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squipa · 3 months ago

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and they called it puppy love

aka tim drakes lovesick obsession with you

———

tim drake didn’t really notice anyone when he went to uni. he was there to learn, not make friends. he was too busy for friends, anyways, so he never really tried. that was until he laid eyes on you.

you were in his advanced quantum physics class, loudly debating with some meathead about the correct answer to a question. he was tuned in, entirely unable to focus on his own work. you politely argued with the dumbass who tried to correct you that your answer was right (it was), and he couldn’t think about anything other than how perfect your voice sounded against his ears.

he nearly failed that class— not because he found it particularly difficult, because he couldn’t stop staring at you. he tried not to be creepy, looking away the moment your eyes even dared to meet his. he was memorizing everything about you, the way you played with your hair while you spoke, the way you smiled to yourself whenever you got a correct answer on the homework, how you were too quiet to raise your hand but always offering the answers to the people around you.

he couldn’t get you out of his head, and as much as he tried to deny himself of you, he was obsessed. he switched to the empty seat behind you, close enough to smell your shampoo, and watch the tabs you scrolled through mindlessly on your computer while the professor lectured. he took note of everything. if you bought a book, he’d read it overnight on the off chance you spoke to him. played an album on your spotify? he’s listening to the artist’s entire discography. he even bought a blind box of sonny angels when he watched you debate buying them for thirty minutes.

you’re the one who talks to him first, and god, did it make his year. “hey,” you said, smiling up at him. he hopes you didn’t notice the red that spread from his cheeks to his chest, burning the tips of his ears. “i think you dropped your water bottle.” you say, handing a transparent blue bottle back to him. it’s not his. he’s eternally grateful. he babbles some nonsense back to you, memorizing the way your eyes look when they’re focused on his. you give a kind smile and turn back to your work, completely unbothered while he can feel his heartbeat in his ears.

you opened the gates with that comment— now he finds any excuse to talk to you. yes, he needs help understanding the material. yes, he wants to know what the office hours are for the professor. obviously he’s obsessed with the band on your shirt, and he can’t believe you like it too.

he’s very left-brained. he wants to know everything thing about you, what makes you smile and what makes you mad. he wants to know what makes every neuron fire, what makes you tick. he wishes he could crack open your skull and dig around in your brain to better understand you, to know every aspect of why you are the way that you are. but, since he can’t do that, he does the second best thing and hacks into your phone.

it isn’t invasive, or weird. he just wants to know more about you— you’d understand. he goes through your texts, social medias, gradebook, notes app, bank statements, everything. when he realizes you’re broke, he anonymously pays your tuition under the guise of a scholarship. he’ll show up at your work (a coincidence, of course) and shove a hundred dollar bill in the tip jar when your back is turned. he just wants to take care of you. he slips your favorite snacks into your backpack when you go to the bathroom, doordashes your favorite foods to your dorm when you forget to eat— anything he can do for you, he will.

he broke into your dorm, not to do anything malicious, he just wanted to see how you live. he’s sickened by how easy it was to break the lock, and sent a work order immediately to update security. around your room, he took little things, stuff you wouldn’t miss, sticky note doodles and hair ties. he took note of all of the pieces of you around him, the soap you use, the games stacked on your desk, the makeup piled on the sink. he just likes knowing the intimate, little things about you.

don’t get him started on the pictures. he’s got hundreds— you in class, walking on the courtyard, at work, out with friends, driving around, whatever. he flips through them every night, studying every detail like a textbook and looking for new ones. he loves learning you, focusing in on every detail, putting together every piece of every puzzle.

he gets enraged when he sees any man talking to you, bothering you. he hates the way they can make you laugh where he can’t, that they’re bolder than he is around someone as delicate as you. he needs to be gentle, careful. he shoots death glares at any man who takes your attention for too long, making sure to block them on all of your social medias preemptively in case they try to annoy you again.

he practically has an aneurysm when he catches you walking home from work alone at night. it’s gotham, you can’t possibly think it’s safe, even on campus. lucky you, red robin is there to watch from the shadows, making sure you get home safe and sound. he slips a pepper spray bottle in your bag the next day.

you two become something of friends when he asks you to help him study. suddenly, all of his classes are on the way to yours, so obviously it makes sense to walk with you. listening to you talk— it’s the sweetest sound he could imagine. you tell him things (most of which he already knows) about your life, and constantly invite him to share his. you’re so kind, you never roll your eyes or get annoyed at his awkwardness around you, you only smile and nod until he finds his point. you’re filled with endless empathy, you find a reason to sympathize with anyone, regardless of how rude they may have been. your roommates boyfriend with a staring problem? he must just be nervous around someone so close to his girlfriend. the guy who grabbed your shoulder in class (who got a lesson taught to him by red robin that night)? probably had just been trying to get your attention for awhile.

he’s absolutely infatuated. he has your entire schedule memorized, he knows the hospital you were born in and your high school gpa. he fantasizes about a future with you, one where you love him a fraction as much as he loves you. one where he can spoil you and protect you and have you all to himself.

he spends hours in front of the mirror, practicing what he’ll say to you in the hallway when he finally asks you out. he needs to be casual, like you’re not the only thing he thinks about, but not nonchalant, because he cares more than you know.

he fails spectacularly.

“would you, uh, y’know, i was wanting to, uh… i have movie tickets, and i’d buy you dinner, uh… like a date?”

your little giggle kills him. you should refuse him, turn away and never speak to him again, he deserves it.

“i’d like that. saturday?”

once you start dating, it’s over, he’s over the moon every day. he doesn’t need an excuse to walk you to and from class, or home from work, or pick you up after a night out (where he totally wasn’t watching, lurking in the corner to make sure nobody bothered you), because that was his job. it’s not weird that he sits in the cafe you work at throughout your entire shift; acting like a personal bodyguard. nights when you’re too exhausted to see him, he watches from your window, just observing the way your chest rises and falls.

he kisses you over and over, memorizing how good you taste against his lips. he’d constantly press himself into you, or warm your hands in between his, or tuck his arm neatly against yours. anything to stay close to you. even the slightest shiver and his jacket is over your shoulders, and god forbid you’re out shopping, because he refuses to let you pay a thing, or hold a single bag. he’ll randomly send you money to get your nails done, or buy a book you want. multiple times he’s told you he’d take care of you if you quit your job, but you always refuse. he loves that about you, but wishes you’d let him do more.

he doesn’t even think about the possibility of you leaving him. because truly, it’s impossible. he won’t allow it, he’ll be attentive, caring, and the absolute perfect boyfriend, so the thought won’t even cross your mind. he knows everything about you, exactly what you want and exactly what you need. he loves you more than anything, and his only job is to take care of you, keep you safe and warm and happy for as long as you live.

he adores you, practically worships you. this isn’t puppy love, it’s pure and true and he intends for it to last forever.

#charli writes #tim drake #dc #dcu #batfam #batman #tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #tim drake fanfiction #tim drake headcanon #tim drake drabble #tim drake one shot #red robin

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asxgard · 3 months ago

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Companionship | pt. 2

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: You and Michael have some late night phone calls. He struggles to open up.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: wow! Y’all are really so nice omg, I really appreciate all of you who took the time to like, comment or reblog. I also appreciate all you silent readers too! I’m genuinely surprised with how much traffic part 1 got, so thank you all so much! Contemplating adding this to my AO3 account from the perspective of a f!oc, but still undecided (I prefer to keep my reader works strictly for tumblr, idk why). This is definitely going to be multiple parts (my rough outline currently has ten chapters whoops).

I don’t know much about sugar babies aside from what I’ve read, so I took some liberties with my guesstimates.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: age gap, slowburn, foul language, allusion to a panic attack, work stress, Robby trying to avoid his feelings/anxiety, my basic understanding of accounting, angst

not beta read

“You’re lucky. Someone only looking for companionship is a small pool of men. Not as lucrative as a traditional sugar baby, but if that’s more your speed, maybe reach out to some more.”

Your smile twisted, “I’m already uncomfortable with just one. Thinking about adding more makes me feel icky.”

Erin rolled her eyes, “Why? They know what they signed up for. If they wanted fidelity, then they should get a girlfriend.”

“I’m telling you, I could hook you up with a shift or two a week at the bar. I make great tips.” Marsi said, her eyes not flickering from her laptop.

You frowned. “I already gave him my number. My Google Voice number, but yeah.”

“That’s my girl!” Erin praised with a laugh.

You wondered if it was a mistake. He had not reached out since you had sent the number on the app, nearly four days prior. Perhaps he was having second thoughts. Anxiety filled your chest at the thought of having to go through the whole process again.

Or just drop it and take Marsi up on her offer.

—

Your night passed slowly, studying with your friends until dinner time, when they left. You kept your focus on the Excel spreadsheet in front of you, checking over your homework with careful eyes. Numbers were easy, they did not hold the complexities of human beings—

Your phone buzzed on the table, immediately pulling you away from your work.

You have any time to talk?

It was an unknown number. You watched as the three dots appeared immediately after, though it wasn’t hard to guess who it was.

This is Michael by the way.

So formal, you found yourself thinking with a small smile, quickly adding him to your contacts.

I have time.

It only took a few more moments before your phone started ringing. Anxiety thrummed through your system, heart beating like a drum against your ribcage. You took a long breath through your nose before answering the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” He answered awkwardly.

“How are you?” You asked out of habit.

There were several moments of silence. “I want to say I’m okay.”

“But you’re not?”

“But I’m not.” Came his quiet reply.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Another measured silence. “No. Yes? I don’t know.”

You hummed. “I understand your hesitation, we don’t know each other. But isn’t that the whole point? I’m unconnected to your life and you basically have anonymity. I won’t pry, so we can talk about something else, if you’d like.”

He was silent for a long time. You checked the call to make sure it hadn’t dropped. The seconds ticked away on the call, so he was still there. You waited.

“Just a…rough day.” He said, his tone sounding stressed. “I think I’d rather talk about your day right now.”

“My day?” You questioned, surprised.

He only hummed in response.

“Do you want the play-by-play or the cliff-notes?”

Michael exhaled a ghost of a laugh, “Give me all of it.”

You cleared your throat, “So my alarm went off at 5:20, no! 5:25, and then I got out of bed—”

He laughed, bringing a smile to your lips.

“I have early classes on Thursdays, so I was up earlier than I usually like to be…”

“Night owl?”

“Guilty.” You smiled. “But it was my forensic accounting class, which I’ve been enjoying, so I wasn’t too upset getting out of bed. Add in my morning coffee, and I was a pretty happy camper.” You paused, but he was quiet on the other end. “I had taxation today too, and despite the fact I love the numbers, learning tax law just isn’t my favorite thing.”

“Why do you like it? Accounting?”

“Oh, um,” you paused, deliberating. “I like turning unreadable stuff into a well-crafted report, turn a mess into an easy to read story of a company’s financial history. Plus, numbers are a lot less complicated than human beings.”

There was his quiet laugh again. “Yeah, I can see how that can be true.”

“As a doctor, I can imagine you would.” You were smiling.

“I’ve seen…a lot of complicated people.”

You waited a few moments, but he didn’t elaborate. People were the primary reason you had left the medical field early on in your college career — while you enjoyed being helpful, people could be too overwhelming.

“And my shift today was good, busy and boring, but easy enough.”

As you went on about your day as a payroll clerk (though vague about the company details), Michael was quiet. It was clear he needed the distraction from whatever his day had been. You explained your studying routine with your friends and your love of baking. You got the occasional hum of acknowledgment, but it was clear he just wanted to listen to you talk. You moved from topic-to-topic without complaint, pausing occasionally to make sure he did not want to comment, or change the subject.

It was late when you realized the time: 11:08.

“Michael? I’m sure I could keep going, but I’m not sure you want to hear my opinions on office politics.” Your tone was jesting.

Still no response. Furrowing your brows, you listened silently to the other end.

Small puffs of air, slow and steady, in and out. In. Out. He had fallen asleep.

Your first instinct was to be offended — no telling how long since he had drifted off or how long you had rambled to no one. But then you relaxed. He had clearly needed the distraction from what was going through his head when he first called, enough to quiet his brain. Or perhaps he was just that exhausted. Either way, you did not take it personally, you would have likely been up this late anyways.

You ended the call at two hours and seventeen minutes.

—

Are you available at 9?

You checked your phone when you moved into the living room, dinner cooking in the oven, finding a text from Michael. Per your agreement, you usually talked about once a week. He usually gave late notice, though it usually reflected how bad his day had gotten. Your last talk, however, had only been three days prior.

In addition to the one only days ago, you had talked two additional times since your first, typically at night, where you did most of the talking. You almost found your talks therapeutic; plus you were getting paid to just talk. Though, you wished he talked more — part of you felt like you were taking advantage of the situation and he was barely getting anything out of it.

He had already put money on the prepaid Visa card you had picked up after your first phone conversation. Michael thought the card would be more discreet and confidential than Venmo. The $400 dollars you had agreed on for the month had done wonders with relieving the pressure on making your rent payment.

Erin had encouraged you to set up an online wishlist as well, adding things periodically in case he wanted to buy something extra for you. “As a tip,” Erin had told you, a wide smirk on her face. That same day, Erin had coincidentally brought her new Valentino canvas bag that you were sure cost more than your rent payment. You held off on the wishlist, but you kept a few things in your notes app. Just in case.

You sent him a confirmation that you were fine with nine. He must work late hours. He had said he was a doctor, but you wondered in what specialty or where, but you had never broached the topic. You both valued your privacy when it came to your arrangement, not wanting to muddy the waters.

Surprisingly, he did not call at nine. He was usually pretty punctual when it came to a time he asked for. You waited patiently for several minutes before moving to start some hot water for tea, looking out the window at the rain. You figured to give him a bit of extra time before turning in.

At 9:24, your phone rang. Part of you nearly picked it up on the first ring, but you gave it a few moments before picking up. When you answered, he spoke first.

“Please just talk. About anything.” He sounded out of breath, talking quickly. His tone sounded more stressed than you had heard before.

“Are you alright?” Was your first instinct instead of doing as he asked, standing from your chair at the dining table, mug of tea forgotten.

“Fuck. No, I’m not. Please just talk to me. Your day. Your job. The fucking traffic this morning. Anything,” Your name was so quiet on his tongue, you nearly missed it.

It sounded like a plea.

You swallowed, pulse quickening, before running with it, “This asshole actually cut me off this morning, which considering his bumper stickers, wasn’t all that surprising. No blinker, nothing. I swear, sometimes the subway is less stressful, though I hate the morning crowds.”

Suddenly realizing talking about stressful things might not be the best way to calm him down, you pivoted, pacing across your apartment. Deciding quickly on something boring to most, you began to explain your most recent accounting assignment. How you came up with the financial analysis from the numbers your professor had given, to the tax implications of several of the (fake) business’s decisions. You explained it as best you could in layman's terms, trying not to make the math too complicated, before walking him through your report and your thoughts about how to help the business improve.

You paused long enough to hear his breathing, not quite as ragged but still loud and quick. “I don’t need you to respond, but think of five things you can see.”

Oh this was cliche, but you did not dwell on it.

After a few moments, “Okay, four things you can touch.” You paused, finding four things of your own to ensure he had time. “Now three things you can hear.”

“You.” He croaked, much quieter than he had been. “I can hear you.”

“That’s good. Now two more things.”

“…the rain. The cars outside.”

“Good,” you breathed out. “Two things you can smell?”

He didn’t answer, though his breathing had slowed tremendously from when you had first answered his call. It felt relieving, and you finally made your way to sit on the couch.

“Last is one thing you can taste.”

He let out a long deep breath, but kept whatever it had been to himself.

“Are you okay?” You asked again after a few moments.

“No.” He said. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

You nearly huffed, but the annoyance was fleeting. You smiled, “I can tell you more about accounting, but most people find it incredibly boring.”

“You seem to really enjoy accounting. Though, I can’t imagine being cooped up in an office all day.”

“Well I wasn’t quite cut out for psychiatry, and I’ve always enjoyed a good spreadsheet.”

“Psychiatry?” He sounded surprised. “That makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“What does that mean?”

“You would’ve been good at it.”

Oh?

“Thank you.” You whispered. “Um, can I interest you in what my professor assigned today or how my manager nearly fucked up payroll this week?”

He cleared his throat, “I’ll take ‘how my manager nearly fucked up today’ for $200, Alex.”

Your lips quirked back up at the Jeopardy reference, trying to shake off the feeling his praise had given you. With a long sigh, you rubbed your fingers along your hairline.

“He messed up the new employee’s tax deductions by misclassifying his title. When he backtracked to fix it, he cleared out the entire category — thankfully I caught it when I was putting my own numbers in for the small team I oversee.” You told him, looking at your nails. “Led to quite a frustrating day.”

Despite the fact that it had led to quite a hectic start to your workday, adding several tasks that interrupted you workflow, you felt mildly pathetic knowing his day had clearly been so much worse. You tried not to compare, your days had just as much value as his, but it was still a creeping feeling in your gut.

You continued on after a beat of silence on his end. Fixing the problem hadn’t necessarily been the issue — it was redoing every employee's numbers that led to your annoyance. That, and the lack of accountability from your manager.

Time ticked on, Michael only adding in his thoughts here and there, mostly staying quiet.

He coughed awkwardly during a lull in your conversation, “Uh, thank you for tonight.”

Beginning to feel your exhaustion, you smiled tiredly. “No thanks necessary.”

“Goodnight,” there was your name again.

“Goodnight, Michael.”

[ Next ]

want to join the taglist? shoot me a message!

#michael robinavitch/you #michael robinavitch x female reader #michael robinavitch x you #michael robinavitch #dr robby #dr robby x reader #michael robinavitch x reader #companionship series #asxgard writes #the pitt

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sevgilimsatoru · 2 months ago

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Error: 410 (Self Aware!AU Caleb Edition) Part 3

Part:1 Part: 2 Part:4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 A/N

Summary: A self aware!AU with Caleb and NonMC! reader. Tags: Caleb x reader, Caleb x NonMC! reader, Caleb x fem!reader, fluff, angest (slightly) Stressedout!reader. Hypersexual!reader Word Count: 600 words Inspired by: @ittybittyfanblog "If I kept you here with me like this.. Would you think I'm being too selfish?' "-Caleb, Love and Deepspace" Days had started blurring together for you now. Getting up, getting ready, making and eating breakfast, going to classes, coming back home, making and eating dinner, do homework, play love and deep space till 2 in the morning, sleep and repeat. You had grown accustomed to this routine now. It didn't even bother you that much except a few things that had started changing in your internet algorithm. Healthy diet, small exercise videos, self care videos and posts like these kept popping up in your recommended pages which was surprising considering the fact that you clearly remembered not searching up about all this. You groaned, finally slipping off your jacket and shoes as you walked inside your apartment, closing and locking the door behind you. Finally home sweet home. You walked out of the bathroom after showering, cracking your knuckles, you finally sat down on the bed. Just giving your tired muscles a rest. The silence being interrupted by a **ping** You picked up your phone to see a message from the game Love and Deepspace. It was a message from Caleb, "I missed you". As sweet as it seemed, that message made your blood run cold. You had never turned on notifications of this game. This and the other weird things that had been going on in your phone.., What the hell was going on? You quickly opened your phone, opening different apps and your saved documents. Had you downloaded some sort of virus? It didn't seem like it. You even ran an anti virus scan on your phone but nothing. Maybe it was hacked. Oh god, what was happening? How could you have been so dumb to get your phone hacked? There was so much important information saved in your phone. What could you do now? You couldn’t just run to your parents for help, you weren’t a kid anymore.. A slow melody broke you out of your thoughts, glancing down at the loading of the Love and Deepspace game. And there stood Caleb, so close to the screen, his arms crossed over his chest. "Calm down, [y/n]. It's alright." Caleb said, his voice ringing through your ears. What.. WHAT!? Were you actually loosing it or was Caleb actually talking to you? Okay.. maybe you were just hallucinating all this time. That’s.. worrying. Hallucinating and then hearing a game character talking to you, that’s not normal. Besides what sort of sane person gets attached to a fictional character like the way you were. Yep, you had definitely gone insane. Maybe you should get yourself admitted in a psych ward.. Who knows what your mind will make up next? Caleb was still staring at you, looking at your worried expression. "Hey hey- it's okay, just breathe. Like how I do it, breathe in.. breathe out.., in.. out.., in.. out.. and there we go- doesn't that feel better?" Caleb said, watching you follow his instructions. A small smile forming on his face. You sniffled, looking at him. Just looking at him for a moment, you shrugged, opening and closing your mouth like a gold fish. You couldn't think of what to say. "So.. I don't know what is going on but I can hear you, you are talking to me. How can I be sure that this isn't some sort.. I don't know hallucination." The smile that formed on Caleb's face was enough to calm your mind down. That easy, teasing smile. "Just trust me, alright? Keep breathing though. We don't want to be stressed out. You know I'll indulge you, ask me whatever you want. I'll answer honestly. Promise.." He said, holding out his pinkie finger towards you on the screen.

Tag list: @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @aneertawrites @etsuniiru @demon-master-zero @angstylittleb1tch @mcdepressed290 @ittybittyfanblog @winwinwrites @alifyairl @huhleighna @calebsbeanpeeler @bookworrm1999 @mentaltrouble2201

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system-to-the-madness · 1 year ago

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お米 Okome - Inumaki Toge x Reader

Pairing: Inumaki Toge x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff Word Count: 4 532 Warnings: mentions of blood and injury Summary: Inumaki hates that he can’t use his voice to express his feelings towards you

Masterlist

Inumaki Toge doesn’t usually struggle with his fate. If there’s a situation he doesn’t like, he prefers action over lament and puts his mind to work to find a way to change it. Sure, there are situations he can’t change, his cursed speech for example, then he works around those things, finds a way to deal with it somehow. He talks in onigiri ingredients, occasionally uses a notebook or his phone’s note app to communicate more difficult matters. Inumaki Toge doesn’t usually struggle with his fate.

Except now he does. His eyes fall on Yuuta and you, sitting on a bench underneath the Momiji, red leaves sparkling in the autumn sun. Even from the distance where Toge just stepped out of the building across the yard, he can tell how hard you’re laughing, can tell that Yuuta has the biggest grin on his face. He stops, several different thoughts shooting through his head all at once. He loves your laugh. He wants to make you laugh too. He can’t, because of his cursed speech. He envies Yuuta for being able to tell you joke and making you laugh like that. And suddenly he remembers this thing he read in a magazine, that said that girls like boys who can make them laugh, and his stomach sinks.

Toge already knows you like Yuuta. Its’s obvious. Do you like him because he can make you laugh? Toge stops in his steps where he was about to walk over to join the two of you, his heart suddenly thrumming almost painfully in his chest. Do you like Yuuta? He watches his black-haired friend, watches as he lifts his hand and leans a little closer to you. You stop laughing and lean in too. For a terrifying moment Toge thinks he’s about to witness you, the classmate he may or may not have had the biggest crush on since your first one-on-one training session, kiss his friend. But you don’t. Instead, you listen to something Yuuta says that Toge can’t make out over the distance and burst into another fit of laughter.

Suddenly Toge feels like crying. He could never make you laugh like that. Not by whispering a few words into the narrow space between you, not by letting words roll over his tongue. He can write them down, or pantomime them, or fool around to make you laugh, but he can never whisper them.

He wants to talk to you about normal things too, about the stupid weather, or how pretty you look with that new hoodie, or how clever your answers in class were, or how annoying Gojo and this new homework is. He doesn’t want to have to use his notebook for every slightly more complicated conversation, but he can’t be sure you would understand him if he didn’t. It doesn’t stop him from wishing he could use his voice to talk to you. Ever since he really, truly understood his cursed technique, he’s realized just how powerful and yet intimate voice is.

It’s something he’ll never be able to use to communicate his feelings.

Once, not long after Yuuta had joined the school, they, together with Panda, had talked about it. Or rather Yuuta and Panda had talked about his cursed technique, and he had listened. Panda had joked that if he ever wanted someone to kiss him, he could just use his cursed technique, which Yuuta had disagreed on, saying he’d need the other person’s permission to use his technique on them, otherwise it’d be harassment. Panda, who hadn’t thought about that, had quickly agreed, and the two had joked around a bit longer about the possibilities this offered. Toge thought about their words a lot. But there was something inside him, that wholly refused to use his technique for these purposes. It just wouldn’t feel right. Even if the other person agreed, or even asked him to do it, it would be like he’d take their will from them. He’d never do that for his own pleasure.

Toge gets pulled back into the moment by your voice calling for him. He blinks and looks up, finding you and Yuuta had turned to face him, waving him over. As much as he appreciates Yuuta, and as much as he likes you, he doesn’t feel like going over. He doesn’t want to hear the way your voice probably rises in pitch when talking to the special grade sorcerer, doesn’t want to watch Yuuta subtly touch you, doesn’t want to feel like he’s intruding on this moment between you, doesn’t want to burden himself with more heartbreak than he already signed up for.

He swallows thickly before he crosses his arm like an X in front of his chest.

“Okaka,” he denies, continuing his way as if he had planned on moving towards the dojo, instead of towards his friends.

He doesn’t dare to glance over to see your reaction. Are you disappointed? If you were, he’d feel guilty. If you weren’t, he’d be disappointed. If he’s being honest, he can understand that you like Yuuta. The guy is sensitive, and quiet, a good listener, great at giving advice. He’s funny and overall great company. And he’s crazy powerful. Otherwise he wouldn’t be a special grade sorcerer. And he saved your life when Toge himself was of absolutely no help whatsoever, instead almost throwing up from the taste of his own blood.

Toge is nothing in comparison to Yuuta. Sure, he has a strong technique. A strong technique he can use two to three times before his throat is bleeding. And he can be funny, or at least he’s good at making a fool of himself. And he can listen, but he never knows what to answer, worried that whichever advice he gives, it might not actually be helpful, or only make everything worse. So, if you like Yuuta, he gets it. If he were in your place, he’d also prefer Yuuta over himself. Not that you have to choose between the two of them, you could also be interested in neither of them. But the point stands: Yuuta is the better fit for you, and as much as Toge wants you to be happy, it breaks his heart.

“What was that,” asks Yuuta, tearing his eyes away from his retreating friend and looking at you instead.

You’re still watching Inumaki leave, his posture somewhat sunken in, hands buried in his pockets. He looks defeated and somehow you want to run after him, ask him what’s wrong. But that would be too pushy, too clingy, wouldn’t it? So instead, you swallow and turn back to Yuuta.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “He’s been… weird lately.”

Yuuta nodded. “I know, right? And ever since that last mission…”

That last mission, on which Gojo sent the three of you. That last mission where Inumaki’s voice gave out before he could finish the command, which lead to the curse injuring you. That last mission where Yuuta had been the one who had finished the short fight in just a single blow. You knew better than to assume that Inumaki was jealous of Yuuta’s power. You knew he wasn’t. But still something seemed to have dimmed his formerly good relationship with Yuuta. And with you too. He avoided you, texted you less throughout the day, reduced his already limited vocabulary to the equivalents of agreement and disagreement. You feel like you’ve made a mistake somehow, said or done something that hurt him.

“Do you think he’d talk to me about it,” you wonder, your voice small, nothing left of the breathless laughter from a moment ago.

Yuuta chews on his lip as he considers your question, and you know he’s considering a few things he officially doesn’t even know about. For example that you like Inumaki, that you make an active effort to spend time with him, have conversations with him. You’re the one who understands him the best, understands his language the best, even without the notebook.

What you don’t know, is that Yuuta also knows the other side of the story. He knows that Inumaki uses his notebook with you the most, because he wants you to understand his mind. He knows that Inumaki spends a lot of time considering each and every conversation he’s had with you. Sometimes, it’s late at night, and Yuuta gets a text from Inumaki, telling him about a conversation he’s had with you and if he should have replied something else. It’s not hard to tell that Inumaki is absolutely enamoured with you, and you with him. At least it’s not hard to tell from Yuuta’s perspective. But the way Inumaki and you never seem to understand the affection the other is harbouring, Yuuta begins to think that it’s actually very hard to tell from either of your perspectives. Or you’re both just idiots. Which, honestly, as much as he likes the two of you, is more likely.

“I’m not sure,” Yuuta eventually answers your question. There’s a lot Inumaki is bottling up, a lot he doesn’t even tell Yuuta about, stuff Yuuta can only assume. “But I think he’d probably appreciate it if you asked. Maybe he won’t tell you what’s going on, but I think he’d be glad to know you care.” This is as much as he can do to be honest without giving his friend’s secret away to you. A secret, Yuuta doesn’t even know officially.

“Don’t you think he’d get annoyed? He looked pretty upset just now,” you ask. You’re torn between wanting to show Inumaki that you cared, and scared of getting sent away or even worse, him getting angry at you.

“I mean, if you’re worried about it, you can always give him an hour or two. But I don’t think he’d mind if it were you, checking up on him.”

You don’t question Yuuta’s phrasing. Everyone knows you and Inumaki understand each other on a different level, the speed at which you sometimes communicate in single words thrown back and forth leaving the others out of their wits and completely clueless what the conversation was about.

“I’ll give him five,” you decide, leaning your back against the wooden table and glancing up at the red leaves overhead. “If he gets mad at me, it’s on you.”

Yuuta laughs, knowing you’re not serious. You’re not the kind of person who blames others for the outcome of your actions.

“He’d never get mad at you.”

“He looked pretty mad at me for getting injured on that last mission,” you disagree with Yuuta.

“He wasn’t mad at you. He was mad at himself. He blamed your injury on himself, when he couldn’t stop that curse because his voice gave out.”

You winced at the memory of blood trickling down from the corner of Inumaki’s mouth. He had once told you that he sometimes got sick from the taste, and after the curse was taken care of by Yuuta, it had been easier to focus on Inumaki than your own state. You remembered how awful the bright red blood had looked against his unusually pale skin.

“It wasn’t his fault, and he knows that.”

“Rationally yes,” Yuuta agreed. “But he still blames himself.”

“I’m surprised he talked to you about that,” you admit, closing your eyes in the sun. Behind your eyelids the picture of Inumaki’s bloody and scared face haunts your memory. You open your eyes again. “He never mentioned anything like that to me.”

“He didn’t, but it’s obvious,” Yuuta said.

“Is it?”

He just hummed in agreement.

“What else is obvious?”

“A lot. But that’s not mine to talk about.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you and Inumaki really should talk about some stuff,” Yuuta answers, “Like for example that you like him.” He almost feels bad at the way you freeze up beside him.

“I don’t,” you deny, but there is no force in your voice.

“Just saying,” Yuuta shrugs. “A lot of stuff is obvious. Just not to you and him.”

There’s a moment of silence and you have a feeling Yuuta knows what you’re about to ask, your cheeks burning with shame, but you ask anyway.

“Does he like me too?”

Yuuta turns to you then, his big eyes studying you for a moment intensely. “You don’t have to ask me that. You have to ask him.”

You exhale with a sigh a glance at your wristwatch: “Fine… maybe not today, tho.”

Yuuta chuckles, knowing that that’s going to be your response for every day to come, but he doesn’t call you out for it. He doesn’t know if he’d have the courage to confess his feelings if he were in your position either.

“Welp, his five minutes are up. I’m gonna see if he’s okay,” you declare, and stand up from the bench you had been lounging on. “Just-” you glance down at your classmate. “Just don’t tell him about this conversation, will you?”

Yuuta nods. “I can keep a secret,” he smiles, and you’re satisfied, before you head into the same direction Inumaki ran off to a few minutes prior.

He wasn’t in the dojo where you expected him to be after he had wandered off there, so left a little helpless, you began searching for him. After checking all the usual places, you finally spied him sitting hunched over on a bench next to the koi pond in one of the small, traditional gardens squeezed between the buildings. He looked lost in thought, so you made an effort to not walk too quietly as not to startle him. But when you reached the bench and he still hadn’t turned to look up you, you furrowed your brows in confusion. Was he mad at you?

“Inumaki-san,” you asked quietly, sitting down next to him with a safe distance. He wasn’t wearing his full uniform, instead of the black jacket he had pulled a warm, green vest over the white shirt sleeved shirt with the high collar that hid his curse marks. “Toge?”

At the use of his given name, he finally looked up at you.

Your breath stopped when you saw the sadness in his purple eyes. He quickly blinked it away, but you knew what you had seen, your heart hurting at the way he had seemed so lost. Maybe even worse was that he didn’t want to show his feelings to you, instead masking them up.

“What’s wrong.”

“Okaka.” Nothing. Why?

“Don’t,” you warned him, “Don’t lie to me. Please don’t.”

“Okaka, okaka!” I’m not lying! He said it with amusement in his voice, but when you failed to smile, his eyes grew serious again. “Okaka.” Nothing’s wrong.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

“Shake, shake.” Yeah, yeah, I know.

“Do you want to talk to me?”

This time his answer took longer, and it was only quietly spoke when he answered with another “Shake.”

Instead of saying anything else, he began reaching for the notebook he always carried with him, but before his fingertips had even grazed the cover, you caught his hand.

“You can talk to me. I’ll understand you. No notebook needed.”

Toge looked up at you then, his eyes widened. What did you mean, you didn’t need the notebook? Would you really understand him?

“Tuna,” he mumbled, averting his gaze from yours, but from the corner of his eyes he saw you tilt your head. How the hell was he supposed to communicate his feelings with onigiri ingredients? He had words to agree and disagree, words to catch attention and swear, but how was he supposed to tell you his greatest wish was to talk to you without having to use this damn notebook, that he wanted to just use normal language, like everyone else? How was he supposed to tell you how much it hurt to see you liking Yuuta? “Okaka.” It won’t work.

“You can try. And if it doesn’t work, you can still write it down, okay?”

“Shake.” Okay. He reached his hand up, absentmindedly running his fingers over his curse marks peeking out from under his high collar. “Ikura.” I hate them.

He had more mumbled that to himself, but you nodded. “They don’t make life very easy, do they?”

“Shake.” No, they don’t. Toge focused on what he wanted you to know, that he wished he could talk to you without risking cursing you. “Furikake… saamon.”

Okay, this was new. Not just one, but two new ingredients. Rice spice and the other word for salmon. You furrowed your brows. “Can you say that again?”

“Furikake saamon,” Toge repeated, slowly, trying to convey his feelings through just these two words. This was never gonna work.

“You want to talk about your thoughts?”

His eyes widened at your correct interpretation of his words.

“Shake, shake!” Enthusiastically he nodded his head. “Furikake saamon! Nori nai!”

“Nori nai, nori na- you don’t want to use…”

“Nori!” He motioned to his mouth, then to the notebook in his pocket.

“Onigiri ingredients and the notebook? You don’t want to use them?”

“Shake, shake!”

He nodded again, and you could see how excited he was, his eyes shining with disbelief that he had managed to communicate something so out of context to you. Quickly he reached up and pulled the zipper of his collar down, so he could additionally use his mimic to tell you what he was thinking.

“Tarago Furikake.” His lilac eyes were widened expectantly, as he waited for you to decipher his words.

“You want to talk?”

He nodded, then pointed at you. “Tarago furikake,” he repeated, underlining his words with stabbing his finger into your direction.

“You want to talk to me?”

“Shake. Nori nai furikake tamago. Okaka.”

“I know. I know it’s difficult without the notebook,” you sighed. “But we’re managing. Right? It might take me a while to get used to it, but I we’re having a normal conversation right now, right? A bit like talking with someone in a foreign language, but not much different than that.”

Toge smiled, the sight making your breath hitch. You were used to seeing his eyes squeeze together when he smiled, but his mouth usually was covered by his collar. You couldn’t help but think that he was one of the most beautiful people you knew.

“Furikake nai, tamago, maguro, nori” he continued.

“Maguro,” you repeated the second last word, thinking what he might have meant. Quietly you mumbled the phrase he had just uttered, your eyes skipping away from his face and over the koi pond instead, as if the translation were written in the ripples on the water surface. Without talking, having to write everything down, he felt bad… like an outsider. Your eyes widened. Was this really what he had wanted to say? That he felt like an outsider? You looked back at him, seeing the shock on his face as he took in your expression.

“We’re making you feel like an outsider because you can’t talk to us? Toge-“

“Okaka, Okaka!” He quickly waved his hands around, signalling you had misunderstood. “Tamago. Maguro.” He pointed to himself.

“You feel like an outsider?”

“Shake!”

“Because you can’t talk to us?”

“Shake.” This time his voice was quieter, and he averted his gaze.

You exhaled quietly. You knew there was not much you could do to change the way he felt, nothing you weren’t doing already anyway. But to deny his feelings wouldn’t be right, even if you wanted to convince him that he wasn’t an outsider.

“I’m sorry,” you started. “I promise you, to us, you’re an integral part of the group, even if you don’t feel like you always are. Do you… do you have any ideas how we could help you feel more included?”

Toge shook his head. “Okaka,” he denied, and then pointing at himself: “Tamago.” It’s my negative feeling. “Tanaka-zuku mentaiko.” You’re doing everything right. There’s nothing you can do to change that. He hesitated for a moment before he added: “Furikake.”HHe hesitated for a moment before he added.

“Of course, we’ll keep talking to you. And you see that you can talk to us too. If I can learn to understand you, so can the others.”

Toge seriously doubted that, but he didn’t voice his thought, instead focusing back on what you had been talking about. “Tarago furikake mayo. Tuna-mayo furikake, saamon tamago, shiisamu. Takana-zuke tarago tuna-mayo shiisamu.”

You stared at him intensely, making his heart race. There was no way you had understood what he had just said. Was there? He was using words he had never used with you, or anyone at jujutsu high, before. He had sometimes used them when he had been younger, when he had talked to his toys as a little kid, finding ingredients for almost anything he could think of. That he still remembered them was a surprise. But there was no way you’d understand him like this, not even when he tried to embed the sentimental meaning of each word into his voice. Your eyes skipped over his face, as you were thinking hard, and Toge waited for the “Sorry, I don’t know what you mean, please write it down.” But it didn’t come. Instead, you answered him.

“I want you to be able to talk openly too. And I’d love to hear about the bad things you think and feel as much as about the good things. Because they’re part of you. Even when they’re hard, even when they’re painful and difficult to admit. But that’s why we have each other, right? So we’re not alone, so the difficult times aren’t quite as difficult. And you already make me laugh, you already make me feel happy. I’m always the happiest when I’m with you.”

You hadn’t used the word friend. The thought rang in Toge’s mind, and together with your last sentence it accumulated to the next words that spilled over his lips, words he had been certain he’d never actually say out loud. Words, which’s meaning he had thought he’d never communicate to you in any form or way.

“Tarago tuna-mayo furikake okome. Tarago tanaka-zuke okome.”I want to use my voice to tell you that I’m in love with you. I want you to be in love with me too.

The moment the words had left his lips, he wanted to make it all undone. What if you had understood him and didn’t feel the same way? All this time he wished you’d understand him, and now he hoped you hadn’t understood a word of what he had just uttered. The way you stared at him wide eyed was a good sign that you really hadn’t.

“Okome,” you asked, your heart beating in your throat. If you had thought rationally about the way he was listing food, you wouldn’t have had the faintest idea of what he had wanted to express, but somehow his emotions were swinging in his words, like the sounds accumulated to a meaning that wasn’t transported by words.

“Mentaiko,” he began, wanting to lift his hands to wave it off, to tell you that it wasn’t important.

But before he had completed the gesture, you caught his wrist with your dominant hand, raising the other between you, pointing at him.

“Okome,” you asked before pointing to yourself. Your voice was shaky, and you could see the moment Toge realized you had understood him.

His eyes widened and he paled a little, swallowing hard. You could see the fear in his eyes. He was afraid you’d turn him down, you realized, and your heart broke a little.

So, what did you do, when your best friend, who you had liked for far too long without acting on it, accidentally confessed his love to you? Using the word for “rice” nonetheless, the base ingredient for onigiri. Because just like one couldn’t make rice balls without rice, humans couldn’t live without love.

You repeated the gesture towards yourself, pointing at you again. “Okome,” you said, voice just as shaky as before, before pointing at Toge.

His eyes followed your finger, the way it was pointing right at his chest, where his heart was stuttering in excitement, and then doing cartwheels, as the realization began settling in.

“Okome,” he asked in disbelieve.

But you just nodded. “Okome.”

He acted quicker than you could really perceive. Your one hand was still holding onto his wrist, to stop him from gesticulating, his skin warm underneath yours, but with the other he grabbed the hand with which you had pointed between you and him. His fingers wrapped around yours tightly, pulling you towards him, pressing your hand right over his heart, while he leant in at the same time, connecting his lips to yours.

A shiver went through you, at the feeling of his warm body underneath his clothes, at his soft lips pressed to yours, at the strange tingling of cursed energy that radiated from his cursed mark. And then you abandoned all thoughts, and just acted on instinct, moving closer to him, wrapping your hand into the fabric of his vest, and kissing him like you had wanted to kiss him for such a long time already.

A sound of appreciative surprise erupted from Toge’s throat and you could feel him smile as he met your kiss with equal fervour, running the tip of his tongue over the seam of your lips. When you parted them just the smallest fraction, he didn’t hesitate to slip his tongue past them, exploring your mouth until both of you had to pull away for breath. You were breathing heavily, your mind foggy, fingers wrapped into his vest, holding on to something, otherwise it felt like the world would just slip away.

When you opened your eyes, you found he was already looking at you. His beautiful eyes were scanning over your face as if searching for any sign of discomfort, as if he expected you to scold him for kissing you. Honestly, at this point the only scolding he’d get was that he had stopped kissing you.

Unwrapping one of your hands from where you had clung to him, you brushed a strand of his bright hair out of his forehead, the curl soft against your fingertips. With a smile you leant forward, and pressed your lips to his left cheek, then the curse mark there, feeling the cursed energy sizzle through them. You moved on to his right cheek, then his forehead, the tip of his nose, his chin, peppering small kisses all over his face until he was full on laughing and took hold of your face with both of his hands, pulling you only far enough away from him to be able to look into your eyes. His were still crinkled in joy, but his voice was serious and heavy with how much he meant this single word phrase that left his lips without hesitation.

“Okome.” And then he kissed you again, slower this time, just to make sure you understood each little detail of what he felt for you. Inumaki Toge sometimes struggled with his fate, but as long as he had you to understand him, what else could he really ask for?

Tags: @nnasv @ashy-akuma @delzinrowe

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joeyfranchise · 6 months ago

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𝟙𝟚 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕗𝕚𝕔-𝕞𝕒𝕤: 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

all i want for christmas is…

dad!joe x fem!reader

summary: you and joe take your babies to meet santa 🫶🏻

warnings: none, just sweet and fluffy, but minors please dni with my page.

word count: 1.2k.

note: sorry i’m off schedule guys— i’ve been unexpectedly busy and i’m also very sick at the moment. i hope this was worth the wait & can hold you over til tomorrow ;)

“you really wanna take our kids to meet mall santa?”

when joe first asked you the question this morning, you realized that maybe it sounded a bit ridiculous… but your seven and five year old daughters would soon be getting to that age where they wouldn’t believe in santa anymore, and you wanted to hold on to that magic a little bit.

“i do wanna take them, joe. it’ll be fun!” you answered him. you grabbed your bag and headed out to the car, ready to drop the kids off and head to work while joe headed to the facility.

since your conversation this morning, you’d gotten more and more excited about it. you thought about it all day, and you made plans to eat at the mall food court afterwards. you also had a few gifts left to grab. you waited excitedly in the car rider line as you picked the girls up from school, eager to tell them of your evening plans.

their teacher pulled the car door open, helping the girls in, and you got out to help fasten their seatbelts. “guess what girllllls!” you sing-songed as they got settled in the backseat. “we’re gonna go meet santa tonight!”

your five year old was thrilled, she flapped her hands excitedly as you spoke of all your exciting plans. your seven year old seemed skeptical, but you hoped she’d have fun regardless. the rest of the drive home was spent talking about school, what activities the kids did today and who said what on the playground. you listened to them attentively, chiming in when needed and laughing along at their little jokes.

when you pulled into the driveway you noticed joe’s car was already home, and the girls were incredibly excited. “daddy’s coming with us?” the youngest squealed, and your oldest pumped her fists in the air, excited for quality time with dad.

you parked the car quickly and got out, going around to help them unbuckle and grab their backpacks. joe came out from the garage and was almost immediately tackled to the ground by both girls.

they began talking all at once, eager to tell joe how their day went and all of the other stuff they’d filled you in on. you carried their bags inside and checked their homework folders as they continued to chat with their dad. they both had a bit of assigned reading to do over winter break, but that was the extent of it. you were sure they’d be ecstatic about that.

the clock on the stove read 3:45p.m, which meant you had about forty-five minutes until you needed to leave for the mall.

“alright girls, do you want a quick snack before we change clothes and head to the mall?” you asked, pulling the pantry door open. “i wanna get stuffed on pizza!” said your oldest, the younger nodding her head quickly in agreement.

on that note you closed the pantry, and then you rallied them upstairs quickly to change their clothes and fix their hair before heading out.

♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊

joe backed the car out of the driveway swiftly, his arm around your seat as he looked over his shoulder. you gave him a soft smile when you made eye contact, and in return he reached over and squeezed your thigh.

in the back the girls talked softly about what they wanted for christmas, and you made sure to subtly write down their requests in your phones notes app.

the drive to the mall was quick, but the navigation inside the mall would be tricky. as much as you loved how dear joe was to the people of the town he represents on the football field, you also wanted him to be able to behave with his daughters like a normal father would. this career came with many sacrifices, of course, but you hoped today you wouldn’t be bothered.

once parked you all got out, grabbing your purse as joe took one of the girls hands and you took the other. you headed towards the door and inside, hoping you’d find the “north pole” quickly.

it didn’t take long to find, and you and joe joined the line with your girls as subtly as you could. a few people waved and smiled at joe, but that seemed to be the extent of it for now, so you were thankful. the line went a bit faster than expected, and that was also a plus.

when it finally came to your turn the girls asked to go together, each sitting on one of santa’s knees. joe lifted them up and placed them down before stepping back, watching them lovingly and attentively as they told santa all of their christmas wishes.

joe kept his hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket as you linked your arm with his, your head resting on his bicep.

“… and i want some dolls! and for mommy and daddy to always be happy.” you heard your oldest say, just as they were finishing up. you and joe shared a soft smile before he helped the girls down.

you were never more thankful for such a wonderful partner to raise your kids with.

joe led you to the food court, both girls holding his hands as you followed closely behind. you took your phone out and snapped a quick photo, a candid moment you knew joe would want to see later.

he led you all straight to the pizza restaurant, ready to order for you all and even indulge himself a little bit. you got a small cheese pizza and you sat at a table in a secluded corner to eat it, placing the girls on either sides of you. joe dabbed at the grease with a paper towel, but you took it as a small victory that he was even eating some.

your meal was satisfying and delicious, the grease being the part you craved as you bit into the slice. the flavor made your eyes roll back, to which you gave you a knowing smirk. you shot him a warning glare in response.

once everyone was finished joe cleaned the trash, discarding it in the bin before sitting back down to ask for the rest of your plans.

“are you having fun, girls?” he asked your daughters gently, to which they both responded yes. you knew they were grateful he’d come along as was able to spend some quality time with him.

“alright, what’s next mama?” he addressed to you, reaching over and taking your hand. “well i need to go to the baby store and grab some onesies for my friend, and then to bed bath and beyond to grab a candle for my boss. i think that’s it!” you tell him, sliding out of your seat.

“um… mommy?” your five year old asks, wringing her hands nervously.

“what is it, babe?” you ask, crouching down to meet her level. “i accidentally told my whole class i was bringing them a present.” she said, fat tears welling up in her eyes. “i’m sorry.” she blinked, one of the salty droplets escaping and rolling down her pink cheek. “that’s okay, honey.” you assure her, looking up at joe.

he smiles down at her too before taking your seven year olds hand. “alright then ladies,” he says, grin spreading across his face, “lets go find your class the coolest present ever.”

all photos and dividers used are not mine. all cred to owners.

taglist: @slimshiesty @joeyburrrow @starsinthesky5 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @joeyb1989 @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld @definitelynotdomanique @samanthamark5 @superstarshitblog @fa1ry03 @wickedfun9 @xbriexx @venic-bxtch @burrowdarling @angels555 @idbe-theman @yelenasbraid @ladyluvduv @joeburrowshaircurl @joeybisbootiful @livinobx @blairsworld22 @jarring-behavior @yomamaslays4lyfe @gazebotori

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persephone1700 · 1 year ago

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Please me- Michael Gavey x Reader

Hello! I've been obsessed with all the smut stories I've been reading on this app about several characters… so I've written something I thought of.

Please be kind since English is not my first language and it's the first thing +18 I've ever written ( I kinda took advantage that I was ovulating to imagine the most dirty scenarios and write them hehe)

I plan to divide them in three parts.

I hope you like it.

Warning Tags: 18+ ONLY. Smut, Oral Sex (Reader receiving), Embarrasing himself.

Part 2 Part 3

It was a Friday evening, and the campus was almost empty. Half the students were either at local pubs, attending parties, or had gone home for the weekend.

Almost everyone, except for Michael. He had stayed behind without any plans, as usual. As a "Norman no-mates" kind of student, he found himself without an invitation to any parties.

He decided the best use of his time was to begin working on the final list of problems he had due in a month.

He didn’t want to be with those wankers anyway.

He had no need to study or even try—math was just so obvious and simple. Yet, he made his way to the library, trying to escape his pristine bedroom for a while.

When he walked into the library, he didn’t expect to see you there, sitting at a table with your bare legs crossed, leaning into the table, focused on a paper you were working on.

Everybody at school seemed to gravitate towards you and your group of friends, thanks to Felix Catton.

Michael couldn’t begin to understand what was so interesting about that damn bloke.

Even his best mate and only friend, Oliver, had found himself enjoying the company of Felix and his superficial group of friends rather than his.

How can anyone be friends with someone who doesn’t even have an ounce of gray matter?

They must all be idiots.

Every one of them. Including you.

He had decided that the first time he met you during tutorial sessions with Professor Ware. He didn't even understand how you ended up paired with him for tutoring—your majors clearly displayed you were opposites, and he liked to think he was the smartest one.

On top of that, he believed people were a mere reflection of the friends they surrounded themselves with. So, what does it say about you if you are friends with the most superficial twat on campus?

No matter how pretty he thought you were, with those plump lips, big eyes and soft curves… You still were a vapid cunt.

...Or were you?

Michael Gavey wouldn't call himself your friend, but unlike everyone else, you never dismissed his presence. You were always quick to challenge his aggressive comments in the classes you shared, often proving him wrong.

Your friends, of course, found it amusing, but you never laughed. He considered you the smartest among them—not as smart as him, of course, but not sharing the same brain cell as your mates.

Sometimes, during lectures or in the halls, he caught himself watching you. Dressed in expensive clothes, you navigated the halls with an air of confidence.

He found your outfits too revealing, almost inappropriate for lectures, yet he was secretly grateful for the glimpse they offered him of your long legs and cleavage.

You were too pretty and nearly as smart as him. And you knew it, which only made things worse.

You seemed to be every guy's dream.

Every guy, including him.

Damn it.

"Michael? What are you doing here?" you asked, noticing him standing frozen in front of you, staring and holding some books.

"Uh… I'm here to finish some homework," he answered bluntly, attempting to head to a corner table.

"Sit with me. There's no one else in here, you know. You may as well just sit here, and we can keep each other company," you said, stopping him in his tracks. He hesitated, then made his way over and sat beside you, almost uncomfortably.

Opening his books, he tried to focus on the problems in front of him, his palms sweating as he feared you might notice the effect you had on him.

"Why aren't you at the party?" you asked, jotting down some notes on your paper, trying to make conversation and lighten the mood.

"Not fucking invited," he said simply, watching as the realization dawned on your face. You both sat there alone at the library, and continued working on your paper in silence.

"Why aren't you glued to your friends? How does studying alone work for your social life?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"Just wanted some alone time. Needed to catch up on the activities, and I was getting bored with them. Plus, it gives me a break from Felix, so I don't murder him when he's a pain in the ass."

"He's been acting like an arse lately, hasn't he?" Michael commented as he picked up another math textbook, flipping through the pages. He wasn't sure if it was true; to him, Felix may have been an arse since he was born, certainly.

"Not more than usual—shagging some girls, getting drunk, and partying. The usual," you said, shrugging as if it were normal.

"And you don't seem to mind his stupid behavior?"

"Why would I?"

"I… I thought you were a thing. I heard a rumor you two were together…" He said, almost embarrassed to admit he paid attention to gossip and social life.

"What?" you snorted at his admission.

"Yes. I'd suppose anyone with a brain would be jealous if their boyfriend was sleeping around with other girls," he said, tightening his grip on his pencil and trying to sound nonchalant.

"Definitely not. We just enjoyed some benefits in the past," you dismissed his comment casually. "We've known each other since childhood; we're not a couple. Sex is a necessity, wouldn't you agree?"

"Uh… I…" Michael was stunned, to say the least. "I…" He tried to speak, to form a response, but he was too flustered and speechless.

"Oh my God," you turned towards him, looking surprised. "Michael, are you a virgin?" you asked in a low voice.

Michael's eyes widened at your words, a red blush instantly appearing on his face. He looked away, trying to avoid your gaze. He couldn’t even deny it.

How could he when it was so painfully obvious?

"N-No!" he lied, trying to keep his cool but failing miserably.

"Have you ever seen a woman naked, Michael?" you asked, smiling with a glint in your eyes at the discovery.

Michael wished he could die at that moment. The embarrassment he felt was so intense that just when he thought he couldn’t blush more, he grew even redder.

"Yes, of course I have!" he responded defensively, too fast as if trying to convince himself. Who was he kidding? He let out a huff and muttered, "No, I haven’t, okay?"

"Why not?"

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, there’s not exactly a line of women trying to get with me, obviously" he scoffed.

"I think you’re cute," you said, smiling at him. He obviously thought you were lying. "So… uh, what exactly do you do to relieve any urges?"

How else?!?

He let out a loud groan at that question, covering his face. He did not want to be having this conversation, yet here you were, asking him the most embarrassing questions.

He leaned back in his chair, avoiding your gaze, and couldn’t believe he was admitting this to you.

"I… have a few magazines and videos…" he mumbled, his face still red. "And I… use them, obviously."

"So… you take care of yourself then. It's perfectly normal and healthy." You smiled, noticing his red cheeks. "Nothing to be embarrassed about. I do it all the time when I'm stressed."

Of course, you knew how he took care of himself; you were not stupid. You had a feeling he was a virgin and a prude, and you just wanted to hear him admit it.

You had taken some interest in Michael since the beginning of the term. At first, he was just a lonely student who was too eager to prove himself better than anyone in classes, commenting on how useless non-math topics were.

It was when Farleigh told you how much Michael stared at you in classes and made fun of him, claiming that he had a silly crush on you, that you started to notice him more.

The way his sandy blonde hair framed his face, the big blue eyes behind the framed glasses, his thin lips always pouting unconsciously as he disregarded everyone else.

You were now too interested in him, and you started to wonder what it would be like to be with him and teach him. To make him eat all his words… and satisfy your curiosity.

"What’s it like…?" he asked suddenly, his voice slightly above a whisper, looking over at you.

"What?" you smiled at him. Michael’s cheeks turned a shade redder, and he cursed himself inwardly for even asking that question. Yet he was too far gone now, his curiosity having taken over.

"Touching a woman…" he mumbled, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Maybe you'll just have to find out for yourself," you shrugged.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" he turned towards you. "You asked me all these weird questions and now you can't answer mine?"

You were slightly taken back by his outburst, noticing the way his cheeks were red out of embarrassment and fury.

"What do you even ask them for? To make fun of me with those suckers?" he snarled.

"No. I asked because if you want to, maybe I can teach you," you said simply, staring into his eyes.

"How?" was all that came out of Michael's mouth as you stood up and quickly gathered your things.

"Come on, follow me." He watched as you walked over to a private study room at the end of the hallway, one of those reserved for group studies. It had a large meeting table and boards.

Understanding, he grabbed his things in a hurry and followed you to the room. He entered, locking the door behind him and glancing at where you were standing, at the center of the room, sitting at the edge of the table.

He walked over to you, trapping you against the table. He stood there for a moment, watching you, not knowing what to do next. So, you moved closer to him, taking him by surprise when your lips pressed against his in a slow kiss.

He closed his eyes, breathing in your scent, his lips kissing yours desperately. He felt it when you took his hand and carefully led it to your breast.

With your hand upon his, you gave it a squeeze and parted the kiss, watching his bewildered expression, the tint of red in his cheeks growing darker.

"Maybe you can finally explore the body of a woman," you whispered. He was too stunned for a moment, as if he was daydreaming, but then you looked into his eyes and nodded.

His gaze grew darker, and he carelessly pushed down your shirt, watching your breasts peek out.

His breath hitched, and you could see how his pupils dilated at the sight of them. His hands slid through your tits as he stared down at them with amusement.

Between his thumb and index, he reached for your nipple and noticed the way you let out a sigh out of pleasure, your nipples growing hard at his touch.

He bent down and started kissing and sucking your neck, leaving small bites here and there, where he thought people would be able to see them.

His tongue started lowering and lowering until he reached where his hands were formerly placed, and his lips started sucking on your nipple, with a free hand he cupped your other breast, moving his fingers in irregular circles.

He focused his gaze on you, and noticed the way a moan escaped your lips.

You were desperate for his touch; he could see it.

He could feel his heart throttling, as his mouth explored every inch of your breasts, the movement of his lips and tongue was a mix between inexperience and pure desire. Your fingers moved to his hair, encouraging him to continue.

"Michael…" - his name escaped your lips in a low voice. - "that feels good, do you want to keep going? "

He nodded desperately, eager to continue exploring the fullness of your body. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Without a word, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was urgent, his trembling hands sliding through the side of your legs until he gripped your ass.

When his fingers brushed the hem of your skirt, you felt a surge of anticipation.

Slowly, almost reverently, he began sliding your skirt upwards, exposing more of your thighs.

He leaned back to admire the view, your breasts on full display, your red cheeks, and the way the fabric of the skirt gathered up your hips.

His hands started exploring the flesh of your inner thighs, tracing circles in his path as his fingers ventured closer to your core, a soft moan escaping your lips as you tilted your head back.

Michael's eyes darkened with desire at the sound, and his hands stilled for a moment, savoring your reaction.

He knelt in front of you, and he watched with amusement the way his fingers traced a path at the edge of your panties, the fabric acting as a barrier between his touch and your core.

He ran a finger through the fabric and felt how wet it was, before he moved it aside and a moan escaped his lips at the sight of your pussy. His gaze met your eyes, almost shily with a question written on them of whether he could go further.

When you nodded, his fingers started touching you, moving his finger up and down slowly, trying to find the place that would give you more pleasure, when his finger met your clit, he noticed the way your body shivered and he focused his attention there.

He started moving his fingers slowly against your bud, and the quiet moans he heard and the way your breath hitched, made him think he was doing a good job, so he started to move his fingers faster, in a painful way.

A whimper left your mouth, and your hand grabbed his, stopping him.

"No. Not fast or it hurts. " - you said between breaths, when he nodded in understanding, you guided his fingers once again against your clit.

Guiding him through the right pace which makes your skin grow hotter.

His fingers started moving with more confidence, finding rhythms and patterns that made you moan.

His name erupted from your chest in a cry of pleasure, and suddenly his touch was not enough, with a hand placed against the table you leaned forward and watched the way his gaze was focused on your core.

His fingers were not enough, you needed more.

You needed him pressed against you, so with your other hand you grabbed his hair and pulled him closer to your pussy, a groan reverberated in your skin, and his lips started sucking on it.

His erection was hard since he entered the room, and as he watched you moaning and pulled him closer it grew painfully hard, the boxers restraining him and making his cock start to twitch.

He thought it would be more painful the embarrassment he would feel if he came on his boxers at the simple sight of her moaning while he ate her up, so he tried to focus solely on her.

He failed...

You started breathing heavily at the way his fingers slither inside you and his tongue moved against your pearl.

Fueled with pleasure your back arched, and your fingers tightened their grip on his hair, pulling him closer. His touch was electric, and your eyes opened, locking your gaze with him... hen he lost it.

His cock started throbbing against his boxers, seizing as he came undone at the sight of you.

#ewan mitchell #ewan nation #michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #saltburn #saltburn posting #felix catton

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bnnysweets · 2 months ago

Text

WILL YOU STILL LOVE ME IF TURNS OUT I’M INSANE?

abby x bpd!reader

author’s note: english is not my first language. i labeled like “bpd!reader” bc i have it and it’s inspired by how much i wanna comfort during crisis, but you can read it thinking just about mental illness in general. i listened to the whole the record album by boygenius while writing this!

warnings: angst & comfort. reader has a crisis and abby helps. talks about voices inside reader’s head, bad past memories and fear of abandonment. mention of self harm but it’s very brief. modern au. readers is called baby, sweet girl and angel.

when you both started to live together you agreed ‘bout the cameras, abby work a eight hour shift and you were almost graduating, but despite that, you still spent a bunch of time alone at house, so the main reason was security. you are a little unpredictable while going through a crisis and sometimes self destructive, abby just wanted to keep a eye at you.

today was one of those days when you did everything as you should, everything was alright until the voices in your head told you it wasn’t. you arrived home, went to the gym, did your homework, cooked and bathed, you were laying on the couch scrolling through instagram when suddenly it hits you, a felling that you are nothing, just absolute hollow.

at first you were just crying, it was okay, nothing new, but everything escalated quickly, your heart was beating so fast that you thought it would stop, you vision almost completely black and you had lost when was the last breath that you took properly.

abby was exiting the parking lot when she thought about checking on you, she opened the app to see the camera footage and saw you sat on the ground, with your knees pressed against your chest, rocking backing and forth and trembling like you were naked at alaska, she called you immediately and looked what would be the fastest way home.

“hi baby.”, you didn’t answer, abby could hear you crying and trying to catch your breath without any success, “i saw it on cameras, i know okay? you don’t need to say anything just listen to me.” you let a little “mhm.” and she was a little bit more calm, just to know that you still could listen to her without your mind disturbing it. “i’m coming home, almost 10 minutes away, i need you to try your breath exercises, i know you think they don’t work but i need that you at least try them.” you started to do without thinking twice, “you’re such a sweet girl, you know that, right? i love you so much, you’re the most precious person that i’ve met, the kindest, sweetest and smartest. i don’t know what is going on your mind, what they’re saying to you or what you’re remembering…but nothing of that define who you are. you are so much more than anything, and i mean, anything that happened to you, you are so much more than what your mind try to convince you that you are. sometimes i even think you’re an angel on earth. i need you to know that, you know that? that you’re a angel? you make heaven a true place when i’m with you. don’t let they say to you that you’re not making progress because you are, everyday i see how much you try to be the better, and trust me, you are. i love you. i’m not going to leave you. we’re are all good”.

“i’m sorry abby.”, her heart stopped, finally you were talking, “i’m sorry i’m this shitty girlfriend, always disturbing you, i love you so much, so so much but i don’t deserve you. i’m just empty.” and now her heart shattered, her foot stepped harder on the accelerator. she was already on yours street but for some mysterious reason the traffic was horrible, she parked in the first empty space she spotted and got out of the car, running towards your house. “nothing can make me hate you, nothing. i don’t care if your mind say to you that you don’t deserve this but you do, you deserve love, gentle love. love without fear, without turbulence, and i’m more than happy to give it to you.” she took a deep breath, “now, may you please open the door?” you left your phone on the couch and rushed to the door.

when you opened it abby was catching her breath, her eyes lit up seeing you, you were a sight for her sore eyes, even when you looked like this. she grabbed you and closed the door with a kick, you hold her so tight that you felt alive again, you felt your heart stopping hurting, she was the best medicine. she carried you to the bed you shared, “i love you, i love you, i love you, i fucking love you, you understand me?” she positioned you on top of her, she was holding your face delicately with a hand and with the other she was smoothing your back. “you are not mad at me?” you asked, even fearing the answer, “oh my love, how could i ever be mad at you? how?” her hand moved from your chin to your cheek, caressing it, she looked at you like she could truly see you, without see all the bad things that went through your mind, all the bad things that you did, all the bad things you always remembered, she could comprehend and appreciate you, even when you were a mess, she loved you even when you couldn’t understand why.

“i’m sorry.” you said and she took your hand in hers and kissed it, “why are you sorry for?” she looked at you with those eyes again, those eyes that you were always able to saw how much she cares for you, “i’m sorry for being like this…for always be a burden, for never being stable, for not being able to give you a normal relationship.” you started to spiraling again and faster than the light abby put her hand on your chest, where you heart is, and she started to breathe really calmly, deeply, and without noticing you were following her rhythm. when you finally calmed down you rested your head on her shoulder, she moved to the edge of the bed to reach the little table beside the bed, she opened the drawer and grabbed your medication and your water bottle, she offered to you and you took them.

“what is a normal relationship?” she asked softly and you let a little scoff, “it’s one that you don’t need cameras to see if i’m not going to harm myself just because my mind hates me.” abby guided your head to look at her, “so a normal relationship is one without you? without your intensity?” you nodded, “yes, it’s one without me being so extreme about everything.” abby caressed your face, “so i would never be happy in a normal relationship.” your eyebrows furrowed, “what do you mean?” she put her fingers on your lips, like she was admiring, “if i won’t have your intensity i don’t wanna it. i know that most of the time it makes your life very hard but it also brings so good things to your life and consequently to mine.” you looked confused but before you could say anything she answered, “when we started dating, on our second month together i already knew we would work out, you know why? because you were so transparent that i already knew you, your reactions, your likes and dislikes and i already loved them. you never lied to me about anything, even when you broke my favorite watch. you remember when you had a fight with one of my best friends because they said something bad about me behind my back? and when i didn’t believed on you, you didn’t get mad, you explained to me what was happening, you showed me proof. this is what makes you the person that i want to spend the rest of my life with. i understand your condition, and that sometimes you’re going to relapse, but every single time it happens i’m gonna to be here, to comfort you, to you talk to or just cry, i don’t mind it. i love you, you are so much more than a diagnostic.” when abby stopped talking you pecked her lips, “thank you.” you said and hugged her again, “you don’t need to be thankful babe, i just doing my job.” “well you do a very good job.” she giggled, “it’s because i fucking love it.”

dividers by @byuvly

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atimelessheaven · 2 months ago

Note

heyyy can i request for Kaitlyn Chen fic?(THERE ARE BARELY ANY ON THIS APP & I LOVE HER MAN) Specifically fluff maybe like after an argument and she sees me struggling with homework and stuff and helps me out but still being slightly mad , but all is good at the end like cuddling etc

Party Time? Study Time.

sorry again for how long this took to get out, i’ve been on vacation.

huge thank you to @yailtsv for the header, and phone call image! very thankful.

fluff ◡̈

Kaitlyn Chen x Reader!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

9:45 pm- on a friday night, i have an assignment due at 11:59. im currently sitting at my desk, wearing my cute little mini skirt, and low cut top. tears streaming down my face, attempting to finish this stupid research paper.

how did i get here? great question.

7:15 am- breakfast with my girlfriend, kaitlyn:

“so baby what are your plans for this weekend?” kaitlyn asked, while cutting my pancakes for me. princess treatment duh.

“we’ll later tonight i planned to go out with my friends to-“ i said trying to answer before kaitlyn cut in.

“did you finish your research paper?” she asked looking at me with this knowing look

“well no, but-“ i say trying to explain myself. “no. that’s an important grade. you know that. you can’t go out if you aren’t doing your assignments. especially an assignment that counts for 28% of your grade. baby that’s a terrible idea. it will tank your GPA.” kaitlyn says objecting to my nighttime plans.

“but baby, all of my friends are going out. i promised them i’d go too.” i say pouting “it’s just this one time.”

“no baby. if you wanted to go that bad you should’ve gotten your work done. you know better. besides if you’re fine with slacking off this “one time” on an important grade, how many times are you going to put off less important assignments in the future? you’re digging yourself in a hole.” kaitlyn responded sticking firm to her no. my pout not even phasing her.

“but i promised them!” i say getting frustrated at her persistent no. my voice slightly raising, with my attitude rising.

“don’t raise your voice at me” she deadpans. “you’re okay with your grades dropping? your goals slipping out of reach? the future you’ve worked so hard for leaving in an instant over some dumb party? you’re okay promising YOURSELF that? is that what i’m hearing?” kaitlyn really emphasizing the “yourself” making me freeze, and pout.

“fine” i say with attitude just wanting to end the conversation.

“i’m going to let the attitude slide for now, but it needs to stop. im getting tired of it. do you understand? i love you, i just want what’s best for you. you know that.” kaitlyn says leaning over to kiss my forehead. i just nod my head in silence.

8:57 pm- i’m at the bar, with friends, about three shots in:

I see i’m getting a call from kaitlyn, so i obviously answer excited to talk to my favorite girl.

“hi baby!” i say very over enthusiastic with my tipsy self.

“babe. why does your location say you’re at the bar? and why does it sound like you’re under the influence?” kaitlyn says sounding very frustrated.

“it says i’m at the bar? must be because i am.” i say sounding very proud of myself, unsure why she sounds so upset.

“oh, so you went out of your way to disobey what i asked you to do? is it that hard to just listen to me?”

“hmm?” i respond to her little rant, not being able to focus with the alcohol running through me.

“are you really that far gone? you don’t remember? or you can’t comprehend what i’m saying?” she pauses waiting for me to reply but when i start she cuts me off “you know what? just save it. i have an uber on the way to get you. it’s going to text you when they get there. i love you be careful.” she said before she hung up.

9:15 pm- i get the text from my uber and im headed home like kaitlyn wanted:

i step inside about ten minutes later and see kaitlyn looking oddly calm, sitting on the couch watching tv.

“hi babe” i say softly, not wanting to upset her, but also to let her know im acknowledging her presence.

“hi angel, i’m glad you’re home safe. your assignment is due in” she looks at her watch and thinks about it for just a second “about 2.5 hours. you might want to get started on it.” she said still looking at the tv, not even so much as glancing at you.

instead of responding i just walked into my room, sat down at my desk. not even bothering to change. i was determined to prove to her i could party, and stay on top of my studies, even if that wasn’t actually the original plan.

9:45 pm- im now here. crying over my computer. i can’t think straight. my head is hurting, nothing is making sense to me, im tired. to top it off, i can’t hear my girlfriend laughing at the show she’s watching, and it’s killing me. knowing she’s upset with me hurts, especially because it is my fault. i decided not to listen to her.

i hear footsteps towards the door, so i decide to look locked in. i don’t want her to know im crying.

“babe, i could hear you crying, stop pretending.” she immediately said as she walked in the door and took in the scene. me pretending to read an article on google, leaned over the computer, honestly pretending she isn’t there.

“angel. look at me.” she said gently, while turning my face. “what’s going on?”

as soon as she asked i just broke down crying again, even though i disappointed her, she was still making sure i was okay. i don’t know what i did to deserve her.

“i can’t do this paper” i said between sobs.

“why not? what part aren’t you understanding?” she asked in the most caring tone.

“all of it, i’m just tired, none of it is making sense. i can’t do it.”

after that, she helped me with my paper, not doing it for me, just helping. she said that even though it might not be the grade i could’ve got, it’s the one i deserved for thinking it wasn’t important.

11:48 pm- the assignment is submitted. finally.

about an hour into kaitlyn helping me, she took pitty and let me fall asleep against her, while she did the assignment for me. she’s a godsend.

i woke up to the feelings of being lifted, and carried

“shhh angel, go back to sleep, i’m just carrying you to your bed.” she said leaning down to kiss my cheek.

she set me down on my bed, laying next to me. my head immediately falling to her chest.

“i’m sorry” i mumbled into her chest half asleep.

“i know baby. next time just please listen to me. i hate being upset with you, but sometimes it’s unavoidable when you do something ive told you not to do. the only reason id ever tell you not to do something, is because it crosses a boundary, or it isn’t in your best interest. i just need you to trust me when i tell you no sometimes.” she said into the top of my head. making sure i know she’s not mad at me, and that she just wants me to trust her more when she tells me things.

i just nod my head.

“i love you baby, you know that right?” she said in a genuine questioning tone.

when i just nod my head, that wasn’t good enough for her. “i know you’re sleepy, but i need to hear you say it.”

“yes kait, i know you love me. i love you too. so much.” i said to her softly. snuggling further into her chest. her arms wrapped protectively around my waist.

“goodnight angel, i love you so much, get some sleep.” she said as i drifted off asleep, content in her arms.

#atimelessheaven #atimelessheavenwrites #beth writes #bethsblog #uconn wbb #wbb #wbb x reader #kaitlyn chen #kaitlynchenxreader #Kaitlyn Chen X reader #paigebueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #kk arnold x reader #kk arnold #azzi fudd #azzi fudd x reader

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elliesngirl · 6 months ago

Text

Assigned To You

Nerd! Loser! Ellie Williams x Fem! Popular! Reader

WC: 3.3k

Warnings: reader crying (emotional drunk), fluff

Part 3: Prev/Next

Let me know it you wanna be in the taglist!

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

Every night seemed to stretch into eternity for Ellie as she counted down the days to Saturday. The anticipation gnawed at her nerves, making even the simplest tasks feel insurmountable. Thursday Night was no different. She walked through the door, dropped her bag onto the floor of her small, organized room, and tried to dive into her usual routine to keep her mind occupied.

Ellie opened her desk drawer, pulling out her stack of neatly organized notebooks. She started with her math homework, scribbling equations and solving problems with a level of precision that Joel would’ve praised if he’d been home. But even with her focus honed on numbers, her mind wandered back to the thought of you—your laugh, your confident smile, and the way your skirt swayed when you walked away from her at your locker.

Shaking her head, Ellie forced herself to move on to her history assignment. The project you two were supposed to work on together loomed in her mind. Should she prepare some of it ahead of time? Would you even care if she did? The thought made her stomach twist, and before she knew it, she was flipping through pages of her textbook, jotting down notes for the upcoming project.

By 6:30 p.m., Ellie had completed her assignments for the week. But she wasn’t done. She pulled out another notebook, this one for biology, and began revising chapters they wouldn’t even cover until the next semester. Her handwriting remained flawless, her notes color-coded as always, but the words on the page blurred together. She groaned, leaning back in her chair. The clock on her desk read 7:00 p.m.

With a sigh, Ellie pushed away from her desk and headed downstairs. The house felt empty without Joel. He was working the night shift again, and the stillness made her feel uneasy. She wandered into the kitchen and opened the cupboard, hoping for a quick snack or something she could throw together for dinner. But the shelves were nearly bare, save for a can of soup and a box of stale crackers.

Frustrated, Ellie checked the fridge, but it wasn’t much better. She closed it with a huff and trudged back upstairs to grab her phone. Scrolling through her contacts, she found Joel’s name and pressed the call button.

It rang three times before his familiar voice answered, warm and reassuring. “Hey, Ellie! What’s up, kiddo?”

“Hey, Joel,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Umm, there’s nothing I can cook for dinner...”

“Oh, right!” Joel said, his tone brightening with realization. “I forgot to tell you, I left some money on the counter. Order yourself something nice, okay?”

Ellie’s heart sank. She hated the idea of interacting with strangers, even if it was just a delivery driver. “Yeah, okay,” she muttered, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

After hanging up, Ellie reluctantly opened the UberEats app. She scrolled through the options, finally settling on a burger and fries from a local diner. At least this way, she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. She could just grab the bag and retreat to her room.

When the food arrived, Ellie stood by the door for a full minute before mustering the courage to open it. She grabbed the bag from the delivery driver with a quiet “thanks” and quickly closed the door. Back upstairs, she set the food on her desk and turned on her laptop, deciding to distract herself with a YouTube video while she ate.

But even as she watched clips of a random gaming stream, her mind drifted back to Saturday. What would you wear? What would you talk about? Would you even like her?

Ellie pushed the thoughts aside and finished her dinner in silence. She cleaned up and spent the rest of the evening scrolling through her phone, occasionally opening your chat and rereading your short messages. By 10 p.m., she was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.

The house felt too quiet without Joel’s familiar hum downstairs. Ellie wrapped herself in her blanket, trying to push away the ache of loneliness. She wanted to text you, but she didn’t want to seem desperate. Instead, she let herself imagine what Saturday might be like, her nerves and excitement battling each other until sleep finally claimed.

Friday night was a welcome change for Ellie. The days leading up to Saturday had felt agonizingly slow, but now, with only one more sleep separating her from seeing you, her excitement was at an all-time high. The thought of finally being around you again filled her with a nervous energy that bubbled over into her every action.

Joel was home tonight, which only added to the excitement. With him around, the house felt warmer and more alive, and she was glad for the distraction from her nerves. She decided to give herself a break from her relentless studying and headed downstairs, following the sound of Joel humming a tune as he cooked dinner in the kitchen.

“Hey, Joelllllll,” Ellie drawled, her voice tinged with playful charm.

Joel paused, his spatula hovering over the sizzling pan, and turned to her with a knowing smile. “Yeah, kiddo? What do you want?”

Ellie grinned, rocking on her heels. “Can we have a movie night tonight?” she asked, her voice full of hope and excitement.

Joel chuckled, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Of course we can! I assume you wanna watch the Jurassic Park movies again?”

Ellie’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Yes!” she cheered, clapping her hands together before dashing into the living room to get everything set up. She fluffed the couch cushions, grabbed a cozy blanket, and sorted through the movie collection until she found the first Jurassic Park.

Meanwhile, Joel plated the dinner—spaghetti and meatballs, a favorite for both of them—and brought it into the living room. “Ready?” he asked, balancing the plates and drinks as Ellie snuggled into the couch with the remote in hand.

“Ready!” she replied enthusiastically, pressing play as Joel set the food down on the coffee table and took his spot beside her.

The familiar sounds of roaring dinosaurs and adventurous theme music filled the room, and for a while, Ellie’s excitement about Saturday took a backseat to the thrill of the movies. They laughed together at the cheesy lines, shouted warnings at the characters who were inevitably about to get eaten, and debated which dinosaur was the coolest (Ellie was firmly Team Velociraptor, while Joel argued for the T-Rex).

As they moved on to the second and then the third movie, the hours ticked by unnoticed. By the time the credits rolled on the final film, the clock on the wall read 2 a.m.

Joel yawned and stretched, his arms extending above his head as he sat back on the couch. “Whew, that’s enough dinosaurs for one night,” he said with a tired chuckle. He glanced over at Ellie, expecting her to do the same, but she didn’t move.

“Ellie?” he called softly, leaning closer.

She didn’t respond. Her head had lolled to the side, her cheek resting against the back of the couch, and her chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of sleep.

Joel smiled fondly, shaking his head. “Out like a light,” he murmured. He stood and carefully gathered the empty plates and glasses, setting them in the sink before returning to the living room.

He crouched beside the couch, gently brushing a strand of hair away from Ellie’s face. “Come on, kiddo, let’s get you to bed,” he said softly, but she didn’t stir.

Not wanting to wake her, Joel carefully scooped her up in his arms. She murmured something incoherent, her head resting against his chest as he carried her upstairs. Her room was just as tidy as always, the bed neatly made and her desk covered in perfectly organized stacks of notebooks and textbooks.

Joel pulled back the blankets and laid her down gently, tucking her in with care. He stepped back for a moment, watching her sleep peacefully. She looked so small and unguarded in that moment, a stark contrast to the driven, determined girl she was during the day.

“Big day tomorrow, huh?” Joel whispered with a smile. He reached down, brushing a hand over her hair before switching off the lamp on her nightstand.

As he closed the door behind him, he couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. Ellie had grown into someone special, even if she didn’t always see it. He knew tomorrow meant a lot to her, and he silently hoped it would go as perfectly as she dreamed.

Back in her room, Ellie shifted slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips even in sleep. Saturday was just a few hours away, and even in her dreams, the thought of seeing you made her heart race.

Friday night for you was business as usual—the kind of night that perfectly matched your status as the popular girl. It wasn’t uncommon for weekends to blur into a whirl of parties, late-night adventures, and the kind of social life most people could only dream of. This time, it was at your best friend Olivia’s house. Her parents were conveniently away for the weekend, which meant only one thing: the unofficial party of the year.

The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and the house was packed with what felt like the entire senior year. People danced in the living room, spilled onto the patio, and crowded the kitchen. Olivia was in her element, commanding the room like the queen she was, while you stayed nearby, laughing and making rounds to talk to everyone who came up to you. You wore a sleek, black mini-dress paired with heels that clicked confidently against the hardwood floor, effortlessly drawing attention wherever you went.

As the hours passed, the crowd began to thin. One by one, people filtered out, leaving just you, Olivia, Nat, Sara, and Alex sprawled across the living room couches in various states of exhaustion and tipsiness. It was well past midnight, but none of you were ready to call it a night just yet.

"Should we go get ice cream?" Olivia suggested, her voice still buzzing with energy despite the hour.

"At, like, 2 a.m.?" Alex asked, half-laughing.

"Why not?" you chimed in, already grabbing your bag. The suggestion seemed to electrify the group. Within minutes, you were all piled into Olivia's car, driving to the 24-hour ice cream shop on the other side of town.

By the time you arrived, the initial excitement had been replaced with ravenous hunger. The alcohol buzz was wearing off, and you all devoured your ice cream as if it were a five-star meal. You sat at the table, laughing about the night’s chaos, trading stories, and planning the rest of the weekend.

Eventually, you excused yourself to the bathroom, leaving the table and your half-eaten ice cream behind. But when you returned, the booth was empty. At first, you assumed they were messing with you—Olivia especially loved pulling pranks—but when you stepped outside and didn’t see the car anywhere, the truth hit you like a truck.

They had left you.

You stood in the parking lot, blinking in disbelief, your breath hitching as you tried to process what had just happened. Panic and embarrassment clawed at your chest, and the alcohol in your system didn’t help. Before you knew it, hot tears spilled down your cheeks. You tried calling Olivia, then Nat, then Sara, but no one answered. Each voicemail made your stomach sink further, the feeling of being stranded alone in the middle of the night overwhelming you.

In your haze, it didn’t even occur to you to call an Uber or a taxi. Instead, you unlocked your phone and opened Instagram, scrolling mindlessly until one profile caught your eye: Ellie’s.

She wasn’t your first thought. You barely knew her beyond the project you were working on together. But something about her—maybe the way she’d seemed so eager to help earlier that week—made you pause. You didn’t even think twice before sending a flurry of frantic messages.

notyourfriend Hi Please wake up Ellie, I need help Ellie

Ellie groggily woke to the rapid vibration of her phone. She fumbled for it on her bedside table, squinting at the screen. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw your name, and for a moment, she wondered if it was a dream.

Ellie_TheDino What’s up? Is everything okay? notyourfriend Finally Ellie_TheDino y/n, are you okay? notyourfriend Can you call?

Ellie didn’t hesitate, her thumb hovering over the green button before pressing it. The phone barely rang once before you answered, and the sound of your shaky sobs immediately put her on edge.

“Hey! What’s going on? Are you okay?” Ellie’s voice cracked slightly, her usual awkwardness amplified by her nerves.

“I-I was at an ice cream s-shop with my friends, and I went to the b-bathroom, and now they’re g-gone,” you stammered, barely able to get the words out through your crying.

“Okay, okay, just breathe,” Ellie said, trying to steady her own voice as much as yours. “I’ll come get you, alright? Just—just tell me where you are.”

You sniffled, giving her the name of the ice cream shop. Ellie repeated it back to make sure she got it right, already scrambling out of bed. She grabbed Joel’s truck keys from the kitchen counter, scribbled a quick note explaining her absence, and bolted out the door.

It should have been a 10-minute drive, but Ellie’s nerves turned it into five. As she pulled into the parking lot, her eyes immediately landed on you, huddled near the bench outside, arms wrapped around yourself to ward off the cold. She stepped out of the truck, awkwardly adjusting her oversized Spider-Man T-shirt and mismatched sweatpants.

“Y/n?” she called, hesitantly approaching you.

You looked up, your tear-streaked face softening slightly at the sight of her. Without a word, she handed you a gray hoodie she’d grabbed from the backseat. You threw it on without hesitation and pulled her into a hug, clinging to her as if she were your lifeline.

“Thank you so much, AEllie,” you whispered, your voice muffled against her neck.

Ellie’s cheeks turned scarlet, her hands hovering awkwardly before she tentatively wrapped them around you. “Uh, yeah, no problem. Are you—are you okay? Like, besides, uh, this?” she stammered, her words coming out in a rush.

You nodded, pulling back slightly. “Can you just take me home? I can’t go back to them.”

Ellie helped you into the truck, carefully typing your address into Google Maps. As the voice-guided directions filled the silence, she glanced over and saw you had already fallen asleep, your head resting against the window.

As Ellie pulled up to your address, the calm voice of her GPS announced, “You have arrived at your destination.” Her eyes widened as she came face-to-face with an imposing gate, complete with intricate designs and a keypad entry system. The size and elegance of it left her feeling slightly out of her depth.

She sat there for a moment, staring at the gate before glancing over at you. You were slumped against the window, eyes half-closed but still awake. Ellie sighed and gently nudged your shoulder.

“Hey, uh, we’re here… but there’s a gate. What should I do?” Ellie’s voice was hesitant, almost apologetic.

You stirred, groaning softly as you straightened up. “It’s fine. I can walk from here,” you mumbled, already reaching for the door handle.

Ellie’s hand shot out instinctively, her voice coming out louder than she intended. “No!”

You froze, startled, and turned to look at her. “Sorry! I just—um—look, I can’t just leave you here. What if you pass out or something? It’s… uh, it’s not safe,” Ellie stammered, her cheeks turning pink.

You sighed, the exhaustion evident in your voice. “Okay, okay. The gate code is 8018.”

Ellie nodded quickly, hopping out of the truck and making her way to the keypad. Her hands fumbled a bit as she punched in the numbers, the gate groaning to life as it slid open. She scurried back to the driver’s seat, muttering, “Fancy gate, geez…” under her breath, and drove up the long driveway.

Her jaw dropped as your house came into view. It wasn’t just big—it was a mansion, complete with towering columns, immaculate landscaping, and enough windows to light up a small town.

“Holy moly…” Ellie muttered, her nerdy tendencies slipping through. “This is, uh, really nice. Like, billionaire-nice.”

She parked the truck near the front entrance and hurried to your side, opening the door for you. You stepped out unsteadily, leaning against her for support. Ellie awkwardly wrapped an arm around your waist, helping you up the steps to the grand double doors.

Once inside, the sheer size of the entryway left her gawking. “Okay, wow. This place is like—uh—something out of Architectural Digest. Where’s your room?”

You gestured vaguely toward the stairs. “Upstairs… third floor…”

Ellie’s eyebrows shot up. “Third floor? Are you serious?” She eyed the grand staircase nervously, already dreading the climb.

You shook your head. “Take the lift,” you said, pointing to an elevator tucked discreetly into the wall.

“Oh. Right. Of course, there’s an elevator,” Ellie mumbled to herself, guiding you toward it.

Once inside, Ellie’s eyes darted over the panel. “This thing has more buttons than Joel’s old TV remote…” she muttered, pressing the number three.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal a sprawling hallway. You led her down the corridor to your room, which was so large it could have easily been a small apartment. Ellie’s mouth fell open as she took in the plush furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a bed that looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel.

You collapsed onto the bed without a second thought. Ellie hesitated, then began searching through your drawers until she found a pair of pink tracksuit pants and an oversized white shirt. She handed them to you, her gaze averted.

“Uh, here. You can, uh, change into these,” she said, shuffling awkwardly toward the door. “I’ll just, um, wait out here. Take your time!”

Ellie paced nervously in the hallway, glancing at her phone every so often. She had no idea how long it would take you to change, but she didn’t want to rush you. After about 30 minutes, she heard your voice call out, “Done!”

When she re-entered the room, you were lying in bed, your makeup still smudged from the night. Ellie hesitated, then walked over to your vanity and grabbed a pack of makeup wipes.

“Uh, I think we should, like, take this off. Your makeup, I mean. It’s not good to sleep in it, right?” she said, her voice uncertain.

You gave a small nod, too tired to argue. Ellie gently wiped your face, her touch careful and deliberate. As she worked, she couldn’t help but notice how stunning you looked without the makeup—your natural beauty left her momentarily speechless.

Her phone buzzing in her pocket snapped her out of her thoughts. She pulled it out, sighing when she saw Joel’s name on the screen.

“Ellie! Are you okay?” Joel’s voice was filled with concern.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Ellie said quickly, glancing at you to make sure you were still resting comfortably. “I, uh, just had to help someone get home. I’m heading back now.”

Joel let out a relieved sigh. “You’re a good kid, you know that? Just don’t stay out too late.”

“Got it. Be home soon,” Ellie replied, hanging up.

She turned back to you, pulling the blanket up to your shoulders before quietly slipping out of the room. As she made her way back to the truck, she couldn’t help but smile, feeling oddly proud of herself for the night’s events.

Taglist: Hopefully I got everyone! @vahnilla @radioheadfan699 @defnoteleonor @robinphobia @liztreez @deathbydollz @hemmo01 @soodle-noup @reneesub @ellensmithxo @lamorenita @kissedberries

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ask-gaz · 6 months ago

Text

what’s up?

soap reckons i’m “famous around these parts”—whatever that means—so here i am. let’s see what all the fuss is about, yeah?

if you’re below 18, dni and do your homework, kid.

i got a life outside of this app, but i’ll try to reply to as many of you as i can!

hi! im AL, the person behind this blog!

i saw this one person running a ghost rp blog and wanted to hop on the train!

this blog is inspired by: @ghost-askblog (ur doing amazing btw!!)

i only have a few rules for this blog:

1. no offensive asks

2. flirting is okay

3. nsfw too! but i wont answer every nsfw ask lol

4. MINORS DNI! AGELESS BLOGS DNI!

THATS IT! happy asking!

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sluts4matt · 1 year ago

Text

SECRET (part two)

pairing: nate doe x sls!erika sturniolo

summary: she had hidden her feelings away for years, but with growing up and toxic relationships it was all starting to resurface.

warnings: making out(sorta), use of weed and alcohol, slight swearing

word count: 1388

authors note: it’s a slow build up y’all but i swear it’ll be good 🙈 read part one here

the bell rang signaling the end of class, everyone got up from their seats ready to leave the library.

"how long do we have to work on this?" nate asked, looking down at me slightly as he stood from the chair. "a week or two i think," i respond, shrugging my shoulders standing up to be eye level with him.

"can i come over tonight and we can start?" he asked, his blue eyes staring into mine. "of course," i responded, and his lips tugged into a grin.

"bye eri," he smiled, his hand resting on my shoulder before he walked away. the nickname was new, but still, pink flew to my cheeks.

"bye bye," i mumble, watching him walk towards the guys locker rooms. i met nick at his locker, "is mom here yet?" i ask, watching him look down at his phone.

"she texted saying five minutes ten minutes ago, so not yet," he stated, closing his locker. mom was picking us up since matt and chris had lacrosse practice today.

"nate's coming over tonight, by the way" i say, giving him a headsup as we walked towards the double doors that led outside. "why?" he asks, though he didn't mind since nate was his best friend.

"class project," i responded, and he nodded.

mom picked us up a minute or two later, pulling up to the curb. i sat in the front while nick sat in the back.

"how was school?" she asked, looking at us before looking back forward and pulling out of the school.

"fine," the two of us answered, and we both went silent. she smiled, continuing the drive.

as soon as we got home, the two of us were in our own worlds, not bothering to pay attention to anyone. i was sat on my bed, blackbear playing softly while i worked on homework for what seemed like forever.

there was a knock at my door, and i looked up. "come in," i stated, watching the door open and chris peak his head in.

"hey," he smiled, walking into the room, nate trailing behind him. "how was practice?" i ask, turning back to the math homework currently sprawled out on my desk.

"it was good," he smiled, his eyes drifting over to the tv that sat in the corner of my room, my spotify app currently displayed on it. "exhausting though," chris added.

"i bet," i replied, nodding my head. "how was school?" he asked, and i turned to look at him. "boring," i replied, and a laugh escaped his lips. "nates spending the night by the way," chris stated, making my head shoot up.

it wasn't like it wasn't normal for him too, it was just normally it was talked about with me too, to make sure it was okay. "that's fine, we have a project to work on anyways." i smile.

nate nods his head, humming in agreement. the two leave after that, closing the door behind them. i let out a sigh, the butterflies erupting once again.

an hour later nate was back in my bedroom, the two of us working on the project finishing the introduction in a little under an hour. we were sitting on the floor, papers scattered around. nate leaned against my bed, while i sat on my knees opposite of him.

"im bored," nate whined, dropping the pen he was holding onto the floor. "poor baby," i pout, a joking tone in my voice.

"do you have any alcohol?" he asked, his voice teasing. my eyes widened slightly, faking hurt as i put my hand over my heart. "what do i look like to you, an alcoholic?" i state, though i'm already standing.

he laughs, shrugging his shoulders. "sometimes," he says, watching me manuver around my bed, sliding it off the box spring slightly to reveal my stash.

i had cut a hole big enough to hide my things, knowing it was a decent hiding spot for my alcohol and weed. the raspberry smirnoff laid neatly on its back, while a black box with hello kitty and anime stickers covering it held my weed.

"alcohol or weed?" i ask, turning around. "both," he stated, and i laughed, grabbing the two bending over to set them on the floor before locking my door.

"you're a bad influence," nate teased, a smile gracing his face as he sat up. "you asked for it," i shrug, opening the bottle. i tilted my head back, drinking from it before setting it down with a grimace.

"my turn," nate mumbled, picking up the bottle and drinking it, he to made a face causing me to giggle. i opened the box, grabbing a pre-roll and a blue lighter.

i put the joint to my lips, lighting the end before inhaling the smoke. i passed him the joint, standing back up. the way his eyes followed me made me feel like folding but i held it together walking over to my window to crack it.

the smoke was filling the room quickly, the two of us being light smokers. we were already feeling it, our vision hazy and our minds a little foggy. the music playing from the tv was loud, not to loud though, the bass making the room vibrate lightly. or maybe it was the mixture of alcohol and weed.

we were laughing, the room filled with the smell of smoke and the strong scent of alcohol.

"your hair is so fucking soft," nate said, running his fingers through my hair. "it's the product i use," i giggle, taking another sip of the raspberry alcohol.

nate was sitting on the ground, his back pressed up against my bed frame while i was sitting in between his legs. i was facing him, my hands playing with the fabric of his sweater.

"what is this? cashmere?" i tease, tugging on the black fabric. "polyester i think," he said, slightly joking. i giggled, the room spinning a bit. his blue eyes stared into mine, his fingers brushing through my hair. i couldn't stop staring at his lips, wanting to kiss him.

"can i tell you a secret?" nate asked, his fingers now moving from my hair to rest on my cheek. "yeah," i responded, my eyes locked on his. "i want to kiss you so bad right now," nate mumbled, his face close to mine. "so do it," i whisper, my gaze shifting from his eyes to his lips.

i leaned in, pressing my lips against his softly, his hand resting on my jaw and tilting his head slightly. the kiss was slow, the two of us savoring it. nates hand drifted to the back of my neck, pulling me closer.

"open the door erika," i heard my moms voice, causing us to pull apart. she didn't sound angry but she definitely didn't sound pleased which caused my eyes to widen. we had been caught. "fuck, fuck, fuck," i mumble, getting up, "one minute," i call out, looking at nate who had gotten up from the floor.

he was smiling, his hair a mess and his lips slightly red. i walked over to the window, sliding it closed before locking it. i opened the closet, quickly grabbing the contents on my floor and stashing them there for the time being.

"fuck, get in my bed and lay down," i whispered, pushing nate over to the bed, causing him to giggle.

i opened the door, looking at my mom who stood in the doorway with a frown on her face. "mom," i smiled, the alcohol and weed having a stronger effect on me then i thought.

"it smells like pot in here," she immediately stated, crossing her arms. one thing about my mom was she was very laid back, it took quite a bit to actually upset her.

therefore seeing the frown, the displeased look in her eyes, and her arms crossed, i knew i had messed up. "nathan, you need to either go home or go hang out with the boys, that's why you're here." she said, her tone firm.

"im sorry," nate apologized, looking down at his feet. "i'm glad, i'm gonna go call your mom." she sighed, turning away. nate grabbed his things, mumbling a 'bye' before joining chris in his room, the affects of the alcohol and weed still having an effect, just not as much now.

i decided it would be best if i went to sleep, so that's precisely what i did. or what i tried to do. my mind was plagued with nate and the way his lips felt against mine. how his fingers brushed through my hair, the way his eyes looked into mine.

i didn't sleep until 2am, the thoughts of him running through my mind, keeping me awake.

tag list:

@hysteria-things @tillies33ssss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @sturniolossss @freshsturns @etvar12 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloa @chrryclouds @sturniolho @sturniolowhore @imwetforyourmom @novasturniolo03 @spencerstits @junovrsmp4 @breeloveschris @skyslondon @stars4chratt @monkeyscientist22 @sophssturn @hearts4chris @l5ka

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