#he was colder and more closed off

[red-might-be-dead]

donna rand lost her son and her daughter that day.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i crumble completely when you cry ; suguru geto

synopsis; after a tense fight with your boyfriend, you flee out into a brewing rainstorm. luckily, suguru is always willing to warm you up again.

word count; 6.2k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, copious amounts of hurt/comfort, no really that’s literally all this fic is, sugu snaps at you for worrying about him, (and then promptly spirals), he makes it up to you though :), healthy communication ensues, [name] is used exactly once, switching povs, soft & fluffy ending <33

a/n; going back to my roots (mindless hurt/comfort) 🙏🙏 i just think that if suguru picked me up like a small kitten and put me in his lap it would fix me

you’re cold.

little shivers run through your body, down your spine, and all you can do is clench your chattering teeth and dig your nails into the skin of your palms. the heavy rain falls down without mercy, going pitter patter as it hits the asphalt. a sudden lightning strike lights up the town, flashing in the reflection of puddles, and you manage a weak jolt.

dark clouds blanket the whole sky, not allowing even a sliver of blue to shine through the darkness of the rainy evening. enveloping you, surrounding you, soft earthy scents — wet asphalt, roses blooming to your left and right, bushes with sweet-smelling flora guiding your path, little petals glistening with droplets and bouncing with the force of the rain.

it’d be comforting, were it not for one simple fact; 

you don’t have an umbrella.

at this point, thirty minutes into your solemn, sniffly walk, you’re absolutely soaked. with only a measly hoodie to cover your body and head, and a tank top sticking to the skin beneath it — you were stupid to think you’d get out of it unscathed. your shoes feel uncomfortable, wet soles sticking to the asphalt, two heavy weights carrying you down the familiar street ahead of you.

you let out a shuddering breath. 

gosh, this was stupid. you knew it was going to rain, but still walked out without a care in the world; despite the weather forecast, despite suguru’s warnings over breakfast, despite the dark clouds covering the milk-blue sky. you just didn’t think it’d be this bad. you just felt so helpless.

you just couldn’t stay there.

some fresh air, and a bit of space. that was all you needed. just that one sliver of comfort.

so, yeah, maybe you weren’t thinking very clearly when you stormed out. maybe you weren’t thinking nearly enough, not enough to even grab one of the umbrellas hanging off the coatrack. hanging there just for you, the cutest little frog umbrella, one suguru bought for you himself. big, googly eyes, and a big smile. the most perfect shade of green. 

(he put it there just for you.)

maybe you weren’t thinking at all. maybe you just needed to get away, away from him, away from the frustration on his features. arguments with suguru are few and far between — it only adds to the sting of his cold voice still ringing in your ears. you bite down on your bottom lip again, just to stop it from wobbling so pitifully. blinking rapidly, tears and raindrops clinging to your lashline.

you were just worried. is that so awful? 

(why did he have to be so fucking mean about it?)

a sigh flows from your lips, heavy and defeated and undeniably tired. you hate feeling like this, this bitter, hate feeling like you’ve done something wrong. more than anything, you hate arguing with him — hate the idea of him being angry with you. hate the way his voice turns colder, just a little sharper, an octave lower. he never raises it, never ever, but somehow he still sounds so scary. 

it bothers you. bothers you how sensitive you are when it comes to him. just that shivering tilt of his voice, coupled with the annoyance in his eyes, was enough to make your eyes a little glassy. one little sentence, and you were close to breaking out into a sob. because suguru was angry with you, and that alone makes you feel like you’ve done nothing right in your life.

so you left. because that was all you could do. 

sure, the sharp pelting of the rain hurts a little, and the thunder is scary, and you’re awfully cold — but anything is better than having suguru see you burst into tears over such a small argument. you know he’d try to soothe you, know he’d feel guilty. but that just makes it all the more embarrassing. 

(all the more pathetic.)

so you left, rushed out of your own apartment, and before you knew it the storm was rolling in above you. rain and thunder, something to rival the ache in your chest. it still hasn’t been that long, a little over half an hour, and you still haven’t fully calmed down. you still don’t know how to face him. but —

but fuck, it’s cold. and an undeniable part of you yearns to run back into his arms, to make up with him, to hear his voice turn warm and see his eyes go soft. you want him to soothe you so, so badly. like he always does. 

another sigh — more resigned this time — slips from out your lips. your bones feel sore, you’re almost certain you’re going to catch a cold, and it’s getting late. you’re all alone, and it’s raining, and you look vulnerable and helpless. 

you want to go home.

it’ll be awkward, but maybe you can sneak in somehow — without him noticing. then you can go straight to sleep, on the couch, and maybe you’ll feel a little better tomorrow. the two of you can talk it out over breakfast, over warm coffee, and you can tell him what you meant to say without stumbling over what words to use or dancing around the subject like a scared little child.

you’re just too tired to argue anymore.

he just made you feel so stupid. so very, very small. suguru’s been working so hard lately, coming home late, exhausting himself. all you wanted was to make sure he was okay. that, and to coax him into relaxing a bit; maybe take a day off to recharge. that was all.

but he just brushed you off.

and, well, maybe you should’ve backed off after that. maybe you should’ve taken that as a sign that suguru didn’t feel up to answering your questions. but you were just so worried, so pitifully anxious, and you just wanted to help him so, so badly.

suguru is always so dependable. always there to help you, to ground you, to console you. even when you push him away or insist you don’t need it. he can be pushy, when he feels like he needs to, when your health is at risk — and it’s frustrating, but you’ve always appreciated it. you just wanted to return the favour. push him, just a little, to show him how much you care. show him that he can depend on you the way he insists you do with him.

but then he grew frustrated.

”suguru… you’ve been working so much, i’m —” you bite down on your bottom lip. ”i’m just worried that you’re overdoing it.” ”… god. how many times do i have to say it? i know my limits, [name].” ”but — you just look so tired —” ”well, i’m sorry for that.” a cold smile. ”am i not living up to your expectations?”

(that’s not what you meant. he knows that’s not what you meant.)

and it makes you feel frustrated, too. pardon you for being worried. for wanting to be there for him, for once, for wanting to be a supportive partner and not just a burden. 

pardon you for feeling a little lonely, with him coming home so late, leaving so early. with him not giving you the affection you’re so used to, and never confiding in you about his stress.

pardon you for wanting him to trust you, a little, even just a sliver more than not at all.

god, you’re exhausted. you just want to sleep — can’t you have that, at least? just that one thing? you don’t mind sleeping on the couch, don’t mind feeling like a stranger in your own home, as long as you get to rest your eyes. just for a little while. 

your brain spins in circles, bitterness and longing heavy on your tongue, as you grumble over what to do or how to feel — 

while your feet have already begun taking you home. moving almost on their own, on instinct, walking past rose bushes and backyards, the smell of glucose and rotting apples. 

and you’re there before you know it: in front of the familiar door to your shared apartment, soaked from head to toe. still feeling a little lost.

for a second, you hesitate.

maybe he’s still angry. maybe he was happy to get some time away from you. maybe you’re just making things worse by doing this, maybe you should just —

but your fingers have already fished out the key from within your pocket, unlocking the door in one swift motion. moving up to curl around the doorknob, a desperation in your veins guiding you closer to his steady warmth.

and before you have the chance to waver again, you pull the door open and step inside.

you move slowly, gentle and careful, almost cautious. softly closing the door behind you and taking a couple quiet steps forward, only to shrug off your hoodie — heavy, soaking wet and discomforting as you pull it over your head. clumsily, you try to get it off you, squirming when the warm indoors air meets your sweaty tank top. it feels soothing on your bare skin, though, ghosting over your shoulders and collarbone, hoodie now clinging to your elbows.

in the middle of the taxing endeavor, you almost fail to notice the presence of a certain someone, standing just a little farther away. 

almost, because it’d be impossible for you to miss him, that heavy gaze of his.

and before you can think the thought to do anything else, you’ve locked eyes with him — arms still tangled up in the wet sleeves of your hoodie, raindrops and sweat sticking to your skin.

(suguru takes a moment to look at you.)

not daring to say anything, afraid to part your lips, you simply stand there. in silence, like a deer in headlights. for some reason, you can’t really read his expression — you’re a little too tired, a little too caught off guard.

you can only blink, worry surely evident in your furrowed brows, as the seconds tick on and on. tense, tense, tense.

and then he’s walking away again. 

crestfallen. that’s probably the best way to describe how you feel right now, watching him disappear around the corner. dejected, as your eyes fall to the floor, and your posture wilts like a dying rose. you finally shake off your hoodie and watch it fall to the floor with a gross, wet plap.

it hurts. you want to cry. you can’t help it. even though a part of you is still upset, even though a part of you fully expected this to happen… 

another part was still hoping he’d be happy to see you. as if just seeing his smile again might’ve fixed everything.

but he didn’t even give you that.

that’s that, then. there’s nothing you can do except proceed with your original plan. you’ll change into some warm, dry clothes, and go to sleep on the couch like the miserable dog you are. you’ll leave everything troublesome and disheartening for tomorrow’s you to handle. 

for now, you just have to worry about getting some sleep. you don’t have to think about suguru, or his cold voice, or the way he just walked away without saying anything. 

you don’t have to think about him at all. 

(don’t think. don’t think. don’t —)

— the soft patter of footsteps breaks you out of your anxious spiral. they come closer and closer, until a certain silhouette enters your vision out of the corner of your eye.

a certain suguru geto, hair down and cascading past his shoulders, wearing a comfortable sweater and loose sweatpants with a fluffy towel in tow.

once again, you can only blink. a vaguely confused deer in headlights. suguru comes closer and closer, until you can clearly see his eyes, amber gold, full of an emotion you finally manage to identify —

worry.

(ah.)

before you can say anything, he’s draped the towel around you. it feels nice, a soft texture on your skin, big enough to engulf you completely, cocooning you. cozy and snug. you can’t help but melt a little when suguru places his big hand over the towel and smooths it over your cheek, drying off your skin so gently that you feel like crying again.

”are you cold?” he asks, concern evident in his voice. to your immense relief, it sounds nowhere near as scary as before. ”you’re soaked…”

suguru almost seems to be pouting, bottom lip jutting out the slightest bit, eyebrows furrowed softly. still rubbing the raindrops off your skin. he looks awfully troubled, undeniably anxious, and the way he’s caressing your skin feels so earnestly caring. the towel feels warm, like he went the extra mile to heat it up for you.

and, more than anything, the feeling of suguru’s big hands cupping your face is almost heavenly. even though the touch is indirect, you can’t help but bask in his warmth, almost desperate to cling to it after escaping from the harsh cold of the rain. like he could slip away and leave you again if you don’t stay perfectly still, just like this.

it’s soothing. so, so soothing. but it also makes you feel kind of meek.

you sound sheepish when you answer, voice a little hoarse after your grueling walk. throat dry from all the crying. ”nah, ’m fine…”

the words are tiny, fragile like pieces of glass, and they only make suguru’s brows furrow further, pout turning into a soft frown as he gazes down at you.

(he hates how small you look. like you’re curling in on yourself.)

as soon as you left the apartment, a wave of regret washed over him. it was expected, obviously, because that’s what always happens after the two of you argue — which is almost never, which only makes the cut in his heart run deeper. 

he felt frustrated. and tired, so tired. but when he saw your troubled expression, the way your eyes watered slightly before you rushed out…

he could only feel guilty.

and that sensation only deepened as he sat on the couch and spiraled, over the course of forty long minutes, playing the interaction back inside his head. over and over, thinking about your words, his words, some of which he desperately wishes he could take back. 

and when it started raining? suguru could only feel regret, hot and ugly, dragging him into his own thoughts. could only drown in his worries, look out the window anxiously. thinking of you, his sweet baby, stuck under the onslaught of dark clouds and lightning strikes and heavy rain.

(you didn’t bring an umbrella.)

suguru waited. that was all he could do. 

he didn’t think it was possible for him to feel so useless. fighting with himself, the part of him that wanted to give you the space you needed clashing with the part that yearned to run after you — scoop you up and apologize, hold you tight and protect you from the rainfall. you weren’t answering his calls, and he didn’t want to overwhelm you, didn’t want to make you feel even worse. afraid to scare you off for good.

so he could only sit there and worry, sit there and wait, wallow in his own shame until he heard the faintest sound of the front door unlocking. followed by the sound of it creaking open, slowly — and that was all he needed. 

and there you were. standing by the entrance, entirely soaked, tank top sticking to your skin and that flimsy hoodie hanging off your arms, cheeks a little red from the cold and strands of hair sticking to your skin.

like a tiny kitten left out in the rain.

it made him feel so painfully anxious. his heart aching so deeply, so viscerally, while all he could think about was smothering you in affection. taking care of you, like he always wants to do, needs to do to stay sane. so suguru left, to go grab something to dry you off with —

and now he’s here. in front of you, smothering you with the towel rather than his love, fretting over you like an overprotective mother. 

suguru yearns to soothe you. to take care of you. always, always, always, his hands on your skin and lidded amber eyes staring deeply into yours. offering himself like a shelter to a stray dog, hoping so tenderly that you’ll take the bait.

(he just wants you to feel safe with him again.)

so he stumbles for something, anything to say, afraid of overstepping or making you uncomfortable. you did just argue, and suguru was anything but patient with you. usually he would be; he’d make sure to be. but with work piling up, and exhaustion clinging to every pore of his skin…

he failed at maintaining his composure.

he needs to make it up to you. despite everything — even though he feels a little awkward, a little restless, still drowning a little in shame — he just wants to tend to you. that, and nothing more.

”hang on,” he exhales, stepping back and letting go of the towel. ”i’ll go draw you a bath…”

”ah — no need,” you smile, a little forced, swiftly reassuring him. he can tell you don’t really know how to act after everything that happened; still walking on eggshells. ”i’ll just take a quick shower.”

suguru wants to protest, wants to coax you into taking a proper bath, into letting your cold skin and aching bones relax completely —

but he can only hum, a little unsure. a little sad. 

”… okay. got it.”

perplexed, he tries his hand at another tactic. still so desperate to take care of you in whatever way you’ll allow, like always, but he thinks it’s worse now. even more desperate, after the fight you had, after seeing your frail, shivering self. resisting the urge to scoop you up and coddle you is a struggle.

”i can make you tea?” he tries, inwardly wincing at the way the words spill from his lips; uncertain, awkward. what a mess.

but you smile, slightly more genuinely this time, a soft little thing. it soothes some of the anxiety rotting through his ribs.

”tea would be great, thank you.”

you brush past him, warm towel still hanging off your shoulders. ”i’ll just take a shower in the meantime,” you murmur, and suguru can do nothing but nod, watching you go. 

he swallows thickly.

(that’s that, then.)

tea. right. what kind of tea? something warm, and soothing, and good for your throat. chamomile? peppermint? he’ll add a spoon of honey, just the way you like.

suguru’s mind spins in circles while his feet take him to the kitchen, hands swiftly rummaging through cabinets and getting the electric kettle ready. placing teacups and a teapot on the table, cute little floral designs he couldn’t help but fill your kitchen with. pouring hot peppermint tea into the pot, a strong scent drifting through the kitchen, drowning his senses in bliss.

caught up in his own head, losing track of time, suguru fails to notice you walking from the bathroom — stopping by the threshold of the kitchen, hesitant to make your presence known. a few silent moments pass. with a tiny inhale, mint invading your senses, you take a step forward. calm and sleepy, skin still pleasantly hot from the warm shower, hair still a little damp.

only then does suguru notice you, his gaze drifting to your figure as if instinctively drawn to it.

you’re clad in some comfortable sweatpants, and an oversized hoodie — his hoodie, the one with the unreasonably soft texture, the one you tend to gravitate towards — the one he likes to see you in the most, because you always look so thoroughly comfy in it. almost drowning in the fabric. 

seeing you all warm and cozy, in his clothing no less, sends a tremor of pure warmth running through suguru’s chest. sprouting in his heart and spreading throughout his entire body. he can’t bring himself to resist the soft curl of his lips, gazing at you so fondly he’s almost sure you notice it.

”i made peppermint,” he says, a little breathless, already pouring boiling tea into two cups on the table. ”that okay?”

”yeah,” you answer, instantaneous. stifling a yawn. you’d have been fine with anything, really.

the shower worked wonders for your muddled mind; chasing away the shivers down your spine, that unpleasant chill to your skin. most importantly, it gave you a moment to simply relax, to bask in the peace and quiet. feel the hot water surround you, melt your bones like softened clay. you feel a little better, now. still anxious, more than a little sleepy, but better. and right now, that’s all you need. 

with a groggy kind of pep in your step, you stumble over to the kitchen table, plopping down on the chair across from where suguru is sitting. trying to get comfortable, knees pressed against your chest, muttering a soft thank you while gingerly touching the rim of the cup.

(suguru frowns, just barely, at the sight. usually you’d sit right next to him. but now you’re in front of him, so very far — as if you’re strangers.

it breaks his heart, a little bit.)

a soft hum leaves your lips when you take a sip of the tea — all warm and comforting and minty on your tongue, a vague taste of something sweet. it’s relaxing, more than anything, and it makes you feel a little more okay with everything.

suguru only watches you, drinking absentmindedly from his own cup. not really tasting anything.

finally, he opts to clear his throat — and your attention falls on him instantly.

”hey,” he starts, ready to address the elephant in the room. his voice is gentle, but decisive, firm somehow. ”about before…”

your body tenses, ever so slightly, fingers uncurling around the handle of the teacup. there’s a kind of shift in the air around you, in suguru’s tone of voice — and you were expecting it, waiting for it anxiously, but that doesn’t make it any less harrowing.

here it comes, your mind seems to sing. here comes the moment everything shatters again.

with as much strength as you can muster, you smile. a little sheepish, just a tad forced, refusing to meet his eyes from across the table. staring into the murky green of your cup and hoping in vain that you can somehow escape this discomfort. 

(you just want to rest. you just want to not have to think about anything.)

”it’s fine, suguru,” you cut him off. softly, but there’s a certain tilt to your voice that strikes him as rather cold. ”we can just drop it.”

the decision in his eyes doesn’t waver. you look meek, awfully troubled, and he hates to force you into another discussion when you’re undoubtedly tired — but suguru’s mind is set. he’s been evasive enough, today.

”no. i want to talk about it properly.”

at that, you seem to deflate a little. suguru is nothing if not stubborn, a quality that always manages to coexist with his gentleness, his desire to be a good partner for you. you can tell he won’t allow you to wriggle away, now that you’re both finally calm. he’s not doing it to exhaust you, not doing it to gain some sort of satisfaction out of ”winning” the argument — he’s doing it because he knows it’s the right thing to do. even if it makes you both a little uncomfortable.

communication is important, immensely so. suguru knows it very well.

and you do, too.

so all you do is curl into yourself, shifting in your seat, allowing him to speak his mind and sipping quietly on your tea. biting back a disgruntled huff, gaze lingering on the tablecloth, little calico cats etched into the fabric. he wanted one with yellow stripes, but still bought this one just for you. just like the ugly matching couple mugs you forced him into buying, the green colour of your kitchen wallpaper. he always places you before himself.

(all you wanted was to change that. just for a night, if nothing else. and he got mad at you for it.)

suguru sighs. it sounds fatigued, not frustrated or disappointed. he runs a hand through his hair, and you can’t help but follow the movement, the soft silky strands and the way he smooths them over. practiced, familiar, absentminded. you could watch him do it forever.

”i had a lot of time to think while you were gone,” he begins, recalling the mental gymnastics he went through while you were away. just sitting on the couch and running himself ragged, trying to be impartial, trying to see your point of view without letting his own bias get in the way.

you sink a little further into the chair, eyes downcast. inhaling the scent of peppermint, trying to prepare yourself for what he might say, the ways this could all go wrong.

”and i realized that you were right.”

…

you blink. once, then twice.

hesitantly, you raise your head, searching for suguru’s gaze. he isn’t looking at you, staring out at the rainfall through the window as if in deep thought. his gaze shifts to meet yours, and something soft flickers through his golden eyes.

he looks troubled, though. trying to find the right words, mind clouded by guilt. chewing at his bottom lip anxiously.

it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts, to weigh the words in his mind, just to make sure he gets them across as smoothly as possible. he’s had more than enough time to verbalize his feelings, to think about what he wants to say to you. it was all he could do while he waited. 

so his voice is earnest, when he continues, sincerely apologetic and thought out.

”i’m always telling you not to overwork yourself. and here i am, doing the same thing…” another sigh. ”you were just worried. i shouldn’t have lashed out — you didn’t deserve that.”

suguru searches for your gaze, and manages to find it. you falter a little under the weight of his eyes, but they’re warm, remorseful. a setting sun.

”i’m sorry.”

a moment of silence passes. then two. three, five. you look down at your cup, the purple hyacinths etched into the porcelain. crumbling under his gaze, at the sound of his genuine apology. 

and suddenly, you feel silly — silly for being so scared, for thinking suguru might still be angry with you. for thinking he wouldn’t spend as much time as needed to properly think about your words, your feelings, even if he might not have been ready to do so when he first heard them.

suguru can be stubborn, if he’s convinced that he’s in the right. but he always, always seeks you out eventually, always makes sure to genuinely look at things from your perspective. 

and, really, it means everything. it means enough to wash away all your leftover irritation, from having him brush you off when you know you didn’t do anything wrong. all the leftover sadness from being pushed away, from not being allowed to take care of him the way he always does for you.

suguru isn’t perfect, but he tries harder than anyone you know. tries his very best to be as close to perfect as he can possibly get — for you, for the both of you. he’s considerate enough, mature enough to take the time he needs to properly communicate. that’s how much he loves you. 

and yes, doing so makes you a little uncomfortable. but when faced with something like that, someone so kind, who loves you like the rain loves the ground — how could you ever bear not to do the same?

”… it’s fine,” you start, softly. ”maybe i overreacted a bit. ’s just —” a gulp. you’re trying your best to verbalize your feelings, the way suguru just did, the way he always does.

and he waits, patiently. for as long as you need. looking at you from across the table softly, already immensely relieved at the lack of tension in the air.

”i don’t like seeing you so tired. i know that your work is important, and i support you, but…” your voice goes quiet, as you trail off, hoping he’ll understand what you mean. ”you know.”

and suguru does. he does understand, he always will. so he hums.

”i know,” he murmurs, softly. ”it wasn’t an overreaction. i just didn’t realize it myself. got too caught up in everything,” a sharp exhale leaves his lips. ”it’s been… a long week. i’m not using that as an excuse, though.”

you listen attentively, eyes softening at his words. you can tell that he means it, that you finally got your message across. all you wanted was for him to take a break, to take care of himself.

to let you take care of him.

suguru continues. he makes it a point to look into your eyes as he speaks — a little intimidating, especially in a situation like this — but you know it reassures him, that it lets him know you really understand what he’s trying to say. 

so you hold his gaze, as steady as you can, glancing down at his collarbone when it becomes just a little too much.

”i’m grateful that i have you,” he says, voice dripping with softness, gazing at you with a fondness that has you crumbling all over again. ”and that you care enough to set me straight when i need it.”

and suguru means it. he means it more than anything else. not once has he ever stopped appreciating you, all the things you do for him; always so sweet and caring, even when it’s subtle. this was no exception. you’re always worried, always looking out for him. he feels awful for getting so defensive. for pushing you away, when you were trying so earnestly to reach him.

but he’ll make up for all of that, starting now.

”i mean it. i appreciate you so much, you have no idea — i’m so sorry if i made you think otherwise.” for a moment, his eyes look a little glassy, swimming in remorse. ”i really, really am.”

(and when he looks at you like that, when he speaks so very gently —

how could you ever bear not to forgive him?)

you shift in your seat again. gazing down, chewing at your bottom lip. his honesty makes you falter, makes it hard for you not to do the same; even if your voice ends up sounding awfully tiny and awfully close to breaking apart. 

”… i was just worried,” you mumble, meekly, shooing away any tears you have left with rapid blinks. 

”i know,” suguru soothes. the smile on his face is genuine, comforting, honey and peppermint and warmth. ”i was being immature. you were right — i’ve been burning myself out.”

you don’t say anything. only letting his words console you, feeling yourself relax at the sound of him opening up a little. just enough to make everything all better again.

”i was thinking of taking tomorrow off,” he continues, searching for your timid gaze and smiling gently once he finds it. ”what do you say?”

you brighten a little, so obvious in the way you sit up straighter, the way something soft and hopeful blossoms in the scope of your iris. the sight coaxes suguru’s patient smile into widening a smidge, his eyes crinkling at your barely contained excitement.

”that’d be nice…” you murmur, averting your gaze once more. but suguru can tell you like the sound of that, that it’s exactly what would finally put your anxious mind at ease.

a smile, bright and fond. suguru opens his arms. 

”then i will.”

for a moment, you simply stare. at him, his outstretched limbs — that soft smile, as he waits for you to get the hint. and you blink. 

oh. 

you look down at your lap. a little sheepish, almost shy. it takes you another moment to raise your head, again, only to see another gentle flicker in suguru’s eyes — and then you finally get up from your seat.

it feels a little strange. a little awkward, as if some of your bones still can’t help but tread on eggshells, afraid of making him upset again. but it’s suguru, and he loves you, and his arms are waiting patiently to hold you.

and you want that more than anything. 

so you fall into his arms, softly, curling up in his lap and wrapping your arms around his waist. suguru has one hand on the back of your head and the other on the small of your back, rubbing comforting circles into your spine to make you relax.

it works wonders. despite your initial hesitance, you melt into the embrace without putting up a fuss — happy to be in his arms again, to feel the anxiety dissipate when you realize that everything’s finally alright.

and suguru is just as happy, just as content. breathing out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding. he strokes your hair lovingly, and you nuzzle into him a little more; making his lips quirk up, eyes filling with adoration. finally, he can relax. having you in his arms feels so soothing. and you’re so sweet, curling into him, seeking comfort and warmth that he’s more than happy to provide.

how long has it been since he had a chance to hold you like this? he made sure to be affectionate whenever he could, before leaving for work and after coming back — but in the midst of all the paperwork and stress…

suguru sighs, a little sadder this time, watching you bask in the attention he had been robbing you of this whole time. without even realizing it.

”and i’m sorry for neglecting you, too,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. muffled by your hair as he presses a kiss against the crown of your head.

that certainly gets your attention.

”neglecting me?” you sputter, eyes suddenly wide open and lips parted in disbelief. flustered, heat rushing to your neck and ears. ”wha — what am i, some high-maintenance puppy? you didn’t neglect me.”

suguru only chuckles, biting back a soft coo that he knows would only fluster you more. instead, he pulls away a little, just to look at you, and pecks your forehead softly.

”well, i’m sorry for not being around much, then. i’ll make it up to you. okay?”

hiding away in his collarbone, again, you mutter a soft okay that has suguru’s heart squeezing in his chest. he cradles you close, engulfs you in his embrace, and hopes you can feel his love through the action. hopes you can feel it in the way his arms fit around you like they were always meant to be right there.

and you do feel his love. feel it smooth away the leftover turmoil in your brain, caress your skin softly. it’s soothing, and comforting, and you feel so incredibly safe. here, in suguru’s embrace, with the sound of rain hitting the window and the scent of peppermint wafting through the kitchen — it’d be impossible not to relax.

before you know it, your eyelids have fluttered shut, breathing softening out and heartbeat slowing down. a peaceful rhythm, carrying you away. suguru notices it before you do.

”you sleeping, baby?”

you jolt a little in his arms — murmuring something unintelligible into his neck, and he only chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest like a soothing thunderstorm.

”c’mon. let’s get you to bed, hm?” 

suguru smooths a hand down your back, arms tightening around you before he scoops you up and gets up from his seat. ”there we go,” he hums, helping you hike your legs around his waist. ”you can sleep, angel. i’ve got you.”

your arms tighten around him, and you inhale his scent; grounding and comforting, raindrops and roses. tomorrow you can bask in it properly, can take care of him properly. you’ll coddle him all day.

but for now, you need to get some rest.

allowing your senses to dull away, clinging to suguru like a makeshift pillow, you absently listen to the storm still raging on outside. faraway, cold and harsh, but comforting when you’re in his steady grasp.

a yawn escapes your honey-soothed throat.

you don’t miss the i love you murmured into your ear, accompanying you into dreamland as your eyes flutter shut.

[earthtooz]

x : LUNCH BREAK :*+ﾟ

in which: you don't visit wriothesley during his lunch break after last night's argument, so he goes to the court of fontaine just to see you.

warnings: approx. 1.9k words, PURE FLUFF, gn!reader x pathetic and soppy and lovesick wriothesley, canon setting, reader works at the court of fontaine, post-argument so very minimal angst, probs not in character LOL

a/n: there's not a lot of content regarding fontaine or wriothesley rn so i apologise if this isn't completely in character. what i do not apologise for, however, is the urge to make him as lovesick as possible.

There is a notable tension in the Fortress of Meropide, and although a prison isn’t a place for rainbows and sunshine, today it feels especially devastating. It seems that the lord of the prison is the one responsible for it.

Brooding at his desk, Wriothesley glances occasionally at the clock on his desk, growing more and more impatient with each document he has to read through. He is waiting for something: a knock on his door. He is waiting for the call of his name, the reason for their interruption, then your name will reach his ears and an unmatched excitement will bloom in his chest. Then you’ll slip through the doors with lunch for two, he’ll pull out a chair for you right beside him, and mask professionalism that betrays the eagerness your presence always brings out. 

Your absence must be because of the argument that happened last night. One that remained unresolved because he went to bed before you, too furious to try to talk it out. Yet, when Wriothesley woke in the morning, a wave of guilt washed over him when you weren’t pressed against him like usual. Instead, you were on the other side of the mattress, further than an arm’s length away whilst turned away from him and Fontaine’s chilly mornings had never felt colder.

If he didn’t need to go to work much earlier than you, he would have waited until you had woken up to leave, but being the lord of the Fortress of Meropide meant that his presence was demanded. So, with a lingering kiss to your cheek and then your temple, he leaves into the dewy mornings of Fontaine, looking forward to his lunch break that the two of you often share together.

Except now, lunch is almost over and there hasn’t been a knock on his door. No one has called his name- not people he cared about, at least. You haven’t slipped through the heavy set of doors. You haven’t come down from the Court of Fontaine to visit him, and Wriothesley’s patience is thinning.

His fingers itch with the need to hold you, to tuck you close to his chest and just keep you there for a few moments as time pass by. Especially after last night, Wriothesley needs you now more than ever. 

By the time there’s only one hour left in the work day, he snaps. Stands up from his seat with an unmatched sense of fervour because of the unnervingly quiet day and snatches his coat from the hanger, leaving documents unread as he makes a beeline for the exit of the prison. The guards listen attentively to Wriothesley’s final commands for the day in his absence and once the information is cemented, the dark-haired is off without another second wasted.

You, on the other hand, sit in your office drowned in piles upon piles of papers. Wriothesley is a passing thought every now and then, the memories of last night’s harsh argument settling like weights in your stomach. You miss Wriothesley, very dearly, and all you want is to settle things with him. However, the image of his furious eyes and clenched jaw terrifies you beyond belief, you’re not even sure if he’ll be calmer by the time you get home, so for the first time ever, you dread the idea of going home. 

What you are completely unaware of, however, is your lover that is storming your way, desperate to receive the medicine that will cure his moodiness and irritation. 

The knock on your door distracts you from the piles of papers on your desk. 

“Who is it?” you call out, voice reverberating around the spaciousness of your office.

“It’s Wriothesley, can I come in?” His tone is sharp and leaves no room for you to reject him, but the mere sound of his voice causes you to stiffen, grip on your pen tightening as the papers before you lay forgotten. 

What is Wriothesley doing here? He normally never comes up to the Court of Fontaine just to see you because leaving the prison would be far too neglectful. There was also half an hour before he was done for the day, so could there be official business that needs to be discussed? Something urgent, perhaps? 

If it was urgent, then why come to you and not Monsieur Neuvillette- or even Lady Furina?

“Yeah- yes, you can come in,” you mutter.

When the door clicks open, Wriothesley practically barges through, door shutting behind him as he marches towards you. Getting up from your chair, you’re frightened with anticipation due to  how intense his stance is. 

“Is something the matter?” You begin, panic seeping into your voice as he pauses before you, determination setting his eyes ablaze as he eyes you down like prey. “Wriothesley, you’re scaring me, did something happen at the prison-”

“Where were you at lunch?” He demands.

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“Why didn’t you come visit?” 

“Is… is why you came up here? To ask why I didn’t visit you during lunch?”

He nods, expression stern as usual save for a small pout.

“I was swamped with work,” you half-lie, gesturing to the desk behind you and although there is clear evidence on your table through the form of stacked folders and paper, a storm of uncertainty brews in his blue eyes. “I couldn’t visit if I wanted to get these done, I apologise.”

The dark-haired frowns. “Is that it?”

“Yes. That’s all.” His eyebrows furrow, creating crease marks in his forehead that you want to kiss away, alleviating his worries, but you hold yourself back from doing so in fear that Wriothesley does not want you touching him. 

However, a switch is flicked when Wriothesley’s stern expression softens, melting into one resembling a kicked dog. “So you’re not upset with me?” 

“Oh, is that also on your mind?”

“Of course, I don’t like it when you’re upset with me,” your lover mutters, looking away bashfully to conceal the reddening of his cheeks. “You aren’t though, right?”

“No, not upset. Scared, maybe, but definitely not upset.” 

His eyes are glossy when he looks back at you. “Scared, why are you scared?” 

“W-we didn’t end on a good note last night,” you rub your wrist nervously. “I didn’t know if you would be happy with seeing me. On top of that, you can be really intimidating sometimes, so admittedly, I was a little scared to come see you just in case that you did not want me there.”

Wriothesley visually deflates with your last statement, shoulders dropping and eyes glistening as he murmurs a small, pathetic, “is that so?”

He wonders what part about him ever made it seem like he never wants you beside him, and the thought that he had frightened you enough to prevent you visiting him is an upsetting one. You must see it in his eyes with the way you frantically begin to explain yourself. 

“Oh no, darling, I didn’t mean it like that-”

He turns his head away again, disappointed in himself. It’s one thing for his prisoners to consider him intimidating but it’s another for you, his own lover, to think so as well, and the thought that he had scared you creates insurmountable shame to swell within him. Yet, his whirlwind of anxieties ceases when your hand goes to cup his cheek, gently prompting him to look at you. Then, a kiss is pressed to the corner of his lips, and his heart skips a beat at the sensation, love blocking his airways when you pull away to smile up at him. 

“As scary as you might be, oh great lord of the Fortress of Meropide, I also know you will never hurt me,” you reassure. “Rather, I feel safest when I’m around you, please never doubt that.”

Wriothesley sighs, hand snaking up to grip your waist and pull you closer to him. “Thank you, my love. But I beg, even if you assume I am upset with you, please keep visiting my office during lunch, it is the part of the day I look forward to most.”

“If that is your request then maybe you just need to be good and listen to me instead of arguing until your head pops off,” you tease, patting his face twice and he huffs before muttering an ‘understood’. Anything to see you. “Is there something else you need from my office?”

“No, just wanted to see you,” he looks at the brown paper bag in his hands. “I brought you lunch, just in case you didn’t eat.” 

“Wriothesley,” you melt, “how thoughtful of you. I’ll make sure to eat it when I finish reading those contracts.”

“You should eat now, though. Don’t drown yourself in work, it’s not healthy.”

“I wish it were that easy, but these piles were dumped on my desk this morning and were assigned to be done by the end of the week.”

The hand that was on your waist comes up to gently hover over your cheek and Wriothesley studies you, icy eyes hardening due to the fatigue present in your expression. You grab his wrist, trying to diverge his attention, but you should know better than assuming that your wellbeing isn’t of utmost importance to him. “Unacceptable, I should have a word with your supervisor-”

“-no, no, Wriothesley! I insist, this is manageable.”

He frowns, deep and serious before surrendering to your pleas. “Fine, but if it doesn’t get better by the end of the week, then I will be interfering.”

“If you do so, my supervisor will be too scared to come in for a month,” you squeeze his wrist and gently guide it away from your face, ignorant to how your neglect for your own health hurts Wriothesley as well. He knows you love your job, but he still thinks that you deserve to live life carefree, that you should get everything you want without ever lifting a finger. “It’s alright, dear, you mustn’t worry about me when your work is a thousand times more stressful.”

“Impossible.” He worries about you every second of the day. Telling Wriothesley to stop fretting over you would be like telling him to stop breathing. “Now eat.” 

You yelp when he pulls you towards your chair, sitting you down. From the paper bag, he takes out a sandwich, one that you recognise is from one of fontaine’s favourite cafés, and he carefully unwraps it before raising it to your mouth.

“Wriothesley… this is a little embarrassing,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He doesn’t say anything, just persistently stares at you, gaze intense enough for you to give in. As you lean in to take the first bite, you are bashfully looking away from your lover, who wears a pleased expression, satisfied with the fact that you’re letting him take care of you. 

The tension from last night’s dispute hasn’t completely melted away, there are still things that need to be discussed calmly, but as you keep trying to push his hand away and battle Wriothesley’s indestructible stubbornness, he knows it will work out in the end. You love him and he loves you, and if you ever forget to visit him during lunch break again, then he’ll have to tear himself away from the prison and come up, just to meet you.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[jewishrat420]

No one has ever flirted with Steve the way Eddie flirts with Steve.

And it's not like no one flirts with Steve. God, no, it's not like no one flirts with Steve. Steve can't walk into the grocery store without at least three sets of heads turning and focusing all their attention on him.

And he's not even trying to be cocky about it. That's just the reality he was gifted when he came out of his mother's womb looking like the world's freshest Adonis. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if they changed the colloquialism to "Steve."

Regardless. For as many people like to flirt with him, make themselves known, filtering in and out of his orbit like willing planets, no one knows quite how to get him going like Eddie. Maybe it's that they're not as confident as he is, maybe they're scared of the rejection Eddie was born facing and will die knowing.

Maybe they're scared of ruining their chances. Maybe Eddie isn't.

For whatever reason, Eddie doesn't seem like he's scared. Even though there was a long time before he knew Steve was bi, was just as into the flirting as Eddie was, even though there was a chance (not like it'd ever happen, but the unknown was there) that Steve could have beaten him up just for calling him "sweetheart," he did it anyway. He got right up into Steve's space, close enough that Steve could get high off the remnants of the joint he'd smoked earlier, and gave him a look that offered everything.

And, God, Steve wanted it. He wanted it all.

And so that began months of what Steve has so aptly referred to as torture. Apt, because he knows what it's like. He has the scars and the fear of ice cream and needles to prove it.

But this... this is a different kind of torture. Mental, emotional, spiritual, whatever you call it-- this is meant to tear him apart from the inside out, meant to make him want to rip his own bones out from his body and offer them to Eddie if it meant the other man making a fucking move.

And Steve would, is the thing. He would absolutely make the first move-- it's what he usually does, anyway, and he's got a pretty damn good success rate for it.

But, for whatever reason, this feels different. This back and forth they have, the constant teasing, the sliding in and out of each other's orbits, unable and unwilling to refute the most fundamental laws of gravity... it's something special, at least to Steve. Something sacred.

Which is why, when Eddie calls Steve "Harrington" for the first time in months, his first response is to pout.

They're about halfway through splitting a joint, the sweet smoke curling around wisps of hair and parted lips and filtering in and out of the holes in their sweaters. The air outside is getting colder, thinner, sharper, as the winter months dreg on. But inside the trailer, it's comfortable and warm. Safe.

Steve's being a bit of a hog, and he's man enough to admit that. But he had a shitty day at work and all he wants is to feel nothing other than the weightless relaxation of a good high buzzing through his bones. Sue him for taking a little more than his fair share of the good stuff, even if it is Eddie's.

"Steve," Eddie whines, reaching his hand out and curling his fingers in request. "Give it over."

"No," Steve responds, just on the edge of whiny. He brings the joint to his lips and takes a long, slow, deep drag, feeling the sweet heat of the smoke burning in his lungs, taking up the space where oxygen should be. He goes a little dizzy with it, feels his eyes lower. "Mine."

Steve can't see it, but he knows Eddie's rolling his eyes. Can sense the shift in the air, can sense every little fucking thing about Eddie at any given moment.

"C'mon, Harrington, you're being a brat."

And, normally, Steve would find another aspect of that sentence to freak out about. Would zero in on the word brat and relish in the flare of heat it sends shooting up his spine like firework sparks. Would squint his eyes at Eddie and tilt his head in the way he knows makes him look good, would give him his cutest little smirk and say, "Who, me?" and would preen in the response it gets.

This time, though, he's much too focused on the other name Eddie used for him. The one he hasn't heard come out of Eddie's mouth since before he realized that Steve was, as he put it, "actually a good dude."

He doesn't realize he's pouting until the sudden silence in the room starts to creep in, make a home in the buzzing in his ears. He didn't realize that he didn't say anything, and neither did Eddie, and now they're sitting in a mess of their own making. Of Eddie's own making, really.

His next words come out without effort, without intent.

"Don't call me that."

He chances a look over at Eddie, at the risk of appearing as vulnerable as he feels, and to his distress, he can't get a read on the man. His dark eyebrows furrow, brown eyes squinting slightly, and his lips part like he wants to speak. He licks them. Steve's eyes follow the motion unintentionally.

"Call you what?" Eddie says on an exhale. "A brat?"

Steve shakes his head. "Harrington. Don't like it when you call me that."

Eddie kind of softens, then, and Steve didn't realize he had stiffened until he isn't anymore. He sort of sinks into the couch, spreads his legs imperceptibly wider, and Steve wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the way his left knee brushes against Steve's just barely. Just enough for those heated sparks to send a couple pinpricks across his skin.

"No?" he says, looking over to meet Steve's gaze. His cheeks are flushed, whether from the weed or the heat of the room or the heat between them, and Steve's sure that his look the same. "What do you want me to call you, then?"

Steve's definitely blushing now. He looks away from Eddie, tucks his chin to his chest, lets the joint between his fingers burn away. Eddie takes it from him, gently, and brings it to his lips. Steve hears the paper crackling as he inhales.

His voice is quiet, almost meek, when he speaks. It's completely unlike Steve, completely unlike the persona he used to so proudly take on-- but then again, Eddie is completely unlike anyone that Steve has ever met. He's more real, more human, and in turn, Steve is too.

"...You know."

Eddie makes a little noise, then, something in the back of his throat that was born and died within the very same second it was released. Something soft, almost pained, like his body couldn't help the reaction it had to that sentence.

Steve watches the thin, long line of Eddie's arm reach forward and press the joint into the glass of the ashtray. He follows the motion until Eddie's hand settles into the rips over his knee, fingers intertwining with the thread. His pinkie is dangerously close to Steve's own sweatpant-covered skin, and he feels the contact as if Eddie were touching him.

Eddie's hand twitches like it wants to move, and Steve resists the urge to grab it, hold it within the warmth of his own palms.

"Do I?" Eddie says, his voice quieter than it was a moment ago. That thick silence fills the trailer once more, settling in between the soft buzzing of the lightbulb in the kitchen and the muffled humming of the crickets outside. Steve hears Eddie take a stuttering breath. "Tell me."

Steve sighs, feeling his chest burn as his heartbeat picks up. His throat pounds with the pulsing of it. He places his own hand on his right knee, pinkie finger edging closer and closer to the space where Eddie's meets his. Eddie's hand twitches again.

"Like it when you call me sweet things," he says on an exhale, as though getting it out all in one breath would make it easier. "Like how it makes me feel."

Eddie lets out another one of those noises, then, something more like a cut-off groan. His hand curls into the fabric of his jeans for no more than a second before he releases it, and Steve gets to watch as the blood blanches and then returns to his knuckles.

"Sweet things, huh?" he muses, voice only slightly strained. If Steve didn't know any better, he'd say Eddie is nervous. "Like... Stevie?"

Steve hums. "Yeah. I like that."

Eddie's pinkie moves closer. Barely. Imperceptibly, if not for the way Steve is tuned into his every movement, like a dog to the sound of their owner's keys.

"Yeah?"

Steve hums again.

"What about... sweetheart?"

Steve closes his eyes. Lets out a shaky breath, inhales a smoother one.

"Yeah."

Steve feels something brush against his pinkie. Something warm.

"Honey?"

Steve nods, biting his lip. "Mhm."

Eddie lets out a quiet little laugh. "Even big boy?"

Steve returns it helplessly, feels the edges of a smile pulling at his lips. The air feels cold on his teeth, as though he's burning up from the inside out and anything outside of his own body is a cooling salve.

"Especially big boy."

Eddie laughs a little louder, and the jostling of his body brings his pinkie even closer to Steve's. Completely pressed against his own, now.

Steve swears he can feel his heartbeat through it. Or maybe it's his own.

"What about..." Eddie takes a breath. "Love?"

Steve's own breath hitches. He opens his eyes, looks at where their skin is touching in more than one place. He feels it, feels every point of contact where the cells that make Eddie are existing with the cells that make Steve. Wonders, maybe, if they stay here long enough, if they'll merge and mold over time. Become one.

"Yeah," Steve breathes. "I like that one a lot."

Eddie hums, and the room falls back into silence for a moment. Steve's skin burns where their fingers are touching. He moves his hand to the right, just barely, just enough to let Eddie know that he feels it. Just enough to ask Eddie if he does, too.

His response is overwhelming.

Eddie moves his hand to the left, solidifies all the points of contact between them, and Steve feels like he's exploding. Feels like a bubbling pit of lava that's set to burst, to overflow, like it can't hold back anymore. Like it's tried for so long that it's hurting, now, pressurized and boiling and hot, way too fucking hot.

And then, Eddie crosses his pinkie over Steve's, and Steve thinks he's dying.

He takes in a sharp breath like it's the last one he'll ever get, and he doesn't even have it in him to be embarrassed about it. He knows Eddie is right there with him, knows he's not the only one feeling this irrefutable pull like gravity between them. Knows, hopes, it's only a matter of time before they collide.

Eddie hums again. He taps his pinkie once over the smallest of Steve's knuckles, almost like he's making a decision. He takes a long, slow breath before he speaks.

"You know which one's my favorite?"

Steve's throat clicks. "Which?"

"Look at me."

Steve turns his head to the right for no more than a second before Eddie's lips are on his.

It's hungry, it's indulgent, it's immediately addictive. It feels like breathing.

Eddie presses his whole body against Steve's, and he can feel the way his tendons flex where his hand is covering the back of Steve's. Where their pinkies meet, their fingers intertwine and cross over one another like the roots of a tree, their bodies the whole mycorrhizal network.

The next word is spoken against Steve's lips, and Steve can feel the way his mouth forms around it. Decides, from this moment on, that he never wants to hear it another way.

"Baby."

Steve's exhale is more of a moan, a dying sound that, like Eddie's before, lived for only a moment in his throat before pushing through the wall of his lips. Eddie takes it, holds it in his own mouth, swallows it down hungrily and slides his tongue against Steve's as though asking for more.

"That's--" Steve pants, getting his hands on Eddie's hips and pulling until he's seated in his lap. "Mine too."

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, his lips still pressed against Steve's. Their words are muffled against each other, but they don't need to hear them to understand. They only need to feel the outline of them, the shape of the consonants and vowels against and around each other's tongues. They only need to press their bodies together and know, intimately, the meaning in each other's hearts.

"Yeah. Want you to call me that forever."

This time, Steve feels Eddie's laughter against his lips. His chest. Feels it bubble up in the space between his ribs, feels it flow into his mouth like a river, swallows it down like the first glass of water after a run. Feels his own creep up behind his teeth in return, gives it back to Eddie like an offering, who takes it greedily. Hungrily. Gratefully.

"Think that can be arranged, baby."

[kettlefire]

Constantine & the King

First time Constantine meets the Ghost King, he's expecting problems. In his line of work, when all the shadows in the room seem to be pulled toward a point in the room. Creating a dark portal that suddenly glowed a startling green, it's more than concerning.

However, Constantine was thrown off by the young man that stepped out of the portal. Young man could be putting it generously. The kid looked barely legal to drink.

However the kid was holding a scroll that looked thicker than his own head. A crown, ring, and cape that just screamed royalty.

Constantine did not expect the kid to greet with joy and friendliness.

It was the Ghost King. The being that held full control over that aspect of the mythical realms. His name was Danny, and Constantine found the kid's lack of professionalism a nice break.

That scroll? Every contract Constantine ever signed that used his soul as a bargianing chip.

Now, Constantine expected annoyance. If his soul was technically meant to end up in the grasp of thw King, wouldn't the kid be pissed?

After all, Constantine was certain one of those contracts was with the prior Ghost King.

Except, Danny loved it. He was all grins and laughter as he spoke about it. The kid complained about the amount of paperwork, sure. Who wouldn't?

Aside from that, Danny adored Constantine's work. His nonchalantness when it came to signing away his soul.

Danny relished in the chaos he has happening among various other entities. Praised Constantine, and thanked him for the entertainment.

Constantine realized that this Ghost King was a brat. He enjoyed the chaos and the drama as long as it hurt absolutely anyone. This kid was a little shithead.

And Constantine got a confirmation. No matter what, no matter what contracts he signed. His soul was going to end up in Danny's hands.

Constantine didn't mind that. He liked the spirit the kid had. Found a fondness for the King.

A fondness that only grew with every impromptu meeting. Every time the room grew colder, and the shadows moved and warped in the room.

Constantine grew accustomed to it. He looked forward to it.

Then it happened.

Constantine was at the Justice League Watchtower. A simple consultation, nothing too crazy. It was all going to be fine.

Until Constantine felt the shift in the room.

The temperature dropped. The shadows shifted and contorted, and a portal began to form.

Constantine waved off the other heroes concern and defense. Turning towards the forming portal, and prepared to see the kid. The kid who was easily his favorite being in the world at this point.

Except that changed once he saw the familiar being step through the portal.

Maybe step was the wrong word. Danny basically stumbled out of the green portal. Landing harshly on his knees in front of the league.

Constantine wasted no time rushing forward. Pulling the kid close to him, and taking in the sight. Looking for any sign of what was wrong.

Blood and a green substance coated the kid's closed. And Constantine noted the cape was completely missing. The kid was in tears, shaking horrible and in a state of complete hysteria.

All Constantine knew, was that he was going to make them pay.

Whoever brought this normally confident and carefree king to his knees, wasn't going to last much longer.

Those bastards will pay.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons:

My Purpose

Mad Scientist Husband x Reader x Yandere Clone

Now your husband, Dorian Goodman, truly believed he was doing you a favor with his newest creation… or should he say creations? He felt like a horrible husband by being away from you for long hours but he was allergic to pet dandruff so that was out of the equation… so why not clean himself? That way you wouldn’t be lonely! He only had his genius to blame for the horror he inflicted on you from this…

So imagine waking up to see your husband laying beside you in the bed still? His arms felt colder than normal and he smelled like preservatives… something was off but you couldn’t put your finger on it… his black hair was still long and beautiful just like his dark lashes. But something in your gut told you this wasn’t him.

And that’s when the figure beside you wakes up and gives you a bright smile. “I’m Dee. I’m your husband’s clone to keep you company while he’s away.”

You never shot up from the bed so fast to call your husband. You were extremely upset with him for creating a replica of himself rather than spend time with you himself… the nerve!

But your husband reassured you it was fine. That Dee was essentially him in every single way and that Dee could be your companion. He brushed off your concerns on this being cheating since Dee was a complete biological copy of Dorian himself but Dee could be deactivated by Dorian’s voice… it frustrated you. Why couldn’t he just leave his silly inventions behind and just spend time with his own spouse once and awhile? You were so lonely in this mansion…

But you didn’t take your frustration out on Dee. The poor clone was as clueless as you but he insisted he was created to serve you. Dee’s purpose was to take care of your needs

Dee would clean around the house and do the yard work. He was the complete opposite of the stoic Dorian. He felt more like a real human being than your own husband… minus how abnormally cold he was. He didn’t talk much but he was there. You started to grow attached to him

You spent a lot of time with Dee. He’d cover you with a blanket if you sat in your reading nook to read, he’d brew you your favorite coffee/tea, and he’d rub your shoulders. You constantly had to tell Dee that it was okay. That he didn’t have to be at your every beck and call but he would always say, “you’re my purpose.”

And Dee took notice of your sexual frustration when he peaked in on you touching yourself in the privacy of the bathroom within the glass shower walls. Curiosity began to settle in him. The cute whimpers and cries from your lips stirred something within him and he pushed the door open

You nearly screamed when Dee entered the bathroom, the only place he wasn’t beside you. But what shocked you more was the large erection in his gray joggers. It seemed he was more human than you thought and you were aching for something inside of you…

You let Dee have his way with you. He truly was a copy of your husband from how much he stretched you. Dee felt so good. He was so big and he was so strong. And he oddly smelled like your husband now… like clean linen and citrus. It was comforting and sexy. It was like Dorian was with your right now. Like Dorian was inside of you.

And in your passion it spilled from your lips once your orgasm rocked through you. Three little words that changed Dee forever, “I love you.” Dee held you while he rode you through your orgasm until his finally came. His strong arms held you up and his cheeks were filled with color. You loved him. You loved him. Dee didn’t want to ever be deactivated. Des wanted to be with you.

Dee would big spoon you every night. His large body pressed as close to yours as physically possible. There was a change in him. He was starting to become warm. Warm like a furnace. It was strange…. Dee became more and more human as the days turned to months. Your texts to your real husband became less and less but he probably didn’t even notice since he was busy with his inventions.

Dee would make you breakfast every morning and have his face between your legs to please you while you ate. Breakfast and sex became the norm for you and him. It felt so wonderful to feel wanted again. And every time, Dee begged you to tell him how you loved him. He would do anything to you to hear those words. Anything.

A shame you started to neglect your real husband. Dorian was shocked to see you folded up in a pretzel in your bed while Dee slammed into you like a mad man. This wasn’t what the clone was built for. He wasn’t built to fuck you. What the hell?

And that’s when Dee gave him a smirk. It was like looking in a mirror except there was something terrifying behind those ice blue eyes. Something sinister and Dorian didn’t like it at all. Dorian needed to get rid of Dee quickly… Dorian gave Dee one last look before he walked out of the room before you noticed

Dee kissed your head as he tucked you in. “I’m going to go get some water, okay?”

Dorian waited in the kitchen for Dee to come to him and the clone did. Dorian and him stared at each other for a few minutes before Dorian sighed.

“Deactivate.” Dorian told Dee but the clone remained standing there menacingly rather than deactivating like he was supposed to. “I said deactivate-“

And that’s when Dee launched himself toward Dorian and began to strangle him. His ice blue eyes filled with glee as the color slowly drained from Dorian’s face. An evil smirk on his face.

“It’s my purpose to make (your name) happy and there not happy with you so you can’t deactivate me anymore.” Dee whispered in Dorian’s ear. “They don’t love you. They love me.”

Dee ended up burying Dorian in the backyard before you woke up. He didn’t want you to be sad about your old husband any longer….

Dee slipped the ring he took off Dorian’s finger onto his. The shiny gold band now proudly on display. A smile on his face. Your real husband was with you now and he’d make you happy.

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . FUSHIGURO MEGUMI — it’s beginning to get colder in the mornings, so now your boyfriend is trying to steal your body heat.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! aged!up megumi, f!reader, handjob, he’s grumpy :< it’s been so long since i’ve written him! ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! i bring you more writing, i’ve been v prepared this week with having some stuff done .. that break rly did me good <3

it had become colder in the mornings, you realise as you wake up to your boyfriend megumi wrapped up in you — closer than normal as his chest rests flush against your back. you can feel the cool chill on his fingertips as they squeeze at your skin and you shudder slightly when the comforter falls off your shoulders as you move.

“‘gumi~ you’re freezing.” you whine as you nestle yourself back into him, feeling him grumble with the way your voice wakes him up — unruly dark hair falling over his gaze as he sends you a grumpy, sleepy look.

“it is freezing.” megumi mumbles into the pillows before his eyes close again, trying to hold you still in the hopes you’ll go back to sleep but it’s all in vain when you roll around to look at him a few moments later.

“so, you’re making me colder!” you frown at him as he lays still, eyes closed but you know he’s awake when his brows furrow after a few more seconds and he grumbles once more.

“yeah, cause you’re warm. stop staring at me.” you roll your eyes at that before you nuzzle yourself back into him, letting yourself enjoy the few peaceful seconds of his dwindling body heat before you sigh once more. you’re pretty sure you feel megumi twitch with irritation when he realises you’re not going back to sleep, trying to hug you tighter in the hopes it’ll lull you.

“you’re so grumpy.” you giggle again, knowing fine well that your boyfriend was never really a morning person and he actually looks at you with that one. there’s a pout on his lips and his pretty features are already frowning when he lets his eyes finally flutter open to glare at you— although you think he looks cute when he’s still messy from sleep.

“no, i’m cold.” megumi grits before he sighs, deliberately grabbing the comforter and pettily turning to face the other way, wrapping himself underneath the warm blanket like he doesn’t know you’re gonna hug in behind him.

you give him a few seconds of peace before you push closer once more but you remain silent this time, not only are you bored now— you’re still cold, but you seem to have been struck with an idea that could help both of this things.

you press your chest against the bare skin of your boyfriend’s back before you let your arms loop around his waist, feeling him tremble slightly as your fingers press featherlight touches up his toned abdomen. as grumpy as megumi was, he couldn’t deny how much he loved your touch— already feeling him push back into you with every warm press of your hands.

you stay like this for a few moments, until he’s relaxed and his guard is down— breathing mellowing out slightly, that’s when you act. you make sure it’s swift, the way you push your fingers down the waistband of his sweats, squeezing languidly at the semi-hard bulge of his cock as he almost jolts in your hold.

“h-hey, what’re you doing?” megumi gasps but you think it sounds more surprised than it does angry, he’s definitely awake now— you can tell with the slightest squeeze of your palm along the length of him, feeling him twitch completely hard so quickly until you can wrap your fingers around him completely.

“warming you up. my hands are warm, right?” you tease and you hear your messy haired boyfriend click his tongue before his attitude melts with your next stroke, making him shudder against you as his hand wraps around your wrist— but you can tell he really doesn’t want you to stop.

“so.. yeah but, shit—“ megumi’s hips stutter with the next languid pull of your wrist, biting on the inside of his cheek in the hopes it’ll help to muffle the needy sounds that you’re already pulling from him so easily.

it only takes you a few more moments to find a pace, one that has him arching into you, throbbing in your hold and chasing every languid squeeze of your palm as he rocks into your fist. his lips part to pant while his fingers squeeze desperately at your skin and you can already feel the pre-cum smear along the inside of his sweats. you give him a lidded look from over his shoulder, noticing the flush blooming along your boyfriends pretty features and you think it’s cute the way he avoids your gaze while you pump his cock so desperately.

fushiguro megumi wasn’t a morning person, but he sure was sensitive..

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[gglitch1dd]

Cheating DILF Izuku

Husband Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader

Note: This is just an angst story. IT IS NOT CONFIRMED PART OF MY STORY. It is not CANON. Izuku would NEVER cheat but if he did... it would be like this. I wrote this just to watch people cry.

Warning: Child loss, grief, Infidelity, Absent parenting,

You felt him shift behind you as his alarm rang. It was early in the morning and yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to get up and out of bed yet. There was a whole ocean of space between you and your husband. A gap that had not been crossed or touched in over six months. It felt so cold to even try and move from your side of the bed because you knew that the person you were reaching out to was just as cold and if not, colder.

You heard your husband get out of bed and move towards the bathroom to get ready for work. There was no more slow morning sex, or waking up in his arms or to kisses. Anything and everything was work or the kids. That was all it seemed your marriage became in the span of six months.

You let out a heavy breath as you slowly sat up in bed. You looked to the right over to the family photo on your side table. You, your loving husband and your five boys. Something that seemed so far away despite the portraits having been taken just a year ago.

You got up out of bed and moved to go wake up the boys. You knocked on each of their doors, making sure they would be awake to get to school. You moved to your youngest’s bedroom. The four-year-old was still very much asleep which you were glad for. You moved over to where he was asleep in bed, his eyes closed. You gave a sad smile, but you were glad he was so blissfully unaware of everything else.

You moved to head downstairs, getting bento boxes ready and also breakfast. It was the same routine but something was always different which you couldn’t help but be grateful for.

Just as you fried the eggs, your oldest sons came downstairs.

“Morning mom!” Asahi greeted as he moved to quickly kiss your cheek and immediately went to grab plates to set the table. You smiled at your eleven year old son, already dressed in his gakuran.

“Morning ma!” Another kiss went to your cheek as Hero, your seven year old came and passed by, grabbing cutlery to put at the table, seemingly already in conversation with Asahi. You smiled over at him.

Finally walking over to you, in not as much as a rush than his younger brothers was Toshinori, your eldest. He gave your shoulders a squeeze and a kiss to your cheek. “Good morning, ma.” He easily picked up on tending to the other frying pan, grabbing his apron with one hand so that he could help you. He did it without being told and yet you always felt so grateful for his help. He looked at you with kind eyes and curly green hair. “Did you sleep well? How are you feeling?” He asked.

You smiled over at him, so grateful you had such an attentive eldest son. “I slept fine, thank you Toshi. I hope you slept well too.” You wished as you turned off the stove you were working at and turned to finish your husband’s bento box.

“I slept well.” He told you sweetly. “Did… did any email or mail come in yet?” he asked.

You turned to Toshinori with a smile. He had been eagerly awaiting a letter from UA. You were just grateful that with everything that happened the last six months, your son managed to still train and go to the physical exam to enter UA High School. Although you were pretty sure it was a guarantee that he would enter the school, considering he had your husband’s quirk due to him being born quirkless too, Toshinori wanted a fair and equal trial just like everyone else. He wanted to be deserving of it and in every way he was. 

You turned to him shoving him gently. “Hey…” he turned to you with slightly anxious eyes. You took a deep breath and he mimicked you. You took a second before you both breathed out. You smiled. “Everything is going to be fine. I told you, you’ll be the first one to read it the moment I get it.” You promised him. He nodded his head with a smile. He opened his mouth to speak but the heavy sound of footsteps interrupted him as finally your husband descended from downstairs.

“Morning dad!”

“Morning kiddos.” Your husband let out, his voice less chirpy than it was six months ago. Midoriya Izuku walked over to where you were in the kitchen, automatically grabbing a flask of hot made coffee that you had made for him. He was in his own world again. His eyes distant but his actions were trained. The autopilot you had all been on, kicking in.

You knew you wouldn’t receive a good morning from him.

You barely got him to notice you half the time now.

You cleared your throat as you closed his bento and packed it away. “Izuku, remember Asahi’s science project at school. The viewing is at two.” You reminded him as you grabbed a can of soda and placed it with the rest of his lunch that you packed.

“Y/N, you know I can’t make it.” You heard him talk as he grabbed an apple as makeshift breakfast, not bothering to have breakfast with any of you anymore.

You looked at him with a pained expression. “Izuku, you promised you would go.”

You heard a sigh come out of him as he grabbed his bag and finally looked at you, stopping for five seconds. Your large husband felt so far away from you despite not being more than three steps away from you. “Y/N, I’m the Number One hero of this country. I don’t have time to always go to every recital and function.” He reminded you.

You felt annoyance bubble up inside you as your eyebrows furrowed. Your grip on your apron tightened as you looked up at him. That was always his excuse nowadays. “Izuku, you have been so busy with work lately. It would mean the world to him if you showed up. He’s been getting into arguments at schoo-”

“Y/N, I have a meeting in less than an hour.” He dismissed as he started to turn to leave the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll try make it if I get time.” He waved it off as he headed towards the entrance hallway, leaving you and the boys alone once again.

You bit back the emotions of annoyance and disappointment as you let out a sigh and turned to do something else, ignoring the boys and their silence as they watched. That’s how mornings were like now. Either Izuku buzzing by too fast to even get more than a sentence out of him before he’s out the door, or he’s never there entirely.

It had been like this ever since your second youngest, Shoyo had passed away.

A villain had attacked his primary school as revenge against heroes including your husband. Your little boy had sacrificed himself along with Hanta and Mina’s youngest child, Sero Kimiko. It was a dark day in your group of friends to lose two six year olds, innocent and pure. It was a horrible incident, an even more horrible case. Your husband and other heroes were on the scene one minute too late.

It was a horrible time for all of you. You barely could call yourself a human after the funeral and even during the hearing of state vs the class A villain, Jigsaw. You don’t remember most of it, all you knew was that you didn’t even get to see your little boy’s body one final time before cremation, because there simply wasn’t anything to hold.

You couldn’t imagine the horrific sight your husband saw that day, but he only truly began to change once the court ruling had happened and Jigsaw was sentenced to the death penalty. Your husband had moved further and further away from you, almost as if being near you and the boys was torture.

You couldn’t understand it at all, but you always made excuses for him. Even when it was Toshinori’s fifteenth birthday and Izuku wasn’t there. You told your son everything under the moon to make him understand, and he did. Because he loved his father that much. But there was only so many excuses you could give for so long.

With all the kids at school and you having taken Koda to kindergarten, leaving you alone for a few hours, you decided to clean Izuku’s study. The grand room was filled with papers and books, his laptop monitors all on from the long night he spent in here after coming home from patrol. You didn’t even know how he kept on moving when it seemed like he barely slept in your own bed. You didn’t question the times he wouldn’t come home for days on end, always saying he spent his nights at the office.

You ignored the smell of perfume on his hero suits too.

You walked into the room, moving to clear his desk and the multiple mugs of empty coffee. You moved to clear all the clutter, moving classified documents into a pile where he could find them all. He worked hard, it was something you always admired about him. It was the reason why the crime rate had more than halved in the last six months.

You heard a message pop up on his monitor. He had long time connected his phone to his computer, he said it made it easier to access things sometimes. Izuku also had a habit of leaving things on when he wanted to get back to it but always getting so whirled up in his head that he never did get back to them sometimes.

You made the ugly mistake of looking up at the monitor, your eyes reading before you could stop yourself.

You didn’t move.

You didn’t breathe.

You watched as message after message popped up.

Suddenly it felt as if your entire world had fallen underneath your feet.

Izuku dragged a hand through his hair as he came in through the door. It was past eight and no doubt, dinner had already been eaten in the Midoriya household. He had gotten so caught up in work and other matters that time just washed by. But that’s just how time seemed to pass ever since…

His eyes automatically went to the photo in the entranceway that sat beside a candle that was always lit no matter the time of day. A photo of a little boy, not older than six, with the brightest green eyes and the biggest smile. Hair so big and curly it almost swallowed him up whole. Inko had told Izuku when Shoyo was born, that he looked the most like him out of every single one of the boys, with the same sparkle in his eyes and smile that reached the stars.

Looking at him now only made Izuku feel nothing but never-ending guilt.

Taking off his shoes, Izuku got into the house. It was that soft time when homework was either being done or the boys got to destress before their busy days tomorrow.

“Dad!” Izuku turned to see his eldest. Toshinori had his hands in his pockets as he walked over to his father. Every day it seemed like the boy was getting taller, although he still hadn’t hit that particular growth spurt. He’d probably get it in second year of high school, like Izuku had. Toshinori seemed a bit apprehensive, knowing how his father seemed much more rougher than he was before. But he couldn’t blame him. Something in all of them changed six months ago. “Evening.” He nodded his head.

It took Izuku a second before mustering up a smile. “Toshi, how was school?”

Toshinori gave a look of surprise which hurt Izuku. How long had it been since he asked his son that question? “G-good!” He let out with a smile, so excited that his father asked. “It was great! Yah, Kane and I got moved into the first team for rugby! Coach said I could really get better as long as…” A soft blush went to his face as he scratched the back of his head. “As long as I learn to stop accidentally activating One for All when I get too worked up.”

Izuku let out an amused scoff but put a hand to Toshinori’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I struggled with that too even now. Just practise what I’ve already taught you and find a way to box it whenever you’re playing.” He advised. Toshinori perked up, his eyes as bright as stars as he smiled, glad to receive something from his father today. When last had he checked up on Toshinori and his use of One for All? Izuku felt sick at the thought. Izuku looked up to the empty kitchen. “Where’s mom?”

“Oh! She told me to tell you to meet her in your room. She said she had to talk to you about something. I’m not sure what.” He shrugged. “Must have to do with Asahi’s fight.”

Izuku nearly had whiplash as he turned to look back at Toshinori. “Fight? What fight?”

“Asahi got into another fight at school during the showcase. Didn’t tell me what about though.” Toshinori shrugged, but underlying worry in his demeanour.

Another?

Was this a frequent thing? Since when?

Izuku opened his mouth to speak but Toshinori beat him to it. “He’s been in his room since after dinner.”

Izuku nodded. “Thanks Toshi.” He turned to head straight upstairs. Izuku moved immediately straight into his mind at all this news. Fights? Since when did his eleven year old get into fights? Why wasn’t he told? Izuku was confused as he opened the door to your shared bedroom. He needed a shower and preferably a long night’s rest, but first he had to get down to this issue on Asahi. Your husband stepped into your bedroom. “Y/N, what is this I’m hearing about Asahi-”

“Close the door.” The tone in your voice had the green haired Number One hero freezing. It was eerily calm. It was horrifying because the only times you ever spoke like that was when you were angry. His eyebrows twitched as he looked to you as you sat on the other side of the master bedroom. The fire place in your bedroom was lit, which confused him because he didn’t think it all that cold to light a fire. Your eyes remained forward, your back towards him as you stood in the otherwise dark room. “Close the door, Midoriya.”

“Midoriya?” Izuku was confused. You hadn’t called him that since before you started dating, since third year of UA actually. It was an odd thing to hear come out of your lips, especially since you were Midoriya too. Izuku’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he stepped forward. “Y/N, what’s going-”

“Close the door.” This time you said it a bit more firmly, but you were careful not to shout considering your door was still open.

Izuku complied, closing the door behind him, because like everyone in your family, there were rules to your household. One rule was that only under emergency circumstances was your bedroom door to be opened without knocking or permission from the both of you. Another was that your bedroom was the one neutral place where you could both talk to one another openly and freely without worry of the kids and having to be mindful parents.

Or at least it used to be.

The room was silent and tensely so. You looked down at the fire the entire time, nothing but the sound of the burning of wood was in the room as you both stood at opposite sides of the room.

“Do you remember…” Your voice started, nearly startling your husband that felt as though he could break out into a sweat in any second. “When we started dating, you used to write me letters.” You spoke softly and yet Izuku could hear every word. He noticed then that there was burnt papers in the fire place and papers in your hand still. Pages of handwritten letters, of ink and passionate love sat in your hands. “Pages upon pages of images of your thoughts and emotions of me. Each one different than the other. Nothing was the same and yet they all carried the same undeniable feeling of you… Midoriya Izuku, the man I fell in love with.” You spoke with such delicacy, almost as if that feeling of receiving them was fresh inside you. “And yet,” Your grip on the papers grew hard. “Not even more than half a year after our fourth son’s death…” You tossed the papers into the fire, not even looking back at them as they crumbled and charred under the heat.

This was the first time Izuku saw you since coming back and the image of your face is something he would have scarred into him for the rest of his life. Tears flowed from your eyes, and yet the only look he could see on you was pure anger and disgust. You looked absolutely broken and Izuku knew in that moment that you knew.

“You cheated on me.” You whispered with such anger it almost felt like that was a slap in his face entirely. “Why?”

It was a simple question, and one that Izuku didn’t have the answer to. Izuku was shaking. He was as pale as snow and fear brimmed in his eyes for the first time in a long time and yet you didn’t care. He closed his eyes and breathed. “You know how hard it’s been for me these last few months. All the headlines and everyone saying that I wasn’t fast enough to save him. I… I’ve been swallowed up with guilt and grief.”

“You don’t think we all have?” You asked coldly, making him stiffen. You stepped forward with a scowl on your face. “I stay here and take care of our home, of our boys. Our boys who have the same face as their brother and I have to fight the urge to cry at every waking moment because I see him in their faces!” You shouted pointing at the door. “I’ve been grieving!” Your hand went to your chest, painfully so but you didn’t care how hard you squeezed. It didn’t compare to the agony in your heart that only reignited. “We’ve all been grieving! I’ve been begging you to talk to me! Telling you not to listen to the headlines and talk to me! To talk in therapy! You have no excuse!”

“I was weak!” He shouted back at you, angrier at himself than he could ever be at you. “Like always! Ochaco was there just as a friend and then it felt so easy just to talk to her and unburden with her and then…” He couldn’t say it. It felt too real if he said it. It was all just a dream to him. A fantasy he could indulge in for a few hours out of the agony. It meant nothing to him, not like how you mean the world to him.

You shrugged. “And then what? You tripped and fell into her cunt? What, Izuku!”

“I don’t know!” He shouted back at you. It was silent for another moment. “How did you find out?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess it doesn’t.” He closed his eyes as he swallowed down the heavy pill.

This was it.

This was the end.

He had ruined everything all because he felt too much of a failure to face you and would have rather run to someone else than to you. His loyal and faithful wife. His loving wife. The woman that had given him everything. He felt a tear slip out of his eye as he looked down at the ground. He couldn’t look you in the eyes. Not when you knew. Not when you looked at him with the very thing he wanted to avoid in the first place.

He wiped his face. “Where are the divorce papers?” He asked in a whisper.

There was a beat of silence before a scoff came out of you. You folded your arms as you stood before him. “Divorce papers?” You asked almost as if it was funny. “Oh God, no.” Immediately, Izuku looked up at you in shock. You shook your head almost as if the very thought was unthinkable. “No. I’m not going to order a divorce. Do you know why?”

Izuku knew better than to give you a real answer. He decided to stay silent as he shook his head. The sound of your shoes on the floor was deafening as you walked forward to stand right in front of him.

You pointed to the picture on your bedside table. “Because of them.” You stated honestly. “Because of the four boys that we still have. That is the reason why I’m not getting the best divorce lawyer in this damn country. That is why I am not packing my bags and taking my children far away from you so that they can hate your actions just as much as I do.” You emphasised. “I love those boys more than I care for my own sanity and soul. I love those boys so much, I am painstakingly aware of the fact that I can never divorce you because I would never be able to take care of them without you. I love them so much that I know that they love you as if you hung the stars, Izuku!” You shouted at him, tears flowing down your face. A hiccup broke your voice but it didn’t stop you. “They love you so much and yet I know it would kill them to know what you’ve done! I refuse to let our sons hate you the same way you hate your father.”

That cold hard truth came crashing down on him like ice water. It chilled him to the very bone, and stirred his stomach making him feel sick.

Your jaw shivered with emotion, but you kept your head held high. “That is why I will not divorce you. I do not wish to inflict whatever more emotional trauma they could have after the last six months. So this is what is going to happen.” You folded your arms as you looked up at him. “Oh Izuku stop crying.”

He jolted as he hadn’t realised that there were tears flowing down his face. He moved a hand to his face, feeling the wetness of tears against his skin. He looked back at you. “Thank-”

“I don’t want to hear it, because I don’t care.” You cut him off quickly shutting him up. “I don’t care if you have every girl in the whole of Japan wrapped around your finger, but those women will never set a single foot into this house or into our children’s lives, do you understand me? If word gets out about this, you damn believe I will drain you dry Izuku. I will make sure that there is nothing left of your legacy that you have cultivated.” You hissed with pure intent in every word you said.

Izuku nodded his head pathetically scared of you (rightfully so). “Y/N, I promise you, I’ll never do it again! I’ll go to therapy again! We can go together. I promise I’ll change and-”

“I don’t care because you will never touch me sexually again.” You told him flat out. “We will act, we will pose, we will sing if we damn have to, to make our boys and the rest of Japan believe that we are somewhat of a functioning team at least until they are all out of the house. But Izuku know this…” You stepped forward as you looked up at him.

This was the man you had fallen in love with. A man who held your heart in the palm of his hand so easily that it was probably foolish of you to have loved him as much as you did. You loved Midoriya Izuku. You loved his smile, his muttering, his large scarred hands that held a world full of problems but still held you tenderly, you loved his laugh, you loved his heart. You loved the man standing in front of you.

“I love you.” You let out brokenly, taking the both of you by surprise. You nodded your head with a smile, a smile so broken it looked wrong on your face. “I love you, and you are the father of my children and my partner, but you will never again be my husband.”

Izuku didn’t move, he didn’t speak, he didn’t breathe. He was stuck there like a statue but you still continued.

“Now…” You brushed down your front. “I have to go give Toshinori his acceptance letter to UA. I advise you clean yourself up first before you go anywhere near my son.” You moved to walk right past him, your shoes deafening as you walked out the room closing the door behind him.

Izuku was motionless still, even without you in the room.

This was a worser fate than a divorce. Being trapped with the love of his life and never feeling her love back in return. Being married but never being your husband ever again.

“Morning mom!”

“Morning mom!”

A kiss went to your cheek as you were finishing up breakfast. Toshinori smiled at you as he placed his hands on your shoulders. “Good morning, mom.”

You let out a chuckle, trying to fill in the void and hollow feeling inside you. You grabbed your eldest son, bringing him into a hug as he laughed. “There’s my hero!” he grabbed a hold of you, picking you up off your feet making you shout in surprise. You had forgotten that with One for All he had also inherited his father’s strength. “Toshinori!” You shouted out in surprise. “Put me down!”

He laughed and held you tight, but put you back on your feet. You couldn’t help but giggle as he moved to switch off the stove and grab plates out of the cabinet. The heavy footsteps of your husband were heard as he descended from upstairs. You didn’t bother to look up at him.

Izuku looked a bit less like the mess you left him in last night. You had told him that for the night he wasn’t allowed in your bedroom, and he would stay in the office he cared about more than you in the last six months. He wore sweatpants as he kept one hand in his pockets and came down.

Asahi looked up from where he was setting the table. “Morning dad!”

“Morning buddy.” Izuku forced a smile to his face as he walked over to the table. He pulled Asahi in for a hug making his eyes go wide in surprise. The other boys looked at their father confused but didn’t say anything. “How did you sleep?”

“…fine.” He answered, glancing at you. You shrugged, acting to be oblivious. He did the same thing with Hero as well, before coming over to do the same with Toshinori.

Toshinori looked up at his father in surprise. “Morning dad… is your shift later in the day?” He asked as he noticed his father’s rather casual attire. He normally would just sleep in or rest more and let the four of you have breakfast by yourselves.

Izuku hesitated but shook his head as he moved over to grab an extra plate, noticing that the number of plates Toshinori had gotten was just for the four of you excluding him. “No.” He answered rather blankly. Izuku took his plate as well as the other plates that Toshinori was holding and went to go put them on the table. Asahi noticed the extra plate and went to go and grab more cutlery.

Breakfast was finished and so you all moved to the table. You kept notice of the time, wondering if you should wake up Koda or not. You sat next to Izuku on his right side like before, as he sat at the head of the table. Toshinori sat beside you, not wanting to sit on the other side of his father today. Your three eldest boys sat quietly, not touching their plates either as they looked between you and their father. You looked to Izuku and for a moment your husband froze.

That was the look you always gave him whenever you all used to sit at the table together. You would sit together and you would let him lead. Izuku felt horrible knowing that you were perfect. You always used to make it so important that the boys learnt from him in being a good male figure, no matter what. And yet as you looked at him now, all he saw was emptiness in your eyes. Rightfully so.

He cleared his throat and smiled. He put his hands together. “Thank you for the food.” The boys quickly followed afterwards before you all started eating. You sat posed and composed as if last night wasn’t one of the worst nights of your life. Izuku looked up at the three boys. “Actually boys…” He started.

The three of them looked up, heads of green hair perking up as they looked to their large Prohero father who sat at the head of the table. You were quiet as you let him say whatever piece he wanted to say. Whether he wanted to tell the boys or not, you wouldn’t intervene.

“I owe an apology to all of you.” He started. Toshinori’s eyebrows raised in surprise. He glanced at you with an emotionless expression but then looked back at his father. “To you and…” He motioned to the three of them before moving to look at you. You put your hand down silently allowing whatever he was doing. He put his hand over yours, squeezing it and yet you didn’t squeeze back. “And to your mother. The last six months have been…” He paused. A heavy pause that everyone felt. “Difficult for all of us and I haven’t been around as much as I should have. I’m sorry about that. And so… I’ve decided that I am taking some time off.”

All the boys whipped their heads to look at you as if asking you if it was true. You shrugged. You didn’t know either where this decision had come from, but you were glad that it seemed like he was making true to whatever dribble he had tried to sprout out last night to you.

Toshinori hesitated but looked back at his father with an optimistic look on his face. “That’s… That’s great dad.” He smiled. He looked to his brothers.

Hero and Asahi seemed more excited than you had seen them in a while. Hero nodded his head. “Yah! And just in time for break too! Maybe we can go on a road trip!” He spoke out an idea.

Izuku laughed but nodded. “I was thinking more of a vacation but whatever you boys want.”

“Oh!” Asahi perked up. “What about Australia?”

Toshinori shook his head. “Nah.” He took a bite of his toast. “Mom hates the giant spiders.”

“How about Greece?!” Hero suggested. “Mom was watching Mamma Mia two weeks ago! That place looked so cool and blue!”

You watched the boys bicker about a family vacation which brought a smile to your face. You were glad to see they were some semblances of happy for the first time in a long time.

Your eyes flicked down to where Izuku had his hand over yours still. You gripped his hand immediately taking his attention. You smiled at him as you leaned forward closer to his ear. “Good job, honey.” You said, enough that if the boys looked it would have been innocent, but Izuku knew what that was. He didn’t need it spelt out to him.

You placed a kiss to his lips, brief and to the point, making the boys gag. “Ew!”

“Mom! Please not at the table!” Asahi let out in deep exasperation.

Izuku was still for a moment, tears burning at his eyes. Your kiss was fake. Your praise was fake. Everything was a show, a play for the boys to be happy. You were still disappointed in him. You would always be disappointed in him.

He let out a shaky breath and smiled. “Hey! Leave my wife alone.” He said jokingly.

No matter what, he’d carry for the rest of his life, the fact that he had disappointed you.

-Glitch1d

[Izuku Midoriya Masterlist]

[Cheating Dilf Izuku Masterlist]

[neckromantics]

I don't think enough of you are seeing the potential in letting Astarion drink from your wrist??

(Brief warning: this got a little more sensual than I'd intended? I think I am possessed.)

The way you could still sit as close as you want, plastered to his side even– one leg thrown over his lap while the other is outstretched behind him. It would take a little bit of maneuvering to get the angle just right, but once you do it, it quickly becomes one of your favorite ways to feed him.

You'd have a better view from this angle as well. Would be able to see the glint of bared fangs just before they sink deep into the tender skin of your wrist with a soft pop. To watch the shiver that rolls through him as the taste of you finally meets his prodding tongue– his throat working as he takes that first, careful swallow.

You trace up the curve of his spine as base instinct takes over. His body forms a shield as he hunches, pale digits digging into your outstretched arm as if you'd ever have the heart to take his meal away from him before he's anything less than sated. Happy.

Your fingers comb through the sweet little, silver curls at the nape of his neck, nails scrubbing at his scalp as a form of encouragement so gentle he practically purrs.

Gods, the noises he makes when he's enjoying himself. You can't help but squirm in anticipation when his breathing begins to pick up. Each quick inhale becomes choked off with a little moan of satisfaction– or a whine so high and strained, as if he's hurting in the best possible way. It's as if you taste so good that he doesn't know what to do with himself. His legs kick up a bit. The heels of his boots drag the ground before he settles back down. He jerks away and then towards you once more. Practically writhes in ecstasy. You have to turn your head away just to stare at something far off in the distance. A pathetic attempt to focus on anything else before you lose your mind.

Eventually, you feel your offered arm begin to grow colder. A slight tingle at the tips of your fingers slowly creeps its way up and prompts you to wiggle in an effort to lessen any discomfort. The movement pulls him out of his trance just a bit, and you can feel it.

The length of pause between each swallow starts to become longer. Every pull of your blood becomes a little more shallow, a little less desperate as he braces himself for the moment you say you've had enough.

Admittedly, you always wait a bit too long than is comfortable. It's really hard to ask him to stop when you can physically feel the satisfaction radiating off of him in waves, but you know you have to say something the second you feel that all too familiar floaty sensation begin to sneak up on you.

The moment your temple hits his shoulder, he's pulling away with a sharp gasp of unneeded air, a sad, little whimper escaping his open mouth before he has the chance to muffle it. It's only now that his eyes flutter open. A more vibrant crimson now that he's properly fed, all hazy and soft with a wonder that you'll never grow tired of seeing. He turns to meet your half-lidded gaze from where you're slouched against him.

It'd be so easy for him to slip, to give into the urge to clamp down and drink and consume until you've got nothing left to offer. Especially when you're hanging off of him this way, eyes filled with warm adoration and body so willing to let him take and take and take.

Oh, how he must be careful, now.

The vampire's eyes get a certain headiness that you know all too well, locked onto your own as he allows himself one last taste. You can only watch as he chases a rivulet of blood all the way down the length of your forearm, petal soft lips creating artful smears of crimson with each sloppy press, only to be cleaned away a moment later by the gentle swipe of his tongue.

Your thighs clench automatically around his waist in response, and if he notices, he thankfully doesn't tease you for it. Yet.

After so many feedings, he's really got the hang of biting you in a way that doesn't do any lasting damage. So, it isn't very long before the marks his teeth have left behind no longer weep openly. The familiar, dull throbbing that resonates from the twin punctures is soothed by the soft press of his mouth. Then, the cheeky bastard makes it worse by giving a harsh, cheek-hollowing suck.

It's your turn to whimper.

He pulls away with such a smug smirk. It'd have your eyes rolling if you had any sort of brain function left.

His fingers are now warm as they knead against the numb skin of your drained arm, wiggling it about for you, and bending it the elbow a few times in an effort to get the blood flowing. It's a small act of kindness that you find ever so endearing, and you thank him with a tiny smooch to the very corner of his jaw.

He thanks you right back for the nice meal, with a loving stroke of his knuckles against the side of your face. Gives you a kiss so eager that you're left in shock.

You can taste the copper you've left on his tongue as it swirls against your own, and can't stop yourself from deepening the kiss a moment later. You swallow down his responding groan like he swallowed down all those mouthfuls of your blood. Eager. Just a little desperate. Happy.

Anyway, what was the point of this post again?

[gh-0-stcup]

Angel goes feral because his friend died and he got visions? K.

[b1rds3ye]

“Your Hoodie? No, My Hoodie.”

How the boys react to you stealing their hoodies/clothes, if they would steal yours, and other cute clothing shenanigans

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions

Genre: Pure Fluff

Word Count: 1.8k (~300 each)

Warning: A little spice but no smut

A/N: After writing some drama/angst pieces I figured some pure fluff will do me good 😌

Captain John Price

Price’s fashion sense has become a little dated, so while he has one or two hoodies, he owns a lot more jumpers and vests (especially those puffy ones that all American dads seem to wear in colder weather)

He also doesn’t wear said hoodies all that much so if you steal them, he’ll likely just compliment your attire like a gentleman then go about his day. When he does notice the hoodie as his, he doesn’t care, you can have it

“Lovely top, darling.” “Price, sweetheart, this is yours.” “… Ah, so it is.”

However Price will notice if you use one of his jumpers or sweaters, not that he has a problem with it. In fact he encourages it, he thinks you look far better in them than he ever will and you actually make his clothes look fashionable when all he ever cared about was practicality

It becomes a bit of a love language of his, for the sake of being a gentleman and as he gets older he’s more aware of the cold. Price is always making sure you’re suitably warm before going outside when it’s chilly and he’s always giving you his own clothes to layer yourself with

Ever a traditional man, Price loves doing up your outerwear for you, as you keep talking and he nods along with deft fingers making work of buttons or zippers. There’s something intimate about it, having his hands so close to your abdomen, with him being responsible for your warmth and consequently your wellbeing

Has considered asking you for a hoodie or item of clothing of yours to bring him comfort on missions but eventually decided against it. His operations get messy unexpectedly and quickly, heaven forbid if he loses your items. He doesn’t have the best habits either and he’ll never forgive himself if he gave your clothes the lingering smell of cigar smoke

Simon “Ghost” Riley

When off duty, hoodies are his go to. They’re simple, easy to put on, the hood obscures more of his features and with his stature they help him look terrifying. He has quite a few but they’re all the same dark shades so for the longest time you thought he only had a couple

He always tells you and Soap that he’s “plenty fashionable” and you genuinely can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. All you know is that it looks like he wears the same outfit 24/7

The first time he saw you in his clothes, it activated something in him. It was an almost animalistic possessiveness, like wearing his clothes meant you were willing to be owned by him

“Fuckin’ hell,” is all he can say, it’s quiet, barely audible but just loud enough for you to hear and get the hairs on your back standing. You feel like prey being found by the predator as he stalks up to you and attacks you with kisses

Seeing you in his clothes is like a public broadcast that you’re with him, that you’re proud to be with him and Simon wishes he can reciprocate but he’s got a reputation to uphold but most importantly, he doesn’t want to put a target on your back by associating you with him

He still does little things just so he can feel connected to you though, he’ll gladly slip accessories under his sleeves or in his pockets to remind him of you

He has taken one of your hoodies with him on long missions, he swears it’s the only thing that keeps him sane when he brings it close and gets the scent of you and home. He’s not concerned about having it damaged, he leaves it at base, neatly folded and stashed away like a treasure that he guards with his life

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Has a respectable amount of hoodies, he likes how comfy they are and he wears them well. The only thing better than him wearing them, is you wearing them

He’s a tease, he wants you to take his hoodies but he’ll never outright say so. You won’t have a choice though when he straight up steals and hides all of your outerwear, leaving you to drift over to his wardrobe and take something

And then he acts incredibly smug about it as if he didn’t orchestrate the entire damn thing

He gets giddy whenever he sees you wear his things, you just look so damn cute. If you’re leaving for an event you better hope your friends don’t mind you being half an hour late because he will latch onto you, begging you to stay with him

Johnny will also try to wear your clothes. Doesn’t matter if you’re a few sizes smaller than him, he’s not afraid of prancing around in a crop top in the confines of your home (or in public if he’s very tipsy). Are you a similar or larger size to him? Well call Johnny a communist because it’s not your closet but our closet now. Don’t be surprised if some of your favourite clothes “magically” disappear

He becomes very proud and energetic when wearing your stuff or vice versa, he puffs his chest out like a pigeon but he does get very serious and apologetic if he accidentally damages your things and will immediately buy you a new one

A chronic clothes stealer, he has most definitely taken your non-important items with him to missions. He stores them under his camp bed, he calls it a mini shrine that he worships for good luck

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Probably the most fashionable out of the 141 (although the bar isn’t set particularly high), he has a range of hoodies for various casual occasions, dark for covert missions, brighter if he’s just out with friends, you name it, he’s probably got it

His clothes are so high quality you honestly feel bad so you initially avoided using his clothes, which just broke Kyle’s heart because he’s an absolute sucker for the trope of partners sharing their things. He has to near beg you to take his stuff

But when you finally do? Especially out of your own volition? Kyle is all over you, praising you to the moon and back about how good you look, trying to encourage you to take more of his things

Extra points if you borrow his hats, Kyle swears it’s the cutest sight in existence and now he has a reason to look forward to a sunny day

Loves cuddling you while you’re wearing his hoodie, particularly where you’re lying on the couch and he’s on top of you, head on your stomach or chest. He has to give himself credit, he bought some very soft hoodies and on you with his head listening to your heartbeat has him feeling like he’s lying on a cloud

He adores how at the end of the day his clothes end up smelling like you instead, he’s almost tempted to never wash them

He will never gift you clothes, if you want clothes you’re taking them from his wardrobe and that’s final. The only exception is if he wants you two to wear stylish matching outfits where he’ll supply you with what you need

Alejandro Vargas

A man of style, Alejandro much prefers his turtleneck jumpers (also because he knows he absolutely kills it) but he does have a hoodie or two if he’s really prioritising discretion or comfort for the day

Seeing you in his hoodie gets him incredibly riled up, even if to you it’s not incredibly stylish or sexy. The instant he lays eyes on you in his clothes he’s rushing up to pull you into a passionate kiss, hands tugging and massaging you through the thick fabric. Whenever you have to pull away he’s purring in Spanish before pulling you back in

Obsessed with seeing you in his clothes, if you ask for a jacket he’s automatically going to his wardrobe. If you want your own clothes you’re going to have to get it yourself because Alejandro can be very stubborn when he wants to be and will only bring you his own attire

Alejandro will gladly borrow your clothes if he can, but only in private. It destroys him inside because he desperately wants to be publicly associated with you but he will never risk your safety associating with him in Las Almas for his own selfish wishes

An absolute gentleman, he loves putting clothes on you. He opens up the hoodie so it’s easier for you to slip your arms in, he zips it up for you, and then he tugs at the folds so it compliments you perfectly. In his world, you’re the emperor and he’s but a humble and grateful servant, he’s not letting you lift a finger

The only thing he could enjoy more than putting on your clothes is taking them off for you. Not even in a lustful manner (although that’s not off the table for him), it just feels intimate, like he’s pulling armour off of you, with you entrusting him with your most vulnerable self and he’s honoured you trust him this much

Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra

He likes his cosiness and practicality so he has a fair lot of hoodies and he’s more than happy to lend them to you. You don’t even have to ask, he just assumed that when you two became a couple his stuff was yours too

But when Rudy first saw you in his clothes, he was taken aback. He never thought much of his clothes, they just look decent and offered functionality, so how did you make such mediocre items look so damn good?

Gets oddly sentimental when he sees you in his clothes. It’s such a domestic sight, one he thought he’d never see when he dedicated himself to Las Almas. Every time he’s holding you close, peppering your face with brief but hefty kisses. You won’t be escaping his grip anytime soon

Rodolfo will only borrow your clothes if you explicitly tell him you can. He adores you and treats all your items as something sacred, it feels almost blasphemous using your things

When he does use your items, he realised it’s been a long time since he’s felt bashful. Not that he’s embarrassed or ashamed of you, far from it. He just knows some of his soldiers will ask and he’s near giddy that he can talk about you

Another clothes helper, he giggles when he sees you get tangled and lost in his slip on hoodie, accidentally trying to put your head through the arm sleeve. He gently guides you, and when you finally poke your head out, he gives you a soft smile and a kiss on the forehead as though he hasn’t seen you in months

“Ah, I found you mì amor.”

Call of Duty Masterlist

[penny00dreadful]

And They Were Roommates!

Part 2 AO3

Steve didn’t hate him exactly.

He was just… vastly irritated by his very presence.

When they’d fallen into being roommates with Eddie, Steve and Robin were just happy to have anywhere to live. 

They’d spent a few weeks living in the ageing BMW after they’d gotten booted by their previous landlord when the rent had spiked again and they couldn’t afford to pay it anymore.

Then Dustin had come to them saying he had a friend that had a spare bedroom that he needed to fill and they had jumped at the chance. 

It wasn’t a terrible apartment, all things considered. 

The bathroom needed a bimonthly mould clean out and the water pressure was nonexistent. It was almost always colder inside than it was outside, no matter how hot the weather got and the front door had clear signs of being broken down before, with a new lock haphazardly slapped over where the old one had been but it was shockingly quiet and secluded. 

A small and unassuming building that people tended to glance over sitting close enough to the city centre so that everything was within walking distance. It was twice the size of the place Steve and Robin had lived before, an open plan kitchen and sitting room with enough room for a dining table creating a barrier between the two. 

A nice dining table too. 

One that could fit more than two people.

Two bedrooms, one bathroom. 

Eddie had apparently wrinkled his nose at the idea of sharing with a couple but Steve and Robin weren’t about to correct him. He was a completely unknown person who seemed to make it his mission to look mean and scary, no matter what Dustin said about him. 

So Steve refused to feel bad about making assumptions.

But the guy was less mean and scary and mostly just annoying.

He left his shit everywhere, like he’d never heard of fucking organisation before. And he was so loud and exuberant all the time. Like yeah, they guy could enjoy his passions or whatever but that didn’t mean Steve had to like being an unwilling participant in it.

When Robin moved out, Steve stayed even though it was clear Eddie would have preferred if he'd gone too. 

He wasn’t going to give up a good place just because his roommate was a lot. 

And he certainly wasn’t going to give up a good place just because his roommate kept dropping hints he wanted his special someone to move in and Steve to move out.

Steve would show Eddie the meaning of stubborn.

They bickered like an old married couple constantly and Steve couldn’t exactly say that he hadn’t risen to the bait or caused his own fair share of problems between the two of them either.

Things had only marginally shifted once Eddie had proudly stuck up a flyer advertising the set list for the Pride Parade After Party that his band had somehow been signed to perform at.

When he caught Steve looking at it one morning he’d levelled him with his smuggest smile, like he’d just won some kind of argument. Like he was just waiting for Steve to go on a homophobic rant and run out of the apartment, never to return.

“Got a problem there, Stevie boy?”

Eddie crossed his arms loosely over his chest and leaned back against the kitchen counter with a feral look in his eyes, itching for a fight.

Steve had just turned to him with his sharpest, most cutting grin and lifted open the zippered side of his bomber jacket, revealing his bi pride flag patch sewn to the inner pocket.

“No.”

Eddie had glared at the patch like it had personally offended him before storming off to his room with a scowl.

After that, the barbs thrown at each other had gotten a little more… queer.

After one particularly frustrating argument, Steve had snapped at Eddie “I know how to keep a fucking shower drain clean, Mary.” before snatching his keys up and slamming the door behind him.

When Steve had finally seen fit to talk to Eddie again, nearly two full days later, huffing at him to hurry up in the kitchen, he wanted some coffee, Eddie had turned with the most exaggerated face of surprise and his hands thrown up in shock as he proclaimed, “She speaks!”

Steve had rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Jesus, you’re such a queen.”

Eddie had levelled him with his own cutting smile and responded, “That I am, darling.”

After that their arguments were full of a lot more condescending and patronising ‘Mary’s and ‘sweetie’s and ‘oh, honey’s.

It gave Steve the strangest feeling of companionship. Not only with Eddie, loathe as he was to admit it, but also with the culture and with the queers of old who were still around, who’d had to kick and spit and fight just to be seen.

Eddie had been buzzing around the apartment all day. 

It was A Big Date Night™ apparently. 

He was gonna ask the boyfriend to take a road trip with him back to Indiana to meet Wayne, a big step that he’d never made with a partner before.

Steve liked Wayne. But he liked even more how irritated Eddie was that they spoke. Wayne had called the apartment one day looking for his nephew and when Steve answered he heard the sounds of a game in the background and asked about it.

It was over forty five minutes later Steve turned to find Eddie staring at him with a horrified expression on his face and Steve couldn’t help the evil glint in his eye as he continued to debate Wayne on their favourite players.

But Eddie had left hours ago now and it was getting… late.

Really, really late.

Like four in the morning late and he hadn’t come home yet.

He was supposed to, he needed to be up the next morning for his shift at the nerd shop he worked at and he loved that job. He wouldn't miss it for anything.

Steve wasn’t like, worried or anything.

Not that Eddie needed to be babied, he wasn’t one of his kids. 

He was just… looking out for the safety of another human being.

The only light in the dark apartment was coming from the low glow of the tv and it was so quiet there was barely a sound coming from the speaker. Steve was curled up on the couch, swaddled in a throw and his mind kept drifting. 

He couldn’t pay attention to whatever was playing, his brain just kept catastrophising about what the fuck could have happened to make Eddie so late. 

He nearly jumped out of his skin and simultaneously felt his body unclench when he heard a key in the lock and recognised Eddie's wild head of hair coming into the apartment.

But that didn’t last long because Eddie caught the door before it could close with a loud snap like it usually did, shutting it slowly and softly behind him.

It was alarming because Eddie never remembered to close the door quietly, no matter how much Steve bitched at him. And it wasn’t like he was doing it on purpose, Steve knew that, it’s just that his mind was most often somewhere else, focused on some other thing so that he simply… forgot.

Eddie cursed low to himself as he slumped into the kitchen, pulling the freezer door open and rummaging around for a bit before pulling something out.

He kept his head low, hair spilling out around his face as he jumped up onto the counter and sat. 

He still hadn’t noticed Steve sitting there, watching the whole exchange under the dim flickering light of the television.

It looked like Eddie had snatched up a bag of Steve’s frozen peas. And they were Steve’s. Because Eddie didn’t eat anything green unless it was artificially coloured and covered in sugar.

Eddie squeezed the peas in hand hands, considering, before he muttered to himself, “so fucking stupid” and brought them up to rest on the side of his face.

That kicked Steve into action, unfurling himself from the couch, keeping his throw around his shoulders because it was fucking cold and he padded over to the kitchen in his fluffy socks.

“Eddie?”

Frozen peas scattered, skittling across the tiled floor, landing in the sink, ricocheting off the cupboard doors and clattering off the walls as Eddie jumped violently at the sound of his name, softly spoken as it was. 

He’d snapped his head up and Steve could see, in the dim light of the tv behind him, unusual darkness spreading over Eddie’s face, like a stain on his pale skin.

Eddie tightened his hands again around the now mostly empty bag, looking back down at it. 

“‘M sorry about your peas.” He mumbled.

Steve could only blink in response. 

Eddie wasn’t supposed to mumble. 

He wasn’t supposed to be quiet and subdued and wilted. 

He was supposed to be loud and brash and tawdry and bright.

“I’m gonna turn the light on, okay?” Steve tried to keep any rising panic and worry out of his voice, tried to keep himself calm and level. He could barely just make out the small nod Eddie gave after a beat of hesitation.

The light was harsh and painful after so long spent in mostly darkness and Steve had to squint through his glasses waiting for his eyes to adjust, but when they did he felt his stomach drop.

Eddie's face was scrunched up as he tried to blink through brightness but that wasn’t what caught Steve’s attention. 

Because there was blood crusting on the side of Eddie’s face, settled around his eye and in his hair from a gash over his eyebrow. His lip was split and puffy and swollen and his cheek was slowly blooming from red to purple.

“You should see the other guy.” Eddie grinned with a wince, when he noticed Steve cataloguing, but his eyes stayed distant and sad.

“What…” Steve stepped closer, hovering his hand over the injuries, over his hair. “What happened?”

Eddie shrugged, dipping his eyes back down to the melting bag of peas in his hands. “We had a disagreement.”

Steve looked down too and gently took the peas out of his grip, placing the bag in the sink next to them. 

It was only then that he noticed Eddie’s knuckles were bloodied as well, split and starting to swell.

He had to swallow against the sickening anger coiling in his throat as he closed a gentle hand around Eddie’s cold fingers and he tugged it over to the sink, turning the tap on. 

“Your peas-”

“Fuck the fucking peas, Eddie!” Steve snapped before trying to reel himself back in when Eddie flinched, nearly pulling his hand away but stopping himself at the last moment.

With the softest movements he could manage, Steve got Eddie’s fingers as soapy as he could before slowly working his rings left and right, pulling them off his fingers.

“What are you doing?” It wasn’t quite a whisper but the question was low, almost like a hum.

“Your fingers are going to start to swell soon. I can leave them on if you’d rather have them cut off later?” Steve looked up to see Eddie watching their hands working together under the dribble of the tap. 

He shook his head.

“Well okay then.” He tugged the last ring free and examined them, silver and wet and heavy in his palm. 

There was still some dried blood in the grooves. 

“Did you at least get him good with these?” He gestured to them before placing them carefully to the side and gently towling Eddie’s injured hand dry.

A smirk tugged at the uninjured side of Eddie’s mouth. “You’re damn right I did.”

Steve gave a short sharp nod, placing Eddie’s hand back in his lap. “Good.” 

He moved over to the freezer, pulling out his own cold compress which Eddie hadn’t chosen for some reason and tugging the first aid kit from on top of the fridge.

“So are you going to tell me what happened?” He said, trying to keep his voice even and his posture lighthearted as he laid the stuff out next to Eddie’s leg. He pulled their second drawer open and took a clean dish towel out, running it under the tap.

“Why, Stevie? You worried about me?” Eddie tried to grin but it quickly turned into a grimace as Steve pressed the damp cloth against the cut on his eyebrow, his lips turning down.

“Don’t be precious about it, honey. Just tell me. I’ll never stop pestering you until you do.” He pulled the cloth away and started gently brushing it across Eddie’s skin, trying to remove as much of the dried blood as he could.

“Alright, alright, keep your wig on.” Eddie huffed and pulled his mouth into a frown before shrugging again. ”Well I’m single now.”

Steve managed to keep his hands working, only halting for just a second as the words hit him. “Rick did this?”

“Yep.” Eddie said with a pop. “Everything was going good, you know. Standard date stuff, whatever. Then I asked him to come meet Wayne and he looked at me. Said, and I quote; ‘What exactly do you think this is?’”

Eddie snorted and shook his head. 

Steve was forced to pull the cloth away to stop tugging on the broken skin. “Wait so-”

“So apparently I’ve been seeing this whole thing as more serious than it was. Apparently I’ve been putting feelings where there were none. And get this,” he grabbed Steve’s hand, stalling his movements again and forcing him to look into those giant deep brown eyes, “he’s married.”

Steve felt his mouth drop open in an indignant stare. “No.”

“Yeah. I know, right? I’ve been the other woman this whole time.” He brought his hands up to make air quotes. “Just a bit of fun.” He tongued at his split lip. "And it's my problem, my fault that I didn't figure it out, according to him." He shook his head, forcing Steve to retract his hand from around his eye. "The fucker took his wedding band off every time we met, so…"

Rather than grabbing Eddie gently by the chin, which he was really, quite horrifyingly tempted to do, he instead said, "Be a dear and stop moving."

Eddie levelled him with a glare but there wasn't much behind it, it was all performative even as he tutted and started twisting the chain on his jeans around in his fingers. But he stopped moving his head.

"So how did that lead to this?"

Eddie scoffed. "How do you think, Mary? I got mad."

"Well good. You should've been mad. Did you throw the first punch?"

"Technically?" Eddie hummed in consideration. "Yes. But he had his hands on me before that soo…"

Steve froze, he couldn’t help it. 

What the fuck?

What the fuck?

"In what way?" He kept his voice light but the bright white concern underneath was like a foghorn. 

Eddie shrugged again and turned his head, giving Steve more access to the blood crusted above his ear and into his hairline. 

Then he leaned forward just a little bit more until his forehead was resting against Steve's shoulder.

Steve reached back to pull Eddie's hair out of the way, over the back of his neck so he could clean up his hairline.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments, the silence wasn't tense but it wasn't calm either. It was anticipatory. Eddie was building himself up to answer.

"He didn't see a problem with the situation, I mean obviously he didn't see a problem with the situation so he just wanted to… continue, I suppose. We'd been… experimenting with switching before this and he tried to go full dom on me. Kept trying to get me to submit." Eddie's voice had started to shake even though he tried valiantly to keep it down and it made Steve wonder just how long he'd been keeping it down already. 

Steve dropped the cloth off in the sink and brought a hand up, resting it on the back of Eddie's still bent head, making sure not to cage him in, making sure to keep his touches light and gentle but still there if he wanted them.

"I didn't- I didn't want to anymore but he just kept going and I told him he wasn't asking my consent, he was demanding it. He said I had to do what he wanted because he was in charge and that’s how it works-” 

“Eddie, that is not how it works-”

“Yes, thank you, darling. I know that. I told him that wasn't what's done, no matter the dynamics and he was just getting more and more pissed off, like I was ruining his fun and he wouldn’t get off of me so I just… fucking decked him." Eddie laughed, a terrible broken thing. “I thought… I thought we had… it had been so good while… why can’t I have… why does it always have to end like this?”

His voice had become harsher, more defeated as he went on, cracking and pitching along the words until the end. Until a heart wrenching choked off sound was pulled from his throat.

Eddie was weeping softly into Steve’s shoulder and his hands were twitching in his lap, like he wanted to reach out, like he wanted some comfort but didn’t know if he was allowed. 

But he must have decided he didn’t care if he was allowed or not because the next second he’d thrown his arms around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him in tight, sniffling openly and freely into his neck.

Steve took the tiniest of steps closer and wound his arms around Eddie’s middle, bypassing his leather jacket and battle vest, snaking his arms underneath until there was just the threadbare band t-shirt between them.

He ran a hand up and down Eddie’s back as he shook, while Eddie just clutched on tighter.

“Why does it always have to be… why can’t I… why…” a terrible little sob broke out of Eddie’s throat. “Why does no one ever want me the way I want them?”

Steve had to pinch his eyes shut against the pure heartbreak in his voice, coming out halting and thick and so small. 

He just held him tighter, whispering little placating words and small shushes that he felt more in his chest than he did his throat. 

He hesitated for just a moment before placing a light little kiss to the side of Eddie’s head, into his hair. The same kind of kiss he’d give to Robin or one of the kids if they were in the same situation. 

That was all.

“God.” Eddie muttered, pulling back and scrubbing his hands roughly over his eyes and nose, apparently uncaring of his injuries. “Your shirt is fucking disgusting.” He eyed the stains and wet patches and no doubt little traces of blood he’d accidentally left there. “What makes you think that’s an appropriate state to appear in?”

Steve just rolled his eyes, taking the lighthearted jab for what it was, a want to move on, to start snarking again and cracked open the first aid kit. 

“Your face is disgusting.”

“Yeah, well. You’re the one who’s been cleaning me up, sweetheart. So, who’s fault is that?”

He glanced up at the cut over Eddie’s eyebrow. 

“That might need stitches.”

“No stitches, can’t be bothered with stitches.”

“Stitches not punk enough for you?”

Eddie did glare at him for that.

“Don’t even. You know I’m not a punk.”

Steve grinned at him. “No?”

“Steven.”

Even through the heavy talk, Steve relished the sight of the slight smile that had appeared on Eddie’s face and his return to bitchy banter.

“Edward, is there a difference?” Steve shrugged as he fished for supplies in the kit. “Doesn’t seem to be.”

“To you, maybe.” Eddie flicked at a piece of his hair. “God you’re such a… you’re such a jock.”

“Wow,” Steve raised his eyebrows, “let’s add observant to your list of positives.”

“Assho-ow!” Eddie shrieked as Steve pressed a butterfly bandage over the wound.

“You’re a giant pain in my ass.”

“Only if you ask nicely,” Eddie growled at him, irritated and snappy, “you perpetual bottom.”

“Excuse you,” Steve snapped back, “I switch it up. I have versatility."

“Uh-huh.”

“But you gotta admit,” Steve flashed his most charming grin, “it’s a lovely bottom.”

Eddie scoffed but there was a red flush starting to creep up his neck. “S’not like I pay much attention to your bottom.”

“Oh, Eddie,” Steve gave a disappointed sigh, “everyone pays attention to my bottom.”

He didn’t get a response, just a bitchy roll of the eyes.

“You gonna call out of work tomorrow?” He dropped the cloth into the sink and crossed his arms as Eddie leaned back on his hands.

“Why? So you can mother hen me all day? No, thank you.”

“Oh sweetie.” Steve regarded him with mock sympathy. “You think you’d be lucky enough to get my mothering?”

“What if I die in my sleep tonight? You’d be inconsolable.”

“Yeah. Simply devastated.” He said as he all but pushed Eddie off the counter and herded him back to his room.

Part 2 AO3

@augustjustice @geekymagicalpotato @wormdebut (I remember you showing interest for this one but I won't tag you again unless you ask! 😘)

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation.

Divider by firefly-graphics

[sukunas-wife]

I'ma need some more of that pregnant reader and sukuna... That kinda slapped do it again please and thank you🌹

Idk if you meant while pregnant or after Yuji was born but here’s some pregnancy moments 🥹 i tried 🤍

“RYOMEN SUKUNA” your voice cutting Uraume off and gaining an irked look from your husband, “what is wo-” he coughed looking away, Uraume turned to look at you closing their eyes trying to hide a snicker as they looked away and down. There you stood in almost your full glory, your robes open the belt just over your bump, your ladies in waiting running in after you, “Lady y/n! Please! You shouldn’t run around bare showing your belly! You’ll catch a cold!” Sukuna was amused but your glare was something he didn’t want to be on the receiving end for too long. It wouldn’t be the first time you kicked him out of HIS room and HIS bed.

“Is something wrong?” He asked.

“DO YOU NOT SEE THE PROBLEM?” Your snappy attitude would’ve usually rewards you with his own snappy attitude but he was trying his best to not snap at you while pregnant. “You’re round?” He asked as if it were obvious which caused you to tear up “you think I’m round?” ;-;

Hearing Uraume stifle their laugh, you watched your husband’s as he stood up pulling his robe belt free, throwing his outer robe over bus shoulder. Once he was close enough he took your face in two hands squishing it while the other two stripped you, “I don’t think your round, you are around, but you’re round with OUR child, and I don’t see what could be more comforting than knowing you carry the Proof of our intimacy.”

You looked up at him feeling his hands rest on your swollen belly, now covered by his white robes and belt, “My clothes doesn’t fit like it used to- then use my Robes all you want, ask your hand maids to make new clothes. Whatever you need it’s yours to take.” You smiled leaning your head against his palms enjoying how loose and large his robes were. He didn’t know he had basically signed away his freedom, his robes would now be your robes the more your belly swole.

He eyed you the first time you walked up to him with clean robes folded robes. He didn’t understand why you brought him new clothes? “I want your robes, they’re warm… and smell nice…” the heat on your face and expression of embarrassment made him chuckle as he pulled off his robes and belt before securing them over you, his warm hands and finger tips lingering over your neck, collar bone, wrists and hands when he’d fix the collar and sleeves. The warmth taking over you body as you basked in the warmth of his robes. The faint smell of his natural musk mixed in with woody smoke and the incense from the censors he had brought in ever since the months got colder and the physician saying you’d need to take it easier in bed rest now that you were closer to labor.

Yet you always persisted on looking for and hugging your husband just to place your cold hands on his chest or back. It was one of the few things that made him visibly cringe and shiver or freeze up entirely until your hands warmed up against his skin. Now that he thinks about it he spoiled you entirely in your first pregnancy during the day when you’d lay in bed staring at your stomach bump, cold under the thick blankets ribs shivering until you’d pout and call for your Lady in Waiting, she was a young lady who had grown from a young girl, acting sickly you’d tell her call for your husband, she’d smile laughing lightly “Yes Lady y/n, but I’ll do ny best to convince him it’s urgent.” You’d smile at her before she’d rush off, her shows would vary depending how she’d sense Sukuna’s stats of mind. If it were serious, annoyed or aggressive manor, she’d try to approach respectfully, head bowed explaining how you had sent her to retrieve him in urgency because your weren’t feeling well.

There would go Sukuna rushing to your side to find you shivering thinking you were sick without thought he’d placed his hands on you using his reverse cursed technique to heal you of whatever it could be. Only for you to guide his hand to your face still shivering, “Hold me… I’m cold.” He heart was racing thinking you were cold because you were gonna pass, he scooped you up, pressing you against his chest and dragging the heavy embroidered blanket to cover you more, “how are you feeling?”

He’d walked over to the fire place in the room, two of his arms under the blanket holding you close to him, your head on his chest and shoulder. The other two securing the blanket around you as he SAT ON THE GROUND INFRONT OF THE FIRE PLACE. Your hands coming out the blanket to pull his hand and rest it against your face, “I’m healthy, it’s just cold.” You looked helplessly up at him when he looked at you in disbelief, but you smiled and shook his head, “Scared the shit out of me woman!” You pinched your cheek and you whined, “I have an excellent lady in waiting, she needs higher reward.”

Sukuna scoffed, before resting his chin on your head, “Don’t expect this to become a regular request.”

It became a regular request, one he found himself to enjoy that he had Uraume bring something similar to a love seat for him to recline back on so he could lay you against his chest. It happened more than a few times when you’d fall asleep against his chest and he’d slowly fall into slumber after locking his arms around you. More than enough time Uraume and your ladies in waiting had walked in and giggled at the scene before waking Lord Sukuna to suggest moving to let you rest in the bed now that the sun had set and the room was warm.

The it changed when Yuji was born. There were days he eagerly pushed you off to hold his boy on his chest to keep him warm, of course you were jealous that was your husband :’)

I’m the end, your husband always tried to act indifferent and cold, but his heart was warmed by the love, affection and intimacy he had come to know when his fate had become intertwined with you and your son

.

🤍❤️🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤🤍🖤🖤❤️🖤🖤❤️🤍

Forgot the Tag list 🫣 this is the “Squishy” Tags List as saved in my notes :’)

@sad-darksoul @cyder-puff @domainofmarie @satorisgirl

[lunargrapejuice]

diluc ragnvindr x fem!reader

picking you up and putting you somewhere safe

“oh, no thank you.”

you had noticed the man's eyes on you from the moment you walked into the bar and it made you think you should have worn something other than a knee length dress that clung to your body. while you had wished for one particular man to see you in it, the very one you were waiting for, this drunkard was not him. 

when he moved closer, not seeming to notice or care about the distance you continued to put between you until you were at the edge of the bar and he asked to buy you a drink while he eyed you up and down, you felt exposed, uncomfortable, but thankful you had chosen the side of the bar that would not have cornered you.

you wondered if charles was in the back room and would mind if you waited there for diluc. surely he would understand once he saw this man and how unwilling he was to leave you alone, he’d probably ask him to leave entirely, but when you eagerly searched around for his familiar face in the busy tavern you could’t find him at all.

“aw, c’mon pretty. ‘s just a drink,” his words were slurred, the smell of alcohol on his breath making you nauseous when he leans in close to you, clumsy and uncaring of your personal space. “i don’ bite.” 

“i said no,” you’re firmer, colder, this time when pull back, trying to create space between you and slow your heart rate that had become frantic, the polite smile you offered on your first decline nowhere to be seen. “please leave me alone.”

and please hurry diluc. you didn’t want to chance waiting in here a moment longer, not when your throat felt tight and you weren’t certain if this man would leave you alone but when you turned to try to make your escape through the back door, you can still feel the closeness of him,  you knew you had been right.

“hey now,” you don’t dare look at him but before you can take more than a step away, you feel a sweaty, too hard grasp of hand clasping onto your arm and it forces you to turn around,” n’ need to be *hick* like that sweets-”

“don’t touch me!” you smack his hand off of you, the sting of it lingering on the back of your hand, an unease strain to your voice. you were beyond anxious to get out of here and go running for diluc, though your outfit and thin sandals would not make for good running attire.

taking quick steps backwards, trying to get away before he could get ahold of you again, before you were going to cry angry tears and make a scene in your boyfriends tavern, your body crashes against something, someone, you hadn't expected to be there. before you can look back to see who it is or even register what’s happening fully, the tavern falls into silence at the breaking of glasses and bottles crashing at your feet and the splash of wine and beer that’s now pooling at your feet and splattered on your legs.

it would have been all of you soaking in alcohol and cut by glass, joined on the floor with poor charles who was mostly unharmed but undoubtedly wet, had it not been for the strong and familiar arm that wraps around your middle and keeps you upright. it all happened in the blink of an eye, had not given you any time to do more than hang on to the black coat you found yourself pressed into and when you open your eyes again, the loveliest shade of red and the deepest black is all you see. 

you clung to the fabric your hands had held countless times, feeling dilucs arm wrap protectively around you tighter as you look up at him. his body was angled to keep you pressed into his side, as if he was hiding you, with him standing between you and the man who wouldn’t leave you alone. you could see the tense set of dilucs jaw and the lick of flames behind his ruby eyes, feel the way his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths that only seemed to fuel the fire. 

you have no idea how he was at your side so quickly. you hadn’t seen or heard him walk in, didn’t know how he could have gotten to as fast as he had with the tavern as busy as it is but here he was, holding you, protecting you.

“diluc-”

“hey! let- let go of me!” the drunk man protests and drowned out your voice. it was then you noticed his outstretched arm and the white knuckle grip diluc had on it. his hands were covered by his gloves but with the way the leather of them and the fabric of the mans long sleeve shirt bunched, the flex of his arm under his jacket, anyone could tell it was not a light grip.

“get out of my tavern,” dilucs voice was deep, commanding, and the only thing to be heard in angels share. the gazes watching you all were visibly taken aback by the young master's cool slipping but you couldn’t deny what it was doing to you either; making your knees weak and heat blossom in your core. “and do not come back.”

diluc let go of his arm, giving him the chance to go without more of a fuss, but the man hadn't backed down. the air was filled with tension that was keeping anyone from even breathing when the drunkard could not stop his running mouth, though he was smart enough to not move any closer.

“‘c’mon! i didn’t mean anythin’” he throws up his hands. “was just trying to show a lonely girl a good time and she-”

“i would advise you to be careful with how you speak about my girlfriend,” there was no doubt diluc was angry, and very quickly losing more of his patience but the way he held you, soft and unwavering, calling you his girlfriend.. it wasn’t that you needed anyone else to hear it but you hearing your title to him said out loud would never fail to make you nearly burst into a dozens of pyro crystals flies.

you bury yourself into dilucs side, trying to hide your flushed state. it had been such a quick change from how anxious you felt before, nearly giving you a whiplash, but diluc had always calmed your worries and made you feel safe. you couldn’t help it even if you tried and he had certainly not made it any easier.

“leave. i will not repeat myself again.”

with a scoff and a hiccup you heard the drunk man stumble away, the moments following remaining quiet until his footsteps disappeared and the door closed behind him. it wasn’t until then that you felt dilucs body relax but it was charles’ voice that broke the silence in the tavern, the chatter of patrons slowly following after.

“everything’s alright folks, we’ll get everything cleaned up and taken care of.”

the firm body you had been tucked into left you too quickly for your liking but diluc did not go far or let his hand be removed from you. glass cracked under his steps in his movements to face you and look you over, frowning further upon seeing the small cuts along the tops of your feet, the countless pieces of glass surrounding your delicate shoes and the red wine stains on your legs going up your shins.

you tried to speak, not caring about the your small injury when you didn’t even know if charles was okay. “charles i’m so-”

before you could finish your words or grasp that you are no longer on your feet, you’re being lifted into the air, diluc ensuring to collect the end of your dress under your knees when he cradles you in his arms and against his chest. the only thing on his mind was your safety and he didn’t care who watched as he held you like this or the way you nuzzle yourself into him and whisper against his collar. 

“i’m okay,” you assure him, not fighting to get out of his hold and letting him carry you towards the back room without another word.

with his heel he kicks the door closed behind him, muffling the usual atmosphere of the tavern that had now returned full force. you can hear the beating of his heart in your ear pressed against him and under its strong melody you truly could have forgotten about the whole thing that led to this.

gently, diluc sets you down on the desk he normally works from, his hands only leaving you to take off his gloves. even when he reaches for the first aid kit in one of the desk drawers his other hand is holding onto yours, letting the thumb you rub along his knuckles ease the flames that were building within him and making him see red.

he had hurried past the crowd when you saw you in distress and all he could think about was protecting you, not letting drunk patrons touch what was not theirs. it hadn’t helped his heart seeing what waited at your feet if you tried to move and he hadn’t thought about anything other than getting you somewhere safe when he scooped you into his arms so easily. even now, even after you told him you were okay, it was as though he had tunnel vision and could only see the cuts and sticky drinks on your skin.

but there’s a pause in his movements, a reluctance to let you go when everything he needs is not within arms reach and in an attempt to calm his worries, you squeeze his hand in yours, relishing in the callouses and scars that you feel amongst the softness of his skin. you didn’t get to feel them nearly enough like this.

it stops him completly.

“i’m sorry,” he says, not meeting your eyes.

“‘luc,” the way you call him never failed to bring those ruby eyes you love back to you and now was no exception. you bring your free hand to his face, the fingers brushing along his cheek, making his heart skip far too many beats, your touch the balm to his unease. “you have no reason to be sorry.”

“i should have been here sooner. i shou-”

“hey,” you stop him before he can blame himself any further, before he gets lost in what should have happened to avoid it all. “i was a little earlier than we agreed but even if i wasn’t, you can’t always be right next to me-”

but oh how he would love to be within the radius of your light with every breath he took.

“- no matter how much i want you to be,” you add, quiet and with tender love in your eyes, the swirling emotions in his own as he leans into your touch making your cheeks warm. “but you’re here now and really, i am okay.”

he takes a step closer to you, his scent and heat enveloping you, the slight chapness of his lips against your forehead bringing to life the butterflies in your stomach, bringing both of your hands to reach for his chest. 

it would still take him cleaning your legs and cuts himself, taking care of every single scrape for him to truly convince himself but your words sooth him nonetheless, as they always have. “i’m grateful for that,” he whispers against your skin, making a silent vow that you would never have to experience anything like that, especially in his own places, again. 

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

[yeonzzzn]

🧊just come over, would ya?: sim jaeyun

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 2.2k

synopsis: snow storm causes the whole apartment complex power to go out, in which your hot neighbor offers to help keep you warm…

genre: neighbors au!, neighbors to lovers, smut

warnings: swearing, jerking off, fingering, finger riding, unprotective sex, cuddly + funny jake ♡

Your whole body shook, pulling yet another blanket over your body. 

Your sweatpants, sweatshirt, fuzzy socks, and beanie were not enough to keep you warm through this power outage. 

This was one of the moments you wished you had a fireplace in your small apartment, yet here you are. 

What was supposed to be a small snowfall turned into a snowstorm and the whole apartment complex’s power went out with no word on how long it would take for the power to come back on. 

Your teeth grinded together as you pulled the blankets over your head, pulling your legs to your chest in hopes of getting warmer. 

You tried to sleep, hoping it would pass the time, but due to your freezing, sleep was not going to come. 

You decided to check your phone in hopes of seeing a message from the apartment complex's owner about when the power would be back but instead saw a text from your neighbor. 

Jake: How are you holding up? Heard you sneezed earlier. The building is way too quiet.  You: Obviously I’m freezing.  Jake: Oh, you don’t have a fireplace, right?

You rolled your eyes at your text from him. He was clearly teasing you for not having one. 

Jake was always teasing you any moment he could get. You both attend the same college and have many classes together, so once he moved next door the amount of “good neighbor” jokes he would say was more annoying than his shit-eating grin when he’d say them. 

You: Jake, you obviously know I don’t have a fireplace, don’t be a dick :) Jake: Want to come over and use mine? The fireplace obviously, not my dick. 

You bit your bottom lip in debate. It would be nice to finally be warm, but the thought of being stuck with Jake for god knows how long made you irritated. Mostly after his joke just now.

You: No thanks. I’m good.  Jake: Y/N, I can clearly hear your teeth chattering through these walls.  Jake: I am trying to be nice here.  Jake: Just come over, would ya? Jake: The door is unlocked. 

You knew the best option would be to rush next door and sit in front of the fireplace with him.

Fuck it. 

You jumped from your bed, slipped your feet into your slippers, and rushed out of your room. 

The hallway was way colder than inside your apartment. The darkness of the hall reminds you of something from a horror film, the moonlight outside being the only source of light. 

You quickly jumped in front of Jake’s door, knocking frantically. 

After a soft “come in” was heard from the other side, you opened the door and quickly stepped in shutting the door behind you. 

You quickly took in Jake’s living room, his couch being pushed up closer to the fireplace. 

Jake raised a hand from his couch, “Over here.”

You kicked your slippers off, ready to sit close to the fire, only for your smile to turn upside down seeing Jake sprawled out, lying down. 

The only thing you could see was his eyes, the rest of him being completely covered by his blanket. 

You stared back at him? raising a brow, “Move over?” 

Jake furrows his brows, “No, Hi? Hello? How are you? Nice weather we are having?” 

You rolled your eyes, “Hi Jake, the weather sucks, move over, ya?” 

Jake lifted the blanket off his body, patting his hand to his stomach. 

You blankly stared at him, confused. Until it clicked in your head. 

Jake could read you like a book, your facial expression telling exactly how you were feeling, “Y/N, just come lay down.”

You shook your head, “No, I will sit on the floor.” 

Jake rolled his eyes this time. This was further than ideal for him too. All he was trying to do was be nice. Even with the fireplace he was still freezing and can only imagine how cold you were. 

“Y/N, we would warm up faster, it’s basic science and survival tactics.” 

You tucked your lip between your teeth. You knew he was right, plus he has his couch so close to the fireplace that you wouldn’t be able to fully sit in front of it anyway. 

You rolled your eyes and dropped your arms at your side, “Fine!” 

Jake smiled at you as you laid down on top of him, your head nuzzling in his neck. He threw the blanket back over your body, his arms wrapping around you. 

You hated to admit it, but this was nice. Your body slowly warms up, but obviously not fast enough. 

“If we strip down, we'll warm up faster.” Jake teased. 

You weren’t looking at him but you could feel his smirk that was slapped across his face. 

“Shut up, Sim.” you scoffed at him and a little chuckle left his lips. 

“Hey, I am just saying.” he shrugged his shoulders and you barely looked up at him, glaring at him. 

Jake absolutely loved teasing you. He loved how easy it was. You looked way too cute to him when he got you all mad. 

The way you’d look at him and the smiles you would try to hide when you thought he was being funny. It pulled at his heart more than he’d like to admit. 

Jake closed his eyes and wrapped his arms a bit tighter around you, his main focus to help keep you warm. 

Unfortunately laying in the same position was making you uncomfortable. You slowly started to wiggle around, trying to lay more comfortably. 

The friction of you moving against him was sending Jake’s thoughts into other places, biting down on his lip and steadying his breathing to keep calm. 

But you noticed all the well the bulge growing in his sweatpants against your stomach. 

“Sim Jaeyun,” you warned, shifting your leg up a bit, accidentally rubbing your knee against his hard length. 

“Stop moving then, jeez.” Jake spat out, his heart racing against his chest. 

You could hear how fast his heart was going, how it threatened to beat out of his chest. 

You just wanted to be comfortable, “Let me get comfortable and I’ll stop moving, I promise.” 

You slowly lifted your leg a bit more, Jake’s hand flying to your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Y/N,” he softly breathed out. You looked up at him, seeing the lust that filled his eyes, “If you keep moving on top of me, I can’t promise I’ll stay on my best behavior.” 

The way his voice spoke those words sent chills down your spine. You’ve never seen Jake look so serious and so…hot. 

You’ve always been attracted to Jake, he was such a good-looking man. But the Jake in front of you with lust and want written all over his face was enough to dampen your panties. With the way your name rolled off his tongue in warning made something in you click. 

Jake slowly laid his head back down on the armrest, his grip on your thigh not leaving. 

With the way Jake looked at this moment, made you want to test his limits. The way his eyes searched for something on the ceiling to focus on while his heart pounded and his dick twitched against your tummy. 

The hand that rested on his chest, you slowly slid down, your fingers brushing his soft skin where his shirt slid up from your leg. 

Jake hissed at your touch, his eyes closing, “Y/N, this is your last warning.” 

But you kept going, reaching your thumb to slide against his tip over his sweatpants, a soft “fuck” leaving his lips. 

You moved your hand down more, all your fingers grazing his clothed hard-on. His hand leaves your thigh to grip your hand. 

“If you keep up-“

“Kiss me.” you interrupted him. And that’s all it took. 

Jake’s lips found yours, one hand was placed at the side of your neck and jaw, and the other went back to your thigh. 

Jake kissed you with such hunger, his hand squeezing your thigh tightly. 

His tongue found its way into your mouth and rubbed against your own as he moaned on your lips. 

You snaked your hand down his sweatpants and underwear, wrapping your hand around his length, your thumb rubbing the precum around his tip. 

Jake released his lips from yours, resting his forehead on yours panting with each stroke your hand made. 

Strings of “Fuck fuck fuck fuck”, rolled off his tongue as you pumped him. 

You released him, sliding both hands up his torso and pulling his shirt along with them. 

Jake helped you remove his shirt and right after removing your own. Your shirts and beanie being thrown off somewhere else in the room. 

Jake kissed you again, his hands sliding from the sides of your face down to your shoulders, his fingers looping at your bra straps pulling them down. 

With just two fingers, Jake unclasped your bra and removed it from your body. 

The skin-to-skin contact drove you insane with how warm his body felt against your own. 

Jake squeezed your ass, a soft moan leaving your mouth and oh god it was music to his ears. 

Jake wanted to feel every inch of you. To worship your body the way it deserves to be. 

“Take your pants off,” he whispered, his thumbs looping into your sweatpants. 

You sat up getting rid of your pants and panties, your hands reaching for Jake helping him slide his off. 

His cock slapped against his abdomen, the precum glistening from the light of the fireplace. 

Jake’s hand snaked between your folds, groaning, “You’re so wet for me baby.” 

His long fingers pumped in and out of you. You flip your head back and dig your fingers into his chest. 

You rolled your hips against his fingers. Jake bit his lip at the site of you riding his fingers, your juices coating them.

God you were a sight to see, your facial expressions sending Jake over the deep in. 

He loved the way your hips rolled against his fingers, he needed to see how they’d work with his dick deep inside you. 

“Baby,” the Aussie man pled, “I need you on my cock, please.” 

You nodded, lifting yourself and lining the tip with your entrance. 

Jake threw his head back onto the couch’s arm as you slid down into him, “Oh fuck baby.” 

You started rolling your hips, placing your hands on his chest for support.

His hands went to your breasts, cupping both of them. Squeezing them with every roll of your hips against his. 

“Fuck baby, you look so beautiful riding my cock. Such a good girl for me.” 

“Hmmm, Jake, you f-feel so good.” you moaned out, sitting yourself up even more to bounce on his dick. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Y/N. Oh, fuck me.” Jake groaned, his hands flying to your hips, slamming you down onto him. 

He helped you pick up speed, the knot in your stomach ready to burst. 

Jake knew you were getting close with the way your breath became unsteady and how you clenched around him. 

He felt like he was in heaven being fucked by an angel. 

Jake has dreamed of this moment since the day he met you in class and knew it was fate when he moved in next door. 

The moment he heard your soft moans coming from the other side of his bedroom wall he dreamt of being the one making you moan. 

He tried so hard to cover his ears, knowing it wasn’t something he needed to be listening to, but found his hand wrapped around his cock as he pumped himself to your moans. 

Now that he could hear your moans clear as day in his ears drove him wild. 

“Jake, I-I’m cumming.” you pant, your movements becoming sloppy. 

Jake pulled your body back down onto his, lifting his legs and wrapping his arms around your waist holding you down into place fucking into you. 

Your hands went into Jake’s hair as you chanted his name. 

“Cum for me baby girl,” he said between breaths, “Make a mess on my cock for me, ya?” 

You let go, the ecstasy washing over you. 

“That’s my good girl, so fucking good for me.” 

Jake fucked you into overstimulation, his cock twitching inside you, ready for release. 

“Jake,” you whispered into his cheek, placing small kisses. 

“I’m cumming baby, fuck, I’m cumming.” 

Jake connected his lips back to yours as he pumped his load into you, moaning against your lips. 

Jake loosened his grip on your body, slowly moving his hands up and down your bare back as the kisses went from lustful to soft and sweet, filled with passion. 

The only sound heard was your lips moving against each other and the crackling of the fireplace. 

As if on cue, all the lights in his apartment came on. The sound of the heating system starting up. 

“Guess the power is back.” You whispered against his mouth, slowly laying your head down on his chest. 

“I don’t know about you, but I was plenty warm.” Jake teased, earning him yet another glare from you. 

“And we are back to teasing, I’m going home.” 

“No no, Y/N, I’m sorry,” Jake said, wrapping his arms tightly around you, “I am not ready for you to go yet.” 

You giggled, “You know we are neighbors, right?” 

“Mmhm,” Jake hummed, “Make sure you always treat your neighbor well, never know when another snowstorm will hit.” 

You couldn’t be mad at him for that joke. He did keep you warm and won your heart over. 

“Y/N?” 

“Yes, Jake?” 

“Let’s do this more often.

a/n: this was a bit rushed and I apologize, but I still hope you all enjoyed it!

[hunny-beann]

I am literally having the worst day ever, do you think you could write some insanely fluffy Dream for me? I'm talking tooth rotting levels of fluff here.

Rest Now, Wife, Mine

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

Note: Hi anon! Thanks a ton for the adorable request, I had a lot of fun with it and really hope it helps make your day feel a bit better <3

Synopsis: Morpheus' wife finds their bed far too lonely without him in it, and seeks out his presence to remedy this so she may finally succumb to slumber for the evening.

Thankfully, he is all too happy to oblige.

Warnings: None! Just pure and unbridled fluff :)

Word Count: 1,298

Her steps are silent and her pace slow as she approaches the familiar throne room, sensing even from outside of its walls that it is as close to empty as it is going to get for the evening.

That said, as close to empty as possible for the throne room of an Endless such as Dream was not nearly as empty as one might think, with it being a rarity that he not be found there.

She fights back a shiver as she steps across the threshold, her bare feet suddenly far colder than before, and her majority uncovered shoulders beginning to undergo horripilation at the seemingly inexplicable shift in temperature.

That said, being easy to explain was not a rule that the Dreaming followed, so this was nothing new, and certainly nothing unexpected.

Though, the sudden voice that split the once heavy silence in twain on the other hand, was.

"And what could possibly have you awake at such an hour, dear wife?"

The voice asked quietly, laced with both amusement and even a twinge of concern that had the wife in question smiling softly in spite of her best efforts to not appear excited at the mere sound of her love's voice.

Oh, but she had never been that strong, had she?

He had her wrapped around his finger just as he did the entire realm that he ruled, though he notably reserved the one with the ring for her and her alone.

She padded up toward his throne quietly, not willing to answer his question until she was close enough that her voice might not reverberate so loudly off of the palace walls.

Some words, she had decided long ago, were for her husband and her husband alone.

Upon her eager approach, the Lord of Dreams could not help but raise one of the corners of his mouth at the mere sight of her, holding his hand out at her nearness to guide her to stand before his crossed legs as he reached gently to take her other in his own as well, making a mental note of how chilled her extremities felt due to the cool night air of his throne room.

He watched as she slackened slightly at his familiar touch, her body always so happy to find him near in a way never ceased to have his heart all but melting at her feet.

What a disastrous little thing she was, truly.

He could never love another.

As her form relaxed at the feeling of his hands on hers, so loving in spite of the power that they held, she could not help but yawn softly, eyes growing teary as her ease allowed the weight of the day to truly set in.

Her dearest Dream Lord smirked up at her, his brow raised knowingly and his eyes twinkling as he watched her fight off the eternally tempting wiles of sleep.

What a sweet little thing, so helpless in her battles against her own biology that it was entirely too amusing to ignore, and always far too entertaining to neglect to bear witness to.

"You are tired, my dear."

The Lord of Dreams stated matter of factly, tugging his beloved closer using his soft grip on her hands so he could properly brush some of her hair behind her ear, a gesture which caused her eyelids to flutter closed briefly before they snapped open once more, her fight against herself not yet over in her eyes (though Dream could see clearly in the way that she swayed on her own two feet that there was already an obvious victor).

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head,

"You need to rest, sweet stardust. Let me bring you back to the bedroom."

He spoke gently, rising to guide her back to their soft and familiar bed only to halt when he heard her reply.

"No, I don't want to go back, you're just going to leave once you think I'm tired enough not to follow."

The Dream Lord faltered upon hearing this, raising a questioning brow in response before lowering himself down upon his throne once more, though this time he pulled his wife right along with him, sitting her on his lap in order to get a better look at her exhausted expression.

He frowned.

"Have you been staying awake on purpose, my love? Lying in wait for me as you promised you would not do?"

She shook her head, but he could see the way that the blood rushed into her cheeks as she tried to explain, embarrassed to admit the things that she had to in order to quell his worries of any intentional harm having been done.

"No, of course not, I just..."

The Lord of Dreams hummed and brought one hand to her back, rubbing up and down along her spine and feeling her lean against him unintentionally in response, her bones heavy and all too prepared to sink into whatever comfort they could find.

"You just what, dearest?"

He urged, causing his lover to nod blearily in response, slowly coming back to reality again.

"I just find that sometimes I cannot bear to sleep alone, that the bed feels far too wide and empty without you in it."

Dream fought back a slight smile upon hearing this, feeling more than a little bit proud to know that his wife could rely upon him enough to truly need him so (though he was notably unhappy to hear that this was causing her any amount of unnecessary strife).

"And is tonight one of those nights, beloved?"

He asked, watching as she nodded, her head lolling slightly upon her neck as her overworked muscles struggled to remain in control over her all too tired body and mind.

"Poor thing,"

Dream all but purred in response, adjusting his love upon his lap until she was leaning against him, breaths warm on his neck and body seeming to grow heavier by the second as the feeling of his familiar closeness drove her into a type of ease that was felt only at a lover's closeness.

"That will certainly have to be remedied, won't it?"

He murmured against her ear, feeling her shiver in response, nuzzling closer with a nod as he gathered his coat that had been hanging on the back of the dais behind him with just one hand, draping it over her body and pressing a soft kiss against her head as he felt her begin to drift off into a much needed and far too well deserved slumber.

"Rest now, wife, mine."

He said softly, feeling his dearest love smile gently against his skin at his familiar words and the use of his favorite (and almost sickeningly sweet) nickname for her,

"I will see to it that no one interrupts you as you do."

If she had been more awake, perhaps the woman would have rolled her eyes or even offered a sarcastic retort in response to her husband's dramatics, but instead she simply nudged herself closer, pressing a gentle kiss against the pale flesh of his neck before she drifted off for the very first time that night, feeling truly safe in the arms of her most adoring love.

And when morning arrived, and the throne room became far less uninhabited, the two of them made for quite a sight, indeed.

After all, who would have thought that the Lord of Dreams might choose to sleep simply to live life as his dear wife did, his cheek pressed gently against her head and his arms wrapped around her as slumber found them both, pulling them closer together, ever still, in the very same way that they belonged now, and always would for the remainder of eternity, and perhaps even beyond that.

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