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ellecdc · 2 months

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A Man With a Plan.6

prologue // p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7

Remus Lupin x whimsical!reader - Hogwarts Era (no Voldemort) - Soulmate AU

CW: swearing, mostly fluff, funny moments with friends, no plot just vibes [crystal dialogue prompt courtesy of keke the unstablereader 🫶]

Though Remus was undoubtedly relieved that you a) knew of his affliction, and b) forgave him for his arseholery, he was admittedly a little more than slightly disappointed that very little had changed between the two of you.

Which made no sense on account of the fact that he never planned on anything changing between the two of you to begin with; he was discontent, nevertheless.

“Oh, good, Y/N’s here. Listen, how the hell do I stop the nargles from stealing my things?” James shouted as you approached the table. You looked like you had perhaps only been prepared to say hello and carry on, to which James was having none of it and nearly bodily forced you onto the bench next to him.

“Hello, Jamie. Do you have your cranberry seed oil infused corks?” You asked as you obediently took your seat.

James scoffed and pulled out a lanyard from under his uniform which, lo and behold, had a cork attached to it smelling very much like cranberry seed oil. “I literally never go anywhere without it.” He said as if you had asked a particularly ridiculous question.

You hummed and Remus watched a divot appear between your eyebrows as you scrutinized what Remus assumed was James’ aura or some other such entity. “Well, I don’t see any around you, James. What makes you think you have a nargle problem?”

James groaned dejectedly and turned back towards his lunch. “All of my things are missing! It started around the time you went missing.” James stressed, still not having completely forgiven you for your disappearance at the last full moon. “It was my school tie, and some socks, a quill set my mom got me at the start of school, and now I can’t find my herbology textbook!”

You hummed again and seemed to look around the table as if you’d somehow find his belongings there. “Perhaps you should ask your friend Peter.”

Remus heard Peter choke on his pumpkin juice as James, Sirius, and Remus all turned to look at him.

“Uh...haha, so, funny thing...” He started, cut off by an indignant squawk from James.

“You were stealing my stuff!? Why!?” He cried.

Peter’s cheeks pinked though a pleased smile graced his lips. “You were so worried about Y/N being missing and the nargles taking your things. I thought a funny prank would lighten the mood; I wouldn’t get a chance like that again!” He defended himself.

“You are so dead.” James muttered as Peter (wisely) took off out of the Great Hall with James hot on his heels.

“Alright Y/N.” Sirius started, throwing an arm over your shoulders. “You’ve gotta tell me; how’d you know it was Petey boy?”

A shy sort of pride painted your features and Remus thought it was the most beautiful you ever looked. “Wrackspurts.”

Sirius’ smile fell slightly, but the amusement never left his eyes. “Wrackspurts?”

You nodded in agreement. “Mhm. His head was full of them.” You said simply as you took a piece of cut strawberry from James’ abandoned plate and popped it in your mouth.

Sirius nodded with a look on his face that seemed to say ‘fair enough’. “And how’d you know about this one?” He asked, motioning towards Remus with his head.

“About his affliction, or about his soulmate bond?” You asked as if you were simply talking about the weather.

Sirius cocked his head as he considered you. “Both.”

“His aura...or I suppose Moony’s aura.”

Remus felt his eyebrows recede into his hair line. “Moony has an aura?” He asked you.

You nodded in the affirmative. “I’m assuming you’re right-handed?”

Remus nodded numbly.

“Most of the lunar cycle, Moony’s aura sits around your left shoulder. As the cycle moves closer to the full, he resides on your right. Also, sometimes when I’m near, he tries to come closer. Would you say that’s true?” Your serene tone did nothing to calm the racing of his heart.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Sirius said, interrupting Remus’ internal struggle. “There really was nothing you could do to hide from this witch, huh Moons?”

Remus chuckled self-deprecatingly and looked down into his lap in a little bit of shame. Your smile never faltered, however.

Peter and James returned then; James with a self-satisfied grin on his face, and Peter with his hair, shirt collar, and tie in disarray.

“What’s so funny?” James asked as he sat beside you, smacking a platonic kiss to your cheek as he winked over at Lily from her spot further down the table, whose face turned a shade of red rivaling her hair at having been caught watching James.

“Remus and his last two braincells trying to keep Y/N away from him.” Sirius snickered. Remus kicked at him under the table which caused you to jump. He apparently had missed his mark and had kicked your shin by accident.

“Fuckin’ hells, dove. I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Oh my gods...”

Sirius barked another laugh as Peter whispered a quiet ‘dove?’

“Oi! You really have lost your gobstones! Can’t believe Moony’s the dumbest one out of all of us now.” James said as he checked your shin for injury under the table.

“Remus isn’t dumb.” You defended the dumb bastard.

“Well, you can’t say he’s very smart here, dollface.” Sirius conceded.

You hummed and shooed James away from your leg. “Wisdom was chasing him; Remus was just always faster.”

This time, poor Pete lost his pumpkin juice completely as he sputtered mid-sip. You didn’t even seem to realize you’d said something particularly funny (or devastating) as James nearly fell off the bench in a fit of laughter and Sirius pulled you into his side.

“Oh, for the love of Merlin. Remus, please, can we keep her!?” He said in between bouts of laughter, wiping away a mirthful tear from under his eye.

Remus had no objections.

What Remus hadn’t agreed to was this.

Remus understood that allowing Moony (and...himself) to keep you around meant that he would ultimately have to share you. He knew that he’d have to share you with James, he’d have to (rather unfortunately) share you with Regulus, he’d have to share you with Pete and Sirius who seemed just as enamored with you, and he’d likely eventually have to share you with Lily, Marlene, Mary, and the rest of his friend group.

He was however not in the slightest prepared to have to share you with the likes of Barty Crouch Junior.

Remus had, quite happily, found you studying in the library alone and asked politely if he could join you at your table. The two of you had been studying in companionable silence when Regulus showed up. No matter, Regulus was quiet and diligent in his schoolwork.

Then, Sirius had shown up perturbed that his baby brother and his best mate were hanging out (to which both Regulus and Remus vehemently denied, seeing as they were both here studying with you, not each other), and insisted he be involved. Though Sirius struggled with the whole sitting-still-and-quietly thing, he more or less managed to join the three of you without much fuss.

But then James showed up, which sparked a long and arduous debate between he and Regulus regarding which entity was worse – wrackspurts or nargles – to which you weren’t even a part of save for each of them calling to you in need of an explanation every so often. You would look up from your book and answer them politely before returning to your schoolwork as if you weren’t surrounded by complete idiots.

Remus was lovestruck.

And then Barty showed up.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” Crouch screeched as he ran through the library completely ignoring the shushing from other students and string of curse words following him from the crotchety librarian.

“Hello, Bartemus.” You greeted the banshee serenely.

“Quickly, darling.” He started before promptly dumping a large sack of tumbled rocks and gems in front of you.

“Where’d you get all of these?” Regulus asked incredulously, reaching to pluck a small stone that had rolled over to his open book.

“Never you mind that!” Barty shouted as he swatted his hand away. “Y/N - light of my life, apple of my eye - which of these crystals will help me piss of my dad the most?!”

Once again appearing completely unperturbed by the general chaos around you, you perused the crystals set before you.

“Well, Carnelian can invoke passion.” You said as you plucked a red stone from the pile. “Garnet can invoke intense emotions: jealousy, anger, fear. I recommend pairing it with gold – maybe place it in a gold setting for a necklace or something similar. Dravite will bring up unresolved emotions...” And soon, two red stones and a brown stone sat in your palm as you held them before Barty.

“Pfft, figures.” Barty grumbled. “Red and gold never fail to piss me off either.” He sneered, looking pointedly at the three Gryffindor’s seated at your table. Remus was not necessarily proud of the low growl that the comment elicited from him, but he was proud of the restraint he showed when Moony was screaming in his head to tear the fuckers head clean off his scrawny body.

“Bartemus.” You chided gently, looking up at Barty standing above you like a parent might look at a particularly troublesome child: full of love.

Remus hated it.

“Sorry my sweets.” Barty cooed at you and ran a finger along your cheekbone.

Remus hated that more.

“Mr. Crouch!” The librarian called, finally having caught up to her problem student.

“Well, I must be off.” Barty called casually as if it was completely of his own volition that he now vacate the premises. “Keep the rest, beautiful angel face. Much love!”

And he was gone.

Thank Merlin.

“The friends you keep.” James muttered as he shook his head in disappointment as if he wasn’t one of said friends you keep.

“Oh, Bartemus is not so bad. Perhaps just a little misunderstood, and a little more than maniacal.” You put simply.

James was shushed loudly by the librarian for his laughter.

“I’ll go check on him.” Regulus said as he stood. He barely spared the Gryffindors a glance as he nodded politely at you. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

“Goodbye Regulus.” You sang to him, smiling brightly like he had just been anything more than sort of polite to you.

Remus once again figured that was as much affection as Regulus could ever show.

“You boys are welcome to help yourselves to the crystals. It’s a wonderful idea to take the ones that speak most to you.”

James exclaimed gleefully as he started to browse the many stones in front of you. Sirius’ face piqued in interest as he quickly plucked the most sparkly stone on the table.

“Jamie, you should bring this one to Lily.” You said as you handed him a small, slightly translucent pink stone. James didn’t bother asking questions such as ‘why?’ or ‘what is it?’ or even ‘should I be worried?’ before he accepted it, punctuating his ‘thanks angel’ with a kiss to your hair before he was racing out of the library.

“What stone was that?” Remus asked, unable to quell his curiosity.

“Rose quartz.” You responded simply.

“What’s it do?” Sirius asked.

Your mouth quirked in thought. “Stones don’t really do anything. They just encourage what’s already possible.”

Sirius rolled his eyes earning him a defensive kick in the shin from Remus.

“What does rose quartz encourage, dove?” Remus placated.

“Love and affection.”

Remus nodded and watched as Sirius pocketed two more shiny and sparkly stones before his expression was painted with mischief. “Say, Y/N. What crystals should our dear Moony here have?”

Remus couldn’t even bother shooting his mate an unimpressed glare when your face picked up excitedly and you began sifting through the stones. He watched just as animatedly.

After a few moments, you proudly displayed a small palmful of stones.

Remus placed his hand palm up beside your much smaller one and relished in the intimacy of you gently transferring the stones into his palm; your hands gently brushing in the action.

“What are those stones?” Sirius asked curiously.

Remus swore some bashfulness painted your features as you pointed the stones out in Remus’ palm. He was thankful for the continued contact as you explained them all.

“This is amethyst, which supports calmness; rids the mind of negative thoughts, and promotes dreamless and restful sleep.” You explained, causing Remus to nod his head. That could be helpful.“This is obsidian which helps one process their emotions.” That one earned a snort of laughter from Sirius. “Jasper is supposed to provide support during stressful times. This is moonstone which...well...I suppose that’s self-explanatory.”

Remus hummed but couldn’t help but notice you failed to discuss the last stone sitting in his palm. He wasn’t going to push it, however.

“And the pink one?” Sirius asked sharing no such qualms, lips quirked in a smirk and eyes full of mirth.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, clearly feeling slightly self-conscious, but explained it nonetheless. “Rose quartz to encourage love and trust.”

Remus would usually consider himself a generally skeptical person: but you may have just converted him.

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dira333 · 4 months

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The Gremlin or how to get over yourself - Suna x Reader (Angst to fluff)

A/N: I moved my writing schedule to write only on weekends. Things will take a lot more time but my health will be better off. Please enjoy this Suna Fic, it's my first time writing for him.

Words: 7,1k - tagging @emmyrosee because she loves Suna

It’s seven p.m. on a Thursday night when Suna’s phone rings, Keeping up with the Kardashians is playing on low volume as he swallows the rest of his Chuupet, a necessary entree prepping his stomach lining for the slightly burnt Rice he’s having for Dinner.

Samu’s curt in his greeting, kitchen noise in the background as usual.

“The Gremlin’s having a week off.” He says. “I’m not supposed to ask, but do you still own that pull-out couch?”

The Gremlin. He hasn’t heard that name in months.

Suna’s the one who came up with it, a silly joke that slipped out at an unfortunate time.

“That’s our sister,” Tsumu comments on the high-pitched wailing coming from the kitchen. “Just ignore her.”

“She’s not that bad.” Samu tries. “Just don’t look at her too long.”

The wailing stops abruptly, followed by the tell-tale sound of someone snuffling loudly.

“Samu? Tsumu? Are you home?”

Red-rimmed eyes peer into the hallway, silver braces glinting in the dim light. Your hair’s a mess that might have been pigtails sometime before.

“You look like a gremlin.” Suna points out. He half expects you to cry again. Instead, you kick him in the balls.

“Uh, sure.” He manages to pull himself out of the memory, the pain still fresh in his mind even if it’s been years. “She could just ask herself, she’s got my number.”

“Ah,” Osamu chuckles half-heartedly. “I didn’t like her last boyfriend. She’s still mad about that.”

“Boyfriend?” He hears himself ask, mind going a little frayed trying to picture you with a boyfriend.

“Yeah, I don’t know if you know him, but he was Nekoma’s Captain when we went to Nationals? Black hair that made him look like a Rooster?”

A chill runs down his back. “You let your sister date Kuroo Tetsuro?”

“Hey now, it’s not like I got anything to say in that matter. You know how she is.”

“Yeah, I do-” He mumbles, mind already drifting back.

“Why would I do that?” Gremlin asks, nose pointed to the sky. The braces look almost cute on you when you smile like that, a little arrogant and so very pleased with yourself. The new set of pimples across your nose ruins the look a little bit, but there are more important things to think about.

“Come on.” Tsumu whines. “It would be so funny! You just have to ask him out on a date.”

“Nah.” You blow a bubble with your chewing gum, clearly feeling very important. It’s rare that your brothers ask you for help and you like to lord your power over them.

“If you do it, I’ll ask Kita-san to let you train with us for one day.”

Your eyes light up at the prospect, even as both Samu and Tsumu groan in annoyance. The girl's Volleyball Club isn’t to be messed with, but you’re as competitive as your brothers. There’s a long-standing battle of who’s best and you’ve gotten better since you got into High School, yearning to show off.

He can’t quite understand why, but he respects it. You’re one of the youngest in your Class, born on the last possible day to make it into one school year below your brothers. Maybe it’s because you’re born prematurely. Tsumu calls it your obsessive need to be part of absolutely everything, Suna thinks you’re obsessed with proving yourself.

“Fine.” You huff. “So I ask the Basketball Captain on a date and then I just stand him up?”

“Yeah!” Tsumu nods eagerly, Samu a little preoccupied with his Bento. “I’ll even toss to you during training if he accepts.”

Midorima-san does not accept your confession. But Suna gets to be there, phone ready, when you kick him in the balls. Midorima-san screams like a little girl.

“Anyways.” Samu pulls him out of his reverie again. “I’ll text Kita to let her know you’ll pick her up from the train station.”

“Hold up.” Suna puts his phone between his ear and shoulder, trying his darned best to save both his dinner and his last remaining brain cells. “Why do I have to pick her up and why can’t you just tell her yourself?”

“Dude, keep up. Mom would kill you if she knew the Gremlin had to take an Uber in a foreign city when you’re perfectly capable of picking her up. Who raised you?”

“True.” He huffs, wrinkles his nose at the perfectly burned rice on his plate. Oh well, Take-out it is. “And Kita?”

“I told you she’s still mad about that Kuroo thing. She could never say no to Kita.”

“True,” he repeats, an acid taste on his tongue. He used to hate that, how Mr. Perfect could make even you swoon, the Gremlin, the monster every boy at school secretly feared.

“So, what did you do? That made her so mad?”

“Ask Tsumu about it, I have to work.” The call disconnects with a dissatisfying click and Suna grunts, orders Pizza, and calls Tsumu. He’s invested now.

Five days later he’s as well informed as he can be.

You’re arriving at exactly 5:24 p.m. and you broke up with Kuroo over both his workaholic tendencies and a job offer too good to decline.

Samu and Tsumu decided to throw a party at the news which didn’t go over well with you, even though you did decide to get drunk with them - Tsumu woke up with half his eyebrows shaved off and Samu still misses a box of his favorite cookies that he swears you took.

You like Tamagoyaki for breakfast and you’re here to decide between three different offers for three different teams, all Division 1 of Japan’s V.League. You’re a Libero now and a pretty good one too.

“Why are you crying?” He asks, offering you a Chuupet. You like the pineapple flavor best and that works out okay because it’s his least favorite flavor.

“Doesn’t matter.” You wipe your nose on your sleeve and stare down the roof. He can hear Tsumu somewhere below them, yelling some curse words into the wind. He’s probably fighting with Samu right now.

“Did you get asked out by someone ugly?” He asks, taking a seat opposite to you. “Do I have to beat someone up?”

“Kita-san is leaving after this year.” You point out. It’s a fact and you don’t sound too upset about it, yet it feels like you’ve dropped red-hot coals into his stomach, the acid bubbling from the heat.

“Uhuh.”

You pull your knees up and he averts his eyes, lest someone accuses him of looking up your skirt. It’s not his fault you never seem to remember that you’re not wearing shorts.

“Kita-san told me that Tsumu’s going to be Captain next year.” You mumble into your arms. “And he asked me what my plans are.”

“What did you say?”

“What do you think?” Your voice is sharp now, the usual sting of your words a welcome sensation. This is the you he knows well, unbothered if your truth makes others uncomfortable.

He leans back as far as he can, lets his eyes rest on your shoulder, the smooth curve of your neck. You’ve grown a few inches since you came here and it suits you well.

“You want to be better than Tsumu.”

You snort, hit his thigh with your fist. The touch lingers even when you take your hand back.

“Kita-san said I can never be better than Tsumu.”

Suna’s never moved this fast before. His head almost knocks into yours.

“He didn’t!” His voice is almost shrill, his chest tight with a weird sensation. You seem calm, brows arched.

“He’s right, isn’t he?” You tell him, too calm. You’re the most dangerous when you’re calm. “I’ll never be an Original. Tsumu will keep playing, Samu won’t. If I keep playing, I’ll be just like Tsumu. If I decide to do something else, no matter what, I’ll be just like Samu. It just sucks so much!”

“Be a Libero then.” It’s a slip of his tongue, nothing more. But your eyes are big and bright and he wants to forget the way you looked before, desperate and desolate, so he keeps talking.

“You’re tall for a Libero. You’re average for a Setter. You’ll always be at the back of the Court and always wear a different shirt. Tsumu’s receiving sucks anyway. You’ll never be Captain, so you’ll never have to argue with him who’s been better at that. You can keep playing Volleyball and do your own twist of it.” He shrugs. “Just… Just an idea. I mean, you can do what you want. It’ll always be original. You’re the Gremlin after all.”

He forgets how to breathe when you pull him into a sudden hug. You’ve never been one for cuddling, never been into touch that doesn’t lend itself to violence.

But it’s nice, how you fit right in his arms, like you’d grown just for that purpose.

“Suna!” It seems that he might have been able to forget quite some things, but not your voice.

“I’m here!” He lazily raises his arm, counting on his height. There are too many people on the platform right now, the bustle making it hard to spot you.

But then you step out from behind a gaggle of businessmen and his mouth runs dry.

It should be illegal to wear shorts this… well, short. Your legs are way too long to be real. You could probably break a watermelon between your thighs. Why is it suddenly so hot?

“Hey Stranger!” You greet him with a grin. Where you used to have braces is now a perfectly white set of teeth in a perfectly formed mouth. Oh, wait, no, there’s the dimple and the slight curve to the right. He feels a little faint and curses the fact he’s not had dinner yet.

“Hey.” Should he move to hug you? Offer his hand? Slap you on the back?

You take that decision from him, knock your left knee into his right like you used to do back in High School. “What’s up with you? Did you forget how to talk?”

“No, I’m fine. Just tired. How was the train ride?”

“Long. Boring. Are you hungry? Can we go eat before we drop off my stuff or do you have a ‘No girl stuff in my car’-rule like Tsumu?”

“Tsumu’s still single then?” He asks, directing you toward the exit. “Both’s fine with me. We can order take-out. What are you in the mood for?”

“You eat take-out? How shameful.” You wrinkle your nose at him in mock disgust. Would it be weird if he leaned in and bit into it, dug his teeth into your skin? Probably.

“You gonna rat me out to Samu?”

“Probably.”

“I’m letting you stay in my apartment.”

“I said probably. My Silence is expensive.”

“Hey, Suna!” A familiar voice yells over the crowd. He turns, surprised to see Komori.

“What are you doing here?”

“Nohr got a craving for that one Pork Belly Dish, so I drove over to get it for her. Is that your friend you mentioned? Hey, I’m Komori Motoya.”

There’s that familiar tightness again, building up in his chest as he watches you chat with Komori. It’s Highschool all over again, how you swooned over Kita, had private discussions with Aran or the fact that you regularly went over to Ginjima’s place for some kind of secret meetings.

It’s not that he dislikes you having friends. Or that he hates the fact that his friends like you too. But he’s him and that’s Komori, the nicest guy that ever decided to play Volleyball. Well, at least Komori’s not single.

“Oh, hi Suna.”

“What are you doing here?”

Washio furrows his brows at his less than friendly tone.

“Wow, I know I messed up a little today, but are you really still mad about my Block?”

Your eyes are on him too now and he swallows the bile down yet again.

“Sorry, I’m being a dick.”

“When are you not?” You ask, a teasing lilt to your voice. It still stings, but less so when you knock your knee against his again. “You’re both on his team then?”

“Oh, yeah, Mr. Miserable is our Middle Blocker. I’m the other Middle Blocker and Komori is our Libero.”

“Oh, a fellow Libero.” You grin easily. “I’m here to check out a few teams in the area. We could get together some day, maybe? When the Grump’s not so obviously hangry?”

Washio laughs. “Sure. Sunday works well for me. What do you think Komori?”

“I’ll talk to Nohr and let you know, but I think I’d be fine with Sunday.”

“Don’t I get asked too?” Suna grumbles and you elbow him. “Pork Belly?” You ask him instead, nodding at the take-out containers both Washio and Komori carry.

“Sure.” He agrees, because at least that will get him out of this conversation.

It’s almost time to go home and he’s still in possession of his second button.

Suna refuses to give it up and both Samu and Tsumu seem to think it’s hilarious.

“Hey.” In an uncharacteristic show of emotion, you weedle yourself under Tsumu’s left arm, press yourself into him as you peer up at Suna. “What are you guys doing after School?”

“Mom’s making Hot Pot!” Samu decares from your other side, finishing off the rest of the Yakisoba bread you had brought in as a present. You got all of them graduation presents. A book for Ginjima, new shoes for Tsumu - though you declared that you wanted his old ones - a mixed bag of Chuupets for Suna. All of the pineapple flavors have been taken out and while he should find it annoying, it’s a little too endearing to him.

“You’re invited, by the way.” Samu points out. “But Mom said it’s okay if you can’t come. Your parents probably planned something for you too.”

“Not sure.” He mumbles, fiddling with his second button.

“Oh, we’re going soon, right?” Samu flings the wrapping paper of his bread into the waste basket at the door and pulls at Tsumu’s arm. “Come on, you still need to confess to that girl from the Crafts Club.”

“What?” Tsumu looks at him like he just declared he’d start playing Basketball from now on. “Yeah, come on.” Samu tugs again. “We’ll get back to you later.”

And just like that, it’s the two of you, the air around you growing dense with unsaid things.

“You still have your second button?” You ask, pointing at it.

“Yeah.” With one last tug, the string gives away and he holds it in his hands. The button’s not even that big, he thinks as he rolls it between sweaty fingers. Just a tiny thing made from plastic that holds so much meaning.

“Were you planning to give it to someone?” Your voice sounds weird. He can hear his pulse in his ears, way too loud and way too fast. He’s going back to Aichi in a few weeks, doesn’t know much about his future but the fact that he’s got into College there, will have to get into their College Volleyball team if he wants to make it Pro. And even then, nothing’s sure. Not if he’ll make it Pro, not if his team will win the important matches. He could be doomed to be average for the rest of his life, living from the memories he made right here, in those last three years.

When he looks up, you look different than before.

You’ve got the Miya Gene of Stubbornness, and are the worst of all three when it comes to not letting go of your dreams. You’ve managed to turn around and beat everyone’s expectations in the last year alone, making it from an average setter to an extraordinary Libero. You almost won the Nationals last year and there’s word of it being a sure win the next time around.

It’s not a conscious decision, but it feels right. To open his mouth and say “No. I’m not giving it to anybody.” To fling that damned button out the window.

Still. He’ll probably never forget the way your mouth curved at the sight, like you were trying to hold something inside that was trying to burst out of you.

He misses your graduation because of a stubborn cold. He watches most of your matches until he gets so busy with training and College and just, life, that he falls off, little by little.

Soon enough you’re nothing but a memory and he’s probably less in your head.

After all, you’re dating Kuroo Tetsuro and making a name for yourself, aren’t you?

His heart is a traitorous thing, it seems, but at least it calms down over Pork Belly. You’re eating on the Couch you’re going to sleep on later, your legs familiarly thrown over his. Keeping Up with the Kardashians plays on TV, but it’s basically background noise now as you talk, laugh, and wave your chopsticks around.

It’s like old times, hanging out at your house after school. Any second now, Samu’s going to come in from the kitchen with his second helping. He can almost hear Tsumu’s nagging voice in the background, telling you “Shut up! I didn’t sound like that.”

“Hey, Gremlin.” Your head snaps around at the nickname and his mouth runs dry.

“What?”

“‘s nothing.” You mumble into your dish. “Just not used to getting called that way again.”

“Oh.” He’s suddenly not hungry anymore but stuffs his mouth nonetheless to think of a comment.

“You want me to stop? It was a stupid nickname, really.”

“Nah.” You shake your head and dig your heels into his thighs. “It’s okay. I am a Gremlin.”

“You totally are. Like, you didn’t even bring me a present. Didn’t your Mum teach you about housewarming gifts?”

“I totally brought you a gift!” You jump up and pull something from your suitcase. He recognizes it by sound alone, the crinkling plastic wrap a tell-tale sign.

“You bought me Chuupets?” He laughs, his heart tightening when he realizes that you pulled all the pineapple flavors out.

“Samu said you’re still eating them.” You point out, handing them over in a way that tells you this is just as awkward for you as it is for him.

“Course. What do you think of me? I don’t change like that.”

“Could’ve fooled me!”

“Okay.” He claps his hands on his thighs and sits up, grabs his phone from his pocket, and connects it with his TV. “History lesson. I’ll catch you up on what happened in the years since I graduated.”

“Oh wow, are you going to let me write a test on that too?”

“Only if you keep asking stupid questions.”

His alarm goes off way too early for the late night he’s had.

You just kept swapping stories, drunk on nostalgia.

The girlfriend he had in College, the most awkward affair of his life to date. “She was obsessed with my hair.” He spilled what he hadn’t even told Samu, “Cut off a few strands of it and kept it in her purse for personal reasons.”

How you got to play for the Tokyo Tigers and your awful first date ever with a guy who thought he could get free Onigiri through you.

“Kicked him in the balls for that.” You said, grinning smugly. He couldn’t help the “That’s my girl,” that slipped out of his mouth. But you smiled like you agreed.

“Morning Gremlin.” He calls out as he moves toward the bathroom. Your head pops up, dried spit sticking to the side of your face, hair sticking out in odd angles.

“Bathroom’s mine.” You declare with something like a war cry. He’s got a headstart, but you still beat him there, your body trained by years of living with the twins.

“What the f-” You kick him in the shins and slam the door in his face when he goes down. Long-forgotten memories of sleepovers resurface. What does it say about him that he’s still grinning when you step back out?

“I’m so sorry.” You tell him, your hair less messy, your face void of spit. He focuses on your eyes because your sleep shirt is a little too revealing for this early hour.

“Nah, it’s good. I like being heckled right after getting out of bed.”

You snort. “I’m making breakfast.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Hey, I’ve gotten way better! I bet I’m better at cooking than you.”

“I’ll let you try.” The Challenge lights a familiar fire in your eyes. He’s going to have to come up with excuses to eat out if he doesn’t want to turn into a sore loser.

“Morning loverboy,” Komori greets him at training.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Suna’s probably never been this diligent with his stretches before, but it’s a welcome distraction now.

“Nohr said she could do Sunday, by the way.” Komori’s not letting the topic go, however, and Suna can’t even blame his stubbornness. He’s grown up with Sakusa, after all.

“Great.” If negative excitement is a thing, he’s projecting it right now.

Training goes smoothly, however, which he’s thankful for.

It’s hard enough to deal with Komori’s excitement - he’s been trying to set up Suna since before he met Nohr, his enthusiasm only intensified by his own personal happiness - and Washio’s weird sense of humor on any day, but he doesn’t dare imagine what it would be like if he sucked. They’d probably tell him that he’s lovesick or something equally stupid.

“So, your girlfriend-” Washio starts when they gather for a quick break.

Suna barely avoids choking on the sip of water he’d just taken, can’t even be happy about narrowly avoiding death when a smug smile appears on Komori’s face.

“She’s not my girlfriend!” He points out hastily. “Remember the Miya-Twins? She’s their little sister.”

“Ouch.” Komori pulls a face. “That must have been a rough childhood.”

“So you’re not with her because they’d kill you if you’d try?” Washio asks and Suna’s glad his mouth is empty this time.

“No, I’m not with her because I’m not with her. We’re just friends. She’s the Gremlin, okay?”

“The Gremlin?” Washio’s brows furrow in the same way they do when he thinks about Bokuto. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Suna points at his shin, the darkening spot on his skin.

“She kicked me in the shins today because she wanted to use the bathroom first.”

“She’s a guest. Of course she should get to use the bathroom first.” Washio points out. Suna grunts in annoyance and turns to Komori.

“Don’t ask me for help there, I always let Nohr take the bathroom in the morning.”

“Yeah, because you’re whipped.”

“And you’re not?” Washio’s eyebrows are now doing the “Coach is saying something but I sense he means something else”-Dance.

“Weren’t you listening? She’s the Gremlin. There’s nothing there between us!”

“Good.” Washio puts his watter bottle down with a nod. There’s something there, maybe in the sound of plastic hitting the floor, or maybe it’s in his voice, but the knot in Suna’s stomach pulls taught to the point he’s afraid he might vomit any second. “That means I can ask her out.”

Suna’s good at what he does, because he’s not only observant but has a Poker Face to match it. He’s a strategist, plays the long game, all of those things.

So the fact that he did not see that coming from a mile away should scare him way more than the prospect of you dating Washio.

Oh god, what if you date Washio and it works out? And you move here? And he has to see you every time they do teambuilding stuff like movie nights or Karaoke sessions?

His mind races with a speed formerly unknown. His face is completely blank, at least he’s still got that going for him, but his mind is tormenting him with a terrible picture of you and Washio at the altar.

“I mean, you can ask her out, but I can’t tell you if you’ll have a shot with her or not. Remember Kuroo? They broke up recently.”

Washio nods slowly. He doesn’t know that “recently” is a very vague description. He’s not so sure about the timeframe himself, but it sounded like a few months have passed since that incident. Not that Washio has to know that.

“Can you give me her number?”

“Only if I want to get neutered in my sleep. But I’ll tell her you asked for it and offer her yours.”

Washio nods even slower and Komori’s face looks like he’s doing his best to hold back diarrhea.

“Well, do that, and if she’s not into it, I can still ask her properly on Sunday. She’s staying till Wednesday, right?”

“Right.”

“All right Boys, get back into position.” Coach yells from behind them. Suna’s never been more glad to get back to training.

Suna spends Friday and Saturday evening sightseeing with you, which is in itself an exaggeration. He’s never been one for sightseeing like the typical tourist.

“Okay, stop. And don’t smile, this background is serious.”

You roll your eyes, but don’t look around - you’ve learned from your previous mistakes. When he flips his phone around, you can see yourself leaning against the railing of a footbridge, behind you the central landfill.

“The Gremlin in its natural habitat.” He teases. You punch his shoulder as hard as you can.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Oh, come on,” He slings his arm around your shoulder. “You get to take one of me next. How about the mural with the poop emoji? Will that suffice?”

You lean your head back to look up at him and your face is so close now that your breath washes over his face. Your lips open and close as you speak, but there’s an odd noise in his ears.

Pain erupts from his cheeks as you pinch and twist them.

“Ouch, what the f-”

“You were zoning out completely. When’s the last time you ate?”

“Oh, good call.” Suna turns away to regain his composure. “Take-out or do you want to actually sit and dine.”

“Or we could cook?”

He pulls a face. “Do we have to?”

You laugh. “I could teach you a few things. Mom wouldn’t let me leave for college without knowing how to feed myself. And Samu asks me to help him every chance he gets. Cheap labor, you know.”

“So you’re saying that your cooking is better than Takoyaki from a street vendor?” He points at the sign he’d noticed a few seconds ago. Your confidence falters. So it is still your favorite food…

“What if, and hear me out, we get Takoyaki, enjoy your weird little poop emoji mural, and drop into a Konbini on the way back. By the time we’re home, you’re going to be hungry again anyway.”

“I’m not Samu, I don’t eat that much.”

“No? Well, I do. And I’m your guest, so what I say goes.”

Suna laughs along, ignores the tingling that erupts whenever you knock your shoulder into his as you walk. It’s nice, to be like this with you. Relaxed, at ease, no dangerous thoughts rolling around in his brain.

It’s only when you’re pushing the shopping cart down the aisle that things change.

Your phone rings and you pull it out, frown at the display.

“Sorry, I’ve got to take this. Can you pick up some more rice and vegetables? I only need five minutes.”

“Sure.” Suna keeps his face neutral as ever, but he’s seen the caller ID. It’s Kuroo.

“Hey Tetsurou, what’s up?” He can hear your voice as you walk away from him. You sound too friendly for a chat with your ex-boyfriend. He desperately wants to hear more, but he’s not a creep, so he pushes the shopping cart away from you, down another aisle.

By the time his mind clears a little, he’s far far away from the produce aisle and staring at an assortment of Shochu. He picks up two bottles at random and drops them in the cart before making his way back to where he was supposed to be going.

Suna’s not sure what wakes him.

He knows it’s a Sunday because his body, conditioned by years of training, tells him to stay in bed. His head feels a little fuzzy, telling him he drank too much last night, but it’s Sunday, so that doesn’t really matter anyway.

His blanket must have slid off during the night, so he pats around, eyes closed. What he finds instead is a face and his eyes snap open to dawny morning light and your annoyed grumbling.

His heart, usually a rather chill fellow, thrums in his throat. He’s frozen in place, his hand still somewhat cradling your cheek. His mind unhelpfully supplies him with the information that your cheeks are warm and soft, fit perfectly into the palm of his hand.

He tries his best to block out this information in favor of checking if he’s still wearing clothes.

He couldn’t… he wouldn’t… You blink and he goes completely still.

“Suna?” You ask. “Are you okay? Your face looks weird.”

“I…” He manages before his voice gives out.

This is both his biggest nightmare and his sweetest dream. If only he could convince himself that it’s not real, he could slip back into his dreams and consider it private.

Something on his face must have tipped you off. This is worrying, because since when can others read his face?

You pull his hand from your face and slip out from under the covers. You’re wearing boxer shorts and a tank top, reasonably dressed for what he feared might have happened.

“You have not changed at all.” You say, your voice way too calm to be harmless. He’s not sure what he’s done, but he’s going to regret it.

“What do you mean?”

You stop at the door and level him with a look he’s only ever seen directed at people you never want to come across, ever again. This isn’t going well for him.

“You’re the king of mixed signals, Suna. And I’m sick of it. Make up your mind.”

“Where are you going?” He follows you, a little less balanced than you.

“Out.” You pull clothes over your sleepwear, drag your hair into something resembling a messy bun. “I need some fresh air.”

“Look, whatever happened-”

“I know.” Your voice is as hard as steel now. “Nothing happened. Nothing ever happens.”

The door clicks shut behind you with a sound of finality.

You're still not back when Suna drags himself out of bed hours later.

His head hurts and his mouth is dry in a way that even three glasses of water cannot seem to fix. He calls you over the first cup of coffee, but you don’t pick up.

Five unanswered calls and plenty of messages later he’s ready to call the police. Sure, you’re one to hold a grudge, but accidents happen.

The thought of you hurt on the side of the road, will not leave his mind. His hands shake as he moves through his contacts, his first instinct as always to call Kita.

He doesn’t get that far, however.

“Why are you calling?” He asks, his voice doing some weird thing he’s not exactly proud of.

“Your friend.” Washio’s voice is serious in a way he hasn’t heard before. “She’s with me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” There’s the sound of a door closing. Suna can’t help but picture it. You’re probably on Washio’s Couch right now, the massive green beast he helped carry up the stairs a year ago. He’s probably made you a decent Lunch or a cup of coffee that does not burn away your stomach lining. You’ve probably told him everything already. Whatever. It’s not like he can fall any deeper in Washio’s eyes.

“Suna?” That’s Komori’s voice. It sounds like he’s on speaker phone now.

“Yeah?”

“I’d rather do this in person, but you’re both stubborn as hell. Everyone can tell that you like her.”

“I don’t-”

“Lying about has got you into this mess, you could be honest for once.” Komori’s voice stays the same, friendly and light as ever, even as his words pack a punch.

“It doesn’t matter.” Suna presses out. “I’m not good enough.”

He didn’t mean to say those last few words. It seems as if the truth is like a Chuupet, slippery in his hold - but a lot less sweet.

“I think she’d disagree.” Washio grumbles along with his deep voice. “Apparently you’re totally her type. Snarky assholes who don’t know when to stop teasing and stuff like that. Trust me, she’s not stopped talking about it since we picked her up.”

“How- How did that work out anyway?”

“Sakusa’s on Atsumu’s team, remember?” Komori explains. “I think she just needed someone to vent who��s not her brothers. Someone who knows the current you. Nohr is currently with her and they’re talking to someone called Kita on the phone.”

Suna flinches. It would have been less painful for him if you’d called the twins.

“I’m not sure if you know.” Komori starts again after a few seconds of silence. “But she doesn’t have an offer here. I’m not… I’m not telling you more about that, but I think you guys should talk. And be honest for once. You’re both grown ups, for goodness sake.”

“Sure.” He huffs. “Like she’s going to listen to me now.”

“Get over here.” Washio declares. “I’ll send her down as soon as you’re here. It’s on you to get her to listen, though.”

“Never have I ever served a ball into someone’s head.” Suna declares confidently.

“It was on purpose.” You point out as you down your Shochu.

“Tsumu?” He asks. You grin smugly.

“A Lady doesn’t tell.”

“You’ve never been a Lady.”

“I totally am!”

“You totally are not! You’re the Gremlin.”

“Well, at least I’m one of a kind.”

“That you are.” The words weren’t meant to come out this soft. But your eyes seem to mirror his sound, now pools of warm liquid that seem to pull him in.

…

“Never have I ever had a crush on someone in my school.” You drink right after you say it, but he’s too far gone to complain about you breaking the rules as he downs his own shot.

“Who?” You ask, giggling. You’re swaying in your seat, barely able to hold yourself up.

“You should get to bed.”

“Not without knowing who you’ve had a crush on.”

“You should get to bed first.” He gets up, utterly convinced that the Shochu won’t have any effect on him until he can barely keep upright without the Couch cushions stabilizing him. He pulls you up all the same, dragging you across the room. “Come on.”

“I sleep on the Couch.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Who did you have a crush on?”

“Who did you have a crush on?” He asks back. “Kita, right?”

“Everyone had a crush on Kita.” You brush it off. “Whataboutyou?”

He pushes you onto the bed, giggles when you bounce off the mattress. It looks so soft and he lets himself fall too, lands a bit too close to you to be comfortable, his head knocking against your shoulder as he tries to wriggle away. He can’t look at you properly in this position.

“The teacher.” He declares with all sincerity he can muster while going cross eyed looking at you. You’re so close now, he can count your lashes. One, two, three…

Your eyes narrow the moment you spot him.

You turn back towards the still open door but Suna’s faster, grabs your arm to pull you back.

With everyone else, he’d feel bad about this, but you’ve kicked his ass enough times. You respond in kind, gift him a few more bruises on his shin and pull him down into a headlock. He’s not fighting it. At least you’re not pushing him away, right?

“What are you doing here?” You ask. Your knuckles are no longer rubbing over his head, but rather brushing through his hair. Are you aware of that?

“I want to talk.”

You huff, let go of him. He grabs your hand before you can step away, drags you down the sidewalk by your hand. Your fingers intertwine as you fall into step with him.

“I’ve had a crush on you.” Suna points out when the park comes into view. “I don’t know when it happened, but I had a crush on you. In high school.”

“I know.” You point out, your grip on his hand neither tightening nor loosening. “Everyone knew.”

“Excuse me? I have the best poker face in the prefecture.”

“Oh please, you suck.”

“You suck!”

“Suna!”

“Rintarou.”

You stop, suddenly breathless as you gaze at him.

“What?” You ask, your voice raspy.

“You should call me Rintarou.”

“No.” You glare at him. “No, we’re not doing this. You can’t push me away and pull me in right after just to push me away again.”

“I know.” He looks down, surprised to see that you’ve still not pulled your hands apart.

“Tell me one thing.” He purses his lips, tries his best to make his words sound less pathetic than they are. “You could have had Kita. Or Ginjima. Even Midorima-san was kinda impressed with you. Washio has the hots for you too. Why would you even care about little old me?”

Softness washes over your face. You’ve never looked this good.

“I’m the Gremlin.” You tell him. You obviously are, in your layered slept-in clothes and your messy bun, your tendency to kick his ass even when he’s not asking for it. “You like me for what I am. I like you for what you are.”

And there’s a truth to that he hadn’t considered before.

You’ve been at his side for long enough, know how he acts after a loss or a win. You know he can’t cook for shit, have seen him block, have heard him snore.

A strange lightness takes hold of him. He feels like giggling.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks.

You nod.

He leans in, heart beating in his throat again, but for different reasons this time.

His lips brush yours, the softest of touches he’s never thought possible.

When you respond it feels like coming home.

They’re almost too heavy for the swings, you’re on his lap on the tiny set.

“So, Kuroo?” He asks when everything else has been talked about, over and over and over again.

Your head’s a comforting weight on his shoulder. He could get used to this, being so close he only needs to lean down a little to kiss you.

“We’re still friends if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s not what I’m asking, but good to know.”

“Since when are you jealous?” You furrow your brows at him. He looks away.

“Rin.”

“Yes, love?”

“Since when are you jealous?”

“Since you fancied Kita, I guess.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you said you loved me, so jokes on you.”

You straighten up and glare at him.

“I told Kuroo that I wanted to try, one last time, to get with you. He was the one who got me interviews in this prefecture. So if you have a problem with him helping me-”

“I don’t have a problem with that, I just-”

“You think he’s better than you and wants me back eventually?”

“It sounds awful when you say it like that.”

You laugh. “You’ll have to work on that. It’s cute now, but your jealousy won’t be cute forever.”

You kiss the comeback from his lips. His stomach grumbles loudly.

“Lets get back to the others.” You pull him up from the swings. “It’s time for dinner anyway.”

“Do we have to? We could just go home and have fun instead.”

“Suna Rintarou. Your friends just helped you get over yourself and you want to repay them like that?”

“You’re only here until Wednesday and you want to spend time with my friends instead of with just me? Shame on you.”

“We can call in sick tomorrow? How does that sound?”

“Oh, you are a dangerous influence.”

Rintarou hollers loudly as the ball connects with your outstretched arms and soars through the air. Nohr claps exitedly next to him.

“That was a good one.” He calls out. “The Fans are going to love this.”

“How many followers do you have now?”

“About 500.000 and counting. Tsumu is still salty about it.”

“How many does he-” Nohr interrupts herself when Komori drops on the chair next to her and passes her a cup of soda. “Thanks, Baby.”

“Get a room.” Rintarou teases, already zooming in on you as you prepare for another receive.

“I bet they’re going to win. Who dares to go against me?”

“I will. We have a strong Offense on the other side and the Game just started. Loser has to pay Dinner?”

“Deal.”

…

Your expression is thunderous when you exit the changing rooms.

“Hey Gremlin,” Rintarou calls out to you, watches as you part ways with your teammates and march over.

“You played good.” He points out and leans forward, softly bites your nose as a way of greeting.

“Not good enough.” You knock your head against his shoulder. “And it was the last game of the Season. This sucks so much.”

“I know, I know.” He rubs your back, pulls you closer even. “But it wasn’t your fault. Number seven messed up a lot of the blocks. You couldn’t do anything about that.”

“I know.”

“You wanna go out with the Guys? Or go straight home and pack for tomorrow?”

You’re quiet for a while. He lets you stew on the decision. There’s no formula on how to feel better after a loss, no other way to go over this than to listen to what your body and your mind tell you.

“Can we get drunk?” You ask finally. “At that bar that serves fried chicken? We don’t have to leave that early for Osaka, right?”

“No, we can get drunk. Do you wanna take some stupid selfies and send them to Tsumu?”

“Yeah.” You nod, press a kiss to his chin. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Great. Also, we have to pay for Washio’s dinner.”

“No!” You whine. “You need to stop betting on me. Rin!”

He laughs. “You say that now like you’re not going to bet on me during my next game.”

“That’s different.” You point out and take his hand. “I only take bets that I’ll win.”

“Ah, what’s losing one bet or two if I’ve got you?”

“Sap.”

“Gremlin.”

“Yours.” You grin, smug about it.

“Mine.” He agrees.

#my writing #suna x reader #suna angst #suna fluff #suna rintarou #suna hq #inarizaki fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #miya twins #ejp raijin

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manicpixiefelix · 4 months

Text

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 7.

Summary: A chance to look through Oliver Quick's eyes as he watches through windows, decides he wants to be loved, and finally takes a chance with the reader. Until it comes crashing down because Michael Gavey called Felix a slag, and it's made Oliver's problem.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: SMUT (we see reader topping felix from last chapter but through oliver's perspective, cockwarming, vague somnophilia because of that i guess??, reader getting head and reader giving head but reader's AGAB is not specified), also some vaguely unsettling imagery i guess, and the scene in felix's room with the cleaning is made even more tense and uncomfortable

A/N: 7084 words. POV shift to Oliver! Also this chapter is FUCKING HUGE, i tried to find a good place to maybe split it, but couldn't find one. so you're stuck with 7k, eat up friends! also i would really appreciate if anyone has any thoughts about how i've written oliver, id love to hear them, i don't want him to 100% like the reader, and i think ive managed to have him come across more uh, cerebral i guess im going with? yeah thoughts good, would love some. holy shit this chapter goes so many places.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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Y/N's been rambling on about reading Anna Karenina for one of their classes ever since they'd met Oliver after his final class for the day, but he's barely able to focus on their words. Usually he likes to look like he's paying attention to their words, he knows it makes him seem attentive, and everybody loves to feel heard, but Oliver's mind is elsewhere. It's in the garden outside of Y/N's window. It's outside their door where he'd sat patiently, giving blithe smiles to your dormmates and telling them he was simply waiting for you to get dressed. The doors of the Oxford dormitories were thick, but not thick enough to hide sound on the other side from an ear pressed up against them when the hallway was empty.

It's not even close to the first time he'd seen you in these moments together; how no-one else in your group of friends, apart from Farleigh he suspected, believed you two were sleeping together was baffling. Wilful ignorance is a hell of a drug. He hopes the two of you never learn how to close your blinds.

But there was something different about yesterday.

"Any of youse seen Felix? Or Y/N?" He'd approached the group on the grass with the same kind of hesitancy he'd always put on for them, never wanting to seem too arrogant, to comfortable in their presence. He knew they didn't like him, but people like this liked feeling powerful over the 'lesser folk'. Anyways, it's not like he was particularly keen on befriending any of them, it was okay to hold them at arm's length.

Farleigh, beautiful, condescending Farleigh, looked up at him through his lashes; there was no sun in his eyes, the squint was more likely to be him half-pulling a face of contempt with plausible deniability.

"Maybe." Unhelpful.

"Y/N came through here like a fucking hurricane," Annabel told him; Oliver could only think of the irritating nasal in her voice as she'd listed off all the things she hadn't liked about him to Felix when they hadn't known he was around. Oliver fought not to make a face of his own.

"Took Felix and headed that way," a blonde boy -Rex? Reg? Oliver hadn't even bothered to retain his name - nods in the direction of the dorms.

"They're so co-dependent sometimes," India shakes her head, strange little expression on her face. Perhaps she did know and was trying to convince herself otherwise.

"Yeah," laughed Annabel, "they could have at least tried meditating or something."

"I don't know," Farleigh shook his head, clicking his tongue, "I don't think they have any other coping mechanisms apart from their co-dependant shit."

"They've always been like this?" India actually sounds a little fond.

"It actually used to be worse," Farleigh snorted, and Annabel pitched herself back in the grass, claiming that it couldn't be true.

"I mean, with that kind of money I think Felix is allowed to be weirdly close to his cousin," India says with a shrug. What? Why was the group laughing like it was an in-joke.

"They're cousins?" Oliver asks; Farleigh he knew about, but no-one had ever really talked about how Felix and Y/N had gotten so close. Considering all he'd seen them do together -

"Kissing, codependent cousins," Annabel sighs, sitting up.

"Hot, kissing, codependent cousins," India wraps an arm around her in solidarity, and the girls share an exasperated chuckle, though from looking around it seemed that a lot of the group shared that sentiment.

"You're hot too, Farleigh -"

"Thanks, but I'll stick with just that for now, I'm happy being the non-kissing, non-codependent cousin," he chuckled, before turning his attention back to Oliver, still awkwardly by the edge of the group as everyone else continued to gossip. However, catching Farleigh's eye, for the barest moment, his wolfish grin, Oliver had total and complete confirmation that Felix and Y/N were in no way actually related.

Which, if he were to guess, meant that Farleigh definitely knew the two of you were sleeping together.

And judging from all the times Oliver had spoken to you both, neither of you were aware of this well established gossip in the group, Farleigh was never ever going to correct anyone, considering how damn funny he clearly thought the entire bit was. It at least explained how the rest of the group was so unphased by the closeness you and Felix shared, while still apparently - kind of - dating other people.

Eventually, tired of putting up his awkward façade, though he was grateful for the slim amount of information he'd learned, he clears his throat.

"So -"

"That way," Farleigh doesn't look at him this time, voice flat, thumb jerking towards Y/N's dorm.

Its the afternoon, grey, most people are at classes, so the courtyard outside of your dorm room is empty of any other living souls. Whenever he stops in, or even walks past, he checks in your window out of habit to see if you're in; you don't close your blinds often so it's an easy way to tell. Anyone passing by wouldn't be able to see anything, not unless they stopped and made an effort, but Oliver wasn't most people, and knew the layout of your room and how to search it when granted even a sliver to look through like today.

And today, not only are you in your dorm with Felix, as predicted, but the sight of you both makes his mouth go dry.

Felix Catton on his back, arching, perfect mouth open in some kind of wanton, whorish noise undoubtedly as you masterfully worked his cock with your hand. Fuck, Oliver knows he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be watching this.

He steps forward into the bushes. They rustle, his heart jumps, but neither of you seem to notice.

He can't see your face with your back to him like this, but you must be saying something, because Felix's lips are moving and his chest is heaving as he's gasping out words. Oliver knows he's embarrassing flush, embarrassingly hard in these fucking slacks, but the courtyard is still empty, and he knows all too well how little the outside world matters to you and Felix in these moments.

He can feel his heart beating in his throat, in his ears, painfully against his ribs as you slide one leg so smoothly over Felix's hips, hand between your own thighs as you hover yourself above him. You're toying with Felix, taking your time, taking full and total control in a way Oliver's never seen you do. He didn't know anyone could make Felix act like this, look like this; he never thought Felix would let anyone. But he shouldn't be surprised that it's you of all people.

When you lean down over Felix, your chest against his, like a proud lion over its prey, Oliver feels sick with himself, with how he wants to burn this fucking image into his brain, with how fucking perfectly he can watch from here as you take the entire length of Felix's cock. Its impressive, both his length, and how fucking easy you make it look. You're kissing him. You're fucking him. You're riding this Adonis in a way that makes him pliant and desperate beneath you.

Oliver steps back from the window, finally glancing around to double check his surroundings. No-one peeking out of windows, no-one around. He heads inside. He knows he shouldn't but he does, pulls out the sweater he'd loaned from Felix and folds it in his lap when he sits with his back against your door, both as an excuse should anyone walk past, and to hide the visible hardness in his pants.

Sometimes you're too quiet to hear, but the way the bed creaks and the two of you moan, it's some kind of debauched symphony. Oliver swears he's not a masochist, but it almost hurts to hear you both like this, like something out of a dream or a fantasy, and to remain stone-faced at your bedroom door -

"I want everyone else you ever fuck to be jealous of the way you let me fuck you."

Oliver can't even begin to imagine the things this means, the things you want to do to Felix, but then he hears -

"Yes, fuck, yes- my Y/N, anything you want - please." Felix gasping, begging like Oliver's never heard before. Sounds he knows only you could have elicited from the man who makes people around him fall in love with him by accident.

Oliver Quick is never going to get these moments out of his head; he's never been so desperate to be wanted by anyone in his life, let alone two people. There is a shameless, lascivious kind of love between you both that he vows to get the chance to drink from the source.

It's again changed his perception of you, perhaps made him a little bolder once more. So the day after, walking to the pub after class, barely listening to you talk about your book, he's trying to see if anything's changed. As far as he was aware, your encounter with Felix the day before was unusual for you. Perhaps something's changed, and perhaps he's not subtle about looking.

It's something unspoken between you, it ebbs and flows depending on Oliver's mood, how bold he's feeling. A quiet, voyeuristic exchange you share, the pleasure of being watched, and the pleasure of watching. The roles reverse and your eyes are on him in the way eyes rarely are.

More the observant than the observed, he'd told you, yet he took pleasure in feeling your gaze upon him, taking the time that he knows is so precious to you to watch him. You are familiar to him in a way that is so foreign; you are watching and adapting and anticipating the desires around you. Not action, but reaction; a people-pleaser down to your bones, wrapped up Felix's brand of hedonism. You get off making people feel loved, but Oliver can't help but wonder about the desire you keep to yourself, just below the surface.

Neither of you have spoken about the night at the club; Oliver's desperate to see how long it will take you before you act, rather than get pushed into reacting. He doesn't know how long he can last.

Felix shows up to the pub with Annabel and a strained smile that doesn't reach his eyes. Which is better than Annabel's outright scowl. They sit in chairs across from the rounded bench that always took up half the table your group liked to tension filling the ample space between them. As the last to arrive, everyone else's attention was drawn to them, going quiet as everyone picked up the couple's sour mood.

There's a moment where Oliver catches the way Felix looks at you across the table. No-one else picks up on it, since in the next moment Felix raises his hands to cover a cough, and what Oliver suspects is a grin, but you've turned your head sharply, sniffing loudly and almost managing to press your face into Oliver's shoulder. After a beat you fake a sneeze, and apologise. Oliver brushes it off, and fights off a smile of his own. He doesn't have all the details, but clearly you made good on your promise to make Felix's other future fucks jealous.

"You know what? I'm desperate for a pint, anybody else -" Felix goes to stand, attempting to break the tension, but immediately Annabel scoffs.

"Desperate sounds about right." And she's not quiet with her scorn.

"Can you not do this now? We've been here two minutes, you want a drink?" He hissed, trying to keep up a positive façade despite the faint anger and embarrassment in his eyes. It doesn't last, of course, not with all eyes on the pair of them. It's Farleigh who speaks up first, not even bothering to hide his smug smile.

"You okay there, Felix?" He wears a grin that's all teeth.

"What?" Felix frowns, but Oliver can see exactly what Farleigh's talking about. When he brings it up, however, he does his best to sound genuinely innocent, concerned even.

"Have you got yourself hurt, Felix?" And when Felix meets his gaze he knows it's come across as intended, the conflict and frustration still somehow looking beautiful in his brown eyes.

"No, I'm fine," he tugs at the collar of his shirt, hoping it sits a little higher, hides the hickey that's clearly there.

"Burn yourself on a curling iron, Felix?" India teases, matching Farleigh's earlier energy, and while it did nothing to help Annabel's mood, at least Felix no longer seemed conflicted.

"Had a run in with a particularly aggressive vacuum cleaner?" You piped up from beside Oliver, and the minute Felix sees your own triumphant grin he starts to go pink around the ears and has to duck his head.

"Try several vacuum cleaners," Annabel snapped to the table, "or one whorish townie girl!" For just a moment, the group is quiet, contemplating what she'd said, the upset in her voice, but it's short-lived.

"How many vacuum cleaners?" Farleigh leans forward, elbows on the table and chin on his hands with a grin like the Cheshire cat. Felix tells him to fuck off, but his blush is still distinct.

"They're all over him," Annabel sticks her nose in the air, arms crossed and looking especially petulant. The lads at the table did actually cheer at that, much to her continued frustration.

"You spend entire nights hitting on other guys in front of me! You made eye contact while one latched himself onto your neck as I was trying to dance!" Felix argued back, and the jury of their peers began to shake their heads at this new information. Annabel pouted for a moment.

"That's different -"

"It kinda isn't," India tried to shoot for sympathetic, wincing as she said it, which was enough for Annabel to sigh dramatically, standing from the table.

"Fine, I do want a drink," and she immediately made a furious beeline for the bar. Felix, however, hesitated for a moment, watching her leave before he turned back to the group with a cocky smile, yanking down the collar of his shirt to show off several more bright, scandalous hickeys.

"Best vacuum cleaner I've ever had," he tells them all smugly, before standing up straight and righting his shirt, "okay, this round's on me." A cheer rises from the group, but as Felix walks off, Oliver catches the way he winks at Y/N. You snort a quiet laugh, but Oliver's pretty sure he's the only one who heard it.

Christ, you two weren't even trying to be subtle half the time.

Still, for all her apparent frustration at Felix's mystery partner, it seemed to only make Annabel cling to him further. No more flirting with strangers, no more sitting apart. She reeks of insecurity, but Oliver just watches you watching her. There's something in your eyes in these moments, like a lion too sated to be bothered with the hunt, but the instinct to pounce could resurface at any moment.

But Oliver's obsession with the intricacies of your lives still lead him outside of Felix's window after one of countless parties. Still watching with animal curiosity and a cigarette in hand, as Annabel works hard to stake her claim on a man she desperately wants to own.

Annabel is an unenthralling understudy, Oliver thinks.

Throwing the butt of his cigarette into the bushes, he can't bring himself to stay. He knows where he needs to go, knows what he needs to do; in his mind Annabel is a lithe and graceful performance of extasy, and Felix is all quiet focus and hard, gorgeous muscles shining with sweat from the exertion of it all. But there's no love. It's all performance, a pleasurable performance for them, he's sure, but it's just two beautiful people smashing their bodies together in sloppy ecstasy.

Fuck.

No only is a creep, and a pervert, but now he's a picky, creepy pervert.

But his thoughts stop in the courtyard outside of your dorm. You light is on. Your window is open all the way, and there you are, looking like a dream in your pyjamas, sitting on the windowsill and having a smoke.

"Ollie!" He'll never get sick of how you say his name, how you smile when you see his face. There's a split second where he has to make a decision, has to figure out how to approach you in this moment. At the club you'd all but folded on the spot at his bold approach, he knows he could have had you practically there and then if he'd been inclined, but part of him can't stop thinking about how you'd had Felix on his back, practically begging.

Oliver feels like every time he thinks he's close to figuring you out, he learns something knew about you that makes him rethink it all. He wants to know all of you, your hopes and dreams and the grotesque desires you will never tell the world, desperate to keep testing you and your reactions, and perhaps even your limits if it ever came to that, to figure out how to get underneath your beautiful skin the way Felix had. Part of him feels like you're never going to stop surprising him, one way or the other. You are intrigue and unexpected and he wants to carve a home for himself in your bones.

"Thought you'd still be out," you tell him, back flush with the frame of your window, one leg up on the ledge while the other dangled over the gardens he'd watched you from more times than he'd like to admit.

"'s not the same without you," he admits after a moment, hands in his pockets. Your endeared, bashful smile is predictable, but no less heart-warming to see. He loves the way you react to him.

"Is that why you're here," it sounds teasing, but he can hear a hint of something that almost sounds hopeful. When you look back at him again, there's that same look you've been giving him since he'd held you, kissed you, ghosted you at the club.

"I don't know," he lies softly, "I just started walking."

"Come on then," you grin, stubbing out your cigarette on the windowsill, "you came all this way, why not have a sleepover," and you swing your legs inside, hopping off the ledge. He moves automatically towards the window, but when you hear him moving, you frown over your shoulder, "door, Ollie."

He's never been inside your room at night.

It glows with the same gold light that all these old building with their old lamps glowed, casting all your knickknacks in shadow and sharp relief. Only your bed lamp was on, book open on your bed. Jane Austin's Emma.

"Sorry, I don't mean to impose," Oliver's voice matches the rest of how he wants to appear; small. Sitting on your soft, patterned duvet, he looks not at you, but around at the room you call home, cataloguing everything in this new light, trying not to think about Felix and Annabel fucking, Felix and Annabel laughing, Felix and Annabel joking about how -

He's a scholarship boy who buys his clothes from Oxfam; no-one wants to sit next to fucking Oliver.

"I love you Ollie," you tell him blithely, easily, truthfully, "you never impose."

Annabel grates on his ears and his nerves and his fucking memories. Your smile is like a balm for that the burn that snobby bitch leaves in the back of his mind when he thinks too hard about her.

You move with such ease around the space, not that he should be at all surprised at that. Perhaps it's more that he still feels like a stranger in his own room at times. Planting yourself against your headboard legs crossed and looking so at ease in your summer pyjamas, you ask, tone light, "you don't mind if I read for a bit, I'm not going to be up much longer, but like I said, you're always welcome to stay."

"What are you reading?" Oliver lets himself relax in your presence, lays himself back on the bed, looking up at the sculpted ceiling of the old building. He knows what you're reading, he just likes hearing your voice.

"Emma," he can hear the rustle of the pages, had seen the worn spine and yellowing paper, wonders if it's vintage, wonders how you got it if it is, "Jane Austen for my lit class."

"Finished Anna Karenina?" You make a quiet hum of acknowledgement. More silence and the warmth of company and lamp light, "it's been a while since I've read any Austen."

"Do you want me to read some to you?" Of course there's humour in your tone, but Oliver can hear it for the genuine offer that it is. When he looks at you, he can't help but smile. There's such fond affection in your eyes as you look at him over the top of the book.

"Please," he says it so softly, so sweetly, and it's enough to see you smile before you disappear behind the book again.

"I'm near the end, you won't get the context -"

"Doesn't matter," he sits back up, pulls off his jacket, kicks off his shoes, and settles back beside you.

"Settled?" Your voice is a murmur, barely a whisper, and when he laughs quietly, he knows you can feel the way it rumbles within him.

When you start, your voice is soothing, halfway through a chapter, through a conversation between characters he has no clue about. He's never read Austen but he'd devour her books if you were the one reading them. It feels like an almost perfect moment.

"- Seldom, very seldom," his head is on your shoulder, eyes scanning the page, the words as you read them, "does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken, but-”

"I did come here for you," something about the line makes the hairs prick on the back of his neck, he can't keep quiet; there is want still simmering beneath his skin, and each time his mind drifts to Felix and Annabel, something furious and desperate coils in his gut. You fall silent, book still open and aloft, cheek still resting against his head where he's kept it on your shoulder. When you take a deep breath, he feels it, both of you move in sync, "of course I came here for you."

This time, he doesn't reach out, doesn't touch you more than he is. Every time he's reached out, he's gone against the pattern you've observed of him, he's always made a connection with you where you know he holds back from others. This time, he waits with bated breath.

"If there's nothing more you want from me than moments like this, I'll never say another word about it," he assures, as if trying not to spook or pressure you. But still he waits.

"What do you want, Ollie?" To pick you apart like a vulture, to see the desires you keep so close they're written on your bones.

"You," he says instead, all gentle words and just as gentle breathing, "if you'll have me." Tell me what it is you want. Tell me you can want. Tell me you know you can want things for yourself, want things beyond a reaction to the wants and needs of everyone around you -

Carefully, you reach over to your bedside table, trying not to jostle either of you too much, and keep your place with a bookmark before you put the book down.

But you do make the first move. You take his face in your hands, holding him like he's fragile and perfect and porcelain, shuffling to face him properly. This kiss tastes almost like home, like finally from you both, until his tongue runs along your lips and you part willingly for him, the kiss turning quickly more passionate. Oliver's not even sure how he came to be straddling your lap, nor how he didn't notice you undoing half of his shirt buttons already, but when the kiss breaks he takes your hands in his.

"Of course I want you," tumbles from your lips, sounding heady, needy, and for just a moment, Oliver breath stutters in his chest. But he slows things down again, leans in to kiss you sweetly once more, before he's pulling off your pyjama shirt.

"I want to know what you want," he murmurs against your lips, kissing his way down your jaw slowly as he speaks, "wanna know how to make you feel good."

"Anything you do -" you try, but he looks up after pressing a kiss to your sternum.

"You need to be needed," he says softly, punctuating each statement with a kiss, refusing to break eye contact with you, "and you want to be wanted," his warm lips on your belly, he sees the conflict in your eyes, the desire and embarrassment all at once, "and you're very good at those things, one of the best, I'm sure." Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, he pauses, "is this okay?" You nod quickly, enthusiastically, and he gives a warm smile.

"You're like me, sweetheart," he says softly, resting his cheek on your inner thigh for a moment, watching you still. Reaching out, you card your fingers through his hair, fingers trailing down his jaw, and he turns his face to kiss your palm, "I know that if I gave you half a chance, you'll figure out how to be all I could ever want, but tonight I want everyone to hear how you sound when someone's making you feel good-" he doesn't realise he's quoting something he should not have heard from Felix until it's too late, but you cut him off. You didn't even seem to realise.

Then your other hand is in his hair, a new look in your eyes, a newfound determination, a nervous excitement. You grip on his hair tightens.

"Yes?" He gives a cheeky grin, and you finally smile like you mean it.

"I get it," you roll your eyes, but there's nothing malicious about it, especially since the gesture has Oliver pressing his own chuckle against your thigh, "now you have one guess as to how I'd like you to shut up." There's that confidence he'd heard the other day, the confidence that was burned into the back of his mind, the confidence that had been part of the reason he'd spent a good hour in the shower after hearing it.

"Only if you turn out your lamp," he smirks, though inside all he can think about is how bright the whole room is through the gap in the curtains. It doesn't seem to bother you, it never has, and though he was grateful for it when he was on the outside looking in, there's something about being the one potentially being watched that causes him a faint sense of unease.

You call the moonlight more romantic anyways, and Oliver doesn't need to be told twice to go down on you.

When Oliver wakes the next morning, still in your bed, still in you, he almost wants to pinch himself. It's a childish sentiment, but you're in his arms, wrapped up in him and this early morning light through your curtains. Though he tries not to jostle you too much, the arm beneath his head is asleep and getting more uncomfortable by the second. Except the movement just makes you mumble around a breathy moan, hips moving against his.

"Fucking hell," he groans into your ear, and he gets a sleepy, contented chuckle in return, turning your face a little more towards him to give an affectionate bump against his forehead.

"Ollie~"

For just a second, Oliver thinks about living in this moment for the rest of his life.

"You okay?" He murmurs, watching your smile grow. Everything about you looks so pleased, so content, so satisfied.

"Never done that before," you admit, wiggling your hips a little. Oliver swears under his breath again, but judging by the mischievous smile you wear and the twinkle in your eyes, you knew exactly what you were doing. Then, with all the casualness of any other conversation, you manage to catch him off guard again; "anyone who thinks you don't fit in has clearly never fucked you; you fit perfectly -" his teeth sink into your shoulder before he can even properly figure out how he should have reacted.

But instead of finding it strange or off-putting, you let out a breathy laugh, tension easing in your shoulders. Your hips begin to roll against his, consistent, deliberate. He wonders how many people you've let fuck you like this, like they love you, like they care about you. Oh he knows you fuck your friends with love on your tongue, treat them like they're your last meal, like they mean something, but Oliver gets the feeling you don't expect them to return the favour. He's seen the kind of company you keep, he's pretty sure they never do.

How many of them have seen you grateful the way you look now, bathed in the morning light of Summer, laughing and unable to stop talking with such casual fondness in your eyes and on your lips.

When you go down on him in the shower, Oliver thinks he sees hearts in your eyes.

There might just be something very fucking wrong with you, and he's grateful for it every day.

But it doesn't last.

It's on a Summer day that's too hot, less than a week since he'd spent the night with you. Summer days around here seem to always be too hot, but this might be the worst. Felix still doesn't close his blinds, sun painting him golden where he lay on the floor of his room with a cigarette. Oliver had perched himself on the windowsill as you'd taken up residence on Felix's bed, sitting with your back to his headboard, engrossed in what appeared to be notes, or some kind of file.

Oliver has no idea if you've told Felix, or what you would have told him. The dynamic between the three of you appears to have remained otherwise unchanged. Sometimes, however, Oliver catches Felix looking at him out of the corner of his eyes, head tipped, curious like he was about Oliver's past; his expression is always unreadable, but it's started pitting in Oliver's stomach whenever he catches it. Felix always looks away. Felix has been looking at him less lately, that too causes some kind of anxious feeling Oliver would rather not dwell on.

"I don't like Michael Gavey," you announced from your relatively dark corner of Felix's bed. How did you even know Michael Gavey?

"Who?" Felix makes a face in the sunlight, whole expression wrinkling up, as if trying to wrack his brains. But you're looking at Oliver. There's no affection in your eyes, manila folder in your hands.

"He's-" Oliver feels like he's on the back foot again. All the comfort and good will he'd built up around the two of you feels suddenly so far away, "he's in my year." There's no precedent, no road map in his mind for where this could be going.

"He likes you," it's accusatory coming from you. Oliver looks to Felix for a moment, if only to avoid the intensity of your gaze, but he's closed his eyes, staying out of it.

Oliver considers bailing out of the window, but thinks better of it.

"He, erm, kind of was my friend, I suppose."

"Kind of was your friend?" Felix's voice is almost cold, surprising Oliver, but apparently not you. It's clear you're both looking for some kind of elaboration. Why did this feel like an interrogation? What had Michael done? Why was Oliver on trial for it? Felix cracks his eyes open as he takes a long draught of his cigarette.

"Back at the start of the year," Oliver wets his lips, fidgeting, focusing his attention only on the folder you held, desperate to know what was in it.

"Nasty friend you had," you tell him. It's so cold it almost stings.

"Is he the one who got you all riled up the other week?" Felix finally appears to connect the dots, sitting up on his elbows. Thankfully, however, his amusement breaks the tension, and you have to hide your face behind the file as you opened it and began to read. Oliver could feel his heart in his throat, confused, anxious -

"Impressive mathematic record across the board for his first semester, as well all throughout sixth form," you rattled off, eyes narrowed as you look at the paper, "several documented attempts to contact the Head of Math, Phys-Ed, and Life Sciences to," you cleared your throat, shaking your head with surprising disdain, "beg to be exempt from any potentially mandatory Humanities or Social Sciences courses. Unsurprising," you rolled your eyes, "since he bombed his English and French GCSEs, and I think he's the kind of person who prides himself on a perfect GPA."

Every fact you list you do so with such casual cruelty, momentarily folding the file closed and leaning down to make sure you could see Felix.

"He went to high school with us apparently," so casual it actually hurts Oliver a little to hear, "year below us he said," and you wiggle the file in your hands, "looks to be true."

"Still don't know him," Felix shrugs, like he doesn't give any kind of a shit how you got your hands on all of this information. Sitting back, you continued;

"Applied for scholarships - didn't get them; turns out you have to play sports to get a sports scholarships," you click your tongue as you flip through the pages of Michael's file like you were reading the newspaper, "no clubs, no social life, and a notably arrogant prick." You snapped the file closed, levelling a look at Oliver that he'd never seen you make. It was nothing, like a void, demanding a reaction, a response from him. Accusatory yet without any hint of blame, there's something about this look of intense, demanding neutrality that makes him feel actually sick, like you'll be able to know when he lies, know all his secrets if you look at him long enough.

Felix settles back down on the ground, seemingly immune to the tension so thick Oliver felt like he was choking on it. Even if he looks away he can feel your eyes boring into him, like a spider watching a futile fly in it's web.

"What's your problem with him?" Oliver can only bring himself to look out the window, bringing his hand up to scratch at his nose. Maybe if he covers his mouth he won't spill his guts under your gaze. Then, almost so fast it gives Oliver motion sickness, the tension drops.

You sit yourself back, kick your feet out in front of you, and toss the file to the end of the bed. That can't be legal.

"It's sweet that your friends are protective, but he knows you're your own person, right -?" God your light, flippant tone all but rings in his ears. Still, Oliver knows a warning when he hears it.

"He's not my friend; he was, but he's not," Oliver quickly insists, desperate to be on the other side of this deeply uncomfortable conversation. The tension eases in your shoulders when he looks over to you; the right answer. Something about the relief he feels doesn't sit quite right; why had you brought Michael up now of all times? Why had your gaze felt so constricting, even when he and Michael weren't even close; all you would have had to do was ask -

"Said some nasty things about us is all," your voice goes quiet, rueful even, and he follows your gaze to the edge of the bed to where you knew Felix lay, "called Fi a slag."

But there it was; the true audience for your show of force, and the blade that sliced so cleanly through any other attachment people think they have with Felix, all in one.

Its a simple nickname, the most basic nickname anyone could give to a guy named Felix, but no-one else calls him anything but Felix. No-one else calls him Fi the way you do, they wouldn't dare. He wears your nickname like a collar and he doesn't even realise.

"What a cunt," Felix groaned, so infuriatingly uncaring.

In the moments that follow, Oliver almost feels like his head's spinning from the interaction that had just been forced upon him. There's so many questions, new, anxiety-inducing implications for the information you've brought to them both today. Felix doesn't seem troubled by it, but that seems to be the point.

"So fucking hot," he sighs into the afternoon heat, finishing off his cigarette like none of what you'd said even mattered now.

"I know," Oliver finds his voice again, barely. He can't look at you, at the way you're lounging in what he could mistake for triumph. All he can see is Felix, the centre of the fucking universe.

There's something grotesque about you both in this moment, in this room, beautiful and terrible; the perfect picture of privilege and squalor.

"What's that smell?" Pizza, mostly empty drinks, plates and cups unwashed, dirty clothes -

"Uh," if Felix thinks about it, he isn't thinking too hard, clearly, "I don't know." Smoke rings from his pretty lips aren't enough of a distraction from the moment, from the filth of it all now that Oliver's starting to properly look around.

Again he finds himself realising that he has no idea about your background, how you came to find Felix. Sitting with your back to the headboard and eyes closed, even you seem to not care-

"Can't believe you let him live like this," Oliver actually scoffs, hopping from the windowsill, needing to do something with his hands, move, shake off the layer of moral grime that your verbal attack on Michael Gavey had showered him in.

"What?" Felix barely even props himself up, "what are you on about?"

"It's disgusting, Felix."

"It's fine."

"Right, I'm cleaning up -" Oliver moves without thinking, picking up a the waste paper basket and throwing out trash from every surface he can reach. He can't look at Felix, can't look at you, but you're both watching him, "only rich people can afford to be this filthy," he hears himself say. Then, after barking a laugh with no humour in it, he turns his shallow gaze on you, "and what's your excuse? Just picked the habit up after all those years?" For a moment you look at him with genuine confusion, but you give him no real response before Felix tells him to fuck off. But Oliver doesn't stop.

Even as Felix is growing more fed up, insisting he'll clean up later, Oliver's own frustration rises. Felix will never do anything for himself.

Except he doesn't mean to say that part out loud.

That's what gets Felix on his feet, gets him to grab the basket, irritation and resentment on his tongue. Oliver feels like he's touched a live wire, like he's pushed Felix too far, watching him tall, frustrated, glowing with sweat from the afternoon heat. It's the heat Felix complains about as he blows about him room, resentfully stuffing rubbish into the bin, complains about the building and it's age and it's wood fucking panelling that can't be ruined with an air conditioner.

In the moment Oliver chooses to glance to you, he's surprised. You only have eyes for Felix, watching him with an expression Oliver can't begin to fathom, curled up in the corner of his bed. You are waiting. You are holding yourself back. You are desperately trying to let Felix prove Oliver wrong.

"Stressing about the exams?" Oliver tries to pivot, tries to redirect the conversation to something he can claw his way back from, that will keep these relationships from being unsalvageable.

"I'm not stressed about the exams, Ol," Felix sounds like he could snap at any moment, sitting on the edge of his bed, wastebasket held on his knees while his other hand reaches out to you. Still half a foot of space between you, and you keep yourself compact, but the intention is clear; Oliver wonders if he even knows he does that, or if it's just instinct for the two of you these days. Felix, however, is looking at him, that same look he's been giving Oliver since you'd slept with him, "you're driving me fucking -"

Felix seems to realise what he's saying, however, with a sharp inhale as he looked away, moving his free hand from beside you to run through his hair. What is there to say now?

Felix says he's got revising to do, that he'll text later about going to the pub. Oliver desperately wants to believe it, but can hear that it's a lie. Felix can't even fucking look at him.

Oliver finally throws a helpless, hopeful glance to you. This time you are looking at him, but there's apology in your eyes. It's enough. It's the confirmation he'd dreaded, that makes his stomach drop.

"Ollie," even just a few hours ago he'd been in love with the way you said his name. Never like this.

"I'll catch you round," he can't look at either of you as he retreats, cant bare your eyes on him like that, and Felix's turned away.

A million thoughts, desperate ideas, all circle the drain that is quickly becoming his mind as the anxiety and the anguish sets in.

Unsalvageable. Past the point of no return. Irrevocably, awfully different.

With all he'd learned of you both, however, he couldn't just let it go to waste. Oliver had worked for all he had in this life, this prestigious place, among these self-important people. Despite his ongoing attempts to figure you out, he at least knew that if he was good to Felix, he was in good with you.

And Oliver knew exactly who Felix Catton wanted him to be.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn x reader #felix catton x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x reader #head heart hand fic #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #felix catton smut #oliver quick smut #saltburn smut

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mvltisstuff · 11 months

Note

hi hi

idk if you’re accepting requests but if you are pls could i request an evan buckley where he has a gf/wife and a baby but the 118 doesn’t know, and maybe one day reader/kid is injured and they either turn up at the fire house or the 118 is called to the scene and buck has to come clean about his secret wife/gf and kid?

thank you bestie, i love your writing <3

lover - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

gif from @eddiemunsens

a/n: what tswift album do u guys think the 118 are 🤭 also what happens to yn is inspired by an episode of s19 that i love sm it’s so funny :))

buck knew the second y/n got pregnant that he wasn’t leaving. two years of dating is a short time to have a child, but they loved each other more than anyone. they knew they could give a child a good life, so they went with it.

all three of them moved to la, so buck could work with the LAFD and y/n could get to a higher position at work. their life there was immaculate. their little family was thriving, so buck put a ring on her finger. he didn’t even hesitate to buy the biggest one he saw, because he loved y/n the second he met her, and he emotionally couldn’t wait anymore. the words husband and wife rang in his ears, making him drop a dumbfounded grin.

no one at work knew, he didn’t really know what they thought of him. his team knew he was too fine to not have anyone, so they figured he was just with some girls here and there. the last thing they expected was a child and a fiancé along with it. it never came up in conversation, but buck still didn’t bother. he didn’t want to face any judgement from people that he didn’t already get from his family. the constant scrutiny about his age and his girl was exhausting.

now, neither of them would’ve changed it for the world. buck can’t imagine himself happier or in a life without them. it hurts him to even consider what would happen if y/n and his little boy weren’t there. he always gazed at them playing, sometimes just wanting to observe their brilliance.

buck knew he would have to explain to his team that he’s married, and that doesn’t mean he’s ashamed. he wants the world to know, but he doesn’t want y/n to be hurt by opinions from other people. he didn’t realize how soon he would have to until the alarm rang and until dispatch came through with the address. it was their house. the house where buck and y/n raised their son and the one where either could be hurt. every single scenario waved over buck, making him panic more by the second.

“you good, kid?” bobby asks, taking note of his bouncing knee.

“uh.. yeah! yeah, i’m fine,” he lies. buck hasn’t been with them for more than a year, so they just pass it along, not knowing any better. buck climbs out of the truck, grabbing a few tools before sprinting toward the house. now, the teams more alarmed. what is it about this house is making him act like a maniac?

“y/n?” buck calls out, running around trying to find her.

“kitchen!” she yells out, sounded distressed which only makes buck move even quicker. when he walks in, he immediately notices her leaning over the sink, her hand in the disposal. bobby and the rest of his crew walk in behind him, the four of them standing in the kitchen staring at her. “well?”

“oh-“ bobby moves, starting to gather some more tools out of his bag.

“what the hell happened?”

“i dropped my ring down, and i was trying to make him lunch,” she nods to the baby, sitting on the floor happily, clearly having no idea what’s happening. “i don’t even know why i tried to grab it, like some idiot!”

“hey,” buck says, walking over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. “you’ll be fine, y/s/n is fine, yeah?” she looks up at him and nods, brushing her hair with her free hand.

“should we know the kids name too?” chim asks, giving buck a completely bamboozled expression. y/n passes buck the same face as hen walks over to check her hand. buck can’t get around it this time, and he wants them to know for once.

“um, guys,” he starts. “this is my fiancé, y/n and my son.”

“your what?” hen shouts, peeking her head out from behind y/n’s shoulder. she gives hen an awkward smile and buck stands there stiffly, worried about their reaction. everyone looks around at each other in shock that buck has his own family, and they didn’t even know.

“why didn’t you tell us?” bobby wonders.

“because i didn’t know how you’d react! i’ve heard it all from my parents, i didn’t need any more.”

“buck, we would’ve welcomed you no matter what your home life is. we’d love to get to know you and your family despite how it might’ve happened,” hen tells him, kindly. buck is confronted with immediate love, something he’s not to familiar with other than when his shifts end and he’s in y/n’s arms again. he’s surprised to say the least. he expected at lease some judgement, but there was nothing of the sort in the room.

“i’m thrilled you’re all having a nice moment here,” y/n interrupts. “but can we maybe get my hand out of my sink?”

buck and bobby pull the cabinets open and start drilling at the pipes underneath. buck secures the ring in his fingers before beaming up at y/n, showing her that he found it. “i got it!” he replies excitedly. “thank god, i don’t know if i have insurance for this thing. cost me my left leg,” he whispers to bobby. once they fully disconnect the system, hen slowly drags her bloody hand out and wraps it up. she hisses at the contact of the gauze and antiseptics. chimney starts to clean up the rest of the supplies, as hen treats the wound.

“so,” chimney begins. “when’s the wedding?”

“time and place, chim,” hen tells him. “time and place. but, yeah, are we invited?”

“yes,” buck says, obviously. “you’re invited.” he moves over to scoop his baby off the ground, carrying him over to his friends. they all speak to him in their little baby voices, and y/n watches with a shining smile on her face. buck knows he did the right thing, but he wishes he didn’t wait as long. now, he is certain that he has two solid families.

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jareaul0ver · 3 days

Note

How about a Nika fic where reader feels intimidated by nika when nika first tries to make moves on her and nika can’t figure out where it’s going wrong bc usually no one can deny Nika?? but it gets flufffffy

wc: 1.4k warnings: no warnings really, just nika and reader making each other nervous pairings: nika muhl x fem!reader

The First Attempt

The UConn women's basketball team was practicing in the gym at the same time as the cheerleading squad. It was the beginning of the new season and both groups had their sights set on nationals.

Junior year was an exciting start for you. Last year you had been told that the chances of you being the cheer captain were incredibly high, and you certainly weren't disappointed.

The second that tryouts had ended, you were appointed with the title of being the cheer captain. The pressures put on you were high, but you knew you could handle it.

The first practice of the year was coming to an end and you packed up your things. "Great job today guys, let's keep it up." You said to your girls before going to finish gathering your things.

Across the gym, the basketball girls were packing their things up. You usually coordinated your practices so they would overlap. It was more convenient for everyone this way.

“Just go talk to her, dude.” Paige gently shoved Nika’s shoulder, and the brunette shook her head.

“You think I should?” She stated over at you as you packed your bags. Paige kept encouraging Nika to talk to you, so eventually she came over. “Hey.” She said from behind you.

You spun around and took a step back when you saw her. “Oh, hi.” You responded quietly.

The two of you just stared for a moment and you felt your face heating up. There was a beautiful woman standing in front of you, and you froze. She was tall, pretty muscled from playing basketball, and you knew how rough she was on the court from watching her games.

“How- how are you?” Nika nervously scratched at her arm for a moment before letting her hands hand stilly at her side.

“I’m good.” You said curtly. All you could wonder was what the fuck are you doing. “Sorry, I’m in a little bit of a hurry.” You muttered as you spun back around and finished packing your things.

Nika nodded. “Right, yeah, go ahead. Sorry.”

You shoved the last thing into your bag, then sipping it up and slinging it over your shoulder. “I’ll see you around.” You glanced at her before leaving the gym.

Nika closed her eyes and groaned before making her way back over to Paige. “What am I doing wrong, P?”

She snickered. “As if I’d know.” Nika hit Paige on the arm and the blonde scoffed. “Rude. Don’t ask for my help anymore.”

“It’s not like your advice helped me. She basically said ‘oh, I don’t want to talk to you, goodbye!’ without actually saying it!” Nika groaned and covered her face with her hands.

Paige patted her on the back and chuckled. “You’ll get her next time.”

The Second Attempt

Coach Geno insisted that the team should invite the cheer squad to a little get together, that forming a tight bond this season would be good for everyone.

“You should ask Y/N. Try and talk to her again.” Paige whispered to Nika. The brunette glared at her and Paige shrugged. “Just saying, at least you’d have a real reason to talk to her.”

She sighed. “Fine.” After Geno had gotten done with them, Nika rushed out of the room and just caught you as you were leaving the gym. “Y/N!”

She called out and you froze the second you heard her voice. You slowly turned around and watched as she jogged over to you. “Hm? Oh, hi.”

“Hey, uh,” she panted, “Coach Geno wants us to get together sometime.”

You froze. “He wants what?”

She shook her head. “I- I mean, the cheer squad and the basketball team. For bonding, y’know.” Nika cursed herself in her head.

You stared at her before nodding. “I’ll let the girls know.” You gave her a brief smile before turning around and leaving.

Nika sighed and walked over to Paige and Azzi with her shoulders slumped. "She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," Azzi said. "Maybe she just... is nervous?"

"Ha, right." Nika sat on the nearest bench. "This has never happened before," she mumbled.

Paige sat next to her. "Just try and talk to her when everyone's together, 'm sure she doesn't hate you."

The Final Attempt

Coach's plan to get everyone together worked. You all decided to hang out in Paige's apartment, since it was decently sized and she was getting drinks.

Most of the basketball team was there already, waiting for you and the cheer squad to arrive. Nika had been preparing to talk to you by getting a shot or two in her system, giving her the confidence boost she needed.

Eventually there was a knock at the door and Paige went to get it. "Hey." She said to you and the rest of the squad standing behind you.

"Hey, Paige. Thanks for hosting." She gave Paige a warm smile and the blonde simply nodded before inviting everyone in. "Brought this, by the way." You held up a bottle of vodka and Paige smirked.

"That's what I'm talkin' about."

Everyone got settled in and you had a cup filled with vodka and Redbull in your hand. You talked to a few of the girls on the team, but your eyes kept pulling you to look at Nika.

Almost every single time you looked, she was staring at you. You swallowed nervously and looked away, resuming your conversation with whoever you were talking to.

You finished your drink and went over to get yourself another one. Everyone was gathered in the living space, and you were alone in the kitchen. Nika finally took this opportunity to talk to you after hyping herself up in her head the entire time you've been here.

"Hi." She said as she stood next to you at the kitchen counter.

"Hi," you spoke softly. You kept your eyes off of her and poured yourself another drink. Nika sighed and grabbed the bottle from your hand, forcing you to look at her as you reached to grab it back. "Give it."

She shook her head. "Not until you tell me why you brush me off every time I talk to you."

Your face contorted into one of confusion. "What?"

"Every time I try to talk to you, you say one or two words and then leave. Did- did I do something to you? Do you hate me?" Her words came out more sad and desperate than she meant, but she didn't care. She needed to know what was going on.

"No, Nika, that's not-" You bit your bottom lip and reached for the bottle, putting you two in close proximity. "That's not it at all. Now give me the bottle."

She held it away from you and you groaned. "Then what is it? Is my vibe off?"

You couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. She was all you've wanted since freshman year, but you two only spoke a few times last year, and now this year. You couldn't bring yourself to get close to her, she scared you a little.

"God, no! You're just-" You took a deep breath. "You're a star basketball player, you're nice, you're really hot, and you make me so fucking nervous that I can never find any words to say to you," you blurted in one long jumbled sentence. "You make me nervous."

A smug look crossed Nika's face. "I make you nervous?" She placed the bottle on the counter next to her and cocked her head to the side. "Really?"

Your face flushed in embarrassment and you looked away from her. "Yes, you do. Happy now?"

She snickered. "And here I was thinking you hated me." Her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

"Definitely not that," you mumbled before looking up at her. You didn't realize how close the two of you were until now. You could feel the heat radiating off of her. She towered over you, which made you even more flustered than before.

"So you wouldn't mind if I..." her hands landed on your waist and you shuddered. "If I kissed you?"

Your lips parted and you shook your head. "Maybe take me out to dinner first and we'll see." You teased her. She laughed a bit but leaned down anyways and brushed her lips over yours.

You made the final move of pressing your lips against hers and, oh, it was perfect. Your mouths fit together just right, and your hands rested comfortably on the back of her neck, playing with her hair a little.

She pulled her soft lips away from yours and hummed. "Fucking finally!" Paige yelled from the other room. Nika shot her a glare and looked back at you.

"I've only been talking to her about you for months." She flushed a little and you giggled.

"Guess it all paid off in the end, huh?"

#nika muhl #uconn wbb #lgbtq #nika muhl x reader #seattle storm #wlw #wnba

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lycheedr3ams · 9 months

Note

Uhm.

(I feel like an addict crawling to you to get her fix)

I was just wondering 👉👈 if you could, uh, sometime when you want, IF you want, tell us how would emotionally unavailable König react to our poor sniper babe asking if they could do it without a condom? Or if she asks if they could kiss...? (I'm melting)

Perhaps she's at a breaking point or something, just wants to feel him even if just this once? What would happen...?

I love those drabbles you did so, so much. They have a special place in my heart and I cherish them so, whoo I can't even explain. Much love to you 🩷🩷🩷 and please feel free to just ignore this ask if it's not your cup of tea!

i love this ask! it challenges me and i love it. i also love this plotline i've made and i want to expand on it

this is going to be a mini-series, so i'm gonna make a proper title and masterlist soon

TW: NSFW, smut, mentions of self-hate, just sad overall, angst, maybe some comfort at the end?

part 3 of Relapse

you'd lost count of how many times you and könig gave yourselves to each other. it didn't matter that he always guarded the sweetest parts of himself from you, hiding his lips behind that hood and his cock within the condom. he gave you as much of himself as he was able, and you thought you'd never find the courage to ask for more. how could you ask more from the man who already gave you so much?

despite könig's best attempts at a detached façade when everything he was laid bare before you, you knew that he willingly gave you the parts of himself that he had never given to anyone else before, parts of himself that he didn't know he even had. he was a balm that protected you from yourself. but just like every topical substance, it wore away. and könig's balm was exactly that: topical. it never reached very deep - it wasn't in its nature to. and neither was its nature to last very long, or ever be enough. it was meant to heal only a little at a time, sadistically leaving some wounds unhealed so that you had no choice but to need more.

you tried your best to not look disappointed every time könig clumsily opened the shiny condom wrapper and slid it down his aching length. but you never missed the way his large, calloused fingers shook each time he tore the package open, or the way he'd fling the wrapper somewhere in the room with a frustrated grunt. you were grateful for könig and what he gave you, but the plastic shape of his cock was not enough: you needed more, and you hated yourself for it. you wanted what könig already gave you to be enough.

some nights, on the nights when you just needed his comfort more than anything, you couldn't help the quiet sigh that escaped your lungs as you watched him reach for the condom box. you'd watch könig slide the thin plastic down his smooth cock with contempt masked as sadness, not able to look him in the eye as he created a barrier between you and the part of himself that you needed the most. but still, you welcomed him into you each and every time. how could you ever refuse him, anyway? how could you refuse the only man who looked at you as more than a pretty face, a man who saw more of you than you had ever showed to anyone, even yourself?

there were some nights when könig almost seemed... reluctant to put on the condom. some nights when he just stared at the crinkling wrapper under his fingers, listening to the sound of it without actually tearing it. you always watched in wonder as he listened to the sound of the barrier that separated you two, but you could never tell if he was just lost in his own thoughts for a moment or contemplating not using the thing at all. you didn't think it could be the latter, since he always wore the damn condom every time.

but one night happened when you just couldn't take it anymore; you were just too needy to feel guilty about it. you were tired of the surface-level balm he gave to you abundantly. you wanted the medicine that would penetrate your skin and seep into your bloodstream, the medicine that would reach deeply and be felt within every nerve of your body. as he reached over your head for the box like he always did, you somehow managed to get the words out.

"please. no condom. not tonight." you wished your words had come out more eloquently, more convincingly, but your tongue felt dry in your throat and your voice like it had been sealed away. könig's arm froze in midair above you as you spoke, until he lowered it by his side and stared at you for much longer than you were comfortable with. you were already naked with your legs spread, and his gaze was intense enough as it was. you looked away shamefully as he seemed to dissociate, your skin tingling everywhere his eyes wandered. but his eyes weren't wandering with a purpose; he seemed to be searching your body, trying to find something. but his head stayed still, and you wondered if he could even see you at all. perhaps he was searching instead within himself. maybe könig didn't have the medicine you needed after all.

"just this once," he finally muttered. your eyes opened wide and your lips parted. had you heard him right?

"did...did i just hear you right?" you asked softly. konig then wordlessly slid the underside of his cock on your soaked entrance, coating himself with you. your face burned hot when you finally, finally felt the skin of his manhood against you. you were already shaking and panting, and he wasn't even inside of you yet. he watched you with wonder and lust as he felt the sensation of your wet, slick folds. then, without any warning, könig eased himself into you in one easy, gentle thrust.

every time könig entered you for the first time each night you had sex, it always felt like heaven had been brought down just for you. but this time, when there was no plastic barrier between the most intimate parts of yourselves, it was so much deeper than unbridled ecstasy; it felt like coming back home after being away for so long that you forgot what it felt like to feel safe. you and könig each had your eyes screwed shut and were trembling, your arms and legs wrapped around him tightly. you finally felt his warmth, his smooth hard skin, the ghost of a pulse that fluttered against your walls. and könig finally allowed himself to indulge in the wet, protective warmth of your womb. was it some Freudian concept that made him feel so welcome within your womanhood, his unconscious mind being reminded of where he had come from? or was it that you were just so warm and wet and perfectly wrapped around his cock like you were made for him?

könig shuddered and finally opened his eyes to look down at you. you were panting with your brows furrowed and eyes shut. suddenly, könig set a pace, but it wasn't punishing and animalistic like it usually was. tonight, he slowly - almost too slowly - dragged each and every inch of his cock through your walls, watching as they dragged along his cock as he pulled out and constricted once he went in. you moaned deeply, as if you were breathing for the first time. you had never been so wet for him before, you were literally dripping down his balls and onto the sheets. he gently applied pressure to your lower stomach as he leaned back and watched as he fluidly rolled his hips and sunk his cock in and out, in and out of your heat. his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and you were now silent (except for the occasional gasp) as you traveled somewhere far away that only könig could take you.

könig's pace eventually increased, wanting to near his own end, but he lasted longer than he ever had before. sometimes, he nearly completely stopped and just watched, transfixed, as you begged for him to move. he seemed to be curious about the way you begged, almost like the way an astronomer looks wistfully up at the night sky to understand the stars. but his gaze wasn't cold and analytical like he was collecting data, it was more the gaze of one who sought to completely and wholly understand something far beyond their grasp, far beyond the reaches of their mind and body.

as könig slowly worked up the pace, his large thumb rubbed circles onto your swollen clit painfully slowly. but he was only working you up, edging you until you were both ready to come at the same time. and when you both did, it was unlike anything you had ever felt before. lost in the heat of this mutual explosive orgasm, neither of you realized that könig had come inside you while he was fully sheathed.

you both panted and slowly came back to reality, and you looked at könig, a little confused, as he stared down at where you two were connected. you sat up on your elbows and saw a thin white ring around his cock, and your eyes widened. you couldn't find any words to say, and you looked up at him, a little panicked. you were fine with it, but you knew - at least, you thought you knew - that he wasn't. but könig didn't say a word as he pulled out of your wet heat with a hiss, and gently cleaned you up like he always did.

neither of you mentioned what happened as you both clumsily got dressed, and you pretended not to notice some of the semen he missed dripping down your leg that was absorbed by your pants. you almost wondered if that had even happened with the way that not a single word was said afterwards, but the white stain on your pants was proof that you weren't dreaming.

you smiled softly at könig like you always did after he gave himself to you, and quietly shut his door as you left, filled with his medicine that finally treated some of your wounds that he always left open.

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r1nstaaa · 7 days

Text

bangchan x fem!reader

blond chan is my roman empire.

MDNI!!!!

warnings: smut, chan has a breeding kink lol (he def does), tysm maya for the prompt ily and uh yes. enjoy.

you were sitting on the bed, peacefully scrolling on your phone. recently, your fyp has been filled with videos of the cutest babies ever and its literally torture. they’re so cute, so tiny that it makes you want one of your own. god, the baby fever has been hitting hard.

you looked to the side at your husband, who was also sitting on the bed, right beside you. his right hand was resting on your thigh, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the plush skin. “channie” you called out. “mm, what is it love?” he questioned, not looking up from his phone. ugh, the nickname. it still made you weak in the knees, even after 3 years of marriage. “channieeee” you called out again, demanding his full attention. “yes baby, i’m listening.” he looked up, not breaking eye contact this time.

you stared at his lips. he knew what you were getting at. “you were gonna say something, baby?” the reminder made you snap your eyes back to his.

“i want a baby.” you deadpanned.

you hadn’t planned on blurting it out this way, it just happened. it had been in the back of your mind since the past few days, but you hadn’t really given it much thought. but chan? its safe to say he’s been dying to fill you with his seed ever since he saw you playing with your nephew during christmas last year. seeing the way you handle kids had him fully convinced you were gonna be an amazing mom and nothing could make him think otherwise.

with chan, all you had to do was ask. your wish was his command. and so, here you were, getting every last one of your wishes fulfilled.

his face was buried in your cunt, licking up every single drop you had to offer. he did not plan on letting anything go to waste. you had lost count of how many times he’d made you cum in the past hour, and if he had any intentions of stopping sometime soon, he was really good at hiding it. your fingers gripped at his hair, the curly strands wrapped around your fingers as you tugged at them lightly, making him groan against your sensitive cunt. the vibrations made you arch your back, the friction from his nose feeling sinfully delicious. “‘m gonna cum channie… fuck” you moaned out as he slipped his middle finger into your aching hole, pushing you closer to the edge. “c’mon baby, i know you can give me one more. that’s my girl.” he said, as he placed kisses on your tummy when you came down from your high.

he placed kisses all the way up to your collarbones, taking his time to fondle with your tits midway. he sucked and bit at your neck, leaving hickies all over the visible parts of your skin. he loved making it difficult for you to hide the remnants of your shared desire for each other.

“what’d you say darlin’? said you wanted a baby?” he questioned, his hands working skilfully to rub and pinch your nipples. “y-yes.. fuck chan. need you to give me a baby.. please.” you mewled, back arching due to the pleasure.

“since you asked so nicely…” he grunted as he slapped your clit with his cock, gathering your wetness near your entrance. “who am i to deny, baby?” he said as he pushed his cock inside with one full thrust, making you choke out a broken sob at the sudden stretch. the pain mixed with the pleasure made your brain go all mushy. all you could think about was the way his cock filled you up and the way his hands gripped your waist as he tried his best to not start thrusting into you already. “chan.. fuck me, please.” was all he needed to hear before he started rutting into you, building a rhythm and trying his best to not break it and absolutely ruin you right there. “fuck, you’re taking me so well, pretty girl. gonna fuck a baby into you.” his hands reached out for yours, holding onto them and interlocking his fingers with yours.

his pace was starting to get a bit rougher, hitting that spot inside you with each thrust. “so fuckin gorgeous. all mine, aren’t you?” he whispered against your neck, placing hot, wet kisses on your sensitive skin.

“shit, stop clenching ‘round my cock like that baby, gonna make me cum.” his thrusts started getting sloppier as you were both about to reach your highs, him reaching down to press on your clit and rub on it using his thumb. he spat on it and pinched it, finally making you come undone around his cock. your pussy squeezed him in even more, getting impossibly tighter. shit, you were driving him insane.

“fuck baby, m’close. so close.” he grunted. “you wan’ it inside? wan’ me to fill up that pretty little cunt of yours?” you nod mindlessly, completely fucked out. “words, pretty girl.”

“y-yes channie. fill me up, please.” you said, as your cunt squeezed around him one last before he released his load deep inside you, your walls fluttering around his cock.

he collapsed onto you, rightfully breathless. he reached down to push his dripping cum into your cunt with two of his fingers, giving you a sweet kiss and pecking your cheek after.

“might wanna do this again just to be safe, you know?”

#bangchan #bangchan skz #bangchan x reader #bangchan x reader smut #bangchan smut #bangchan skz smut #skz x reader #straykids #skz scenarios #skz imagines

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luuuuucyscorner · 21 days

Text

𝐂𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐞- 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐧

Info: Ant asks reader on a date

Tags: Kissing, fluff

word count: 9970

gif by me

“ Oi! Wait I gotta ask you something! ”

Ant calls out as you are about to leave SLTs since the class was over for today.

"sure Ant, whats up?" you turn and smile brightly at the erratic boy.

“You know I've wanted to talk to you for a while now, and uh… well, you have really nice soft-looking hair,” Ant nervously begins, fidgeting with his pencil. “I don’t know how to say this, but… do you want to hang out sometime? Maybe grab a coffee or something?” He tries to muster up the courage to ask you out, blushing slightly.

"Anthony Vaughn are you asking me out?" you ask teasingly.

“Err… yeah, umm, I guess that's what it is!” Ant responds, trying to hide his embarrassment with a laugh. “It's just that, I've seen you around, and well, you seem like a cool person to talk to. And besides, you're mesmerizing.” He takes a deep breath, attempting to gain some composure. “So, what do you say? Fancy getting some coffee together?”

"sure cutie, when and where?" you ask excitedly.

“Uh, wow, you actually said yes! I didn't think id get this far... How does tomorrow afternoon at, like, two o'clock sound?” Ant asks, clearly relieved and happy at your response. “We can meet at the Starbucks near school, okay?” he suggests shyly, he gives you a thumbs-up, trying to act casual but still beaming with joy inside.

"two? alright perfect ill see you there cutie" you smile at his jittery performance.

“Sure thing, then! Thanks for agreeing to this; I promise I won't annoy you too much,” Ant chuckles nervously, “See you tomorrow at two, and try not to be late or you'll hear it from me!” He playfully teases, grinning widely at the thought of spending time with you. “I better get going now, though. See ya!”

he runs off down the hall, bumping into people and as you watch Ant run away, you can't help but laugh at his adorable clumsiness. You gather your things and start walking home, feeling a mix of excitement and amusement about your upcoming coffee date.

...

the next day you call Amerie and Harper over to help you choose what to wear and to do your make up. Harper sits behind you, on hair duty and Amerie is lying on your bed sucking a lollipop and chattering about nonsense.

Amerie rolls her eyes at Harper's choice of eyeshadow, but she appreciates the effort. “No way, that shade doesn't suit you! You should go for something more natural, like this one.” She grabs another palette and starts applying it to you, giving you a reassuring smile. “Hey, so are you nervous about meeting Ant or just excited?” She inquires between bites of her lollipop.

Harper, meanwhile, is concentrating on styling your hair, trying different looks until she finds one that complements your outfit and makeup perfectly. “Almost got it! Just need to fix those flyaways,” she mumbles, using a comb to neaten up your locks.

As you chat and prepare for your date, you can't help but feel grateful for their company and support. The three of you share laughs and banter throughout the process, making the experience enjoyable despite the slight nerves.

"I'm sort of nervous, hes so sweet and i want it to go well. but im super excited!" you tell them.

“Oh, come on, you're gonna knock him off his feet, don't worry!” Amerie exclaims confidently, finishing up your makeup and stepping back to assess her work. “Look at you now, looking stunning and ready to conquer the world!” She giggles.

Harper nods in agreement, running her fingers through your locks one last time. “Definitely, you deserve someone who treats you well and adores you. And if anyone can handle Ant's quirks, it's you!” She grins, handing you a mirror to check your hair.

The trio high-fives each other, celebrating your new look and the anticipation of your date. As you head out the door, Amerie gives you a quick hug, telling you to have fun. Harper waves goodbye, wishing you luck with a thumbs-up.

...

On the bus ride to the coffee shop, you can't help but fidget with your clothing, ensuring everything is in place. As you glance around, you notice other students and adults going about their daily routines, which makes you feel even more self-conscious. Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself that Ant likes you for who you are and that you shouldn't let anxiety ruin the moment.

When you arrive at the Starbucks, you spot Ant standing near the entrance, waiting patiently with two cups of coffee in his hands. He smiles brightly when he sees you approach, waving hello.

you smile widely back "hey cutie! is that for me?" you motion to the cup in his hand

“Of course, it's for my gorgeous date!” Ant replies enthusiastically, handing you a cup. “I took the liberty of ordering our drinks already, hope you don't mind. It's a vanilla latte, your favorite, right?” He asks, hoping he remembered correctly. “Come on, we can find a table and get comfortable.”

you follow him to a secluded table outside, "you remembered my order? i mentioned it like, one time two terms ago" you say, surprised.

“Of course, I remember all the important details like that!” Ant responds proudly, pulling out a chair for you. “Plus, you know, I might have stalked your social media accounts a little…” He admits sheepishly, laughing nervously. “But seriously, I'm glad I could remember something you like. Settle in, and let's enjoy this beautiful day!” He motions to the sunny weather and cozy atmosphere around you.

"ever the charmer Ant" you giggle, taking a sip of your drink.

Sitting across from you, Ant watches you take a sip and seems pleased with your reaction. “So, what's been going on in your life lately? Any exciting news or plans?” He inquires, trying to strike up conversation and learn more about you. “And hey, don't worry about being perfect or anything. Just be yourself, because, well, I like you for who you are.” He adds genuinely, his eyes never leaving yours.

"i know ant, and same goes for you cutie" you tell him. then "and nah not too much going on recently, what about you?"

“Thanks, I appreciate that!” Ant replies warmly, smiling softly. “Well, I've been focusing on my studies lately. Trying to improve my grades so I can impress my parents, you know how it is.” He chuckles. “Besides that, I've been drawing comics in my free time, trying to turn it into something bigger someday.” He explains, feeling more relaxed discussing his passion. “What about you? Any big dreams?"

"god i dont know. make it out of highschool?" you laugh "id love to get into journalism maybe?"

“Journalism? That sounds amazing!” Ant comments, genuinely interested. He expresses his opinion, sipping his own drink thoughtfully. “If you ever need help with proof-reading or anything, just let me know. I'd be more than willing to assist.” His eyes light up, eager to show support. “What kind of music do you listen to?"

"oh well you know, a little bit of everything. i love some Indie stuff though, like Mac the Knife and Royel Otis" you tell him animatedly.

“Mac the Knife and Royel Otis?! Awesome taste, I'm impressed!” Ant cheers, raising his cup in approval. “I've heard of both artists, they're quite talented. There's something unique about Indie music that resonates with me too.” He shares his preference, leaning in a little closer. “Anyway, I'm glad we have something in common. Maybe we can exchange some songs later?” His smile widens, suggesting a future bonding opportunity. “So, any plans for the coming weekend?”

"sure id love that!" you say "and nah no plans, probably just going to see what Harper and Am are doing and go from there"

“Perfect, I'll send you a few tracks tonight then,” Ant promises, jotting down a mental note. “Ah, I see. Well, hopefully, you have a blast hanging out with your friends. What do they usually get up to on weekends?” He inquires curiously, wanting to understand your friend group dynamics better. “And after this date, maybe we can catch a movie or grab dinner? Just a friendly suggestion.” He adds, subtly extending an invitation for future plans.

you groan "as much as id love to, it'll have to be another time. my parents want me back before dark to go to some event" you roll your eyes.

“An event, huh? Sounds fancy,” Ant remarks, trying not to show disappointment. “Well, if it's important to your family, I totally understand. We can definitely plan something else soon, no pressure.” He offers, maintaining a positive attitude. “Maybe next weekend? that is if Harper and Amerie cant make it” He suggests, keeping his hopes alive. “Hope you enjoy the event though, even if it means cutting our time short.”

"next weekend is perfect cutie!" you confirm.

“Next weekend it is then!” Ant exclaims, visibly relieved and excited. “I'll make sure to plan something extra special for our second date. Just give me some time and I'll do my best.” He promises, eager to make it memorable. "

thanks for understanding about the event. Can't argue with family obligations, right?” you tell him.

He chuckles, accepting the situation gracefully. “Alright, shall we finish our coffees and part ways then?”

"yeah! thank you for the fantastic afternoon ant" you say genuinely

“My pleasure, honestly. I had a great time too!” Ant replies earnestly, wiping away a stray crumb from your lip. “Remember, I'm here for you if you ever just need a friend or someone to talk to. And I'll see you next weekend” He confirms, offering a reassuring smile. “Take care, and have fun at the event tonight. Don't forget to text me pictures!” He playfully insists, enjoying the playful banter. “Safe journey home!”

you share a warm embrace and just as he pulls away, you press a kiss to his cheek "you too cutie" you tease

Caught off guard, Ant's face turns bright red, but his smile remains as wide as ever. “Wow, you're bold, huh?” He chuckles, playfully swatting your arm. “I'll see you soon, then. Take care and have a fabulous time at the event!” He repeats, still feeling the warmth of your lips on his cheek. “Goodbye, lovely!” And with that, Ant heads off, his heart pounding with excitement and anticipation for their next encounter.

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spidernuggets · 1 month

Text

Jason Todd x Bitchy!Reader

Note: It's note really "bitchy" per se, but idrk what else to put

You didn't think you were THAT mean of a person. You were only mean when you needed to be. You know, standing up for your friends, standing up for yourself. But sometimes, you think, is it too much?

You were never good with expressing your own emotions. Every time someone gave you a gift, you'd reply with an awkward, muttered "aw.. thanks, it's great." And you'd genuinely love it, but you're just too enclosed to express your gratitude.

Or when you get compliments from your friends, you telk them to shut up and go away. Your friends know you, luckily. They know you appreciate the compliment based on the flushed look on your face when they call you cool or pretty.

But when you met Jason Todd, your friends noticed how happy you looked. They knew you had an on and off relationship with your parents, causing you to act better than everyone else when really you feel like the worst person in the world. Luckily, your friends are supportive of you, and no doubt, did they get excited over your new love interest.

"You know you're not subtle, Y/n," your friend once said to you. "Every time Jason comes by to pick you up or something, your pupils form heart shapes."

You rolled your eyes at the memory, walking into Jason's apartment.

"Hey, Jay," you say, walking up behind the couch, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend's shoulders and placing a loving smooch against his cheek.

He smiles, his heart getting warm and mushy from the soft affection.

"Hi, babe. I... I got something for ya," he quietly says, reaching for something in the pocket of his sweatpants.

You perched over his shoulder, trying to see what he got.

He pulls out a small black box, and upon opening, it reveals a shiny, sliver necklace with a heart charm. "It's uh..." Jason awkwardly scratches the back of his neck as his cheeks heat up and pink flushes across his face. "It's for the last time you gifted me that switchblade."

Jason wasn't the most confident in gift giving, but the fact that he tried made your heart swell. The hard part was trying to express that feeling.

"Oh.. it's really pretty, Jay. Thanks.." In your language, it translated to 'Oh my god, it's gorgeous, I want to marry you, you're the absolute love of my life'

At this point in your relationship, Jason was well aware of your shallow reactions, but knew that you appreciated the things he offered to you, so he never took your awkward reactions to heart.

Your heart was racing, but you kept thay information to yourself, so you kissed the ruffles of his hair and thanked him again.

You told him you were going to change into your pjs (his hoodie), so you speed walked to your shared room, and quickly shut the door behind you.

Your face was so warm, and you wasted no time putting the necklace on. You held the charm close to your chest, mentally screaming and kicking your feet at the gift and changed into a comfier shirt and sweatpants along with Jason's hoodie.

You were ready to go out to spend some more time with Jason, but he came into the room in a rush.

"Hey, sugar, I got some last-minute work that I got called in for," he kissed your forhead before walking past you, grabbing a bag from the closet.

"I'll won't be back until late, so don't stay up, okay? Make sure to get some sleep, sweetness."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you mutter as he sped out the door.

You sighed and laid on your bed, staring at the cracked ceiling. This wasn't the first time Jason had sped out for a last-minute call into work. It was probably due to his little secret life he's hiding from you.

You wanted to tell him that you knew about his Red Hood alter ego, but you wanted to let him tell you himself when he was ready.

But this dash out the door has become so recent, him leaving even outside his usual schedules that you observed, you're beginning to think that..

What if he's leaving just to get some space from you?

It's a ridiculous thought, but you honestly wouldn't blame him. You agreed with the idea that your lack of words of affection and gratefulness, and attitude could eventually get exhausting.

Another memory with your friends flickered in your head.

"Does your boyfriend ever question how you act?"

A new person was introduced to your friend group. They weren't really aware of why you acted like you did.

"What do you mean?" You sharply replied.

They laugh. "I mean.. you're not the most.. expressive person, Y/n." They reply with a grin. You never like this person. Luckily, they were kicked out of the group shortly.

"Dude-" Your actual friend tried to cut in.

"Ha," you chimed. "Well, it's kind of none of your god damn business." You snarled.

They held their hands up in sarcastic defence. "Calm down. I'm just saying. Show some smiles and gratitude once in a while."

You were close to punching them right in the face before the rest of your friends told them to piss off.

But maybe they're right. Jason deserves more than a weak thanks. He needed more affection, more smiles, and more love. He definitely needs it after every shift from work.

Your relationship might be on the line if you don't up your game.

So early the next morning, you awoke to Jason's arm loosely around your waist. You smiled at his light, tired snores, kissing his chin lightly before rolling away from his warmth and comfort. You tucked him back into the blanket before heading to the kitchen.

It's been almost an hour before you heard Jason's heavy padding for footsteps coming into the kitchen.

"N/n?" He groggily calls out, rubbing his eyes, and the sight was so fucking adorable.

"Morning, Jay Jay!" You excalimed, mentally cringing at the extra sweetness. "Want some breakfast?" You brightly smiled, plating the final portion of scrambled eggs and placing it onto the table, along with the bacon, pancakes, toast, and juice laid on the table.

"Wow, this is a lot. What's the occation?" He asks confused, still tired from waking up.

"What? Can I not spoil you, handsome?" Your stomach churned from your newfound personality, which also cause Jason eyebrow to raise in question.

"I guess?" He said, unsure from your more cheerful mood. "You okay?" He carefully asked.

"More than okay, now that you're awake, baby," you walked up to him, placing a lingering kiss to his lips.

His brows furrowed. "Baby? That's new." He commented before sitting at the table. He knew that the cheesy nicknames were his department. For you, it was either Jay or a joke nickname that had some significance that only the two of you knew the context behind, like troublemaker or stubborn.

"Did you sleep well? How was work last night?" Another development. Needing to know how he was after every activity.

"It.. Good. It was good. You sure you're okay?" There was nothing wrong with the questions you asked. It was just new to him. And the seemingly forced smiles that looked like they were making your cheeks hurt were new, too.

Your smile faltered. "Yeah... why d'you ask?"

He put his utensils down. "It's just new. It's not bad, but.. it seems kind of unnatural for you." He calmly says. Then slowly questions, "Can I ask what brought it on?"

"I..." You hiccuped. All you thought since last night was the thought of Jason leaving you because you sinoly can't express your emotions as well as most others.

You didn't even notice the light tears rolling down your face.

"Hey, hey, sweet thing, what's the matter?" He quickly asks with worry, both his hands cupping your cheeks and wiping away your tears.

"Don't leave, please.." you whimper.

His face softens. "What? Babe, why would you ever think that?" Your tears are wiped away, but he continues to caress your face.

"I- I thought you were getting tired of me.. I thought I needed to- to be more caring or- or emotional, devoted? I don't know.." You stammered, looking down at his knees, avoiding his attempts to look in your sad eyes.

Oh.

"Oh, my sweetness, I'd never get tired of you. I'm so crazy for you. You don't even know."

"You're always gone.." You pathetically whine.

Jason's hands move away from your face, then quickly occupied to your hands. "Please look at me, Y/n?"

He asked so nicely. You couldn't possibly deny his request. So you look up to share his gaze.

He sighs and starts his long explanation of his occupation as Red Hood. You only knew about the Red Hood part. But he revealed to you everything. From when he was brought in by Batman, he became Robin, died, all the nitty gritty.

And he ended it by revealing he was Red Hood.

You sniffled. "I know." You say quietly.

"What?" He asked dumbfounded.

You could only let out a light giggle. "I already know your Red Hood. You accidently left your thigh holsters in the closet."

And hearing your faint laugh made Jason smile. "Well, why didn't you tell me, N/n?"

"Wanted you to tell me when you were ready," you shrugged. "So.. you're not gonna leave?"

He laughs. "My sweet thing, I love you so much for you."

Your eyes slightly widen. "You love me?"

"You've no idea," he smiles, holding your chin, pulling you in for a passionate kiss.

"Mm, whatever," you mutter between his lips. Instantly, he knew that meant that you loved him too.

"That's my darling."

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steddieas-shegoes · 3 months

Text

uh. what?

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is healing wounds'

rated m | 1,782 words | cw: injury recovery, mild blood, recreational drug use | tags: post s4, hurt/comfort, getting together, fade to black

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

The stitches pulled and he couldn't get comfortable. He almost wished Robin hadn't made him get checked over, but anything that required this many stitches probably would've killed him if he hadn't. At least that's what Nancy said when he complained to her about it.

But now, Steve couldn't sleep, and sleep was apparently very important for healing.

The alarm clock next to his bed said 2:07 am, so calling someone was out. Going somewhere was also out, unless he wanted to go to the 24 hour diner alone.

Fresh air sounded good until he realized he'd have to either go for a walk in the middle of the night alone or sit by the pool alone.

He didn't want to be alone.

His phone started to ring just when he was considering taking a shower out of boredom.

"Harrington residence, this is Steve."

"So formal for two in the morning, Stevie," Eddie's laugh rang through the line and Steve couldn't help smiling. Something about Eddie's energy was contagious, a beacon of light when all he had was the darkness of his room.

"Didn't know if it was an international business partner for my parents. Happens sometimes when they forget time zones." Steve moved to the edge of his bed so the cord didn't have to stretch as far. "What are you doing up?"

"Had a dream about being eaten alive again. This time they managed to eat both of my nipples." Eddie scoffed. "Isn't one enough?"

Steve chuckled. "And you can't go back to sleep because you're scared they'll come take your other nipple?"

"It's a genuine concern, Steve! I have big dreams of piercing this thing and if they take it from me, what do I have left?"

"I think you'd probably just find something else to pierce," Steve shook thoughts of what that might be out of his head before they could take over. "So you can't sleep. You thought you'd call and wake me up to suffer with you?"

Eddie was silent for a moment before responding. "Did I wake you up?"

"No," Steve said quickly, not wanting Eddie to feel bad. "I was awake."

"Nightmare?"

"No, stitches are bothering me."

"You wanna come over? I found my hidden stash. Might help with the stitches," Eddie offered.

Steve probably shouldn't. He was on some pain meds already and if he got too fucked up, he'd probably cry. That's what happened last time he had some of whatever Eddie was selling.

"I'll come over, but probably shouldn't have anything. Robin would kill me if I end up in the hospital," Steve gave a half-truth.

"Yeah, she's terrifying. I'll leave the door unlocked."

Before Steve could tell him that was a bad idea, he hung up.

********

When Steve got to Eddie's, he let out the breath he'd been holding the entire drive. Eddie was sitting on the porch, alone, his guitar by his side.

Maybe he'd been playing already, or maybe he planned to play to help distract Steve from the way his skin felt like it was too much.

He got out of the car and waved when Eddie looked over at him with a smile.

"Didn't think you'd get here so quick," Eddie didn't bother standing up, Steve just knew to go sit by him.

But the steps on the Munson's porch were rickety at best, "temporary" according to the government officials who had stuck them here because they didn't think it was worth putting them in a home across town, and Steve's eyes hadn't quite adjusted to the dull glow of the light by the front door. He missed the top step and immediately fell, barely catching himself on the wood of the porch.

Eddie was helping him up immediately, doing his best not to make his own injuries worse.

"Shit, you okay? Wayne tried fixing it, but it just keeps getting loose."

Steve felt a stinging pain on his side, and when his hand grazed over the worst of his bites, he felt something warm and wet on his fingers.

"Shit," without looking, he knew he'd torn his stitches. "Eddie, I need a towel or something."

"Shit, that's a lot of blood. That's a lot of blood. It shouldn't be that much, right? Like even tearing your stitches, it shouldn't be-"

"Eddie." Steve poked his arm, stayed as calm as he could. He bled easy, so sometimes even small things looked worse than they were. "Towel."

"Right, yeah. Should you come with me?" Eddie shook his head. "I mean can you move? Should you stay here?"

"I'll sit here until I have a towel. Don't wanna get blood on the carpet."

"Got it."

Eddie still seemed unsure about leaving him, but must have noticed how much blood was soaking through Steve's shirt and rushed inside. He was back in less than a minute, a black towel in his hand.

"It's clean. It's the one I usually use for my hair, but I didn't get to fold it from the dryer yet. Um, just put pressure on it."

Steve knew what to do, was used to putting pressure on wounds, but appreciated Eddie trying to triage it anyway.

"You got a needle and thread, right?" Steve asked once he took his shirt off and put pressure on the bite. It was already bleeding much less, a positive sign that maybe it wouldn't be too bad.

"I mean, I do. I don't have medical tools that have been sanitized properly."

"You have water to boil and vodka?"

"Steve. I'm not fucking performing a medical procedure on your stomach," Eddie shook his head. "Do you have a death wish or something?"

"I trust you."

The words hung heavy between them, despite the fact it wasn't exactly news to either of them. They'd been through it all together, why wouldn't he trust him?

"Okay, let's get inside and I'll get everything ready."

Getting inside was easier said than done. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but the pain had really started to set in and every breath felt like knives stabbing into him.

"Deep breath, Stevie," Eddie said as he sat him down on the couch and helped him lay back. "I'll get you something for the pain."

"Something" was an edible, and Eddie seemed hesitant to give it to him, but all reservations Steve previously had went out the window as he felt his hands shaking from the pain.

Eddie prepared everything while the edible kicked in, checking in with Steve every few minutes to make sure he hadn't passed out or started bleeding again.

When the room started to feel blurry and his head felt light, Steve smiled over at Eddie, who looked nervous.

"Ready for your magic hands," Steve wiggled his brows.

Eddie made a strangled sound before leaning over the wound and wiping some of the blood away gently so he could see where to stitch him back up.

He worked as quickly as possible, humming softly to distract himself and Steve from what was happening.

Steve was high.

He was high and he was feeling good despite the needle in his skin.

He drifted for a bit, couldn't be sure how long, but eventually, Eddie was touching his cheek and making him open his eyes.

"Think you should stand up so I can wrap a bandage on it. Then you can try to shower off some of the blood if you want. Wayne got one of those removable showerheads. Feels fancy," Eddie said as he moved the hair off of Steve's face.

"Help?" Steve managed to ask.

"Yeah, I can help you with the wrap and start the shower for you," Eddie nodded.

"In the shower?" Steve asked.

Eddie paused. "I can keep us dressed?"

"But." Steve huffed. "Blood."

Eddie couldn't help but laugh at his confusion, Steve's lips pouting out and his eyes squinting. "Okay, okay. If you're okay with it, I'm okay with it. You're high as shit, man."

"I'm standing right on the ground," Steve waved his arms around him. "Or is the ground standing on me but the other way?"

"God, this is the best. Okay, let's go."

"Wait!" Steve grabbed Eddie's arms. "You should know something."

Eddie raised his brows in question. "Go on."

"I'm very in love with you. And also kinda hard."

Eddie blinked, not processing. Now he felt high.

"Uh. What?"

"I have an erection." Steve made a disgusted face. "Hate that word. Sounds so middle school sex ed."

"It is." Eddie shook his head. "I guess I meant more like, how and why and what the hell do you mean by it."

Steve giggled. "I said you had magic hands and I was right."

"Dude, I was literally giving you stitches. I am failing to see why that would make you hard."

"It's cuz you're so gentle and your tongue sticks out when you're trying to focus. And also I started thinking about what you'd do if I couldn't move," Steve sighed dreamily. "You have handcuffs."

"Okay. Let's pause." Eddie let out a small hysterical laugh. "You want me to help you in the shower because you love me? Do you even need help?"

"Probably. But I also want help. And also you're a helper for me."

"What does that even mean? Where's Robin when you need her to decode what the hell you're talking about?"

"You're a helper for me! Because you help me be better about asking for help! And then you help!"

"Okay, that's. Good. I'm still not sure what's happening."

"You're gonna help me shower. I'm gonna try very hard not to come. We sleep?" Steve looked around Eddie out the window, like he was checking if it was still night time. "And then in the morning I wake up and get yelled at by Robin."

"Why would she-"

"The stitches. And the telling you I love you thing. She's gonna be real mad about that."

"Why?" Eddie felt like he was losing it. What was even happening anymore? How had he completely lost control of the night?

"She wanted to help me do a speech thing."

This was just getting more wild.

Steve needed a shower, and he needed sleep. Eddie needed a minute to gather his own thoughts.

"Shower. Sleep. Talk in the morning." Eddie raised his hand to cup Steve's neck. "Robin murders you after we talk."

"Deal." Steve's face sank, but he quickly perked back up. "But shower?"

"Yes, shower. Go, horndog."

Steve laughed as he half-limped to the bathroom, clearly feeling some pain even with the drugs in his system. Eddie followed and resisted touching Steve as much as possible.

Which ended up being about two minutes.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #love is healing wounds #injury recovery #cw: mild blood #post s4 #hurt/comfort #getting to know you #tending to wounds

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