Yup, I totally did. I looked him up and down and showed him a shrimp. He was being a complete asshole and he deserved it for talking to my sister like that.: He said, laughing along with me. 
“That's Hilarious!” I said, still laughing. 
“What hilarious?” I hear a deep voice ask behind me. My eyes go wide before I quickly stand up and turn around. 
“Baby.” I said in a greeting. Walking over to Billy, I grab his hand. 
“What are you doing here?” I ask him. 
“It’s 11:30. I got worried” He said, his voice holding no emotion, his eyes staring holes into Shane's head. 
“It Is?! Oh my gosh, babe I'm so sorry I must have lost track of time. Lemme go close my tab and we can go ok?” I tell him, kissing his cheek before walking past him to the bar. 
I do that real quick before walking back over, Billy in the same spot where I left him. 
“Okay I'm good. Let's go.” I said, walking over to the table where Shane was at to grab my purse. 
“Oh yeah! Baby, this is Shane, we met tonight and he was telling me about how this guy was an asshole to his sister and all that. It was so funny. Anyways, sorry about this Shane. It was nice talking to you.” I said, grabbing my purse and waving at him, grabbing Billy’s hand and walking to the door. 
Shane waved back and in a second we were out the door. 
Walking to the car, Billy opens my side for me before shutting it once I'm in. He walks around the car and gets in, turning it on and backing out. 
Doing all this, unusually quietly. 
“Hey,” I said, grabbing his hand, “You ok?” I ask
He clenches his jaw, “You were 30 minutes Late because you were talking to some guy! What the hell Y/N?! I thought we said 11 because of the surprise I had?” He asked, slightly angry. 
“I'm so sorry baby. I didn’t mean to lose track of time. It won’t happen again, I promise” I said. Leaning over to kiss his cheek in reassurance. 
“I know it is not. Not after I teach you a lesson.” He said quietly, I almost didn't hear it. 
“W-what? What's that supposed to mean?” I asked.
His hand left the steering wheel, putting it on my thigh. Gripping it kinda hard. 
“You’ll see when we get home,” he said. And that was it for the rest of the car ride. 
Nothing but silence. 
Once home, he opens the door and lets me go in first. Smacking my butt a little to hurry me up. 
“Go in the room and get undressed. Everything off in 2 minutes” He said in my ear, walking off into the bathroom before I could ask questions. 
Part of me wanted to see what would happen if I didn’t but the other half didn’t want to see what would happen so I went with the second one. 
Walking in, I quickly undress and sit on the bed, waiting for Billy to come out. 
A couple minutes go by, when the door creaks open and he walks in shirtless. His jeans unbuttoned but zipped up. 
He walks over, and sits down. Looking at me then patting his lap. 
Thinking he meant to sit on his lap, I go to do that when he stops me. 
“No baby, lay across my legs, ass up dove.” He said. 
I slowly do as he says, slightly confused. 
He rubs my ass softly, massaging it almost. Until I feel a sting on it. 
“Ow!” I said, trying to get up but his arms held me down. 
“Hey- Billy , what are you doing?” I ask. 
“Teaching you a lesson dove. Now count for me. If you refuse or stop for longer than 5 seconds, we're starting over. Understand?’ He states more than ask.
I just nod, not wanting to make a big deal and just get this over with. 
“Good girl. Now let’s start”
He rubs my ass before I feel a smack.
“Count!” He demands after I don’t say anything.
“O-one” I say almost breathlessly. 
“Hmm” he hums, smacking my ass again. 
*A couple mins later*
“T-Twenty” I said, stuttering, Tears running down my face. 
He rubs my ass, soothing it a little. 
“Good job baby. We're all done. You did so good for me.” He says softly, still caressing my ass.
His hands, go over from one cheek to the other then slowly moving down until,
“Ohhhh”, I moan, my eyes rolling back. 
He slowly moves his finger in and out of my, then adds a second one. 
“Since you did so good for me baby, you can get a little reward.” he said, starting to move his fingers faster. 
I grip the sheets, moaning out. 
 I feel my orgasm start to come unbelievably fast. 
“I'm gonna, Oh god Billy! I'm gonna cum!” I screamed, cumming around his fingers. 
He slows down his fingers but doesn’t stop, helping me ride out my orgasm. 
“Okay baby, I'm gonna pick you up and lay you down. You made a mess so I gotta change the covers really quick.” Billy said, slowly pulling his finger out of me and removing me from his lap, taking the covers and then laying me down. 
I yawn, “Mess? I made a mess?” I ask, confused but also very tiredly. 
“You squirted all over my fingers and the blankets dove.” he said. Walking back over with a new blanket, shirt and a tube of something. 
I hmm, not really caring anymore about anything except sleep. 
“Alright dove, let's put this on, sit up really quick,” he says, helping me sit on a sore butt to slide a shirt on really quick. 
“Okay now lay on your stomach, I'm gonna rub this ointment on your but ro help and then we can cuddle ok?” he says, Putting some cool ointment on my burning hot ass. 
I nod, totally out of it now. 
“There we go. All done! Alright dove, let's go to bed.” He said, getting up to wash his hands and then turn off the bedroom light. 
He pulls the covers over you both, carefully putting his arm around you, mindful of your butt. 
He nuzzles his head into your neck, “I love you, you know that right?” he asks, but you're already knocked out. 
He chuckles and closes his eyes. So much for the surprise.
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