#because he was sulking that she was better at her job than she was

[bison-appreciation-club]

we need to make a movie about annie oakley. but a historically accurate one.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。FAMILY SECRETS — GOJO SATORU.

contents. fem! + mom! reader, reader is referred to as “mommy” and “wife,” girl dad toru <3, family shenanigans in the grocery store that are unfortunately inescapable when your husband is gojo satoru

“ok,” you nod, looking over your grocery list. “i think that’s everything—”

“mommy, can we please get this,” your daughter looks up at you pleadingly, tugging at your sleeve as she holds a bag of candy—she has satoru’s eyes, wide and blue and so easy to give into. you look at her for a moment before pursing your lips.

“no, satoru. we can’t get this bag of candy.” you turn to the devil himself, glaring at him as he whistles innocently.

“what’re you lookin’ at me for, sweetheart? our little peanut here wants—”

“satoru.”

“fine,” he deflates. you pinch your nose as you sigh.

satoru, in his thirty plus years of life, has surprisingly never had a cavity for how much sugar he consumes. he’s good at taking care of himself, he argues, there’s no chance he’d ever get a cavity. that is, until recently. he visits the dentist and has not one, but two cavities—you think this is a rather alarming sign that he needs to cut back on the sweets, so you take matters into your own hands.

and, well….he’s not handling it very brightly.

“you thought i’d cave just because you tricked our daughter into asking?” you raise a brow, making him huff as he pouts.

“what kind of heartless soul could say no to those eyes?” he asks in disbelief, waving a hand at the small carbon copy of your husband as she blinks up at you, “i mean look at her! she doesn’t deserve the word no.”

“she definitely needs the word no so she doesn’t end up spoiled like you. and i’ve had plenty of practice,” you shoot blandly, “i’ve said no to your eyes all these years haven’t i?”

“even crazier,” he mutters, “i have the most adorable eyes, how could you say no?”

“it’s pretty easy if you ask me,” you shrug.

most people tend to call satoru arrogant—humble is not usually used in the same sentence as gojo satoru. evidently, they’ve never watched him interact with you before—you always find a way to humble him. he’s starting to think he’s the butt of every joke in his own marriage.

“please, baby?” he pouts deeper, “i’ve been good! i floss!”

“no.”

“what if i fold the laundry for a month?” he bats his lashes.

that’s tempting, you have to admit. folding laundry is a very boring job, you’re more than happy to hand it over to satoru for a bag of candy that barely dents your wallet. but then you find your resolve again, crossing your arms as you stare at him unimpressed.

“no, satoru.”

“two months?”

“nope.”

“did you only marry me for my looks?” he asks in disbelief, “because there’s not one ounce of love in that heart of yours.”

“this is for your own good, satoru,” you say firmly, “you had two cavities. how much sugar have you been consuming lately? and don’t think i don’t notice you skipping meals when you’re busy—a chocolate bar does not replace lunch.”

you’re glaring at him, drilling him for his health choices that are not his fault—he’s a busy guy, and he can’t help that a chocolate bar on his way to a mission is all he can squeeze in sometimes. maybe a protein bar would be a better option, but they’re not as tasty, and satoru thinks he deserves to be happy. and then, from the end of the aisle, you hear a few snickers coming from passerby’s. he pouts deeper at the thought of being laughed at as he gets scolded by his wife in the middle of the breakfast aisle.

“what’s the point of living if you’re gonna be miserable?” he groans, “we might as well just start going to bed at nine pm too, while we’re at it. and—”

“that’s actually a lovely idea,” you hum thoughtfully, “you certainly could use the sleep, couldn’t you?”

he glares at you petulantly, sulking as you grab the bag from your daughter’s and put it on the shelf—it’s not the right place, but taking a trip to the candy aisle to place it where it belongs is only venturing deeper into the lion’s den. you’re not letting satoru have more options to choose from.

“you seein’ this, angel?” he turns to your daughter, “you see how mean mommy is? she’s not letting us have candy. make sure you remember that when i ask you who’s your favorite again.”

you roll your eyes, snorting. satoru asks her playfully one night who the favorite parent is—it’s a meaningless question, meant to be a joke and nothing else. you’re sure he expects her to say both—but he gets his feelings severely hurt when she giggles and points to you, staring in disbelief as you grin in victory and kiss her cheeks. you even rub salt on the wound when you mumble she’s your favorite baby too.

he’s starting to really think he’s a victim in his own household.

“but mommy gives me candy,” she tilts her head in confusion.

oh no. she’s not supposed to say that—she promised not to say that. why can’t children ever keep a filter on their words? and why can’t they keep their promises?

almost like in slow motion, both of your eyes widen. satoru pauses. you start to sweat. he turns to face you slowly, in abject disbelief.

“what?” you laugh nervously, “no i don’t! we don’t have any candy at home—”

“she keeps it in her drawer!” your daughter adds, as if she wants to see your downfall.

you love your daughter, you really do—but sometimes you think motherhood is a punishment for whatever sin it is that you’ve committed in your previous life. satoru crosses his arms and taps his foot.

“what happened to we’ll all give up sweets together so you’re not alone, toru,” he mocks your voice, squinting at you accusingly. “so we’re a family of liars now?”

“toru, listen—”

“i trusted you.”

“baby—”

“what happened to our wedding vows? what happened to in sickness and in death? a little cavity is enough to change all that? i’m scared to think what you’d do if i lost an arm.”

“well, you’re not the strongest for nothing,” you point out, chuckling nervously, “so we have nothing to worry about there.”

“i can’t believe you,” he spits, turning away from you with crossed arms and a quiet hmph.

“toru, you can’t expect us all to give up sugar just because you can’t stop making poor health choices,” you argue exasperatedly.

so what if you secretly enjoy a kitkat here and there? you deserve it for dealing with not one, but two children at home every single day—sometimes three if shoko comes over, her lifestyle choices aren’t any better. satoru should let you enjoy a piece of candy or two until he fixes his terrible habits that could very well set a terrible example for your very young and impressionable daughter.

“well, i have adult money of my own,” satoru huffs, “and as an adult, i’ll be purchasing my own candy to hide in my own drawer that i won’t share with you since we’re now apparently a family that doesn’t think sharing is caring.”

“i don’t know if i’m raising one child or two,” you sigh tiredly, rubbing a hand over your face.

satoru grabs the bag of candy off the shelf, promptly placing it in the cart before walking off ahead of you as he pushes it. your daughter grabs your hand and smiles, tugging you along.

“c’mon mommy,” she says brightly, “you said we can go to the park!”

—————— BONUS ——————

“are you serious, satoru?” you ask incredulously, watching as he comes back to sit on the other end of the bench, ice cream cone in hand.

he didn’t even bring you one—what an asshole.

“oh sorry,” he shrugs, “i figured you and our daughter were planning on getting ice cream on your own without me. since, you know, apparently you guys love to have lots of things without me.”

“you’re being so dramatic—”

“i want ice cream too!” you hear a small voice call from the distance, making you turn to your daughter as she sprints over to you from the playground, eyeing the cone in satoru’s hand.

“you heard her,” he drawls, licking at his strawberry ice cream mockingly, “why don’t you go buy her a secret cone. i won’t look.”

being a single mom of two is a full time job, you think, you didn’t sign up for this.

guess who has two cavities ?? a certain brother of mine. guess who’s entire household has to give up sweets now for their brother’s inability to have proper dental hygiene ?? if you guessed me, you might just be psychic :O

[amaranthineghost]

NOW IM BACK IN OUR EMPTY APARTMENT, LOOKING AT THE PIECES I WISH WERE YOU ( max verstappen. )

max verstappen x reader

an imperfect relationship between world champion max verstappen and a busy college student now filled with more tension as he fails to hold his tongue after a disappointing race.

authors note: love writing for max, i might have to do it more!!!

HE DIDN'T MEAN FOR THIS TO HAPPEN. it snowballed into something he had imagined before but never would've expected it actually happening to him. he could normally control his temper, especially when it came to her. sure, there was a few moments that stood out in his career when he had gone over the limit on certain occasions, going as far as to push another driver, but he would always separate his home life and his career.

at least he would try to. the australian grand prix hadn't played out like he had wanted, or anyone for that matter, because no one wants their car to get fucked and have to retire. especially on the third lap, it was just embarrassing. he was struggling the entire weekend, though his spirits temporarily lifted when he had managed to get pole position. he knew he would, but after the struggles throughout the practice sessions, he hadn't been too sure.

he just wished she would've been there to see it, but she was stuck in their apartment with their cats, jimmy and sassy. she had to do her college work, that was due all too soon, before she could go running around to his races. despite being financially supported by her talented boyfriend, she wanted things to do when he wasn't around, and while school work wasn't exactly many people's cup of tea, it was hers.

she liked the possibilities that came with the experience and maybe one day, she could land a job that would put her in line with her beloved driver. sure, she loved visiting the paddock as a wag, but she would love it more from behind the scenes. of course dating a driver, she already gets to see more than the average person, but she wanted to do something worthwhile with her time in the paddock.

he understood, but he had the only condition of letting him pay for her schooling. debt wasn't fun, and he wouldn't let her fall into that burden. besides, max would love to be able to see his girl working hard in the paddock, but now he wasn‘t so sure if she was his anymore.

he was agitated, she was stressed, and they both knew they didn't mix. they should’ve just waited to see each other in person, but they were both missing each other at the time.

she watched the race on the tv in their bedroom with her laptop on her lap with her latest, big assignment due in the next few days. she was struggling, and she figured it was better to get as much time to work on it as possible so she opted out of flying to australia. still, she watched, hardly stressed, because she knew max was an amazing driver.

but come the race on sunday, his dnf shocked her. she was riddled with worry and part of her wished she had been there. maybe if she had been, this whole thing could’ve been avoided, but the stress she felt now would’ve only worsened had she been with him.

upon the smoke trailing out of his car, hearing the commentators say he had dropped positions, seeing the puff of smoke when his car rolled down the pit lane, the fire on his brake duct, she shut her laptop instantly. now she was sitting on the edge of the bed, eyeing the screen closely, phone on standby to call him after. she leaned her head on her hands while her elbows dug into her legs.

she watched his tense answers to the media, his uninterested attitude because she knew all he wanted to do was get to his driver's room for peace and sulking. she knew and yet she still made the mistake of calling him right after.

she hadn’t waited long for him to answer, but he didn’t answer right away. hearing no answer from his side of the phone, she spoke first.

“hey,” she spoke as gently and nicely as she could.

“hey.” his voice was short and straightforward, as if he didn’t care about anything she was going to say.

finding the right words to say was like walking on eggshells and there wasn't a lot of room to go. she just hoped she took a step in the right direction when she asked him, “how are you doing?”

“what do you think?” she sighed, biting at the inside of her cheek

“not great,” she muttered, he hummed back in response, which just made her even more unsure of her next words, “ ‘m sorry you has to retire from the race.”

“sorry doesn’t fix the car,” she heard him mumble under his breath, earning a scoff from her.

“excuse me?” her tone was like she had accused him of something, “i get you’re mad right now max, but that doesn’t mean you can be an asshole. i’m just trying to help.”

he scoffed back and she could feel the eye roll he would’ve given her, “yeah, well you're not.”

“what is wrong with you?” she stood up, anger coursing through her.

“i don’t know, maybe the fact that my race was fucked and now you’re bitching to me about my attitude.”

she hadn’t thought before speaking, in moments of high stress she just said whatever she felt, and so did he. what she felt right now was annoyance and anger, “fuck you max,” was all she could spit back, taking a deep breath being speaking again. “news flash, you’re not the only person in the world dealing with shit, it's one race that you got out on, grow up.”

with that she hung up, and he heard the dial tone from his phone, regret beginning to seep past his clothes and into his skin, his nerves, his brain. he just majorly fucked up the most important thing in his life because to him she was more important than his career points, the car, the championship, his entire career, and he just threw her aside in the height of his anger.

he tried calling back immediately after he realized what he had just done, but it had just gone straight to voicemail. when that all failed, he spammed texts, or paragraphs more like, about how sorry he was and how she didn’t deserve the attitude he gave her, but it did nothing.

she sat and watched as the texts and missed calls flooded in. while she understood he was angry, it didn’t give him the right to talk to her like that so she left her phone unanswered while she had gotten up to pack. in less than a few hours, she knew max would be back in this apartment, probably on his knees, begging for forgiveness from her. she knew she would forgive him the moment he did so she wanted to get away before he could.

it didn’t take long, she hadn’t packed her entire life away, but a single suitcase and carry-on bag was enough to last her until she decided to patch things over. taking one last look over her shoulder, one last pet of their cats before she had closed the door behind her. knocking on the apartment door of their neighbors to ask them to care for the felines like they did whenever he left for races and she went alongside him.

but in recent months, moreso in the 2023 season, she found herself attending fewer races than she used to because of the growing tension and stress between the pair. it didn't help that they didn't talk it through, they couldn't because they didn't have the time. she had college, he had formula one, and they both had no time to meet in the middle to amend whatever was broken before. whatever was broken remained as such and only cracked further as time went on and the pressure increased.

they knew they should've come together and met in the middle, but they were both petty and too stubborn. it was another reason they clashed, but they also just worked so well.

he was hoping this was going to be the one time they could've found that time to talk, to sit down and have a deep conversation that lasted hours, that they would've ended up getting side-tracked from and begun to talk about random topics, like they used to. laying on her back with her head in his lap and his fingers through her hair as they laughed at funny memories, or moments they had experienced together.

but when he came home to a quiet, empty apartment, he knew. he knew he shouldn't have hoped for something that was unlikely to happen. his cats rubbed against his legs as he walked about the apartment. dirty dishes that had yet to be washed sitting in the sink, blankets unfolded in the couch and doors left open. the air was stale without her presence and he was left to wallow in it. her absence was a sting against his skin as he kicked off his shoes, seeing a couple pairs less than what there usually was, hanging up his coat alone because hers were now gone.

everything was a reminder if how he had treated her, the words he spat like venom all because he had retired from a single race. he can't stop hearing her venomous last words to him, her tone was like he was the scum on the bottom of her shoe. he might’ve well have been because he sure felt like he was. a piece of trash for the way he spoke, granted he was angry, but he didn't have the right, he never would have the right to talk to her like that.

the floorboards creaked under him, cutting through the silence only interrupted by the sounds of his clothes brushing together as he walked. he peered into the various rooms of the house, seeing half the items she would normally have that had been left behind. pieces of her he was left to further sulk with.

it was cruel, but he understood cruel was what he deserved. he deserved seeing the messy, unmade bed that remained empty for hours after she left. covers pulled back like she had just gotten up to see him, except she hadn't.

she was gone, and he hadn't known where, or if she would even come back. he could only hope that she wished to mend their cracked and shattered relationship as much as he wanted now.

he could only hope.

—

taglist (found here): @slut4lrh @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @kaa212 @nhlfs @thearchieves

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[writing-fanics]

‘silly little love affair’ [part iii of V maybe?]

[warning: angst: adam being a jerk: mentions of depression: implications of self-harm : feelings of loneliness]

previous part > next part

[a/n: y/n is dealing with a lot yes a big reason, is being apart from Lucifer. But even before then she always dealt with the feeling of loneliness and depression, she felt as if she wasn’t perfect like her brother that she was basically an afterthought (which she was). Adam is no way perfect but he got everything served to him a partners (that were all stolen by Lucifer lol) while she didn’t get anything.

which is why I should make a chapter where it’s y/n back in the garden of Eden, she asks the angels to make her a partner cause she’s feeling lonely. and they don’t even bat an eye just telling her no. Which is why she holds such disdain towards Adam and Sera.

“You really do love him?” asked Emily, and [Y/n] lifted her head. A faint smile appeared across her tear stained face, as she held the rubber duck in her hand, “More than anything.” said [Y/n], looking at the younger seraphim with bags under her eyes.

A portal appeared beside Emily, “Go,” said Emily, a smile on her face. [Y/n] looked at her in shock confused, but she gestured towards the portal to hell. She saw it the familiar Morningstar Manor, tears trickled down her cheeks as her heart skipped a beat.

“Don’t worry about Sera or Adam, I’m doing my job bringing joy to others,” she said, looking at her a warm smile on her face.

Even before she started a relationship with Lucifer, she always hated being alone. She struggled making friends even in Heaven, only being able to with Emily. She didn’t like to talk much or converse with other people, she felt awkward around others. Which is why she bonded so quickly with Lucifer, she fell in love with him as they became friends.

He made her laugh, and smile. She felt safe and comfortable around him. When they shared their first kiss, she felt butterflies in her stomach and fireworks. She’s never felt this way about anyone before, and it was scary at first but she grew to love the feeling.

“Emily?!” a voice shouted, appearing in the room. Sealing the portal shut, the hope faded from [Y/n]’s eyes once again.

“Going behind my back, you know better.” said Sera, and Emily looked at her and pointed towards [Y/n]. Sera looked over at her and had to admit, she felt a slight pang of guilt. Seeing how miserable and how worse for wear she looked, her eyes drifting towards the her long sleeve shirt. Catching a glimpse of yellow ichor, causing her to raise her eyebrow in concern.

[Y/n] tugged, on her sleeve to cover and brought her arm close to her chest. She looked up at Sera, and then looked away sadly her shoulders sulking, “I’m not going behind your back! I’m doing my job bringing joy to others.” Emily protested, to the older Seraphim.

She had to admit she hated the fact she was going behind Sera’s back. But she was only doing her job bringing joy to others.

“But it’s unfair she deserves to be happy!”

“It’s my job to bring joy to others.”

“She deserves it!”

Sera grew tense, “Emily! That is enough!” shouted Sera, looking at her. [Y/n] gripped the covers of her bed, her knuckles turning white. Her lower lip quivered as tears trickled down her cheek, “J-Just forget it.” said [Y/n], as she looked down her nose turning red.

Emily and Sera, looked over at her. Emily walked over towards her and placed her hand on her shoulder, “I-I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.” she said, shaking her head.

Emily shook her head, “I won’t.” She said, and glared looking at Sera. “Cause I’m doing my job.” She said, and Sera shook her head her arms folded across her chest.

[Y/n] shook her head slowly, “stop moping about y/n, you’ll be fine.” Sera said.

“Says, the one who’s crush didn’t reciprocate your feelings.” spat [Y/n], mumbling under her breath. Sera’s eyes widened her brows furrowed, “You’ve got some nerve!” Sera said, looking at her angrily.

“I might! But you have some nerve keeping me away from the one I love!” shouted [Y/n], and the older Seraphim stared at her angrily.

“I’ve never been happier, felt more alive.” She said, as she ran her fingers through her hair, “you’ll never understand what it’s like being in love, how it feels to be apart from your other half!” She shouted, clenching her fist her eyes almost glowing red.

Sera stared at her a looked filled with disdain, “You’re right I’ll never know, and you’ll never see him again.” grumbled Sera, glaring at her and Emily looked at her in shock and disbelief, at her cruelty. “Sera!” Emily shouted in disbelief, and Sera held up a hand.

“That’s my final say,” she finished.

“Letting you fall will just be doing you a service.” Sera said, and the angel just shook her head and stared back at her covers. “I hope karma bites your ass,” She spat, glaring at the older Seraphim.

Before she could open her mouth to speak, a portal appeared beneath [Y/n]. A portal straight to hell, she fell through immediately before Sera ad time to react. Emily smiled, and gave her a little wave goodbye. She didn’t have time to thank her before, the portal closed.

……….

[Y/n] flapped her wings only able to fly for a couple of seconds, only for them to go limp. She screamed, as she tried to use her wings to no avail.

Her wings flapped for a couple of seconds to only go limp. Once again sending her plummeting toward the ground. A sense of panic set in as she realized she was once again plummeting towards the ground below. She frantically tried to regain control, but to no avail. Her heart racing, tears trickling down her cheeks as she got closer and closer to the ground.

She closed her eyes bracing herself for impact, unsure if she would survive the fall. She whispered to herself, as feathers come off her angelic wings and her halo faded away. Her eyes turning red and her sclera turning, yellow. Her forearm turning a dark reddish black, and her nails sharpening to resemble that of claws.

As much as she tried to use her wings, it was no use. They were just to weak only able to support her for a couple of seconds, before giving out. Sending her plummeting back down towards the ground. She closed her eyes once again, this time she thought for the final time.....

Until a pair of arms had caught her from her free fall

“Y-Y/n?” her heart stopped, her eyes shot open and she came face to face with the love of her life. Tears brimmed her eyes, as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I’m home.” She whispered, he was taken a back for a moment. He wanted to ask her so many questions. But decided it was best to wait.

Chapter III.5 Sneak Peek

Sera looked down at [Y/n] who stood before her sheepishly, “What is it, Y/n?” asked Sera, looking down at the human who fiddled with her fingers nervously.

“I-I, was wonder c-can I maybe have a partner as well?” She asked, nervously biting her lip. Sera looked at her raising her eyebrow, “You come to ask me now of all times?”

Her eyes widened, “I-I didnt mean?!” She stammered, looking at her. Sera looked down at her, “Lucifer Morningstar, has just corrupted the world with his concept of free will. Bringing evil into the world we created.” said Sera, and furrowed her brows at the human.

“You’ve come to ask me for a partner?” She growled. [Y/n] looked down and her body seemed to shrink, as tears brimmed her eyes feeling embarrassed.

“I-I was just feeling lonely.” Y/n said, sadly. “I don’t have time for this Y/n,” sera said, turning away. The human sighed, and sulked away tears trickling down her cheeks as she exited the room.

taglist

@lxkeee @the-attention-whore @httpakasha @dickmastersworld @littleladydemon @sugarpookie @aria-tempest @abby-likesdraw8 @bethleeham @azullynx @baileyohemgee @haleypearce @cheoriemoawa @kaileyn-everdeen

[inklessletter]

The first time Steve hears Eddie singing that song, it's nothing but a absent-minded humming while he's doing something else. Writing something down, he thinks, for the campaign, probably.

Steve knows that song, that's why he smiled when he heard the soft, muffled tone falling out of Eddie's throat. Steve's heard Will singing it, and it's so painfully Jonathan, that song wears his signature all over. Maybe it's because it's The Smiths, and The Smiths is Jonathan.

Steve holds a smile and keeps himself busy, away from Eddie's eyes, because of course, that's what he does. No need to cause a scene, he could go on with his day without Eddie asking him "why are you smiling like an airhead?" Nah, thank you very much.

It's not his music scene, but Steve admits that it has been a favourite since it came out. It was just so goddamn relatable. He first heard it when Nancy dumped him, and sometimes, when he was working at Scoops, he could hear that song coming from the rock station Robin liked, coming from the backroom. No surprise she likes that song too.

Those were dark times for him. Summer job at Scoops, that is. It was a disappointment after another; no university, no high school anymore, no girlfriend, no status to hide after, no friends but the kids he drove all around Hawkins (and yet, three weeks away from Dustin, who was the only one who actually went to see him without asking for anything in return), the most embarrassing dry spell and having absolutely zero idea of what to do next. And that song just randomly filled the air and he indulged himself for two minutes to sulk on his own misery and he felt surprisingly less depressed right after.

So, yeah, that song holds a special meaning for him, a soothing balm for his broken heart, a good nostalgia from his darkest period.

And it comes back to him, from Eddie's voice, and it comes to stay the rest of the day. The rest of the week.

It makes him sad. A good sad, Steve guesses.

He's not really better than a couple years ago, but he's less scared, which is undeniably a victory.

He lets out a sigh and walks away from Eddie, leaves him there, happy and focused and begging.

Steve comes to notice that Eddie sings that song a lot, and he's making it his business not to ask, not to sing along, not to say or do anything that may reveal that Eddie's version of that song is becoming so fast the best he's ever heard.

The day the older side of the group go to see him play with his band, and at some point, he just sits and grabs an acoustic guitar and sings it, that one song, the world turns around. It's hard to keep a straight face, and to breathe regularly. A prayer, a begging in form of ballad, the room is in respectful silence, or if there is any background noise his brain makes the greatest job ignoring it.

Feels Robin's hand slipping through his palm and lacing fingers, but he doesn't look at her.

He can't.

His lips, disloyal and treacherous bastards, shape the last sentence of the song.

Lord knows it would be the first time.

The last chord fills the negative space and the bar noises are there again out of the sudden, and some of his friends are shouting nice things, and Eddie is graciously discarding the acoustic guitar and grabbing his sweetheart again and Steve is hoping to go unnoticed when he wipes his face in a quick movement.

He knows Robin sees it, but she says nothing, merciful and elegant.

The gig goes on for a couple of more songs and it's far too soon when Eddie is there, letting himself fall on the stool next to him, all pleased and content and full of black smudged eyeliner and Steve knows he has to say something to him, so he opts to go with, "I really like that song."

It doesn't need any more saying, because Eddie grins and fucking bites his bottom lip, and looks at the floor like it's the most interesting thing in the world, leaning on the bar next to Steve, and Steve knows, he just knows Eddie knows which one he's talking about.

"Yeah. I bet you do."

He doesn't tease, doesn't go with the rancid bUt YoU lIsTeN tO tEaRs FoR fEaRs In YoUr CaR aLl tHe tImEeE shit like the kids like to whine. He doesn't pretend not to know which one he's talking about. Steve smiles at him, buys the guy a beer.

"So, Robin told you? About, uh, about the song."

He tries a bit too hard to look unaffected, but the label of his cold beer bottle has seen better days. Steve feels Eddie going still and turning his head to face him, wielding such soft, almost pitiful expression that makes Steve's inside go still, lungs not working, muscles tense, blood frozen in his veins, and somehow scalding in his cheeks. He dares to look at Eddie, who whispers, "She did not."

The time stops, or so Steve thinks, when he turns his head to look at Eddie, not really moving an inch.

The question goes unspoken.

The answer is one second too long of both their gazes taking residence in the other guy's lips.

And the song comes alive in Steve's mind, and his lips move again.

So for once in my life

let me get what I want

Lord knows, it would be the first time

[abbyromanoff]

Hi! Can I request G!P natasha x R where Nat retired after they got married. However, Nat got a call from steve saying she's needed in the avengers and Nat says yes. She did not consider R's feelings and when she came back, she found out that R had a miscarriage due to stress. :(

I WISH I COULD SAY IM SORRY

PAIRINGS: Natasha Romanoff x reader

WORD COUNT: 1,538

WARNINGS: angst, kinda happy ending, stressful encounters, Nat being neglectful, pregnancies, miscarriages, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“Y/N, we’ve talked about this,” Nat proclaimed with a sigh, and her gaze was unable to meet yours. Her voice was low, as if she was tired of the topic.

“No, you talked about it, I haven’t got to put my input on any of this! I am due in less than a month, and you want to fucking leave?” She threw her clothes loosely into her bag, and her eyes squeezed shut in irritation. She tied her hair up, removing it from her view while her body began to tense.

“I don’t have a choice, this is my job.”

“And I’m nothing? I’m your wife, Natasha, your wife. You decided to marry me, in sickness and in hell, you remember?”

“Of course, I remember-“

“No, no you don’t. Because you promised me, you promised in your vows that you would never leave my side, and you’re leaving? When I am carrying your child, you want to leave for a mission that anyone else could take?”

“It’s not that simple, my qualifications are required for this.”

“What about Tony, huh? He has a suit of armor, he has blasts that come out of his hand for fucks sake. Or Steve and Bucky, who have super soldier serum? Or Wanda, who has the power to defeat the entire world if she wants to. But you’re needed? You have fists and weapons, sure you have some of the best skills known to mankind, but they will always have more than you. They got lucky, Nat. You’re stuck with the skills you learned, and they have enchantments you don’t, they could easily do anything.” She bit her lip, and her head began swarming with your words. They were better than her, and they always would be. Even in your eyes, they were better.

“I’m needed, Y/N, and my job will always be more important than you are. I will see you in a week, goodbye.” She left without the words ‘I love you’ even leaving her, and you knew that was the end of this discussion, and possibly your relationship. You felt so idiotic, maybe you overreacted? Why would you say that? You knew she had more skills than her coworkers, you were just being selfish in asking if she could stay. You tried texting her apologies, but they went unread.

While you began your episode of sulking, Nat began hers of distraction. She felt so weak hearing you say it, and her insecurities began getting the best of her. Wanda and you had always been close, too close for her liking; but you always told her she had nothing to worry about, that she was simply just a friend and nothing more. But Wanda was stronger than her, she had the ability to defeat all of mankind, but Nat didn’t. Nat could barely even keep you happy, and she knew Wanda made you happier. Wanda was like your break, and your wife was the one making you need a break. And while that was nowhere near the truth in your mind, it was in hers.

The mission continued with little word from Nat, and the stress began taking over. You were filled with worry, and panic, and Nat wasn’t there to relieve that. No, she was the one causing it. You wanted to hate her, how could she leave you like this? But you didn’t just blame her, you blamed yourself. How could you be so stupid? How could you let your emotions get the best of you and belittle her strength when knowing that was her weak spot? You weren’t deserving of her, but that didn’t mean she had to leave you to rot alone.

The only hope you had was Nathan, the baby boy resting in your stomach. And you thought it would be impossible to lose him too, but when you woke with your sheets covered in blood, your crotch the same, you had a gut feeling that this was the last of it. Nat said she would always be here for you, but now she was gone, and you could only hope your child didn’t have the same fate. And while you wanted to have faith, you began picturing the hardships of losing him, and it caused your eyes to blur the entire ride to the hospital. It wasn’t far, and Wanda was on the phone the entire time to console you while ensuring she would be there as soon as possible, it felt as though seconds were hours, and days were months.

“I’m so scared, Wanda, I can’t lose my little boy.” Her heart shattered the worse your thoughts became, and she couldn’t deny that hers were beginning to stir as well.

“You’re not going to lose him, Y/N.”

“You don’t know that.” There was a small beat of silence before her wounded voice arrived once more.

“No, I don’t. But I want to believe it.”

“Nat, you need to get your ass home now. Y/N had to go into emergency labor, they didn’t allow me in but you need to man up and fucking get here already.” You were brought into surgery instantly, and they began performing a c-section in a desperate hope to save the child. Nat’s eyes widened when hearing the news, and in less than minutes she was stirring the Quinjet in your direction. It took less than an hour before she was there, and by the time she was, Wanda was no longer in the waiting room. She stormed in, lips failing to produce the words she wanted to say until Wanda stood, and Nat could tell by the look she gave that she wasn’t going to be receiving positive words.

“Where’s my boy?” Wanda looked down and gulped the tears back, wiping her cheek from the ones that chose to appear. “Where is Nathan, Wanda? Where’s my baby boy?” Tears of her own began to form, and she tried forcing them to stay at bay, but they quickly began streaming down her face.

“She had a miscarriage, The Doctor said all the stress got to her, and, uhm, the baby died, Natasha.” She put her hands on her hips, and Nat nearly broke entirely. It felt like her entire life was coming down on her, and the realization that it was her fault sunk in. She was the one to cause your pain, your stressing mind, and it was what caused the death of her child. She was a killer to her own family.

“I…”

“Don’t, Nat, it’s best you don’t say anything. You already hurt them enough, they don’t deserve this from you.” Nat decided to stay until you woke, but you begged her to go away. She cried by your side, apologies and pleas leaving her tightening throat, but you continued to stay strong in your choice. Wanda forced her to leave, and while you cried to yourself over the grief of your loves, Wanda began digging into Nat. She yelled, pushing the woman back until they stood outside, and Nat was deemed as too weak to fight back.

“They don’t need you, Natasha, and I certainly don’t need to see you, either. So you decide, you leave on your own, or I’ll force you to your fucking grave myself.” Nat paused, and while she was turning to leave, she suddenly stopped.

“You love them, don’t you?”

“What?”

“You love Y/N.”

“Of course, I do-“

“No, you love them. You’re in love with my wife, aren’t you?”

“Alright, maybe I do, what’s the problem with that? You weren’t there for them, Nat, and guess what; I was the one to swoop in and save the day once again. And watching them run back to you time and time again fucking destroyed me and I’m not letting them make the same mistake again. I don’t care if they love me or not, I will continue to do so and I will continue to show it until the moment I die. So, please, do us all a favor and leave, they’re better off without you.”

Nat didn’t come back, but she watched you from the shadows each day. And one single day stuck out to her. She was sitting in the park, a cap on her head and a book that she hurried her face in. She knew you’d be here, but she didn’t expect Wanda to be there as well. Her eyes widened at the baby carriage you pushed around and the growing stomach. She watched Wanda put her arm around your waist protectively while she glanced with a smile at the young toddler and the soon-to-be child inside of you. Nat’s face fell, and for a moment she pictured herself in the witch's spot.

But then she realized, she used to be the one doing so, she used to be the one holding you and glancing down at what was going to be her baby boy, but you never looked as happy as you did. Maybe it was because of the addition to your small family, or maybe it was because you finally chose the right woman.

And now Nat knew she would forever be stuck as your first love, but someone else would be your last.

[17020]

AFTERMATH.

Reo Mikage faces the aftermath of his actions, and his ex-girlfriend (?) tries to move on. Part two of "ONE." Warnings: Reo Mikage, swearing, violence, fake everything!!! 3.6k angst to fluff to angst(???), both platonic and romantic relationships here, pro! post! bllk boys, no beta because how. this is too long.

REO MIKAGE was an absolute mess.

His mind was of no help, either. The image of you and Seishiro at the club was on his mind, replaying constantly like a broken record. The minute he stepped outside, he met with his white-haired best friend, who received him with open arms.

"I'm so sorry she did that" he apologized, "it's better that she did this now rather than later. Plenty of fish in the sea."

Many tears (and many drinks inside Seishiro's apartment) later, Reo Mikage had been consumed by delusion. The more words that came off his best friend's mouth, the more determined he had become. Because yes, his best friend was right: there were plenty of fish in the sea, and instead of drowning in his own sea of tears, he should swim and see what he can find.

"And what you can find, is, a golden crown with two lions at its sides."

It was a gamble, sure. To distract his broken-hearted best friend with their upcoming matches and championships could earn him an earful, but it was their job after all. Reo surprisingly took it well, and made it his goal to stick to football, as relationships were a hassle. The Premier League was slowly coming to an end, and Champions League just reached quarterfinals. Football was forever. Besides, according to Seishiro, "trophies can't cheat on you, now, can they?"

Delusion had struck him unlike ever before. Reo Mikage was a like a sponge cake, soaking up his best friend's poisonous, yet effective advice. He became a monster, letting his frustrations out on every training session. Reo overworked himself, to the point where he barely had any rest, and it showed.

Draws, losses, yellow and red colored cards raised. Reo Mikage had reached a new (professional) low. A match against Luton was scheduled to take place in a few days, and what came next came as a shock to no one, except for Reo and his loyal companion.

Reo Mikage was to be benched for the next few matches of the season.

The issue with the sponge cake of Reo Mikage was, that he was undercooked. Rising to the very top, then completely deflating after cooling. A hard exterior with a liquid interior, yet to solidify. What seemed like his peak to him, was an all-time low for his peers.

The match against Crystal Palace ended with him earning a red card, after a display of violent conduct against another player. The locker room was like entering a colosseum, as everyone from Manshine City watched Reo Mikage receive lecture after lecture. The last lecture, though, stood out to him.

"As soon as you stepped into this stadium you should've left your home life behind, because you're here to play ball, not with women's feelings. Don't know why you're the one sulking, if you're the one who caused hurt."

Gasps and 'oohs' were barely heard as the everyone in the locker room suddenly quieted down. Reo's eye twitched.

"Say that again."

The man in front of him sighed. "As soon as you stepped into this stadium you should've left your—"

Before he could finish his sentence, his head hit the metal behind him, and a streak of blood ran down his nostril. Reo Mikage had swung at the man in front of him, pushing him towards his locker. "Not sure why you're called a panther when you're so fucking slow."

The man tried to maintain his composure, using the back of his hand to wipe the blood off his nose. "Not sure why you treated Yn like shit, she didn't even cheat."

"What do you know?"

"I know your piece of shit lackey lied to you" the man facing Reo retorted, raising his voice. "I sat in the booth in front of them, Nagi was the one to grab her hand. You should really use glasses you blind bitch."

Reo's eyes widened as his lips parted in surprise. He was speechless, turning to his best friend and awaiting his response. In return, Seishiro averted his gaze with a sour expression on his face. It was a no brainer. It was the face of a guilty man.

"It's not true, right? Seishiro?"

Silence.

"Nagi it's not true, though, right? Slowpoke's just talking out of his ass, right?"

Absolute. Deafening. Silence.

"Look, I did you a favor" he spoke up, finally daring to look at his best friend in the eye. "She was a parasite that made you sloppy."

He was shocked, with no words able to come out of his mouth. The persona he had built for the past few weeks came crumbling down before all his peers as he realized what he had done. He was an asshole, and had been led astray by toxicity.

Reo Mikage collapsed.

Prior to getting punched in the face, CHIGIRI HYOMA had spent every minute of his time by your side.

After Reo had left on that fateful night, Chigiri offered a warm, tight embrace, as well as a late night-drive to your apartment, with a quick stop at the nearest convenience store. He was certain you were going to need comfort, and after accidentally watching the whole debacle, it was the least he could do.

You woke up the next morning, seemingly confused as to how you managed to get yourself home. Last night had been a blur, both mentally and physically; your teary-eyed vision was not of any help. Turning to your nightstand, you were stunned.

A gift basket.

It was made up of essentials. Pills (for the raging headache after a hectic night out, and also for your liver), a face mask and eye patches (for the puffiness after crying), cold medication (because crying can lead to a small, yet annoying cold), and electrolytes to help restore your body. It was also, strangely enough, made up of your favorites. Favorite snacks (both salty and sweet), favorite beverage, and favorite... flowers. With a note. Flowers? From who?

'Hope you feel better :)'

Slowly (and carefully), you got up from your bed, sliding your feet into your slippers and heading out towards your kitchen. What caught you off guard, was, the fact that a red-haired Manshine City player sat comfortably on your couch, turning his head your way.

"Morning, Yn. How'd you sleep? You like the basket I left there for you?"

"Respectfully, Chigiri, how the hell did you get in here?"

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "I guess you don't remember, but I dropped you off after last night to make sure you got home safe. You gave me your keys and told me to come back in the morning."

So, you were that drunk.

Before you could even apologize, the doorbell rang. Chigiri stood up from your couch, making his way towards the door and opening it, only to reveal a delivery guy with a few boxes in his hands. Chigiri received the boxes, handing the guy some bills. He turned around and pushed the door closed with his back, walking towards your dinner table and setting the boxes there.

"I got us some toast and smoothies. You need to replenish your body with sodium and carbs after a night out, y'know?"

It was nice, you had to admit. To be taken care of after such a horrific night was precisely what you needed. It was a safe space which you clearly needed: the breakfast was delicious, and Chigiri's company was comforting. It was therapeutic, with you telling him how you felt and letting a few tears slip, and him listening to every word while using the sleeve of his sweatshirt to wipe your tears away.

It was so nice, in fact, that you had not realized that the breakfast turned into a twelve hour hang out, which later turned to weekly hangouts, which later became 'let's just let Chigiri move in and basically become my roommate' hang-outs.

He was the company you never knew you needed, a breath of fresh air, if you will. Every day off he had meant a new activity for you two to try out, a new adventure, and a new fond memory. From painting mugs, to visiting zoos and aquariums, baking, a walk in the park—you name it, you and Chigiri had done it all.

It was hard not to notice the lingering touches, the lost puppy eyes, excuses to be near each other. It was bound to happen. For the past few months, he had been by your side, helping you heal and holding your hand on each step of the way. You wondered if he felt forced to do so, or if he genuinely cared. His actions seemed to insinuate that he did, but there was a sprinkle of doubt on your mind. You guessed you had Reo to blame for that.

It was too soon. Besides, there was the possibility he did this out of friendship, not out of love. Nonetheless, you were certain of one thing: Hyoma Chigiri had become your safe space.

The day of the altercation, Hyoma made sure to stop by his place to clean up his nose before going to yours. He did not want for you to find out, because it really was not relevant, as it could set back your progress towards healing completely.

As he stepped onto the elevator of your apartment complex, he pressed the button of your floor. He felt his phone buzz, and as he pulled it out from his pocket, he read it was a message from Reo.

Mikage I'm sorry. I didn't know the truth about everything, and I'm sorry I punched you.

Hyoma sighed.

Chigiri Say sorry to Yn, not me. (xxx)-(xxx)-(xxxx) That's my therapist. Clearly you need her more than I do. Don't even think of apologizing until you've changed. She doesn't need to deal with your shit right now.

The elevator's doors opened, and he stepped up to your door. With a few knocks, the door opened to reveal a happy you. A better you, that had a giddy smile on her face, instead of her lips curled downwards with tears running down her cheeks. A healed you, that was ready to take on the world, as her eyes gleamed with life.

"Are you ready, Hyo?"

He nodded as he took your hand in his, stepping back inside the elevator with you, going down towards the parking. After the match against Crystal Palace (and its gruesome aftermath), you offered to treat him to some sweets at a coffee shop you both liked.

As you and him arrived at the coffee shop, his phone began to buzz like crazy. His phone began to heat up from the amount of text messages he was receiving. He opened them, only to realize that he was in trouble. The first message he opened was a link from Isagi, which was a tweet leading to a news article.

Isagi "CHIGIRI HYOMA PUNCHED IN THE FACE BY MIKAGE REO IN LOCKER ROOM ALTERCATION. The red panther received a punch after winning 4-2 against Crystal Palace. A thread." This true?

Bachira WELL DID YOU FIGHT BACK?? DO WE NEED TO BOOK A FLIGHT???

Isagi More importantly, does Yn know?

He quickly turned his phone off as he held the door open for you, guiding you to a secluded table at the back of the shop. It was for privacy, because Hyoma Chigiri was one of England's most popular players after all.

It was not unusual for you and him to receive so many weird stares. Especially with the disguises you had on.

It was tradition, and it was something you did even with Mikage. In order to avoid crazy fans or paparazzi, you opted for stupid disguises, like sunglasses, hoodies, sun hats, caps, and more. This time was no different, with Hyoma having his hair tied into a bun, wearing a gray hoodie and a pair of polarized wraparound sunglasses. You, instead, opted for a cap and cateye sheer sunglasses.

The staring felt... somewhat strange. People from the coffee shop already knew you and Hyoma since you frequented the shop, but this time, their gazes lingered a bit longer than last time.

"Umm... Hyo... why's everyone staring at you?" you questioned, genuinely concerned as to why everyone stared at the man in front of you.

"Probably has to do with the fact that I screwed up in our match against Luton" he shrugged, feigning indifference.

Hyoma was glad that you had decided to block both your name and Reo's on your social media tags. It was done for obvious reasons, of course. The mere thought of Reo Mikage would have made your soul leave your body (in a bad way), so you opted to block both of your names to avoid gossip and the media trying to decipher your breakup.

This meant, of course, that only Hyoma and the rest of the world could see the tweets, the paparazzi pictures of you two, the speculation, the blind items of 'trusted sources' (which were garbage), and the overall buzz on what was deemed 'football's biggest love heist'. In the public eye, Hyoma Chigiri was a home-wrecker. A home-wrecker that fell HARD for his teammates ex-girlfriend. A total simp.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain red-head had his eye on you for some time. To him, you had been off-limits. Before, he felt utmost respect for Reo, so there was no breaking 'bro-code' when Reo told him and Seishiro that he was starting to fall in love with you. More importantly, he knew that, as long as you were happy, he was happy, even if it was with someone else. Naturally, that initial attraction faded over time, settling to admire you as a friend instead.

Hyoma internally cursed as he realized that maybe it did not fade completely, and that maybe, just maybe, he had been given a second chance. There was no more 'bro-code', seeing as him and his 'bro' had fallen out, and he already was a home-wrecker to the media, so there really was nothing to lose in regards to reputation.

What Hyoma Chigiri was afraid of losing was you.

He feared that if he were to confess, the beautiful 'whatever-it-was' that you two had (because he knew for a fact this was not a friendship) might end due to his feelings being overwhelming for you. If anyone was to make the first move, it had to be you.

And Hyoma was so glad you did.

After the coffee shop, he drove you back to your place. Hyoma offered to order takeout as a way to thank you for the coffee shop snacks. It was getting late, and as per usual, he was going to spend the night. The couch was all set up and ready for him. It had his blanket and his favorite pillow, along with a stuffed animal (a panther) which you had gotten for him at the zoo. He was about to lay down, when your voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Hyo... can you sleep in my room tonight?"

He spared no time in following you to your room, with his blanket and pillow in hand. As you climbed onto your bed, he set the pillow and blanket on the floor. You laughed as you shook your head, patting the spot on your bed next to you. "I meant up here, with me."

Carefully (and while trying to maintain his cool), Hyoma climbed up to the spot next to you. You scooched over to his side, placing your head on his chest and your arms wrapped around his torso. Feeling him tense up, you slowly loosened your grip.

"I'm sorry, it was wrong of me to do that, Hyo. I'm so sorry."

His arms were now on top of yours, readjusting them, thus tightening your grip. He bent down to leave a kiss on your forehead, reassuring you that it was more than okay for you to do so. A content sigh escaped your lips. "I like this" you smiled, "I like us."

"I like us too, princess."

It had been a year since you last saw Mikage.

It had also been around six months since the wish Hyoma Chigiri pushed away for so long had, at last, come to fruition, with him honored to be given the opportunity to call you his girlfriend.

The relationship was kept private. It was as if an unspoken agreement had been settled, with yours and Hyoma's friends not daring to ask about the status of your relationship, or if you had finally settled on a label other than 'just friends.' Aside from the usual photos taken by fans or paparazzi on the street, there were no public appearances or statements to clear things up.

Until the end-of-season party.

The end-of-season parties were hosted by each club once the season is finalized, usually sending out special guest invites to players from other clubs, or even having joint celebrations with them. Manshine City sent their invites, reaching former members of Blue Lock, and even providing each guest with a plus one.

There was no doubt on Hyoma's mind. It was time to go public.

It did not take long for you to be convinced to attend, seeing as this would be you and Hyoma's debut as an official couple. Media involvement was at an all-time high, seeing as there was a rise in popularity for Manshine ever since the 'internal conflicts' between players were shown to the public.

As you got ready for Manshine's end-of season party, you noticed a medium sized velvety box on your vanity. Curious, you opened it, revealing a beautiful necklace, at the center being a pendant in the shape of an initial. Your initial. As you took it out of the box, you heard your boyfriend's footsteps as he walked into your room.

"Hope you like it. Your name is lovely, so own it."

He took the necklace from your hands, swiftly placing it on your neck. Your phone began to ring, the caller ID reading Isagi's name. He had called to let you know he and Bachira were parked outside the apartment, waiting for you and Hyoma. Seeing as they ended up in Champions League quarterfinals and decided to stick around for a while in London, it was no surprise they got guest invites to Manshine's party. This meant carpooling was mandatory.

The party was flooded with journalists.

It was to be expected, of course. As players arrived, journalists approached them as if on queue, each one had a camera and a microphone on hand, as they were expected to cover the whole event.

So it was no surprise when you and Hyoma got approached by a journalist, hoping to ask your boyfriend a few questions about his thoughts on the season, as well as to congratulate him on his performance. The journalist asked Hyoma who was 'the gorgeous woman who stood at his side', to which he proudly smiled, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

"She's the love of my life."

After a cordial 'congratulations' and a few pictures (which were definitely going to trend on the internet for weeks), you excused yourself as you walked towards Isagi and Bachira, wanting Hyoma to have a one-on-one with the journalist. You were about to approach them, only to be stopped by a tap on your shoulder. You turned around, your eyes widening in astonishment.

"Hi."

"Oh... umm... hi Mikage."

'This is going to be one hell of a night' you thought, unsure of how the hell Reo Mikage had the balls to actually strike up a conversation. His gaze lowered from your eyes to your chest, fixated on the sparky initial which hung on the shiny, silver chain.

"Uhh... nice necklace."

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry."

Flabbergasted, you raised your eyebrows. He sighed as his gaze was now focused on the ground, as he was unable to look you in the eye. You could tell he was beyond nervous, as he fidgeted with the sleeves of his suit.

"I'm really sorry, Yn. I let my emotions get the better of me, and more importantly, I didn't trust you. I'm sorry that I didn't hear your side of things and just broke things off like that. I've been to therapy since then, and I thought now was the right time to apologize."

You stood there utterly dumbfounded, unsure of how to react. One one hand, it felt soothing to know your ex-boyfriend finally worked on himself, but even then, his actions still cut you deeply, and a part of you wished he never showed his face again. Even with mixed feelings, the corners of your lips raised to form a smile.

"It's okay, Mikage. Let's leave that in the past, okay?"

Sure, Mikage was the one who left you hurting, feeling like you were stuck at the bottom of a well with no one left to hear your pleas. He was the one to destroy you completely, after not caring enough to know your side or even listen to what you had to say. But if there was one thing you learned with Hyoma, it was that, to be at peace with yourself, sometimes it was better to forgive.

Mikage's eyes glimmered as tears threatened to trickle down his face, a smile growing on his face. Slowly, his hand reached for yours.

"Do you think we can... you know... give us another..."

You wasted no time in pulling back your hand.

"I hope you find true joy, Mikage, I really do. I just hope I never get to hear about it."

He slowly inhaled, letting out a shaky breath. You felt a strong arm wrap itself around your waist, and as you looked to your side, there was your boyfriend, Hyoma.

"Everything okay here?"

Mikage's eyes met with the redhead's.

"No—yeah—I was just leaving" he stuttered, "seems like you've got it from here."

"Don't you worry, yeah? I got her now."

[phefics]

𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: george o'malley x reader 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you're george's best friend. after a night of drinking, you two hook-up, then try to pretend it never happened. prompted by @grimeslovebot!! 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬: fem!reader, surgery intern!reader, george isn't married/a cheater, drunk sex, unprotected sex, sort of angsty/cliffhanger ending, pt 2 coming soon 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: ~1.7k

It had been a hard, long week at Seattle Grace Hospital. You had spent most of it in the clinic, which wasn’t very exciting, but it had put you on Bailey’s good side, which was always a good thing.

George, on the other hand, had been given a chance to scrub in on an incredible surgery and the patient, unfortunately, hadn’t made it. It had upset him, losing someone so young, and he had been sulking around the halls the past few days.

“Why don’t we do something fun tonight?” you suggested, sensing that his mood wasn’t going to get better without a gentle nudge. Like all the other surgery interns, the job often took a toll on him, and only another intern was capable of understanding their pain.

“Like what?” he asked, not looking up from the chart he was reading.

“I don’t know…Go to the bar with the other interns?“ you suggested.

George looked up at you with a fond look on his face. “You mean, like we do all the time?”

“I’m just brainstorming!” you defended, but you couldn’t help smiling.

You and George had immediately gotten along at the beginning of your internship, and had been inseparable friends ever since. All it took was a certain expression on his face, or a specific tone of voice for you to know exactly what he was thinking. You were smiling, because you knew that fond look on his face meant, ‘I know you’re trying to cheer me up, and going to a bar with Karev is not the right approach.’

So, you tried again. “Or we could go back to the house, watch a movie, have some drinks and snacks? I think Meredith is on call tonight, anyway, so the house will be quieter than usual.”

He notated something on the chart, giving you a nod. “Sure, that sounds nice. Uh, I have to go run some labs, but I’ll see you at lunch?”

“See you!”

It was a few hours later when George put his tray down next to yours on the cafeteria table, flopping down into his seat with a sigh.

“Drinks tonight is just what I need,” he said.

You gave him a sympathetic smile, patting his arm. “I’ll stop by the liquor store after my shift.”

“You’re the best,” George said, and his tone was so sincere, combined with that fond look in his big, brown eyes, it made your face flush.

The moment was ruined when Meredith came to the table, practically slamming her food down as she began to rant about her drama with McDreamy, and you were grateful for the distraction.

George was your best friend. Surely you weren’t interested in him…like that. George O’Malley, who was shy and awkward, who was into all his nerdy shit, who made you laugh more than anyone else, who knew you better than anyone…

Well, shit. That wasn’t a great revelation to have in the middle of your work day. You were falling for your best friend.

Meredith’s voice faded to the background as you processed it. Relationships within the hospital always seemed to get messy. You were co-workers, roommates, friends. If it went wrong, it would ruin so much. But if it went well...God, if it went well, it would be so perfect.

"Earth to Y/N?" George said, his fingers waving in front of your face.

You startled from your thoughts. "What?"

"Your pager is going off. Didn't you hear it?"

"Shit," you muttered, grabbing for your pager as you rose to your feet, already preparing to sprint.

"See you later!" George called after you as you ran from the cafeteria.

Later that evening, you changed out of your scrubs in the locker room before heading out of the hospital, stopping at the liquor store and picking up a few bottles of assorted drinks, making sure to grab George's favorite, as well as stopping at a gas station for snacks.

By the time you made it back to the house, your arms full of bags, George was there to help you bring the bags inside.

You picked a film while George mixed some drinks, curling up beside each other on the couch.

"Cheers to surviving another week," he said.

You smiled and clinked your glass with his.

The film you chose was supposed to be sci-fi, but there was an unnecessary romance plot thrown in, and the drunker you got, the more frustrated you became.

"If the world was fucking ending, I would be less concerned with getting laid," you quipped, rolling your eyes at the television.

George was also pretty tipsy by that point, and he laughed. "I think it's sweet. I mean, he's clearly been in love with her for a while. If you thought you weren't going to live much longer, wouldn't you want to seize the opportunity?"

You hummed, considering it. “But what if the world doesn’t end? And now you’ve just made things awkward.”

“Or you’ve made things better,” George said. He had a giddy smile on his face, like he was genuinely daydreaming about the concept.

“You thinking about someone specific?” you teased, nudging him in the ribs playfully.

“Shut up,” he replied, his cheeks flushed, not just due to the alcohol.

You broke into a grin, his lie obvious. "Oh, you are! Tell me, tell me," you chanted, words slurred slightly as you nudged him repeatedly, even sneaking your hands out to tickle his side.

He yelped, batting uselessly at your hands. "No! There's nothing to tell!" he insisted, but his giggling didn't make the words sound very convincing.

Somehow, you ended up halfway in his lap, still poking and prodding at him and demanding to know his little secret, too tipsy to care about the close proximity, or about the fact that his answer might not be who you wanted it to be.

Thankfully, his answer was just what you wanted, and it didn't even come verbally. In a last ditch effort to get you to stop assailing him, George had grabbed your face and pulled you in for a clumsy kiss.

The movie wasn't even half-finished, but it was totally forgotten as you and George got to your feet, stumbling through the house and towards his bedroom, each moment where your lips weren't pressed together spent giggling.

There were no words necessary, your mouths too occupied with kissing to bother. George had already grown hard in his pajama pants, the imprint of his well-sized cock clearly visible through the plaid fabric.

You laid down on his bed, fingers fumbling to remove your top, and George pulled his own shirt over his head with a big of a struggle, the heat of the moment combined with the liquor making every movement desperate and uncoordinated.

It wasn't long until you both completely naked, tangled in his bed sheets. He held your face with so much care, thumb stroking your jaw as he kissed you.

"Youhave no idea how long I've wanted this," he breathed, lining his cock up with your entrance. "Since the ice breaker before our internship, I swear..."

"Me too," you replied. "Didn't even realize how bad I needed you, but it's always been there."

You two both moaned as he entered you, your fingernails digging into his back. It felt so good, the stretch of his cock filling you. It was a blessing that no one else was home to hear the way the bed creaked, the way you gasped and how he groaned.

As he fucked you, George used his thumb to rub circles on your clit, bringing you close to orgasm as he approached his own.

"Fuck," you breathed. "I'm gonna—"

"Me too," he said.

It didn't long for you to both be finished, laying spent on his flannel bedsheets. From the alcohol and the rush of adrenaline, you both fell asleep like that, naked and cuddled together.

***

When you awoke the next morning, you immediately felt the headache before your eyes had even opened. Weren't you too old, too mature to be getting hungover like this? And you were on-call today, which was just the cherry on top.

Or, so you thought. The real cherry on top was when you opened your eyes and say none other than your best friend, George O'Malley, laying next to you.

Fuck, you thought. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

You jumped out of the bed, and your head pounded in protest. You ignored it, too occupied with the fact that you were naked, your clothes strewn about George's bedroom floor. You gathered them up hastily and snuck out of his room, dashing into your own.

You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. Maybe George wouldn't remember! Maybe you could just move on, pretending that it had never happened.

It was wishful thinking, though. Once you had showered, gotten ready for work, and eaten some semblance of breakfast, George emerged from his bedroom, still shirtless, and nearly bumped right into you in the hallway.

"Morning," he said, sounding exhausted. "What the hell did we drink last night?"

"Don't remember," you replied. "I gotta go. See you later!"

You weren't being very subtle. Izzie, Meredith, and Cristina kept questioning why you were acting jumpy, flustered, and hungover.

"Did you go on a date?" Izzie asked.

Meredith chimed in. "Was it someone here?"

"Oh, don't tell me you're screwing an attending, too," Cristina said.

"I just didn't get much sleep," you replied.

Thankfully, your pager beeped and gave you an excuse to leave. You went to the room you were summoned to, expecting to find a patient in need or an attending who wanted you to scrub in.

Instead, you found an empty room with none other than George O'Malley standing in it.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," you replied, fighting the urge to run right back out of the room.

"So, when I was getting dressed this morning, I noticed the, um...Well, the scratches on my back. I just want to make sure...It was you, right? Like, I didn't do something totally stupid?"

"It was me," you said. "And who says it wasn't stupid? We...We're friends, George, we shouldn't...I mean, I don't want to lose that."

George's face fell slightly, and you focused your gaze on the floor to ignore it.

"Of course," he replied. "Yeah, no, you're right. We were drunk, anyway. It didn't...It didn't have to mean anything."

"Cool. Well, uh...I'll see you later."

You rushed out of the room, refusing to look back at him.

(there will be a part two, don't worry!!)

[bowandcurtsey]

when y/n's ex appears Pt 3.

BC boys: Yuno | Zora | Luck [Part 1]

JJK: Sukuna | Gojo [Part 2]

Haikyuu: Kuroo | Nishinoya | Sakusa [Part 3]

x f! reader

Slight nsfw (hickeys mentioned)

Kuroo Tetsuro

{this ex of yours from high school whom you used to date before kuroo is now a new colleague in your job.. And when kuroo finds out, he's not that happy. }

When he came to pick you one day and Kuroo saw him, or actually he said hello to Kuroo because y'know Kuroo was his senpai in school and all. Kuroo's face twitched a little but he still gave a smile and said hello.

Kuroo's hands instinctively wrapped around you and pulled you closer to him while exchanging in a meaningless conversation with your ex.

When you're both in the car, he sulks more when he finds out your ex is from the same department as you are and that you'll have to work together once in awhile.

He now leaves hickeys in subtle but noticeable places and whenever he comes to pick you and sees him, he'll hold you tighter and give you kisses right in front of him.

Somehow you can call it a man's instinct, but Kuroo warned you to not let him ever send you back home and to keep your distance other than work related things.

Of course you respected your man, because in so so so many ways your Kuroo is just much better than your ex.

one day after a company dinner, your ex was a little high, and he confessed to you, saying he never really got over you and asked you for a second chance.

"er, but i have a boyfriend now, and we broke up for a reason." you said.

He backed off a little but still offered to send you back home since it was getting late. He pestered you a little about it until a sound of a horn scared him.

Kuroo walked out from his jet black mercedes, looking all hot in just a sweat pants and a t shirt.

He pulled you into his arms and stared right at your ex. "back off from my girl, it's my last warning." his face was no longer smiling like their past encounters, and his eyes were like a fierce panther ready to attack.

Well, safe to say from then onwards, he never really bothered you much anymore.

Nishinoya Yuu

{Noya plays volleyball in a club for leisure and one day a new guy joins, and he happened to be your ex}

when you came to watch Noya play his games, you noticed someone new, and to your surprise (and horror) it was someone that you used to date back in high school.

When your ex saw you, he ran up to you to say hello, excited to see you again. But you weren't really interested since he dumped you and quickly got together with another girl.

Man even got the audacity to tell Noya that "we used to date back in high school"

but thank god Noya was pretty quick witted so he replied "oh, you're the ex that dumped her for another chick?"

But your ex was also thick skinned, so he sheepishly smiled, saying "it's all in the past!"

Noya couldn't care any less. When it came to volleyball, he focused on the ball and the game and as usual everyone is always in awe of the plays Noya made. Even as a librero, he shone.

But for your ex, he constantly came to talk to you on breaks and he even texted you after.

Initially Noya was just "oh. okay." He's just innocent and didn't think much of it.

Until you told him one day that your ex actually told you to give him a second chance. That's when Noya understood the ulterior motives this guy had.

Whenever you came to support him, Noya told you to wear his shirts or old jerseys. You always held his water bottle and towel and handed it to him during breaks and he would always give you a kiss on your forehead before running back in game.

At the end of the day, Noya would always help carry all your stuff and held your hand out of the gym.

But your ex didn't back down, still constantly texting you and trying to talk to you.

One day, during a break in the games, Noya looked at him dead panned in the eye, telling him : "oi. stop bothering y/n, she mine's and i never lose what's mine."

He just walked away, leaving your ex stunned and everyone giving the "ohhhhs" and "ahhhhs"

Noya gave a perfect defence that day. He never lost a ball that was in his area, be it a tip or a heavy spike.

Your ex left the leisure team shortly after.

Sakusa Kiyoomi

{You were Msby's assistant manager and your ex joined in as a new player for Msby's team}

When your ex saw you he greeted you, "oh hello y/n, fancy seeing you here!"

Everyone was curious of course, asking how did you guys know each other.

"We used to date after high school, just briefly!" he explained. And everyone stared at Sakusa, to which he just shrugged and went back to doing what he's doing.

Atsumu even teased his a little, "ohhhh~ someone's jealous ain't he?" earning a hard smack in the back.

Sakusa was a little more quiet than usual that day, even though his performance was still as good as ever.

Even your ex was impressed, "whoa you're good."

Sakusa was never the physically affectionate type when outside because "I'm sweaty and there are a lot of germs" but that day he held your hand after practice when you went home together.

Back home, he showered and then he was super clingy towards you. pulling you into his lap and cuddling you quietly.

Your man wasn't one with much words but you knew he wasn't too happy about meeting your ex and having to have to work with him for long term. You quietly ran your fingers through his hair.

From then whenever you had practice, you constantly showed your affection for him, cheering when he scored points and always telling him good job after practice. You would purposely ask him things like "where should we go today," or "what should we eat for dinner tonight" where you knew that your ex could hear.

You never really talked to your ex unless it was due to volleyball reasons. Giving Sakusa as much affirmation from you as he needs.

Slowly, sakusa became unbothered by him, until one day, your ex made a joke about how you changed from the past you and this wasn't how you were like when you dated.

And you could clearly see Sakusa getting annoyed. He came over and wrapped his strong arms around you, looking at your ex straight in the eye "she's perfect right now." and pulled you away.

Everyone was silent, and Atsumu gave a low whistle.

[catscidr]

hi.. hello... may I request a dottore fic w/chronically ill reader? chronically ill as in, can't get enough sleep due to pain, doesn't clean themselves/shower, or doesn't eat a lot due to the pain and loss of appetite.

this part is a bit self indulgent but maybe reader can't walk properly due to it and needs assistance by dottore (or his segments) to hold her hand and let her cling onto them as they walk?

absolutely understandable if not! hope you have a good day :) 🕊

yes!! absolutely!! (included this other ask too bc i felt they were similar enough) im sorry i disappeared for a bit, life happened and this and that and i didn't have time to write and when i did i just.... couldn't write LOLヽ(；▽；) i don't have a chronic illness so i did my best with what i had (google and my own experiences with body pains n stuff(?) ) so pls lmk if there's like. any wording i should change and whatnot. big smoochies to u nonnie i hope this makes you feel at least a little better ♡♡ ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: a whole lotta fluff, established relationship, dottore is probably a little ooc bc he's very soft, him and The Clones are doting on reader HARD. reader is shorter than the men includes: fem reader, dottore and his segments (Omega is the oldest, Delta is webttore, Iota is the youngest), Columbina is mentioned, fatui npcs are also mentioned wc: 2,3k

The doctor was infamous for being cruel, aloof and barbaric. From his experiments to his way of treating his coworkers, practically everyone that worked in the Fatui wanted nothing to do with him, since even if they happened to not get on his bad side, even being associated with him meant other members of the organization would look at them funny. The only people the Harbinger spoke to daily, apart from you, were his many segments. 

The same couldn’t be said for you though. When you could, you’d spend time with Viktor or Ekaterina whenever they were in Snezhnaya, hang out with Damselette when she was free or simply just make small talk with anyone willing to stop by for a chat. Unfortunately, you haven’t been able to enjoy other people’s presence since your body’s been feeling quite sluggish as of late, exhaustion seeping into your limbs much quicker than it should. Your predicament made it so that you were confined to the four walls of your room most days, human interaction being limited to Dottore and his clones. 

Not that you particularly minded, since they were an entertaining bunch. Dottore took care of you most of the time, but since his job was quite demanding, he couldn’t be there for you all the time. Which is where his segments came in. 

“The soup isn’t that hot, and I already blew on it! Just eat already,” Delta grumbles loudly, his patience wearing thin as it made way for aggressive worry to take place. You stick your tongue out at him, a tired and petty act of rebellion despite your situation. 

“I dare you to take a sip. For sure it’ll be able to melt your mechanic tongue right off,” you huff in annoyance, both from the minimal hours of sleep you’d been getting and your own patience coming to an end. The man makes a tsk sound, torn between wanting to prove you wrong by humoring your suggestion or wanting to just grab an ice cube and tossing it in the bowl in malicious compliance. He doesn’t have time to decide though, because two people come into your room right as he opened his mouth to reply. 

“Prime told me to check in on you,” Omega says as he breaches the doorframe. “You’re taking too long.” he adds, crossing his arms. The older segment stares down at his maskless coworker, lips curling down in a frown. Delta scowls, readjusting himself on your bed- he was sitting to your right, his legs thrown over the side of the bed. He glances over his shoulder at the interruption, scowl now much more genuine as he glares daggers at the older segment. 

“I would have been back a long time ago if someone,” he doesn’t hide the way his eyes glance over at your sulking form, “had cooperated with me.” Still holding up the spoon he had tried to feed you previously, he lowers it into the bowl while gesturing for Omega to come closer. The latter walks over to the bed calmly while Iota saunters over to your left side, chatting up a storm about how he’s missed you and asking when you’ll be joining them back in the lab again. 

“Maybe if you knew how to speak to women,” the oldest taunts, lips curling into a small grin, the only feature visible on his masked face. You giggle as Delta bites back an insult, purposely ignoring his superior to instead try to make you get something in your system one more time. 

“Where’s Dottore?” you ask the Omega segment, turning your face away from Delta. The latter glares at you, handing over the bowl of soup to the other man. Iota suggests feeding you but is quickly dismissed by the other two, much to his dismay. 

“Busy. Although he said he would come by to test something, if I recall correctly... didn’t mention what it was, though,” the masked segment says, blowing on a spoonful of soup to cool it off. You nod, eating the spoonful when Omega presents it to you, earning a look of disbelief from Delta. “How are you feeling today?” the oldest asks, tuning out Delta’s many choice words aimed at him. You do the same, focused on eating and taking your time swallowing the food so as to not upset your already sensitive stomach. 

“Could be better,” you respond with a sigh. “I feel pain... everywhere. And I’m tired but I can’t sleep,” you add between spoonfuls. Omega nods, letting you rant as he silently listens to you while subtly observing the way your chest heaves up and down, as if your lungs were working overtime to accommodate to an elevated heart rate. 

He hums, dipping the spoon in the bowl to feed you again. You shake your head at him and put a hand up in front of your mouth, your brows creasing your forehead. The clone doesn’t push further and instead hands Iota the unfinished bowl of food, quietly asking for him to put it away. The young boy nods eagerly, happy to be of use as he scurries away. Delta follows after him to make sure he doesn’t break anything, but glances behind his shoulder to take one last look at you, worry obvious on his usually irked face. 

“How long has it been since Prime has last given your previous dose of aspirin?” he asks, leaning closer to you to push your hair out of your face. Expression scrunched up in discomfort from the sudden food intake, you make a noise of discontentment, a vague answer to his question. He frowns but doesn’t voice his displeasure aloud, instead comforting you through your nausea. Noticing pearls of sweat beading up on your hairline, Omega pulls your bed sheets away slightly, making you more comfortable. 

“Can you try swallowing for me?” he asks gently, tilting his head forward and to the side to look at your throat. It takes you a hot second but after some struggle you do as he instructed and swallow, your throat bobbing up as you do, and the segment hums in satisfaction. “Good,” he murmurs quietly, placing one hand on your shoulder to help you straighten your back. 

“Let me help you up. Hold onto my hand for me?” Omega asks, helping you slip out of bed, putting a strong arm under yours to help you stand up. You wordlessly interlock your fingers into his own and wobble slightly, knees weak and devoid of strength, but he holds you up, bending his own knees slightly to accommodate your height. The wave of nausea comes and goes, making your legs unsteady as the clone helps you walk towards the bathroom connected to your bedroom. 

Delta comes back without Iota in tow and immediately notices your discomfort. His legs work faster than his mind and he’s to your left in the blink of an eye, supporting your weight as well to help you and Omega out. The three of you reach the sink counter and as the oldest helps you sit up on it, Delta squints at his fellow clone. 

“Can one of you get my bucket,” you manage to croak out between deep breaths, head slumped forward to rest against Omega’s shoulder. While he rubs soothing circles on your back Delta quickly grabs the bucket you kept in your room, footsteps as silent as he could as to not disturb you. You murmur a quiet thank you to him, sitting up to the best of your ability as you shoot him a grateful smile. 

“Are you feeling well enough to bathe or are you still lightheaded?” Omega asks, one of his gloved hands coming up to your forehead. He feels some heat seep through the leather fabric but waits for your answer nonetheless, crimson eyes covered by his mask staring into you. You nod, leaning into the coolness of his hand. 

“Mmhyeah, jus’ help me out a bit,” you mumble sleepily, exhaustion taking over your nausea. Delta doesn't need to be told twice as he turns on the tap to fill up the bath, keeping a hand beneath it to make the sound of water splashing in the tub quieter to avoid bothering you. 

✧✧✧   

With a towel resting over your head and newfound energy flowing through your limbs, you saunter into your partner’s main lab to find him. Omega had left shortly after you finished bathing, begrudgingly telling you that he had to go back to work- but Delta stayed with you long enough to keep you company while you let your eyes rest. He gave you some painkillers- nothing like what Dottore gave you to keep the pain at bay, but it worked as a temporary solution- and you felt energized enough to leave your bedroom to get ahold of Dottore. 

Delta walked behind you, not wanting to go back to the laboratory just yet but the last thing he wanted was to leave you alone, his mind working up a multitude of scenarios in which you’d get hurt. Although he was all bark and no bite, he still cared about you immensely- more than he’d ever admit. He watches your hair drip water onto the pristine white tiles as you walk and steps on the water with his boots, smudging the liquid to wipe it away. 

“Dottore!” you exclaim happily, eyes lighting up when you finally catch sight of the familiar mop of blue hair paired with his matching tired eyes and scarred skin adorning his face. The Harbinger looks up from his work, eyes displaying a mix of surprise and something akin to irritation- a result from catching him off guard. 

“Darling,” he says softly, quietly enough that you barely catch the loving nickname slipping past his chapped lips. “Did you eat?” he asks, brushing the dirt off his hands on his slacks. You engulf his torso in a warm hug, immediately comforted by the familiar faint scent of his cologne and whatever cleaning supply he used in his lab. He returns the hug gently and Delta looks away immediately, flustered at the sight of his boss being publicly affectionate. 

You respond with a muffled mhm, refusing to pull away. “Didn’t eat much but it was something. Omega ‘n Delta helped me bathe. Took something for the pain. Now I’m here,” you summarize, face still smushed against him. He hums in approval, but concern still creases his brows as he uses one of his hands to rub up your back and the other to dry off your hair completely using the towel on your head. Delta murmurs an excuse before leaving the premises, not able to withstand the pda. 

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” he says sternly but softly. “I’m working on something that’ll help you in the long run, it’ll do you good to allow your body to recuperate as much as it can. Have you been sleeping alright?” 

You slump against him. Of course he’d notice how tired you were even if he couldn’t see your face. 

“...No,” you mumble. He doesn’t respond, but you feel his head moving as he looks around his workspace, seemingly looking for something. He lets out a quiet aha when he does and he brings his arms down to your shoulders to push you away. 

“I have something you can take to help you sleep. You shouldn’t feel nauseous nor dizzy when you take it as well,” Dottore says, immediately talking about the possible complications before you can even open your mouth to refuse his offer. “I tested it out myself,” he adds, lips curling into a small smile when he sees your face change from a pout to bewilderment. 

“You? The great Dottore, ex-scholar of the Akademiya, willingly taking medication to make him sleep? You never get rest, and you expect me to believe you when you talk about sleeping medication?” you say with an amused scoff. Dottore raises a brow at your teasing but doesn’t comment on it, instead he chooses to brush his pointer finger’s knuckle beneath your eyes. 

“You should believe me because I never get rest, my love,” he says fondly. “And because your dark circles are so prominent, I could probably see them from the other side of the laboratory.” he adds. You huff but lean into his touch, eyes drooping from the burst of energy catching up on your body. You hear him chuckle under his breath as he shifts his body to grab the medication in question and a syringe with a sterilized needle, preparing the equipment to administer it to you. 

“If you get an adequate amount of rest, I’ll take two days off work to take care of you properly. How does that sound?” he asks lightly, flicking the syringe to let out any air bubbles out. You look away with furrowed brows and roll your eyes, but still give him your arm. 

“Now you’re just trying to bait me,” you say, looking at him from the corner of your eyes. He shrugs, not arguing with your accusation because you were technically right. When he’s done with the syringe you feel his arms wrap around you, the warmth of his body making you sigh pleasantly. 

You can’t tell what it is that makes your body grow so incredibly tired so suddenly; if it was the medication, the strain on your body or if it was because you just felt that comfortable in Dottore’s arms, but you didn’t really care. As you felt Dottore move you to one of his couches, you reach out to grab onto his sleeve to keep him nearby. 

He complies, crouching to be at your level as you crack your eyes open to look at him. You murmur a quiet love you and shut your eyes contentedly, smiling softly once you feel his lips make contact with your forehead as you hear him clearly say I love you too back. 

[stardewremixed]

First Kiss with Shane

@hellhoundmaggie requested a first kiss scene with Shane. He was the first guy I romanced in SDV, mostly because it was easy to in the beginning and I wanted that first-year flower dance so badly. 😂 🌸

🎈 In case you missed it - First Kiss with Harvey. 🎈

While Harvey holds a special place in my heart and is generally my go-to husbando, I didn’t want to leave my “first SDV squeeze” in the lurch. I’m trying to expand my experience with writing romance in general. Hope you enjoy. It’s a freakin’ novella. Haha. I don’t do short, and I wanted to show how he fell in love with the Farmer, and she with him. 

This is female farmer x Shane = first kiss. This one might be a little more PG. 

😉❤️‍🔥🔥

Sweaty palms. Greasy hair. Chubby cheeks and legs. Is this what she sees in me?

Shane stared bleakly at his own reflection in the refrigerator door. It was quiet. Nearly noiseless in the back aisle of the stark JojaMart. A lull in the daily traffic around 4pm on the dot. When his shift ended.

Shane pressed his forehead against the glass, grumbling to himself about his infinite lack of progress on losing weight. Ever since he started going to therapy and quit drinking, he felt confident that his life would turn around. Like magic.

However, life outside the rehabilitation center was much harder than he remembered. He was still stuck in the same dead-end job. He was still bumming a room off his aunt with his piddly rent And he was still rather plump around his abdomen. 

Every time Morris ordered him around, in that pompous high London accent, Shane wanted to give up. To give in. To snatch a beer outta the cooler and gulp away his frustrations.

Instead, he settled for cussing under his breath, and resolving to keep his head down. At least until he could find another job. No one seemed to be hiring in this dying town. The recession was still hitting hard. And he knew he was lucky to get his old job back after nine months in detox and rehab.

It was worth it. It would be worth it. He convinced himself as he puffed a lazy strand of hair out of his eye and continued stocking cartons of overprocessed milk, nothing like his aunt’s fresh bottles or the farmer’s delicious cheeses. 

While he was still grossly underpaid, Shane worked out the math. In six more checks, he could repay her. The Jolly Rancher. Just thinking about his silly little nickname for the farmer lady to the north gave him a warm feeling. The kind that alcohol used to give him, only better, more real. Her smile was sweet.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When she first arrived in town, Shane genuinely disliked her. All her bubbly, bouncy, jolly persona encroaching on his flat, boring, grumpy existence. He had cultivated a philosophy of "me myself and I" and was perfectly content being alone, sulking into a pitcher of beer at the end of the night. But not really…

Her jovialty grew on him, especially when he would see her around town, helping people out. At first, he figured she was just another city do-gooder come to convert the backwater people to a more modern lifestyle. But her joy and kindness was genuine. Even when he yelled at her to go away, she still murmured a heartfelt apology for disturbing him and then brought him freshly grown peppers or tomatoes the next day like nothing had ever happened.

The Farmer purchased cows from Marnie so she could make her own specialty dairy products. He was seriously impressed. Because what city girl just ups and buys cattle? 

Sometimes when he was restlessly tossing and turning in bed (and if was honest, lonely), Shane would wander around in the wee pre-dawn hours. He always seemed to make his way to her ranch. Most of the time, she was out in the barn milking the cows and talking to them like they were her babies, with just a lantern illuminating her soft face. She was so beautiful. 

Raising cattle was no simple task. He knew this from watching his aunt. And Marnie had horses, pigs, goats, rabbits and chickens to think of too. He wasn't sure if the new rancher in town, with little to no experience (save her degree in veterinary medicine), was stupid or brave. Over time, he determined she was the latter.

Out searching for a lost cow in a thunderstorm. Not thinking about her own welfare. Only wanting to reunite a terrified animal with its herd. 

Fixing fences after wolves knocked down the back posts time and time again. Her fingers bleeding and scarred because of her lack of self-awareness sometimes. And chasing of “’dem there wolves” with sheer willpower... and... a big stick. 

Rebuilding the barn from scratch when a wildfire spread down from the mountains. She saved every single one of those animals. And needing treatment for smoke inhalation because she went back in for the tiniest frightened newborn. 

He remembered the time she got kicked in the head by one of the cows. Shane was so worried about her, even if he wouldn’t admit it when he carried her to the Clinic. Thankfully, it was only a minor concussion. (And it was an excuse for him to deliver Marnie's special basket of goodies to her twice daily so she didn't have to worry about feeding herself during her recovery). 

The rancher struggled for a whole year, after arriving in the Valley. But even when things went wrong, she was up and back at it the next morning with a lightness in her heart and step. It. Was. Admirable.

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Shane resolved to do better. To be better. She made him think about how things could be different if he wasn't a self-sabotaging jerkwad. The number of times she dragged his sorry ass home after getting plastered at the Saloon was too high to count, even if it was out of her way, even if she said she didn't mind. She wanted him to be okay. To be safe. She said so.

And she half pushed, half dragged him to the Clinic the night things got really dark. When he faced the edge of the cliff and thought "No more!" When he thought death would be a welcome reprieve from his pathetic life. 

She never judged him. She didn't enable him like his aunt. She didn't fall apart into a puddle of tears like Jas. She didn't lecture him on the evils of his ways while twirling his moustache like Harvey. Okay. Shane chuckled to himself. Maybe that last part was an exaggeration and unfair to the good doctor.

She. Simply. Cared. 

Through her actions. 

In the beginning, it was little things. A happy hello. A robust handwave. Then she started pulling up a barstool next to him in the Stardrop. She would ask him about his day and he would always answer the same way. But "go away" somehow morphed into a sarcastic "just peachy" and then eventually a half-hearted "fine, you can sit there." Once she jokingly called him Peaches. 

He didn't want to be bothered with her questions and idle chatter. He didn't want to listen to her ranching successes and woes, retold in a much-too-chipper voice. He didn't want to know about Bluebell and Daffodil and Daisy, how Mister Munster was nursing a hoof injury and how Mrs. Butters was expecting her second calf. Why did she think he cared about such details?

But it grew on him. Those rosy, ruddy cheeks, enjoying a hard-earned glass of whatever Gus had on tap. The way her eyes lit up and sparkled when she talked about her animal friends. The way her pale pink lips pouted when she lost a game of Journey of the Prairie King in the saloon arcade. Again. 

Shane found himself drawn to her energy. And he found himself missing her on the nights she didn't stop into the Saloon. Which was a rarity, but did happen.

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Shane knew she was someone special when he would watch the entrance door, breath caught, hoping she would breeze through, and then she didn't. Two days in a row. He started to feel disappointed, but brushed it off. Three days. He started to get concerned. On the fourth night, he went looking for her. And that's when he learned she was sick.

He practically broke down her door when she didn’t answer. 

“Aww you were worried,” she laughed weakly, and coughed. 

She looked rather pitiful, bundled under the blankets, hair sticking to her cheek, eyes droopy and dark. She thought Marnie would have told him. His aunt had sent a few of her ranch hands to help their neighbor out while she was under the weather. so her cattle weren’t forgotten 

No, Marnie never did. He suspected it was because she didn't know it would matter to him. But it did matter. She. Did. Matter. 

Without a word, Shane went to the kitchen and returned with a cool towel. He didn't even think. He laid the back of his large hand against her delicate forehead. He could've sworn the little Miss Jolly Rancher blushed. Or maybe it was the slight fever she was running. She audibly sighed as he placed the wet cloth against her burning cheek, closing her eyes and mumbling her thanks.

He wanted to know the last time she ate. She grunted and said something about some cereal earlier that morning. She didn't know for sure. She had slept most of the day. He promised he would be right back. 

She told him not to bother, as she struggled to lift her body off the bed, propping up by a shaky elbow. He insisted she lie back down. She was a stubborn one. Her protestations didn't last long as her head was too foggy to think straight. He microwaved a bowl of soup. She tried to sit up again, and he fluffed her pillows so she could prop up.

Her grip on the spoon wasn't firm, her trembling hands an indication of just how weak she was. So he caught the escaping silverware and lifted the soup to her lips. She turned red as a hot pepper, but he eased her with a surprisingly tender words, "Please. Let me take care of you for once, Miss Jolly." His own face and ears were probably red too. But she accepted.

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Since then, he began the habit of calling her "Miss Jolly." She flushed every time, but he enjoyed flustering her. It was nice… to care… about… someone.

She returned the “favor” and called him Peaches. At first, jokingly, just to annoy him. But over time, even the ridiculous fruity nickname grew on him. She was invading his thoughts and heart and he couldn’t stop her. 

He knew he had to change. He had to get better. Alcoholism was a disease that had ravaged his life and he was ready for something better. He couldn’t live like he had been any longer. She had changed everything for him. And he wanted to change in return. 

Disappointment smacked cold. He had researched so many places. But the one place that seemed to fit his needs and desired treatment plan was out of reach. Prohibitively expensive. He sold his dad’s watch. His car. He worked longer hours. Maybe in a few years he could make up the difference. 

She knew how much he wanted this... and how badly he needed this. Every glance at his savings account wanted to drive him to the bottle, the hopelessness of a solution just out of reach because of his crappy medical insurance. They wouldn’t cover it. Even though he was pretty sure Joja was the reason he drank so heavily. 

No, that wasn’t true. It was his own insurmountable guilt. Of surviving the accident. When they didn’t. Of leaving Jas without a respectable father figure. Or a mother. He didn’t even fight when the courts wanted to give him jail time. 

His aunt got a lawyer and gave him a place to stay when he got out. She helped him put together a resume and practically shoved the application for overnight backroom clerk in his hands. He had to face the music. He wasn’t cut out for any other job. And it was basically a glorified “stock boy.” 

Approaching middle-age, recently released from prison, and overwhelmed with a crushing lack of self worth, Shane interviewed and got the job. He should be grateful. But the hours were grueling and monotonous. Customers were rude. Employees were ruder. Except that Sam kid. He was a ball of sunshine. And his boss was sucking the life outta him. 

So he drank. He drank to forget. Because he couldn’t forgive himself. And every time he looked at Jas’ little pained expression, he drank more because he felt... so... damn... worthless. 

The Rancher changed things for him. He felt more positive. He got up earlier. He brushed his teeth. He combed his hair. He put on his uniform for the world’s lousiest low-paying job and went to work hoping things would be better. 

Faced with the inability to actually “get better” was... frankly... terrifying. What if he went back to being that same old pathetic blob of a human again? After ten agonizing days, he finally confided in the one person he knew he could trust. His “Miss Jolly.” 

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He couldn’t believe he had been moved to tears. She surprised him... again. With her thoughtful generosity and selflessness. She promised to pay for the difference. Whatever he couldn’t afford. She told him it wasn’t a big deal. It was a VERY BIG deal! She still had some of the inheritance money from her grandfather. What she hadn’t spent on fixing up the farm. 

“So I don’t get those gingham curtains I’ve had my eyes on for the past month,” she quipped. 

It was serious. He couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t accept it. It was too much. He didn’t like the idea of being indebted. He was stubborn. He could refuse. 

But she was more stubborn. She insisted it would be a loan, not a gift. He could pay it off over time. Without interest. Or he could work it off - sweat equity - on her ranch. Maybe with those chickens he liked so much. 

In the end, he caved. He packed up what little he could take with him. And she walked him to the bus stop. Kissed his cheek. Squeezed his hand. And said the words that simultaneously made him laugh and warmed his heart.

“Go get ‘em, Peaches.” 

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That was a year ago now. When he came home, she threw a big surprise party for him. A few people from town, his aunt, Jas. And she never looked more beautiful. She even found chicken shaped balloons. Because... what guy doesn’t want balloon animals from the girl he’s crushing on? 

Crushing on? He smirked. I sound like a middle schooler. 

He split his time between the market and her ranch. Gradually spending more and more time on her farm. Gathering eggs before his shift. Feeding chickens on the way home from work. Sipping peach iced tea in the shade of her porch and thinking this life wasn’t half-bad. But he wanted more. 

She started bringing by lunches on his longer shift days. Homemade sandwiches and fresh-pressed juices and handpicked peppers. The kind that burst with sweetness or that spicy kick he needed to get through the rest of his day. 

She learned to roll her own dough. Once a week, on hot summer evenings, she would make him pizza with her own special spicy red sauce. Wearing that cute little red and white checkered apron around her jean shorts and just below the edge of her tank top. Too hot to be standing around the stovetop making pizza sauce or the oven to bake the dough. But she did it for him. Shane looked forward to it after a long and grueling Saturday shift. 

He still stopped at the Saloon most nights, but now it was just to drink soda and share a pepper poppers appetizer. Gus started bottling root beer, made from bark and flowers and herbs from around the Valley. It wasn’t alcoholic. And it was an acquired taste. Getting better with time. 

She would breeze in and offer suggestions and feedback. Shane enjoyed watching the two “play” squabble over the choice of leaves. The kindly saloon owner and the girl he liked collaborating to make him a refreshing drink became a welcome nicety. 

Most nights, they didn’t stay long. Heading out for long walks around town. Shoes scuffling along cobblestones. Kicking up dirt on wooded paths. Kicking off on the beach to feel the mushy sand. Talking about nothing important, but always special. Any time with her was special. 

He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have a friend like her. To have a woman of her rare caliber show him any attention at all. She got past his defenses and he welcomed it. And deep in his heart, Shane knew - this was love. 

With today’s paycheck, he could finally take her on a proper date. Somewhere out of the Valley. Someplace where they could have fun together. He felt the excitement and nervous anticipation rising in his chest. Somehow he fumbled through an “ask” on her front porch this morning, managing to invite her to join him... if she wanted... at the bus stop... around 5pm. He had tickets to see the Tunnelers play. 

Shane finished his shelf, glancing at his watch. Ten past four. Just enough time to get home, showered, and changed. He disposed of the empty boxes in the dumpster and delivered the cart to the back room. Opening his locker, he hung his apron on the hook. Instantly, he felt lighter. Like that thing was a noose around his neck. A ball and chain. He really needed a new job. And in fifty, no, forty-six minutes, he could see her... 

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"SHANE!"

The shrill obnoxious tone pierced his moment of peace. The voice could only belong to one person - a holllow husk of a corporate shill, even more unlikeable than him, if that was even possible. Shane frowned, his eyes clamping on the store manager barreling toward him at full speed. 

“A whole second shipment came in just now,” the man grunted. “Like I need this when I’m short-staffed, as always,” he offered an exasperated sigh. 

I can’t imagine why... Shane thought to himself, bemused. The boss was insufferable. Always barking orders. Never praising his team. Paying peanuts. Polishing his baby - a silver Rolls Royce in mint condition - parked in the only covered spot in the entire Joja lot - every night - instead of doing paperwork like he should. How was he still employed? No one at corporate cared. 

“Not my problem, Morris,” Shane replied. 

“No, no, no,” Morris fluttered his short arms. “It is your problem. I need you to stay late and help Sam empty the truck.”

The man continued to ramble something about “this is why I pay you” and “you think you can do better somewhere else?” He badgered Shane about his “work ethic,” even if Shane had been a near model employee since returning from rehab. Even if his former colleagues actually welcomed him back, much to his shock. Shy little Claire even commented on how he was “different” than before.

Shane had been nominated for employee of the month, no doubt, angering Morris. The man had it out for him. Sticking him on graveyard shifts. Making him mop baby puke in the aisles. Forcing him to attend a “hospitality” seminar so he could learn to be nicer to, in Morris’ words, “bored housewives who somehow like your prickly personality.” 

Morris, a man who prided himself in appearance, with his neat little bow tie and perfectly ironed jacket, couldn’t believe how the ladies bought more after a rough encounter with Shane. It was good for business, of course, and Morris would take all the credit. That hospitality seminar wasn’t cheap, he constantly reminded Shane. Like rehab hadn’t made him a better person already. Or his relationship with little Miss Jolly. 

“They just fawn over your monotone delivery of the daily sales,” Morris droned on. “Yoba only knows why. You haven’t been educated at the finest university this side of the Pond with an impeccable taste in... well, everything.” Morris puffed his chest. 

“I just don’t understand why they giggle at the register about the ‘handsome’ stock boy when they could have me recite the daily sales in Shakespearean English for heavens sake. Well, no matter. I can use what I’ve got. You.” 

The man thinks I’m a frickin’ pack of meat. 

“Now in order to have sales, we must have stocked shelves. And in order to have stocked shelves, I need to have you stay longer. Because shelves don’t stock themselves... and what are you staring at?” 

Shane rubbed his jaw, catching his reflection in Morris’ little glasses. Could I really be that handsome? Morris wasn’t wrong. The market had been a little busier than usual in the mornings and around lunchtime. Shane came back from breaks early sometimes because customers “requested” him. He could reach the “tall” shelves. 

But he wasn’t that tall. And most times, he needed a ladder. Unlike Sam. But even Sam told him he had been relegated to “cute” because the female patrons wanted to check out the new guy (on the ladder) because Shane possessed a look of danger and mystery, and had that "hot dad bod."

Like that’s really a thing I wanted! Shane rolled his eyes. It's all a little disgusting. Being oogled. Because what? Dangerous? Dad bod? I’m just me. There was only one gal he wanted checking him out. And he needed to get going if he was going to meet her. 

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“No can do, Boss,” Shane removed his Joja cap and hooked it alongside his apron. “Got plans tonight.” 

“No, no, no,” Morris’ voice grew tight, his eyes becoming tinier. “That won’t do. You must cancel your plans.” 

“Do I get overtime?” Shane asked, half-distracted by the photo occupying the inside of his locker. 

It was the only thing he had ever decorated with at work. A photo of him and Miss Jolly at the Moonlight Jellies festival about a month ago. It was the one time he actually thought he was photogenic. How could he not be happy? With a gorgeous gal by his side, smiling and laughing as the photo was taken, a woman who believed in him, rooted for him, and cared for him. Shane’s expression softened as he thought about how much she had impacted his life. 

“You know what?” Shane ripped the photo from his locker wall with gusto. “I quit.” 

“Are you even listening?” Morris was saying. “And no, I’m not going to approve overtime. You left early by one minute the other night. One minute!"

"And one time last week, you were late by three minutes. I will not approve overtime for someone who nearly runs over a flock of geese with his bicycle and is late to work."

"If you’re going to keep up with this lazy attitude of yours...” he huffed and straightened his jacket. “I may have to reconsider my decision to rehire you... even if you bring in the ladies... I mean... sales...” 

“What?” Morris’ eyes grew wide as saucers beneath his horn-rimmed glasses, and then his expression darkened, as if Shane poured bitter coffee all over the plates. “You cannot quit. Are you joking?” 

“Well I do, and I’m not,” Shane shoved the old rusty lock that never latched properly into the other man’s hand, a smile crossing his face. “With pleasure.”

Shane waltzed out of the soul-sucking store, leaving a dumbfounded former boss as the double doors whooshed behind him. He closed his eyes and took a big gulp of sea-salt air and sighed. He felt free. 

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When she met him at the bus stop, his heart skipped a beat. She looked radiant in the setting sun. Her eyes sparkling like stars. And her sexy little denim skirt was a nice touch too. The way her hips swayed ever so slightly on approach. He forced his gaze upward. 

"Hiiii... Miss Jolly. I'm glad you decided to come," he greeted, his tone a bit stilted and formal. 

What am I doing? He rubbed the back of his head.

"Of course, Peaches. I'm excited," she grinned. "This will be my first game."

"You'll love it!" he replied, wrinkling his nose at her childish nickname for him. And I will too with you by my side.

"Is that cologne?" she asked when she reached his side. 

Her fingers curled around his hoodie strings as she closed her eyes and took a whiff. "I like it." She grinned and winked at him. "A bit spicy."

"Yeah yeah," he murmured and ushered her onto the bus, but he hopped up the step behind her, feeling a little lighter on his feet.

"You're in a good mood," she remarked as they wandered toward the back of the bus. 

The atmosphere was charged. Rowdy. Everyone seemed excited for the Tunnelers game. He nodded to a few familiar faces before settling in next to her seat. The back was better than the front. Cool kids sat in the back. What am I? In the sixth grade? 

Still he was relaxed. Smiling even. She repeated her statement as if he didn’t hear her the first time. Damn straight  I’m in a good mood.  Because I get to spend time with you… maybe even tell you how I feel tonight… He decided the overcrowded bus wasn't the best place for that confession. The vehicle lurched forward and so did the conversation. 

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"I quit my job."

Her eyes widened and a slow smile played at her lips, drawing his attention to them. I bet they're juicy. He had fantasized about kissing her, ever since she planted one on him at this very bus stop twelve months ago when he shipped off to rehab. Out of respect for their “business arrangement” and friendship, he held off on the liplocking, but it didn’t mean he still didn’t wonder what it would be like if he had just turned his head to meet her mouth that night. 

“Good for you,” she laid a hand on his shoulder. 

Her gentle touch bringing him back to reality and away from his lustful la-la land. 

“I knew that place was killing the light in you. I just wish I could've seen Morris' smug face when you finally told him."

"Light in me?" he repeated, ignoring the statement about his ex-manager. 

"Yes," she slowly slid her hand up to his cheek, blushing a little while she moved. "You look better. Brighter."

"That's just the shower talkin'," he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"No, it's you, Shane," she replied, dropping her hand far too soon for his liking.

He wanted to beg her to keep it there, against his cheek. But present company dissuaded him, and he remained silent, nodding his thanks. The way she said his name... he bounced his leg a bit in nervousness as the bus bumped along the road... it made his knees weak and his head clouded. 

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"Did I miss anything?"

Shane descended the last step, returning to their seats in the stadium, snacks in hand. The game was tied up, the teams neck and neck in their scoring with each other. It was one of the most thrilling games he had ever seen in person. Even more exciting because she was there. With her incessant questions about the rules. Her exuberance at the Tunnelers' first goal. Even the little wrinkle around her eyes when she didn’t understand what was happening. He loved every minute of it.

And he loved explaining things. Even if he worried about boring her to death with his encyclopedic knowledge of gridball, he couldn’t stop talking. This was something he loved and he was sharing it with the woman he loved... even if she didn’t know it yet. 

"Only the announcer making bad jokes," she smirked. “And that guy...” she pointed to one of the pros. “...doing a silly little dance for the fans.” 

“Yeah, he’s known for that,” Shane laughed awkwardly, feeling a small twinge of jealousy that another man had caught her eye. 

“Not that he’s any good at it,” she laughed too. “Not like our little grooves in the Saloon.” 

“Oh?” he quirked a brow. “By the way, I got us some nachos. I asked the vendor to add some hot peppers… just like we like it."

"Like we both like it," she said in unison. "Thanks,” she snagged a chip and did a deep dip into the sauce. “You should've let me pay for snacks since you paid for tickets and the bus fare."

"Naw, we're on a date," he shrugged. "The guy pays. Plus, I wanted to."

Shane averted his eyes, suddenly self-conscious. "Did I tell you how much… I l…love…. Gridball?"

She stopped and looked at him as if surprised by his old-fashioned thought. I shouldn't have been so careless, he grimaced. Then he immediately wished his face wasn't so readable.

It was a date. A real date. But somehow they slid from acquaintances to friends to best friends and then... somehow something more, without ever defining the relationship.

Did she want parameters? Did he need a label? Were they... ever going to be what he hoped to be if he ever got his head out of his ass and asked her for real? 

"Yes, only the thousand or so times on the bus," she smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And I knew you played in high school.” 

Just like that, she slipped back to a more neutral topic. And he mentally flogged himself for the missed opportunity. 

“Yeah, blowing out my knee pretty much killed my chances at playing pro,” he said. “Doesn’t stop me from enjoying the games though.” 

“Have you ever thought about it?” she inquired. “Going back. Maybe the minors or even just a pick-up team. I bet you looked great in a uniform,” her eyes twinkled mischievously. “And I wouldn’t mind the view of you in those white pants.” 

Red flooded his cheeks. Is she messing with me? How does she do it? Go back and forth between friendzone topics and flirtation? She made it look effortless. She was toying with him. She had to be. Dancing around the subject. Hoping he would ask. Or was he imagining things? 

Her hand hovered dangerously close to his side. Brushing the hem of her skirt. Nearly touching his shorts. He gulped, feeling flattered, but strangely unprepared for her seductive little smirks. He handed her the soda he fetched, and she thanked him, gulping back the liquid as if it were a small instead of a large. Saying something about all the cheering making her thirsty. 

He was the thirsty one. Eyeing her up and down and wanting to close the distance between them. Taking it from flirty friends to... faithful lovers. He never wanted a woman more than he did right now. To devote all his love and passion and energy and goodwill into being there for her just like she had for him. 

For the whole second half of the game, he nursed his cola. Distracted by her every move. The way she would raise her heels in anticipation of a score and lower them back to the ground when they didn’t quite make it. The way she spoke with that happy voice of hers, the kind that could lull him to sleep or rally him to make his best efforts. The way she repeated back facts she was learning about the sport, that he had literally just taught to her that night. He was completely mesmerized... so much so... he forgot to actually watch the game. For once, he liked the distraction. 

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When the Tunnelers scored again, she nearly flew off the ground, wildly cheering for their unexpected interception. He caught her hand as she was jumping back down. She squeezed it and continued whooping and shaking her fist victoriously in the air, never taking her eyes off the game. It was now or never.

"Hey," he said loudly to be heard over the stadium noise. "I've been meaning to tell you… thank you.” 

“For what, Peaches?” she said, teasingly. “Did you see that? How many yards was it? Seventy-five? Eighty?” 

“I mean it, really,” Shane cleared his throat, leaning closer to her ear. “ For sticking with me through everything."

She turned to face him, her expression growing more serious. 

"My… anxiety… depression… you know," he continued, fumbling over his words. "The alcoholism… I mean, I wasn't exactly the funnest person to be around back then."

Did I just use the word funnest? He rubbed the back of his head, hoping to read her expression, but for once, he couldn't.

“You do that... when you’re nervous,” she remarked. “That head rub thing...” she reached up and ruffled his hair. “It’s... cute.” 

“Uh...” Shane trailed off. She was not making this easy. But he needed to say the words aloud now or he never would. 

"You… uh… still helped me. You've been a really… good… friend to me," he shared, and then immediately regretted his word choice.

"Oh," she said, quietly.

Was that a flicker of disappointment in her eyes?

He hurried his words. "Anyway this is your first gridball game, huh? Well? What do you think?"

Smooth, Shane. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Changing the subject again, you frickin’ chicken.

"Oh…" she said, glancing back to the field, sounding a little confused. "Fun. I guess, Pelican Town seems pretty boring in comparison. Unless you count Sam's punk rock blaring at 11pm, breaking noise ordinances." She forced a chuckle.

Is she…? Am I imagining things?

"I'm surprised," he replied. "Didn't you move to the Valley to escape the noise of the city?"

She's looking at me again with those beautiful heart-melting eyes. He rushed through his words.

"I mean… don't get me wrong. I totally understand. My life in Pelican Town is pretty bland, you know. And now that I don't have a job, I gotta find something meaningful to do with my time again. A guy's gotta eat, right? Heh?"

"I was thinking about that," she replied, without looking at him. "I think it would be nice to have you around full-time."

"What?" he blinked.

"I've got one ranch hand now to help in the back pasture and one that helps out with the milking and all, but if I'm looking to expand, and if they ever take a sick day, I could use some extra hands," she continued. "Maybe your hands?"

I couldn't. Possibly. Was she blushing?

"You've already… done so much for me," he hated the hesitancy in his tone. "I… uh…"

She ignored his last comment. "This would be a business thing. We could do it temporarily to see if you like it. And if it's a good fit for both of us. I can be a bit of a…" she narrowed her eyes, mischievously. "Hard taskmaster."

"Oh? Yeah I've heard that from your current employees," he smirked. "But you are still a jolly one."

"Yeah…" she smiled, almost shyly, tucking a hair over her ear. “Your Miss Jolly.” 

The noise level in the stadium increased near ten-fold. All he could think about was how she said the words. She was begging him, wasn’t she? Walking right up to the brink and leaving him there? He reluctantly ripped his gaze away from the farmer to the field.

"Gah!" he screamed, his volume matching the crowd. "The Tunnelers are on the attack."

"Yes! Yes!" she shrieked. "Oh my Yoba! Final seconds. They're gonna…" she jumped up and down and clapped her hands. "They're gonna break the tie."

"GOAL!" they yelled in unison. 

He never felt so happy. He was going on six months sober. He quit his horrible job. The farmer was offering him another one so he could see her every day. And he got to watch his favorite team in the world in the closest game in history with his favorite person in the world. Sharing this moment together meant everything.

"Thank you Shane!" she said, trying to catch her breath. "This was the best evening ever with you!"

"I know, I know!" he exclaimed. "Probably one of the best moments of my life."

Before he could stop himself, his lips were against hers. Surprise flickered in her eyes. All he could hear was the thudding of his own heart. She was flushed. The warmth of her lips. The taste of root beer. The delight overwhelming the alarm bells. He took a step or two back, stumbling as he came to his senses.

"Oh?" he gasped for air. "Uh… um… sorry. I guess I got carried away there. Maybe I had one too many... sodas. All that sugar. Ha!" 

Shane reached up to rub his head like he always did when he was nervous, just like she had noticed. Except this time, she strutted toward him, confidence in her eyes as she grabbed that hand and tugged him down. As they kissed for the second time, he felt her melt into his arms as she offered a faint “finally,” barely audible amidst the roar of the crowd. 

Encouraged, Shane grinned, hoisting her off the ground. She giggled and kissed him more fervently. Maybe he didn’t need words. Maybe he only needed actions to show her how he felt. 

And she was reciprocating. A dream come true. Their eyes remained locked in a loving gaze as he pulled back from her lips. When he finally set her down, he breathed heavily. 

"You really do love the Tunnelers?" she teased, disentangling her hands from his hair. 

"No," he shook his head, determined not to let this moment go by. "I really do love you."

"Come on, we'll miss our bus outta here," she grabbed his hand and pulled him through the exiting crowds.

“Wait,” Shane pulled her back for one more greedy kiss. 

She happily accepted, but he felt a fleeting ping of sadness even as they kissed in the stairwell, people pushing around them. He wondered if she even heard his confession. Maybe it's too soon? We just had our first kiss. She probably didn't hear me.

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When they reached the parking lot, the reality of what had just happened still sinking in, they were too late. The bus huffed away with a puff of smog. They had just missed their ride back to the Valley. And there wouldn’t be another one until morning. If he hadn’t been so carried away and enamored by his date, maybe they would’ve left the stadium sooner. 

“Guess we should call a taxi,” she broke the silence first. “Or... actually... find a hotel.” 

“A hotel?” he repeated, his ears perking at the thought of sharing space with her. 

"Yes," she replied, without skipping a beat. "I mean, if we're gonna be stuck together in Zuzu overnight, we should get a hotel. A taxi ride would be really expensive and I don't think we have enough time to get across town to catch the train."

"Oh right," he said softly. "Uh… I can't let you pay for a hotel too."

"It's no trouble," she pulled out her cell phone and started scouring the internet for places. "And a hot shower sounds nice after all the sweat and grime of us in there,” she nodded back toward the stadium. “...jammed in like sardines."

"Uhm…" he blinked rapidly. You're a grown man. Get it together.

"This place looks nice," she showed him a picture after a minute or two, while he awkwardly plopped on the edge of the sidewalk. "And it's got a 4-star rating." She sat next to him, dropping her hand on top of his. “Oh look it’s got an in-suite jacuzzi.” 

"Uh… sure," he shrugged, uncertain about what to do with his hands that so desperately wanted to kiss her again. "Well, that definitely was a good game."

"Yes, and it's going to be an even better night, because it doesn't have to end here," she smiled sweetly. “Since we’re getting a hotel,” she winked. 

“Oh yeah... and we won too,” he stammered. “The Tunnelers, ya know?” 

“No... no, I didn’t. Really? They did?" she smiled sarcastically, and leaned closer. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“What?” he gasped, feeling shocked as her blase attitude toward his favorite team. 

“I mean, it was great... and all... and their win was pretty spectacular,” she acknowledged. “But I feel like I won the lottery with you here.” She interlocked arms with him. “Did you mean it? Shane? When you said you loved me?” 

So she did hear me! And the way his name fell from his lips caused his heart to soar and he found his confidence. 

“Yes, I meant it. I love you,” Shane replied. “But I wanted it to be special. Better than this... stranded in a parking lot with trash all over the place.” 

“It is special,” she replied. 

“But it wasn’t perfect,” he grimaced. “I was planning on telling you when we got back... when I walked you back to your place tonight.” 

His head felt hazy with love and desire as she kissed him again. This time, she draped a leg over his, pressing against his chest. He audibly moaned, leaning into the kiss. His hand naturally slid down her back to help her balance, and he squeezed softly, like he had wanted to for a long time. She matched his intensity with a clutch of her own, and he groaned again, reluctantly breaking their touch. 

“I don’t need perfect, Shane. I just need you."

His heart leaped from his chest as she continued.

"I love you too. I want you.”  

“Ahhhh... then let’s get to that hotel,” he said, the heat of her breasts against his chest creating a near uncontrollable fire within him. 

“Fine,” she playfully pouted. “I’ll behave... Hot Stuff," she fanned herself. “...for now... since we’re in public.” 

“Believe me,” he replied with a heavy sigh, feeling a healthy growth between his legs. “I want you all to myself.” 

She giggled and tapped her phone. "Done. Got us booked.”

“That fast?” 

“Yes, It’s only a two and a half block walk. Now… shall we?" She jumped to her feet and darted away briskly. 

“Someone’s impatient!” he smirked. “What if I had said no?” 

“I wouldn’t take no for an answer.” 

“Oh really?” he liked teasing her as she brought out his confidence. He started into a jog away, passing her on the sidewalk. “Well, I’ll see you soon.” 

“Shane!” she laughed and chased after him. 

Of course, he let her catch him. She playfully punched his arm, but then lingered. She was beaming. And he was too. Shane took her hand, looking down at the woman he loved, and smiled, brighter than he ever had in his entire life.  She loved him and wanted him… just as he loved and wanted her. 

 “Shane?”

He wrapped an arm tightly around her shoulder. Tonight, he was going to make her fully his, and he would be fully hers. 

"Yes, my Miss Jolly.” 

[moxfirefly]

"Of course I want them. I want them so much I can barely breathe but I'm not going to force it. If they come to me, it'll be on their terms. Not mine."

For Donnie or Mikey x reader (F) please? Maybe reader is the one saying that line 👀 jealous, fluff or smut scenario, you can choose! Thank you for opening your requests, you always deliver great pieces! ♥️💫

Oh this line hits! And I think Mikey is the guy for it and I think I’ll tweak it a bit if you don’t mind. Thank you for your kind words! Means a lot 🖤

Rated Feels

Mikey wanted to believe that his eyes were deceiving him at most, maybe not working at worst.

Because he really saw some peculiar stares on your behalf.

This whole crush thing was trickier now as an adult. When he was younger, crushing after April had been easy and fleeting.

Now? Some days he couldn’t chase away your scent to safe his life, he couldn’t remember what life before your proximity to him used to be. When had a song sounded better than the ringing of your name, carefully collected consonants and vowels crafted to melt on his tongue.

What had life been before the ache of watching you leave? The insane joy of watching you come home to grace his presence with honeyed bliss?

He felt silly, somewhat dumb, over all hopeless.

This all felt like a curse some days too. Not having the luxury of being topside with you, getting to experience the city night through you.

The wind picked up, cold little pin prick reminders of what he was. Mikey was fond of this roof, maybe because your building was across it, maybe because if he squinted hard enough he could see what your little life in your little apartment was like, and how he could fit into it.

“You plan on sulking all of patrol?” Raph’s deep baritone carried the chilly air as he sat on the ledge.

“I’m not sulking, that’s your job bro.” He was hugging his knees, chasing away the chilly air or maybe because he was truly sulking.

“That broad’s got you bent outta shape, you never got like this with Ape.” Because that had been childish puppy love, and somehow Raph couldn’t see that this ached for real.

It especially ached because there were too many moments where he swore you’d say something first, that you’d cave in and say something about the elephant in the room.

“I like her, she’s—she’s different.” It doesn’t do it justice but he doesn’t want to get mushy with Raph right now, not when his head isn’t cooperating and his heart feels heavy.

“Different alright, wants to hang around with a brat like you, laughs at your shitty jokes, caught her staring at your biceps once.” Raph numbered the facts on each of his fingers, nonchalant but aware of the gas he was pouring.

“Where ya going with this dude? Aside from giving me hope.” And hope was a tragic little word for their kind, something more akin to a light sprinkle of salt on a small wound.

“What I’m saying is, just go after her, tell her the truth. Ya want her, right? She probably wants ya.” Raph popped a toothpick in his mouth, an old habit dying too slowly.

“Of course I want her. I want her so much I can hardly breathe but I’m not going to force it. If she comes to me, it’ll be on her terms. Not mine.” It hurt to say it, it hurt to admit out loud that this was a luxury he couldn’t afford due to what he was.

Raph’s gaze soften, it wasn’t fun seeing his baby brother going through something that had his head spinning this badly. He reached out and clamped a hand on his shoulder, an affectionate squeeze of sympathy.

Mikey watched the building, swore he saw the light on your apartment come alive. Flooding the modest little living room, he could picture you tossing your stuff with a huff and a sigh, before settling into the normalcy of your routine. He felt his phone vibrate, pulling it out to see your name on the screen. It was enough to lift the black cloud.

Not enough to chase the storm away in his chest.

“Hey, angel, outta work finally?” He greeted you, that perfectly timed sigh of ‘fuck yes’ not (yes) sending a jolt through him.

“Are you still out on patrol? I got those disgusting heart attack inducing burgers from the bodega you like, wanna come over when your done being a superhero?” You cooed affectionately, he could hear the rustling of the bay.

Raph watched the smile, a smile only you were capable of sculpting out of Mikey.

He hoped, he hoped for a chance.

A chance at you two enjoying this little life.

[inaflashimagine]

lo mejor (i)

pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader (can be read as reader being latine)

summary: nueva york had no shortage of places that sold empanadas. unfortunately, that didn’t equate to all of them being good.

but he continued to find himself going to your restaurant, a few of the other spider-people less than convinced that it's just for your food.

a/n: as a latina who also eats empanadas to cure their hanger, i just needed to get this off my chest. will be a multi-part fic!

3k wc. no warnings for this chapter, other than a litany of english + spanish curses

masterlist | one | two

–

“I’m in hiding. He’s angry at me…again…”

As much as the kid was growing on Jess, she sent an unimpressed look at the flickering hologram. “In other news, water is wet.”

“But seriously, how can he expect me to write a report only 5 minutes after I finish a mission? He’s worse than my AP Lit teacher, and Ms. O’Connor was—”

“Gwen, I’m gonna stop you right there. Because we’ve been through this before. You know how to fix this.”

Though her face was covered by her mask, the widening of her goggles before her shoulders sagged in defeat showed Jess that Gwen knew exactly what to do.

“But can’t you come with me? What if I mess up the order?”

“Are you kidding me right now? Didn’t you want me to ‘chill with the hovering’?”

Gwen sighed, already starting to swing her way through Nueva York to get to her destination. “I know, I know, I’ll go. Do you want anything?” 

“No need, it sounds like you might have to buy the whole store to be in his good graces again. Good luck.”

Her mentor logged off before hearing her star pupil groan in frustration—what was supposed to be an effortless day was quickly becoming a pain in her ass.

Like countless times before, Gwen quickly changed into her set of ‘futuristic’ civilian clothes to blend in with the rest of the long line at the tiny, but packed, restaurant. If it weren’t for the enticing smell of freshly baked dough, Gwen wondered if this would all be worth it. She’d have to cancel the jam session with Hobie if this plan didn’t work, lest she face the wrath of the villain of the week, Miguel O’Hara.

But when she finally saw a familiar smile and a warm pair of eyes greeting her behind the counter, she realized that Jess was right—she knew how to fix this.

Or rather, you did.

“Mi gringa favorita! It’s been a while. How many empanadas does el jefe need?”

–

Miguel was having a bad day. 

It started with the usual suspect: Peter B., un pendejo who believed that Miguel and Jess actually wanted to hear about his daughter’s bowel movements.

Not to mention the impromptu comedy club Miguel had to break down so everyone could get back to doing the jobs they forgot they signed up for. (Nothing was more irritating than being surrounded by unfunny people who genuinely thought their endless quips and corny jokes landed. Every. Single. Time.)

Then for the umpteenth time, he had to tell Gwen to turn in her reports on time. Yet that was nothing compared to her latest efforts in convincing Miguel to let Miles visit HQ and gently explain (gently because, “He doesn’t know any better!”) that he’s the biggest threat to the multi-verse. These poor attempts, unsurprisingly, fell flat. O’Hara warned Jess that the girl would be a liability, and each day he grew closer to sending the kid back to Earth-65 if she decided to pull any tricks. 

But the worst part of this dreadful day was when a nervous, slightly cowering Chef Spidey told his boss there were no more empanadas. 

“What?” Miguel’s brows furrowed in confusion, indifferent to the uncomfortable silence that enveloped the cafeteria at the sound of his incredulity. “What do you mean, there’s no more empanadas? Who ate the last one?”

“He promised me not to tell you!” 

And with that, Miguel stalked to his office where he was currently sulking in, seriously considering changing Peter B.’s portal watch to a day pass as punishment for apparently eating over a half dozen empanadas.

Just as he was about to give Lyla the command, his associate in the heart sunglasses suddenly appeared. “Gwen Stacy will be here in a minute, might want to start lowering your platform.”

“Maldita sea, didn’t I tell you to not let anyone in?” He pinched the bridge of his nose—he’d much prefer for his ears to be rattled with Peter B.‘s ramblings and even Ben Reilly’s moping over Gwen’s incessant whining about how crappy the current Spider Society establishment was. (She was spending way too much time with Hobie.)

“Hey pal, that’s not a nice word, and she comes bearing gifts that you’ll like.”

“Oh really?” he remarked dryly, arms crossed as he began his descent. “She finished the ten detailed reports she owes me?”

Yet Miguel caught the heavenly smell of beef empanadas before seeing Gwen’s sheepish face. And did he also catch a whiff of chorizo and cheese?

“Hi, Miguel. Heard you haven’t had lunch yet, sooooo…” Shaking off her nerves and avoiding that terrifying gaze, she held out the two large boxes as her apology. “And I’ll submit those reports by tonight, I promise.”

An eyebrow raised, he webbed the boxes toward himself and held them even more tightly when he saw where they came from. 

His eyes glossed over the mascot of Mama’s Empanadas, a smiling and waving empanada that almost seemed to assure him that his hanger would quickly be cured. But it was the words hurriedly scribbled at the bottom that displaced the rage he’s felt all day with a weird pang in his chest:

“Buen provecho, Jefe :)”

Miguel quickly turned away, hoping he seemed more composed than he actually felt. As the floor to his office slowly began to ascend, he said, “I’ll give you one more day to finish those reports. But don’t think it’s because this bribe worked.”

“Of course.” Gwen hoped the amusement wasn’t clear in her voice, smirking at the shoulders of the tall man lose their tension as he began eating the ‘bribe’. Would Hobie even believe her if she told him what just happened? 

“Thanks, Miguel. See you tomorrow!”

He didn’t even register her last words, eyes closed as he savored the explosive taste of smoked chorizo and finally allowed fond memories to flood his brain.

— 

Nueva York had no shortage of places that sold empanadas. Unfortunately, that didn’t equate to all of them being good.

It’s not that he didn’t know how to make them–he’s sure that he could follow his abuela’s recipes that his ma once gave him–but he just didn’t have time. After all, nothing was more convenient than cashing in the perks of the suit to cut a long line and grab free food. But once Lyla finished the goober she was working on (“It’s not a goober, Miguel, it’s a gizmo!”), he’d have even less time to do anything other than jump into different dimensions, some of which would certainly not sell empanadas.

This explained why after changing into sweats following a grueling shift, he found himself staring across the busy street at Mama’s Empanadas, the hunger in his growling stomach overwhelming. The small restaurant was engulfed by flashing neon lights and signs boasting the quality of their food in both Spanish and English. The place was always swarming with people whenever he swung by, but as closing time approached only a few stragglers remained. 

And so did you.

Miguel hoped that you were the owner of the shop rather than an overworked employee, considering that he couldn’t remember the last time someone else took your position behind the counter. But even from this distance, he could see your cheery smile while you welcomed new patrons and the regulars, almost as if you were genuinely happy to be serving them on a late Friday night. 

With all the running around he’s been doing lately, he couldn’t even remember the last time taking on the Spider-Man mantle gave him the same joy he spotted on your face miles away.

O’Hara felt his phone vibrate as he saw the latest message from Lyla illuminating his screen.

“Got some news to share! Might want to deliver the bad stuff in person though.”

“Que chingada,” Miguel cursed, rubbing tired eyes as he contemplated whether to reply. How could the news get even worse after Earth-1610 lost Peter Parker, their only Spider-Man?

Raising his head, he watched you approach the storefront to activate the electrified gates that would close the shop. 

And for reasons his brain would never be able to explain, he felt himself panic, almost as if his body jolted awake as he deftly weaved through honking cars and found himself in front of you, the only barrier being a pesky glass door that would take a millisecond for him to break.

Yet he was surprised to see you hold your ground, and even more shocked to see you flash him an annoyed look he’s never seen you give to any other customer. Shoulders tense, he was ready for you to begin berating him for being a nuisance and to leave the fuck off the premises. 

“Eres un idiota? ¡Casi te atropellan!”

Miguel blinked, not sure he heard you correctly. Sure, calling him an idiot is warranted, but he was not almost run over by those cars. Even if he did get hit–which, again, he wouldn’t–then the car would be hurt, not him. 

Instead of explaining himself without implicating his alter persona, or at the very least say something remotely coherent in English or Spanish, Miguel found himself even more gobsmacked when you opened the door and ushered him inside, frantically asking him questions in a random jumble of Spanglish as you tried inspecting a man seemingly twice your size for any injuries.

“¿No hablas español? Should I call 911, mierda, is this guy catatonic? Should I have moved him? Are you hurt?”

Feeling your hands shake his shoulders finally snapped him out of whatever funk he was in, confusion washing over him as he tried to piece together what just happened in the past minute. Heeding your obvious concern, he sighed and did his best to ignore the absolutely embarrassing predicament he put himself in.

“Estoy bien,” he assured you, his relief matching yours as you let go and immediately exhaled. “I really am fine, I just wanted to try the empanadas before closing.”

There was that exasperation again, your deadly expression sufficient in asking him ‘Are you serious?’ that your high-pitched words of “En serio?” were quite unnecessary, in his opinion.

“Was running across a congested street not serious enough?”

You scoffed before glaring at him for a few more seconds, though he could see the uncertain shift in your eyes. “This isn’t some twisted joke to rob me, right? Last thing I need is having Spider-Man beating you up and breaking my new glass counter.”

Miguel couldn’t hide the wry twist of his lips, fully aware that he could be thrown out at any minute but still curious to hear your opinion. “Not a Spider-Man fan?”

“As long as he doesn’t destroy my property, I wouldn’t even mind defending the dude on J. Jonah Jameson’s stupid podcast.“ You shrugged casually, already beginning to make your way behind the counter after deeming Miguel to be harmless, despite looking like he could crush you with his pinky. 

He didn’t know how to respond, still perplexed about why you hadn't kicked him out yet. 

He soon brushed those thoughts to the side when his mouth watered upon seeing you point at the remaining golden-brown pastries. “Well, these will be on the house, since you almost died in front of my restaurant. We only have 3 chicken left, 2 guava and cheese, and 1 chorizo with potato.”

Miguel felt his phone vibrate again–no doubt it was Lyla. 

And for the first time in a long time, he turned off his phone, not even bothering to view the message as he chose to look at you instead.

“I’ll take them all.”

–

When you first decided to take over your family’s restaurant, your tía taught you how to handle rude customers while also giving you advice on how to treat the nice ones so they always returned.

However, there was nothing in her playbook on how to treat the weird customers.

And Miguel O’Hara was the weirdest by far.

You took a light sip of your café con leche as you stole a glance at him starting his second empanada, the sight of such a quiet, large man sitting in a tiny seat and restraining his urge to inhale the food in one go quite comical. Much like how he ate the first one, he attempted to seem unaffected by the taste of the meaty filling. 

But after doing this for so many years, no one could ever hide their reaction from you. Especially the pure happiness one got from eating a toasty, savory empanada. 

And seeing the dark red-brown eyes of the intimidating man briefly widening and softening in amazement only made you want to find more ways to recapture that fleeting moment. To lengthen it and bask in its warmth, even if that meant countless hours of mincing, seasoning, kneading, and baking. 

“¿Entonces? The only thing you’ve said these past five minutes is your name. ¿Que dice el juez?” you teased, leaning back and smugly folding your arms as you already knew what his verdict would be. 

It was a choice you instantly regretted, almost falling out of your chair as he stopped looking at his half-finished empanada and focused all of his attention on you, a gaze so intense you briefly pondered if you left the oven on with the sudden swell of heat suffocating you.

He pursed his lips and rolled those impossibly broad shoulders, yet another action that made the room feel uncomfortably stuffy for no good reason. “It’s one of the best empanadas I’ve ever had in my life.”

Now it was your turn to be surprised, expecting to hear a ‘good’ or maybe even a ‘great’, but not the highest of praises. 

A pregnant pause ensued before a hearty laugh escaped you.

It was impossible to suspend your disbelief–all of this coming from one of the hottest guys you’ve ever seen enter this shop? Only when pigs fly, or as your abuela preferred to say, “Solo cuando los cerdos vuelan.”

“¡Mentiroso! Lo dices como si fuera la última Coca-Cola en el desierto.”

He had to know that his half-glare really was just him smoldering. There was no way this man was oblivious to the effects of that gaze. 

“I don’t think I’m a liar or particularly funny. Though I actually would appreciate a Coca, si la tienes.”

You desperately hoped that your immediate sigh sounded one stemming from annoyance rather than relief–having an excuse to get up and look for a can of soda rather than the brooding dude a mere foot away from you was the only way you’d stay sane through this strange night.

“I do appreciate the kind words,” you said after recollecting your composure, the cool air blasting from the fridge reminding you to retain at least some semblance of professionalism, “but these aren’t even the freshest batch. No way they’re the best you’ve had.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow as you handed him the can. “I didn’t say the best. And you don’t have any with a glass bottle?”

You rolled your eyes before plopping back into your seat. “If I did, I would’ve hit you in the head with it quite a while ago. And especially now, after your challenge.”

“It’s not meant to be taken as a challenge–”

“Ah, but I’ll take it as one because my family’s reputation is riding on this. Or else mi abuela, que en paz descanse”–you pointed to the framed picture of the sweet, old lady right above the cash register–“lanzará sus chanclas poderosas, and I don’t want to get hit by those, they’re stronger than that car that was about to run you over.”

The roll of his eyes was obnoxiously overt, but you barely caught a glimpse of the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, masterfully hidden by taking a sip of his coke. 

“How would this so-called challenge even work?”

“You’re asking the wrong question because that’s an easy answer. The next time you come, I’ll bake you a fresh batch of your favorite empanadas, no matter what kind and even if you come 5 minutes before closing.” Listing the types with each finger, it’s hard to contain your excitement. “Baked, fried, sweet, savory, you name it.”

“¿Y si no me gustan?”

“¡No seas tonto! Yet another dumb question, because you’ll not only like them, you’ll fucking love them. The right question is whether you’d think they’re the best.”

You swore he inched closer, the once faint smell of sandalwood from his cologne now overpowering your already-fried senses. “And what if they’re not the best?”

“I’ll get two more attempts afterward. If they still don’t meet your palate’s expectations, which honestly isn’t a worry of mine, then you’ll get free empanadas for the year.” It’s said without hesitation, with confidence you have no idea how you mustered all of a sudden. 

Out of all moments to be driven by pride, you choose to do so while tightrope walking on a straight razor.

And you wondered if Miguel read your mind because, for the first time, you heard his laugh. It’s a sardonic one, but its deep timbre was as attractive as his face and meshed well with his incredibly dry sense of humor.

Maybe the walk wouldn’t be as bad as you imagined.

“You’re either extremely arrogant in thinking you’ll win, or too trustful in people to believe they wouldn’t scam you with this deal.”

“But you’re not just some normal person,” you reply simply, amused to see his shoulders slightly stiffened, “and I believe you when you said you’re not a liar. Call it a gut feeling.”

“What do you even get out of this?” he asked, puzzled at how you just weren’t setting yourself up for failure. He didn’t need Lyla for him to visualize the thousands of ways you could lose.   

Your wolfish grin showed a lot more than your words. “Nothing, other than making my family proud. Anddd perhaps receiving a five-star review on Yelp wouldn’t hurt either.”

Running a hand through his hair, he shrugged before lifting his soda can toward you. “That’s the least I could do. But don’t think I’ll make this easy for you.” 

You gently clinked his can with your cup of coffee as your eyes locked with his, wondering what the hell you just got yourself into.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

–

translations (please lmk if you need more):

Mi gringa favorita - my favorite white girl

El jefe - the boss

Un pendejo - a dumbass

Maldita sea - goddamn it

Buen provecho, Jefe - Enjoy your meal, boss

Que chingada - what bullshit/wtf

Eres un idiota? ¡Casi te atropellan! - Are you an idiot? They almost ran you over!

No hablas espanol? - You don't speak Spanish

Estoy bien - I'm fine

Que dice el juez - What does the judge say?

¡Mentiroso! Lo dices como si fuera la última Coca-Cola en el desierto - Liar! You say it as if it was the last coca-cola in the desert

Una coca - A Coca Cola

Si la tienes - If you have it

Que en paza descanse - may she rip

Lanzarla las chanclas poderosas - she'll release her powerful flip-flops

Y si no me gustan? - And if I don't like it?

No seas tonto - Don't be silly/dumb

[shuenkio]

Ah okay so for my request maybe an Enhypen x Little Brother reader who's like 19. Essentially their reaction to their little brother getting hit on by guys while they're just hanging out in the mall or something. Little brother is shy and chubby so his very more quiet and small. But yeah thank you!!!!!!!!!!!🫧♡♡♡♡♡♡have a good day!!!!!

🗣️ Your request is here pookie, it was fun writing this (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ enjoy~~ (not 100% accurate tho, I wrote most girls than guys 😭since I forget the part "guys")

-(⁠●⁠’⁠3⁠)⁠♡⁠(⁠ε⁠`⁠●⁠)-

ENHYPEN reaction when someone hit on ya 💘

Paring: Enha X male!(little brother)reader.

Genre: fluff, crack.

Cw: curse.

Summary: Enha as your older brother, their reaction when a stranger rizz you up.

No Proof-read ><

{Heeseung} Your older brother is fairly strict towards you, as he is overprotective of you and loves you deeply. He doesn't like it when he sees you sulking or feeling hurt. Your parents always trust him, leaving you under his supervision while they head off to work because you're still too clumsy to be left alone, even though you're an adult, well, 18 to be exact. While out at the store, he has you hold onto the groceries while he heads off to pick up some meat in another section. Suddenly, a girl comes up to you, thinking you are a cute little boy because you are wearing an oversized. hoodie before she initiates casual flirting with you, asking for your number. You are stunned and speechless, never imagining that anyone would even be interested in you. Your brother comes back and recognizes the situation immediately. He quickly explains to the girl that you are too young to be dating yet, and he doesn't allow it.

He's correct in his judgment, as you tend to fall in love easily, with simple crushes. However, when it comes to the end of the day, you ultimately prefer being on your own. You are upset about this, and want to speak for yourself, but your brother has already done the job for you. She is left speechless and turns her attention towards your older brother, asking for his number instead. He politely declines and takes your hand in his to lead you away. The girl is left speechless and doesn't know what to say. Your brother glances at you, sensing that you are disappointed, and leads you away from the situation.

"You're still a baby, no dating until i married"

"You're joking, you wanna left me alone with my Shadow?"

"Well yeah since you love korean idols than loving a real people"

Ouch

{Jay} He is like a second mother to you, a strict and protective older brother despite you being the younger sibling in the wealthy family. Everything that you do, from going out with your friends to prom parties and trips, is under his watch. He knows every move you make, and is always looking out for you. The thought of you getting your heart broken one day would destroy him, which is why he's so overprotective of you. On the day of your birthday party at his house, he wants you to be more social and step outside of your comfort zone.While he goes to greet his friends, a stranger approaches you, and starts up a small conversation, which eventually begins to flirt with you. You are extremely shy and hesitant, replying with short, simple responses whenever they ask you questions. Soon enough, your older brother sees you are surrounded by unfamiliar people, and gets furious. He shoos them away, in the nicest way possible, and grabs your hand to take you away immediately from the party.

In the car.

"Sorry m/n i should've known better, you probably feel-"

"No it's fine at least they're nice, flirting probably just a way to began a small talk too, I don't mind"

"Glad you're okay, I'll be more careful from now on"

"Come on, see! I'm laterally okay stop acting like you're giving birth to me~"

"Alright alright monkey, what do you want to eat, I'll take you anywhere you wish for, you didn't anything yet didn't you"

He definitely know me better than mom.

{Jake} Your highly attractive and good-looking older brother is akin to a golden retriever in human form, constantly clinging to you despite the fact that you are siblings. He enjoys spoiling you with many sweet treats and knows your favorite foods without a doubt. One day, he takes you to his office after you insist on seeing where he works. As soon as his female co-workers are introduced to you, they all begin cooing over you and paying you many flirtatious compliments, overwhelming and draining your introverted battery. Upon seeing this, your brother quickly swoops in, rescues you, and whisks you away.

"Now you'd better stay at home, since you've seen this place already lol - I doubt you wanna come back after this."

"I suppose ..."

{Sunghoon} Not only are you the introverted member of the household, but your older brother is two times more introverted than you are. Despite working as a professional figure skater and public personality, he is also a beloved celebrity known by many of his fans and interviewers. When asked about his siblings, he admits to having a little brother, but does not elaborate further and protects your identity.

Which mean He cherishes you dearly, taking great care in keeping you safe from any potential danger and harm, as your protector and older brother. One day when he takes you out in public for a beach trip with your family, one of his fans recognizes him and draws the attention of others. The crowd of people grows bigger and bigger, all of them in awe of your incredible visuals, some trying to approach you but unable to due to his bodyguard's intervention.

"Hey!! SUNGHOON'S BROTHER, GO ON A DATE WITH ME!"

"YOU'RE SO HANDSOME, OMG"

"I'LL DEFINITELY RIZZ YOU UP WHEN I SEE YOU NEXT TIME"

"LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT~"

"I told you it was a bad idea to come here!"

"Not my fault when you're a walking celebrity"

{Sunoo} Your vibrant, golden-hearted older brother is ever so cuddly and caring. He enjoys giving gifts to you, even if it's not your birthday, and has a penchant for pretty things. You and him have similarities in that regard, and he is a frequent gifter, bestowing you with various presents like perfume, skincare products, clothing, and more.

As the holiday season arrives, he's excited to take you to a new restaurant that's opened up, saying he's heard that it's trendy and cool. Of course, he, the sociable guy that he is, wants to try it out immediately, with you by his side. Once you arrive at the restaurant, the waiter promptly seats you and provides you with the menu. The waiter is struck by your adorable appearance and drops a smooth pick-up line in an attempt to flirt with you, which leaves your brother's jaw dropped on the ground in sheer disbelief.

This memorable moment would surely cause your brother to tease you endlessly while laughing, and might even regale mom and dad with this amusing tale as well.

"I'm not gonna lie bubble gum! You are sure adorable today with your pink sweater"

"Oh shut up, it's was... Kinda embarrassed"

You hide your face under the menu.

{Jungwon} Your adorable, spirited older brother is a bit like a real-life version of the cartoon duo Tom and Jerry, regularly teasing and pranking you. He's very loving and cares deeply for you, and even treats you to extra snacks when he's won a competition or returned home from taekwondo practice. However, despite being laid back and not strict, he would likely be upset if he saw a stranger approach you and try to get your number with a cheesy pickup line, as you're a gentle-hearted person. His protective instinct would quickly kick in, and he'd take you away from the situation immediately.

You, too, were shocked that someone would ask for your number in such a nonchalant fashion, when you're wearing an outfit that doesn't convey much self-confidence. However, your charming presence may have caught their attention, and they weren't entirely wrong about your appeal.

"Don't get me wrong, that person looks like they're from a gangster team"

"No cap, I'd have stay on the spot instead of responding back"

{Ni-Ki} Your older brother, your twin but older by two seconds, has a distinctly different personality from yours. He's talkative and outgoing, while you're more reserved and antisocial. The two of you share a striking resemblance, and as a result, people frequently mistake you for him, attempting to strike up conversations with you thinking you are him. One particularly embarrassing memory involves a girl trying to hit on you, using creative pickup lines, yet your brother didn't intervene to correct the misunderstanding and let it happen instead. Laughing his ass out as you struggling, before he said this.

"He's gay ~ he only like boys lady!! Lmfao"

"You fucking BITCH SHUT UP"

He's spit truth out actually. °_°

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️ Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ crd to all pics&dividers

REQUEST: CLOSING.

Announcement 📣

[I'll update my next work on weekends since I have exams started from tomorrow]

[edandstede]

more things i think about:

- ed finds a little mermaid trinket that goes by their sink, perfect to pop their wedding rings over its tail whenever one of them is washing the pots! (ed paints it to look like stede and he talks to him sometimes when he’s home alone, stede finds it all endlessly endearing)

- they absolutely do adopt a cat. or rather, a cat adopts them. starts off a stray y’see and of course ed and stede feed her so she keeps coming back, hanging out on ed’s lap whenever he sits on their porch watching stede do odd jobs. eventually she just stays, and they love her to bits, and she is always nestled between them in bed until one of them puts her outside so her dads can have some private time. stede is a bit wary of her at first because although he loves animals, he’s never had a cat, but it isn’t long before he’s carrying her around like a baby and cooing to her which makes ed want to marry him all over again tbh (“aw ed, look! i think we’ve hit it off. who knew cats liked to be coddled this much? aren’t you a sweet thing, hm? yes!”) (also what do you think they’d call her? leave suggestions in the replies actually)

- nothing is better for them than just doing fuck all. stede feels a fool for ever assuming ed needs excitement and adventure to be content, that he thrives on that. actually he thrives when he can just chill out with no pressure, kiss his husband, have his head scritched and chat away and laugh together. and sure, sometimes he gets a bit restless, but he can find things to do to occupy his hands and mind so he isn’t bored, and during those times stede is more than happy to be nearby with his nose in a book. they just love existing together <3

- stede isn’t the best cook but he does try and learn, and he especially tries to get good at baking because the love of his life has an incessant sweet tooth and he loves how ed’s face lights up every time he presents him with a new sweet or dessert

- their cat loves fang more than either of them and they both know it, she doesn’t leave his side whenever the crew visits and ed gets all huffy about it until stede kisses his head and he can’t resist a smile (ed still pretends to be sulking over the cat cheating on him with fang but immediately gives in and scoops her up once she headbutts his legs and curls around them, stede watches the whole thing like 🤭)

[luveline]

& speaking of the Steve zombie au series —

would you ever maybe give us a little tidbit of maybe Steve and reader where he finally admits to her not only just how petrified he was when she got kidnapped, but also how much he’s realized that he cannot live without her? I could feel his walls coming down in that last excerpt and felt our boy wanting to just UNLEASH all of his emotions to us and the comforted one vs the comforter, like — ugh my baby 🥲

even if you never wrote this tho your writing and this series is literally unmatched like oh my fucking god I love you and don’t even know you???

thank you so much ♥ for you, fem!reader zombie!au steve

"You want to what?" 

"I want to move into the pantry." 

You stare at Steve, your shock melding into unhappiness. "No, you don't." 

He laughs at your frown and sits up a little taller. He almost drops his tray. "I do! I miss you all the time, I don't see why we chose separate jobs in the first place." 

You look down at your own tray. You and Steve have chanced the unnatural winter sunshine to eat in the quietude outside of the cafeteria, but it's cold despite the sunshine and you don't like the food today and now Steve is… doing whatever it is he's doing. 

"I miss you too," you say. "You want this?" 

"You need to eat." 

"I don't like–" 

"That's never stopped you before," he teases lightly. 

"Forgive me for being picky," you say, and you're not being sarcastic. It's an amazing privilege at this point, and in these circumstances, to be able to turn food away. "You eat it for me, please." 

"We can go to the shop tonight and pick something you like," he says. 

'The shop' is just that, a small store of any excess pantry stuff, luxuries people don't strictly need. You can trade or you can cash in a 'credit' or a few for something. There's been some great stuff in there lately, like marshmallows and a huge box of three musketeers bars. 

"No…" You don't want him to buy you treats. It's like a reward for being difficult. "You can't come to work in the pantry, there isn't anything for you to do." 

"Then I'll do something else. I just want to be here with you." 

"But," you say, alarmed, "you can't do that. We can't be like that." 

You've only just got back to normal. Not normal, because this isn't normal, not this community or the apocalypse or what happened to you, but better than it had been. You get up in the mornings at the same time and eat breakfast in the cafeteria, where Hopper hosts town hall, and then you part for your separate jobs. You work in the kitchen, Steve works as a sort of security guard patrolling the fences of the community to stop a geek invasion, and occasionally leaves the College to bring things back from the abandoned shopping mall a couple of miles away. 

"Be like what?" he asks, sounding like he's about to sulk with you as he puts his tray at the floor by his feet. 

"Codependent." 

"We're already codependent. I think we're allowed." 

"See, that's what everybody says, but–" 

You put your tray down on the floor because you doubt Steve's going to eat it. It clinks next to Steve's with a more aggressive emphasis than you'd wanted.

You look at him, really look at him, eyes scanning his eyes and his mouth and the way he's holding his shoulders. He's tense. He's anxious. 

"Stevie," you say, and offer him your hand. 

He doesn't take it. "But what?" he asks. 

"I need you to be happy," you say, "how can you be happy if you're always worried about me? And when you're not worried about me it's because you're giving up the things you like doing to be near me." 

Your voice is quiet. It's hard to say all that out loud, one half of you worried he'll laugh in your face and say you've got it all wrong, and the other worried you'll hurt his feelings. 

"I need you." 

"Steve, you–" 

"I do," he says, staring a hole into your thigh, "I need you. I went fucking crazy without you." 

"You would've been okay." If something happened to me. 

He shakes his head. "No, I would've been a mess. Probably forever." 

This isn't the first time you've seen Steve vulnerable, but it's been a long time. He's been your pillar of strength, he's held you through nightmares and moments of unreality. He hadn't once wavered. 

You push onto your feet. You stand in front of him, weaving your fingers into the soft hair at the back of his head. 

"Steve," you say, pulling his head into your chest. You don't continue, wanting to say, Why didn't you tell me you felt like that? 

But he had. Hadn't he? He'd crossed the wilderness in the dead winter on a maybe that you'd be somewhere he could reach. 

His shoulders shift under your hand. You think, horrified, that he might be crying. 

"Steve," you whisper, pressing your lips into his hair. "It's okay. You saved me, you know?" 

"But what if I didn't get there in time? You were all alone. You were tied up," he says.

"I'm sorry." You don't know what else to say. You're so sorry. That he would have to think that, and see you like that. "It's my fault. I'm sorry." 

His arms slide behind your back and lock you in so tightly you feel like each of his fingers is touching your spine. You scramble to keep a hold on him. 

"I– you know, I lost my shit in the communal bathrooms and Robin had to tell me to get ahold of myself," he admits, trying to be lighthearted. He sounds strangled. 

"I didn't know that," you say, your eyes filling with tears. 

You have no clue if Steve is crying now. You think he might be. He's unsteady under your hands, the side of his face buried in your sternum, his hands clinging to you like you're a liferaft at sea. You try to calm him down, and find, ashamed of yourself, that you don't know how. 

"I'm so sorry, Steve," you mumble, sniffing his hair. He smells like your shared soap. 

All you can do is let him hug you. Eventually, his grip loosens, and he pull his face from your torso to look up at you. 

"Squeezing you…" He rubs his hands softly over the places he'd gripped. 

"You didn't hurt me. You'd have to try way harder than that, Harrington," you say. 

He reaches up for your face and you let him take it, bending at the waist for a kiss. You ignore the dampness under his eyes at first, thinking maybe that's what he wants. You kiss him all wonky in your desperation to feel it, and you laugh wetly as you lean back. 

You wipe his cheeks. "I love you," you say, and you both fill up with tears again. 

"This is embarrassing," Steve says, laughing with you.

You nod fiercely. Super embarrassing. 

You wouldn't have it any other way, though. You throw your arms around his neck for a second time and kiss the top of his head until you can't feel your lips.