#i don't remember them having a falling out they just stopped hanging out i think?

[lesbian-sunshim]

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rare pairs for your consideration - apple bloom x twist

[delicatetaysversion]

it should be studied the way i immediately start crying after masturbating like girl where is the serotonin i was promised

[hairmetal666]

Steve knows he falls in love too easily. Nancy told him, Robin too.

But falling in love with Eddie Munson is hard.

They're supposed to be friends after Vecna. They're supposed to be friends, but Steve can't get past what Eddie did in the Upside Down; how he put himself in a position to nearly die, how Dustin got hurt. It's not fair. He knows it's not, but it doesn't make the anger go away.

Eddie's part of the group now, though, and Steve won't leave him out, no matter how angry. They're all at movie nights, at pool parties, at Hellfire, at Corroded Coffin gigs. It's just that Steve and Eddie don't speak. And Steve is okay with it. If it's what it takes to make sure that they're all hanging out together, not talking to Eddie is a small thing. He's pretty sure Eddie doesn't mind. At least, he seems as uninterested in hanging out with Steve as Steve is with him.

It doesn't need to be anything more than that, and it isn't, not until Steve goes upstairs to get more sunscreen during one of the pool parties, and walks back downstairs to find Munson waiting for him in his kitchen.

"You need something?" He asks, unable to fully hide the way he jolts with surprise.

Eddie twists the rings on his fingers, something Steve's noticed he does whenever he's nervous. "You have a problem with me, Harrington?

"No, of course not," he answers too fast.

"C'mon, man. You can barely stand to be in the same room with me."

"That's not true! We're in one together right now."

Eddie rolls his eyes so hard that it has to hurt. "Don't do that. Don't pretend like you don't know what I mean. You can't stand to be alone with me for more than thirty seconds."

Steve splutters, searching for a plausible reason.

"Is it cause--" Eddie swallows, hand going back to cup his neck. "Is it cause you heard me tell Robin that I'm gay? Back at the hospital. Is it because--" he cuts himself off.

Something in Steve's chest clenches hard, warmth swooping dangerously in his stomach. "No," Steve says, means it. "I didn't hear. I didn't-- it has nothing to do with that. It's--that's cool. Thanks for--yeah, that's cool."

Eddie's smile is a brittle little thing. "Then, what else?" Eddie pulls a chunk of hair over his mouth. "I can't think of any other reason you'd hate me so much."

"I don't." And Steve hopes it's coming off as genuine. "I promise."

He can't help remember the camaraderie, the understanding, that started to grow between them in the Upside Down. The "don't cha, big boy?" of it all. They could be friends. They should be.

They shouldn't get into it. Not right here, not right now when the kids' splashes and excited screams filter through the sliding door.

"You're a shit liar, Harrington."

"Ed--I'm not--"

"You know what? Don't bother. I'll just--" He jolts in the direction of the front door.

"Don't be stupid, Munson."

"God, I can't believe I didn't see it before. You just fucking loathe me."

"I do not. Grow up."

"Oh, yeah? Then what's your problem?"

"There isn't--"

"Stop lying!"

"You didn't fucking think!" He shouts. Loud enough that the noise outside cuts off. "You pulled that shit in the Upside Down and you almost died! Dustin got hurt!"

Eddie blinks his big brown eyes in stunned surprise.

"I told you, I said, 'dont try to be cute or be a hero or something.' And you know what you said? Do you?"

Eddie won't look at him now. "I had to make a choice, Steve."

"It was the wrong one!"

"I would do it all again. No matter what you say. I would do it to draw the bats away. To protect Dustin."

"But you didn't."

"There was no other way to stop them, Steve! They would've gotten through, into Hawkins."

"It doesn't matter."

"You weren't there! You can't tell me--"

"Yes, I can! I know."

"You don't! You think--"

"I almost lost you!" He screams. "You nearly died in my arms, Eddie. And for what?"

Falling in love with Eddie wasn't easy. It was blood and near death; it was weeks in a cold hospital room while Eddie existed in a drug-induced twilight state; it was agonizing convalescence and physical therapy and changing bandages; it was Eddie leading dnd sessions with bright eyes and contagious enthusiasm, herding the kids to the arcade and video store, theatrically serving snacks at movie night; it was festering, senseless anger at the near loss of something.

Eddie's lips tremble. "Steve, I--"

"It doesn't matter." He turns away to slide a hand down his face in an effort to wipe away the emotion. "You're fine and we're--it doesn't matter."

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "Steve, I'm sorry. I wanted--I thought it would help. I thought--"

And Steve has to admit, he does, the whole terrible contradiction of it all. "I know," he whispers back. "I would've--I know."

"I thought I was protecting Dustin. I thought I was buying you guys time with Vecna." Eddie's voice breaks. "I didn't--I--" He squeezes his eyes shut.

In the quiet of the kitchen, they gravitate to one another, foreheads resting together.

"I should have been there, Ed. I shouldn't have left you two alone. You almost died, and I--"

"Sweetheart, I'm right here. We're right here."

They don't kiss, but they're close enough that their mouths brush with each breath they take.

"Don't do that, again." Steve clenches his fists into Eddie's cutoff t-shirt. "Promise you won't ever--"

"I promise, Stevie. I promise. I'll be by your side until the very end, whatever it is."

[steviesbicrisis]

A Barbie AU where the Kens decide, in order to get some recognition, to get individual names.

Steve, who’s just a Ken very good with kids, is having an identity crisis after his Barbie, journalist Barbie, broke up with him.

Not even picking a name as unique and special as Steve, so much different than Ken, managed to cheer him up.

Everyone keeps saying he should be happy about the change, and discover who he is outside of Barbie’s orbit, but he can’t see what was so wrong in their relationship. He loved waiting all day for Barbie to look at him, even if it was for a brief second.

As if going through an existential crisis wasn't enough, he has to do it under the constant mocking of his archnemesis, Ke- Eddie.

Eddie, with his long curly and annoyingly gorgeous hair, who has a sense of style he would give all of his rollerblades for, and who's always there to notice whenever Steve makes a mistake.

Eddie even has his Barbie still by his side, cheerleader Barbie, and every time Steve sees them together he gets a sick feeling in his stomach, like a tummy ache. Doctor Barbie visited him a couple of times and found nothing wrong with him, he imagines he's a little jealous of Eddie for being with a Barbie.

Steve talks about this with Polyglot Barbie, his best friend, annoying her to death.

"Why are we talking about Ken, again?" she interrupts Steve's retelling of his last encounter with Eddie.

"It's Eddie" Steve corrects her.

"Right," she nods. She's very supportive of their silly-name-thing (how most Barbies call it), but she still has trouble remembering all the names, "why are we still talking about him?"

They're hanging out at the park, sitting under a tree, Barbie's leg on top of his, and they're holding hands. It's nice. Steve is happy to have a best friend like Barbie.

Steve looks up, meeting Eddie's gaze. He's sitting at one of the picnic tables not far away from them, doing nothing besides glaring at Steve.

Barbie squeezes his hand to get his attention back, and Steve looks away.

"Because he keeps tormenting me! he's even glaring at me right now, I'm gonna get stress wrinkles!" Steve finally replies, in a distressed tone.

"You're being dramatic," she says, matter-of-factly, "Eddie isn't so bad with you. You know, he kinda treats you like his Barbie."

If Steve had a beating heart, it probably would've stopped right at this second.

"What?"

"You know, he's always looking for you, he is always giddy whenever you give him a crumble of attention. He hangs out where you hang out... why do you think he's sitting all alone at a picnic table, just staring at you?"

"Maybe he's waiting for his girlfriend" he suggests.

"Are you talking about Cheerleader Barbie?" she giggles, "she's not his girlfriend, trust me."

"But he picks on me! all the time! Like this morning, I tripped and he made a comment about my legs!" He gestures at his legs with his free hand.

Barbie tilts her head to the side "you mean this morning at the beach when he held you in his arms for ten minutes to prevent you from falling and Barbie had to tell him to let you go?"

"… yeah” he manages to say. He hadn’t realized how long Eddie held him in his arms, he was upset about almost falling in front of him, but he also liked the feeling of his arms around him.

Everything feels different now.

Barbie's look softens "How does this make you feel?"

"I don't know" he answers, honestly "I just can't stop thinking about him."

A loud noise at their right startles them off of their conversation. They turn around to see Eddie lying on the floor, a trash can at his feet.

Steve doesn't give himself the time to realize that Eddie has probably heard their entire conversation and has tripped on that trash can because of it, he just rushes to Eddie's side to help him out.

Eddie stammers while Steve pulls him back up, not making much sense.

Steve is used to see Eddie as an intimidating guy, someone to compete with for Barbie’s attention. He never realized how much he liked to have Eddie’s attention instead, nor how he loved to give that attention back in equal amount.

“Nice legs” he tells him, repeating the same words Eddie told him that morning.

Eddie stops his incoherent stream of words when he hears him “what?”

“You heard me” Steve says.

“I did” Eddie admits. He pulls the trash can back up, to have an excuse to not look at Steve when he asks “you can’t stop thinking about me?”

For some reason, that’s the easiest question Steve has ever had to answer to “yes, I can’t.”

Eddie jolts back up startling Steve, the trash can falling out of his hands and hitting the ground once again.

“Cool” he says, using all of his willpower to hide his excitement by keeping a relaxed face, failing miserably.

“I guess” Steve grins. Knowing he has that effect on Eddie is making him the most confident he has ever felt in his life.

“So, since you can’t stop thinking about me…” Eddie repeats, in a tone that Steve would’ve mistaken for a mocking one until few hours ago “…we could hang out on the beach later. I’ll bring my guitar.”

“I’ll bring mine too then” Steve replies immediately.

Eddie panics “We can’t both have a guitar!”

Steve crosses his arms on his chest “who says that?”

Eddie opens and closes his mouth a couple of times then mutters, defeated, “fine.”

“Great!” Steve takes a step forward and gives Eddie a peck on his cheek “I’ll see you later.”

Eddie, who makes a face again trying to hide his excitement, nods and turns away “cool.”

He walks away slowly, towards the park’s exit. Right by the gate, he throws himself into an hedge. Steve can clearly hear him when he screams words along the lines of “FINALLY”, “I HAVE A DATE” and “SUBLIME”.

Steve turns to Robin who has witnessed the whole thing, while Eddie is still screaming random words from the bushes.

“I think I’m in love.”

[blushweddinggowns]

I'm all for the angsty overhearing a conversation trope where it's all sad because of a misunderstanding. But I also love the opposite. Overhearing a conversation where the other person is just singing their praises. Especially with Steve and Eddie.

Like Steve being very aware that he likes Eddie, but way too afraid of rejection to actually do anything about it. So he just pines away, and gets closer and closer to him with the full expectation of it never going anywhere. Until one day, he comes to pick Dustin up from Hellfire too early, and he can hear everyone talking through the door. About him. But mostly it's Eddie, his loud voice carrying across the room. And he's just raving about him, and somehow managing to bring him up in conversations that have nothing to do with him.

Do you remember that time Steve saved my life by shoving my guts back into my body? Yeah, that's the level of skill and luck you're going to need to survive this.

Did you guys know that Steve actually gave me this background music? He's weirdly knowledgeable about classical stuff. Isn't that cool? He's so smart and-oh, yeah, the merchant agrees to the deal.

So uh, is Steve maybe seeing anyone? He isn't right? Like he would tell me if he was, wouldn't he?

And he doesn't give a single fuck at the collective groaning of the group whenever he gets going, never failing to pull out the I almost Died saving the world with you card to get them to shut up. And by the time it actually ends, Steve is a glowing, blushing mess who can't stop smiling.

Or the other way around. With Eddie full on assuming he has 0 shot because Steve's, Steve.

The golden boy who could obviously never be into him like that, or any other guy for that matter. So he doesn't do anything about his feelings, he just hangs out with him more and more and falls for him more and more, waiting for the inevitable day when he gets a girlfriend and his fantasies could finally die. Except one day, he spends the night at Steve's, but he isn't in bed when he wakes up. He goes to find him, just to hear him downstairs loudly talking to Robin. Because neither of them know the concept of inside voices when they're together. And he waits at the top, listening in just for the fuck of it, but mostly because he doesn't want to interrupt.

"I just feel like bed sharing the way you guys do is gay as hell," Robin sighed, "Especially at your age. Also, should we even be talking about this with him in the house?"

And before Eddie has time to freak out over that and the possibility he's gotten caught with his feelings, Steve is already answering, "I know right? And don't worry about it, he sleeps like the dead. But I don't know what to do about it. He still hasn't done anything. Am I just reading this whole thing wrong?"

"Well you could try making the first move instead of trying to trick him into doing it," Robin tried.

"And ruin our friendship incase I'm wrong? Yeah, no. Besides, I go like, full dumbass around him when I'm nervous. He's too hot. I'd probably walk into a wall in the middle of professing my undying love."

"Yeah," Robin sighed, "You probably would."

And Eddie is just having a moment upstairs. A full on I think I may have to jump for joy moment. Or even, I think I'm five seconds away from squealing like a teenage girl moment.

Yeah, I like that shit.

[transmascsteveharrington]

Steve grows up thinking that love can be earned. That it has to be earned. That if he is quiet and polite, invisible most of the time and puts on his too-tight white button-downs without making a fuss, his mother will call him good and while she won't say it directly, Steve takes her approval for love.

His father is harder to please, for a while it's winning sport trophies and talking about taking out pretty girls. But as time goes on, Steve learns that disappointment is far quicker and far more willing given than love. Love can also be taken away like a toy from a naughty child.

Despite trying his best to keep earning his parents' love it keeps slipping away from him more and more often, like smoke through delicate fingers. Steve doesn't know what he is doing wrong, just assumes that he isn't good, that he doesn't deserve their love. It never occurs to him that they simply might be incapable of it, hollow, cold, harsh caves that echo where their hearts should beat.

So Steve tries to get it elsewhere. Tommy and Carol's love is easier to earn. Drive them places, pay for their food, get them booze and let them throw parties at his pool. Be mean and arrogant, laugh at jokes that make him feel sick to his stomach and do it all with a smile. Keep them happy and they'll keep loving him. He never quite figures out how he earned Nancy's love and it makes him antsy. Not knowing how to ensure that she'll keep loving him. He only realizes once they break up that the reason he never knew how to make her keep loving him was that she never loved him in the first place.

The kids are easy: be a human shield for them, beat monsters with a baseball bat, get tortured by Russians for them. If danger isn't around the corner it's driving them to the arcade, paying for their food, letting them hang out in the cold, desolate house that once they are gone echos just as much as the caves in his parents' chests. It's not that different from how he kept Tommy and Carol loving him. Only that it feels different, better. Steve doesn't have to force smiles, still recognizes the person in the mirror when he hangs out with the kids. He has fun too, would still do all these things if it didn't earn him the kids' love.

It's nice. Almost. If it wasn't for the constant fear that one day he'll say the wrong thing, bring them the wrong snack and all of that love will go poof.

Robin just like Nancy, Steve can't figure out. And it's fucking terrifying because he doesn't think he's ever loved a friend hell not just a friend, anyone, the way he has loved her. There are days he wants to crawl into her skin and make a home hoping it'll be enough to make her stay. Though a home never made his parents stay either. He knows the day he is going to lose her love, he will completely fall apart.

Eddie, Steve is slowly figuring out. Or at least he thinks he is. It's hard to tell with Eddie sometimes. On one hand, it's easy, Steve knows how to please partners in a relationship, knows how to be a good boyfriend. And Eddie clearly seems to enjoy the way Steve keeps trying to earn his love. On the other hand being a good boyfriend had already once not been enough.

It all comes down to it when Eddie and Steve end up in a stupid fight. Steve can't even remember what it started or who started it, all he knows that when Eddie says, "I need a smoke," and moves towards the door, panic closes around Steve's throat like a hand and squeezes tightly. If Eddie goes out of the door, if he leaves, he might not come back. It's been over six months since Steve last saw his parents.

"I'm sorry," he yells, tears already spilling over the corners of his eyes, running down his cheeks and pooling at his chin. He reaches for Eddie's wrist and Eddie instantly stops.

"I'm sorry, don't leave please! I'll make up for it, I promise. I'll be good. Perfect. Let me earn it again! Please!"

Eddie looks startled by Steve's outburst. He tucks his cigarette back into his pocket and pulls Steve into his arms.

"What? I'm not leaving! Steve," he says and cups Steve's wet face. Steve can't stop trembling. "What do you mean 'earn it again'?"

"Your love," Steve sniffs and buries his face in the crook of Eddie's neck, hoping, praying that it wasn't the wrong move. He knows he can be too clingy and he knows he can't afford to lose more of Eddie's love.

"My love? Baby," Eddie tightens his arms around Steve, "I'm not gonna stop loving you just because we're fighting. I love you even when I'm mad at you."

It draws a whole new wave of tears out of Steve and he does feel a bit like drowning. "And you don't have to earn my love, it's not fucking conditional," Eddie continues and presses a couple of soft kisses to Steve's hair.

"All my love is freely given. Not because you cook me dinner or let me pick movies or offer to blow me all the time. But because I love you, just you Steve. You don't even have to do anything. Just be yourself."

Eddie is crying now too, horrified that Steve went through his life in constant fear of love being taken away from him. Having to constantly bend and twist himself until he was broken just to earn crumbs of affection. It's a first step, one I love you doesn't undo years of trauma and fixes everything in an instant.

But Eddie vows he'll do everything he can to convince Steve that he is loved, so, so, so loved without having to grovel and beg for it. Without having to always be good and perfect.

And Robin and the kids make the same vow, heartbroken when they find out how scared Steve has been of losing them, how he thought they only kept him around in case of danger and because he had money.

It takes a while, but eventually, Steve starts to believe them. And if he ever has doubts or forgets everyone in his life is quick to remind him just how loved he is. Free of charge and indefinitely.

[strangerstilinski]

sharing a stiles thought i keep thinking bc brainrot and sharing bc you’d appreciate it

he would beg you to do the spiderman kiss and immediately fall as soon as it actually happens

i know this wasn't technically a request of any sort but oh boy did it tickle at the nearly nonexistent inspiration in my brain, so.. here we are. just a very short fluffy little thing that made me feel all warm inside. x

You tug at the sleeves of your sweatshirt in an attempt to cover your cold knuckles as you take an overly-cautious step out onto your front porch, hugging one arm around your ribs as a shiver wracks your body all while your grip tightens around your cell phone.

“Stiles, if this is one of your jokes-” A sigh escapes you, a wispy cloud of fog pushing past your lips as you look around for your boyfriend. There's a familiar blue jeep parked at the edge of your driveway, but the owner doesn’t seem to be anywhere in sight. You tut softly into the phone, “I think your pranks are cute, baby. Really, I do, but I need to study-”

Your socked feet carry you that much farther outside, shuffling slow across the smooth planks of wood underfoot while you cautiously scour the yard for his familiar figure.

“I'm right-” There's a scratchy crackle against the speaker just as you hear a scuffle from somewhere to your left. Stiles' yelp meets your ears twice, once from the dark emptiness at the edge of the porch, and then again half a second later through the phone.

It's just as you're just stepping up to the edge of the porch, hand falling to grip the railing as you squint into the darkness, when something drops down from above and makes you flinch back with a small scream.

“Here!” Stiles grins, the momentum of his body still making him sway forward and backward for a moment as he hangs upside down in front of you. He's dangling from the roof overhanging the porch, his torso curled around the edge in a way that can't possibly be comfortable, but he's grinning like he couldn't be more pleased with his current position.

“Stiles!” You scold, reining in the urge to punch his shoulder and instead redirecting the motion to simply grip at his biceps when he reaches out for you. The slow motion of his swinging slows under your steady hold, “Are you insane? You're banned from climbing on the roof! We- We have talked about this-”

“Neh, eh, eh,” He interrupts with a goofy grin, “The rule was that I can't climb on Scott's roof-”

While you don't remember the specifics, you have no doubt that your boyfriend would have been clever enough to worm some sort of loophole into his previous promise. Your nose scrunches up in annoyance while your heart continues thumping wildly in your chest, both from the scare and from the panic pooling in your gut as you watch your boyfriend shuffle and slip another inch or so over the edge of the roof.

“Sti, babe, please,” You whine anxiously, fingers digging into his arms a little meanly, “Stop moving around, alright? You're going to fall!”

“I'm not gonna fall,” Stiles rolls his eyes and he reaches a hand out to brush against your cheek, his pinky brushing the apple your cheek as his thumb presses lightly into your jaw, “Come on, don't you wanna know why I'm up here?”

You sigh softly, a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips while you release him with just one hand so that you can run your fingers through his floppy hair where it hangs loosely beneath his head. Your hand scrapes lightly though the soft strands, your cheek pushing imperceptibly into the warmth of his palm.

“Why are you on the roof, Sti?” You ask begrudgingly.

“Spiderman.”

“Spiderman?” You repeat slowly.

“Spiderman!” Stiles grins, “You know, the first one. The Raimi one-”

“Like.. Andrew Garfield?” You clarify with furrowed brows.

“What?” Stiles scoffs, “No! Toby Maguire! Baby, we watched them together-”

He looks appalled, mouth gaping just slightly in incredulity.

“Well, we watched the Andrew Garfield ones together too-” You defend with a small laugh, amusement filling your chest at just how worked up he seems to be getting by your mistake.

“The first one!” Stiles repeats in a huff, “Because that's the one where it's raining and he saves MJ and he's hanging upside-down in the alley and she pulls his mask down to kiss him as a thank you-”

“Ooh, a wet, New York City alleyway,” You tease, “How romantic.”

Stiles groans woefully, “This was supposed to be romantic. You are totally ruining this for me, right now, you know-”

His words do make you feel a little bad. He'd clearly put some thought into the idea. He'd climbed all the way up onto the roof of your porch, though you're still not quite sure how — there's no ladder in sight.

You plaster a sweet smile on your lips, slipping your feet up onto the rung at the bottom of the railing to boost you up another few inches, until your nose is level with Stiles' chin.

“I'm sorry, Stiles,” You murmur softly, chin tipping toward your chest so you can look into his eyes, “You wanted a big, superhero movie kiss?”

His adam's apple bobs when he swallows, his body reacting naturally to the familiar teasing lilt in your voice, “Uh huh.” He nods.

“Well gee,” You sigh wistfully as you drag a finger up the side of his cheek in a slow trail toward his mole-speckled neck, “You are awfully brave for climbing up there. And you did do it with the intention of wooing me..” Your teeth pull lightly at your lower lip and his eyes track the movement, “Maybe I could show you just how brave and sweet I think you are. Maybe.. I could show you how grateful I am, that you were willing to risk getting hurt for me.”

Stiles is nodding along, eyes wide with anticipation and cheeks flushed dark from a combination of your words and the blood rushing to his head in his current position, “Yeah.” He rasps weakly.

Your fingers curl around the back of his neck, your lips catching against his in just a light brush of skin, teasing. His lips part beneath your own and your warm breath mingles in the narrow space, the scent of spearmint overtaking your senses for a moment.

The hand on your cheek drags you closer in a gentle nudge as he grows impatient, and your mouths meet in a slightly awkward press of lips. Something about the new angle with such a familiar action scratches at the back of your brain, and you tilt your head just slightly when your mouths separate and rejoin only a second later.

Stiles presses his thumb softly into the hinge of your jaw in a silent request for you to open your mouth, his tongue catching on your lower lip before pressing inside and meeting your own.

Your tangle your fingers in the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. Another wet peck to his lips has him shuffling forward to chase your mouth the moment you ease back, and he seems to slip just a little further over the edge of the roof.

“Careful.” You warn softly.

“'m always careful.” Stiles whispers, his upturned nose pushing into your jaw as he kisses you again.

You lean back after allowing him another moment of indulgence. Stiles seems to follow the movement again, pitching forward as you go back like you're two magnets, but this time around he slips just a bit too far to allow for recovery. You can only watch on with wide eyes while he comes tumbling down from the roof and crashes into the bushes below with a small scream.

“Oh my god!” You gasp, leaning over the railing to watch your boyfriend roll into the grass with a groan, “Are you okay?”

“Never better.” Stiles manages weakly, voice hoarse.

“You sure about that, Spiderman?” You tease hopefully as you watch him drag himself to his feet, brushing himself off to free the small bits of branches and leaves and dirt that are now clinging to his clothes.

“Yeah,” Stiles sighs, “Yeah, 'm good.”

“Good,” You grin, beckoning him closer when he finishes ridding himself of yard debris and meets your eye, “You should get yourself a mask though. I hear masked superheroes tend get more than just kisses and I have to admit, I think it's kinda hot-”

“Noted,” Stiles agrees with wide eyes, tripping over his own feet and the porch stairs as he rushes toward you, “Fucking- Shit, I am so on it.”

[jolapeno]

Hello 👋🏼 I’ve been a fan for such a long time and I absolutely love love love the way you write Joel so I thought maybe you’d like some thots I’ve been having recently about him? It’s been super hot where I love and I can’t stop imagining Joel taking me for a swim to cool off in the summer… except it’s the apocalypse and we don’t have swimsuits 🤭 the way that man would STARE because he’s not seen a naked lady in a long time and the way he wouldn’t think twice about lying me down in the wet grass near the river and fucking me too… so yeah… hope that’s not too much 👉🏻👈🏻

firstly, thank you for the lovely compliment because me? really. eeep. but also, god anon, this SPOKE to me, because I've been thinking about my outbreak joel a lot. i blame my conversations with @thetriumphantpanda (also an amazing joel writer btw), so this spoke to me. and maybe this was supposed to be a drabble and now this is... this.

it’s different in the sun, in the day

pairing: joel miller x f!reader wordcount: 1.2k (oops, i don't know what happened) warnings: outbreak. smut. lots of talk of him thinking smutty things too. you can paddle in water. and there’s no bathing suits in the outbreak so naked dipping only.

He’d been serious when he told you that under no circumstances would the two of you be stopping. 

Even as the heat battered both of you, as you grumbled and the temperature made sweat drip and linger in places that chafed. Even as he felt himself growing more uncomfortable, angry, an ignited fury. Beads of it continued to fall from the ends of his hair, landing on his neck before descending under stiff clothing, pooling where his belt sat. 

And then it came into view. 

Crystal-like, shimmering—an oasis in the centre of death and overgrown. A heaven in a sea of green and brown hell. 

Joel hears the question before you let it slither from your tongue.

Feels it. Even before your hand wraps around his elbow, pulling and tugging attention to him that you already have. 

He’s just not good at letting you know that. At telling you. 

At first, it had been a refusal on his part; now, it’s a normalcy he’s come to like, over welcoming softness that he thinks will disrupt the careful equilibrium the two of you have. 

Before he’s even finished nodding, you’re pushing past him. Feet sliding from boots, socks peeled from skin as you expertly hang them on a dangling branch. He can only adjust his hand on the bag strap, glancing around, observing, looking for shifts and listening for branches snapping. Trying to not be more visibly annoyed than he already feels. 

Because this wastes time, this fantasy. 

They haven’t gotten as far as they have by dipping into them, into allowing themselves reprieve in the middle of nowhere. 

So he looks out, observes the area. Because it’s what he does, survive. A thing that feels second nature to him now, but hadn’t always. 

When he comes to rest his eyes on you again, you’re bare. Not a piece of fabric covering any part of you as your back is to him, the curve off your ass lit with golden sun and shadows from the trees it peers through; your back, illuminated by honey-yellow, showing the healing silver that’s permanently etched into your skin.

He can remember when it was a wound.

When it was as stubborn as you about healing. All sore, weeping—causing him nothing but anguish he had to shove down inside of him until it roared out and cracked skulls or broke jaws. 

You don’t ever pull a face when he comes back with split knuckles, the same way you don’t look over your shoulder to see if he’s staring. He suspects you know he is, would be, forever will be as long as air can find his lungs and he has the sheer audacity to remain alive. 

It’s a view watching you dip into the water, finding you turn when your waist is submerged, your lower limbs swallowed by murky blueish green, leaning back as his throat dries at your bare skin, at the curves of your breasts, at the way—even from here—he can see how hard your nipples are. Can imagine them between his teeth, can even hear the sounds you make, how breathy they are. 

Just like he knows how they feel, how weighty they are.

He’d only reminded himself a handful of nights ago, under the moonlight, hearing you mewl and whine as he slotted himself between your thighs. Pace slow, but deep, sounds of skin slapping, heavy breaths and the sleeping bag rustling all he could hear as he took you apart, as you took him apart with each of your fucking moans.

He thinks it’s different in the sun, in the day.

There’s something more beautiful about you, ethereal, making it seem hard to wrap his head around that he’s seen you survive, seen you both brutish, violent and evil, as well as heavenly, lustful and willing. 

In the night, the two of you are hidden by shadows, by night. There’s no hiding in the day, finding beauty in all its naked form swirling around in water he wishes was translucent.

His fingers flex, jaw tightening. A part of him battling to trudge into the water fully clothed, pull you to the shore and remind himself of how messy he can make you. Have the water seep directly from your skin to his as he pulls you flush, as he places your thighs on either side of his hips and hear that hiss you do when he sheathes fully inside of you.

He never kisses you, but he does hold your hand. Likes pinning it to whatever surface he finds himself pressing you against—clutching the hand that takes inside his own, feeling you grip him tightly in all the places you can before you convulse, shiver and shaking as he fucks you through it.

Joel wishes he could push the back of your hand into the soil now, coat the earth in your conjoined hands as his hips thrust into you. Leave a mark in the thing still living from both your hands and his knees.

Fuck, he wants to make your breasts bounce from the force. Not used to you this naked, this free. He’d be able to see all of you as your mouth contorts, wondering whether you can say his name or not—  

“You joining me or what?” 

He considers it when you shout. Ticks his jaw from side to side as he sees more of you vanishing under the water until it’s only your neck and head safe from the watery clutches. 

Joel does his own calculations, chews his tongue as he drops his bag from his shoulder—placing it close to yours. Resting it. Staring at the mess of your stripping before flicking his gaze to you. 

He thinks if he waits long enough, you’ll emerge out, dripping, beads of water shimmering. That you’ll come to get him. Retrieve him. Fingers sliding around his hand as you tug and plead only with your eyes, because there’s only one situation where you beg him. Where you plead. One that is usually blanketed by darkness, sometimes in abandoned houses, against mattresses with springs that dig into his knees, or under stars. 

You don’t squander that word on anything else. In the same way, he has only said please to you once. You had been sobbing—all silent and broken, moving with each prod of the needle as he aimed to keep you living, keep you with him.  

A splash of water brings him back, droplets of it up the shore as he hardens his gaze at you, seeing you standing, much closer to him, your chest glistening with water as you slide a smirk over your lips, no evidence of regret. 

“Take off your damn clothes, Joel.” 

It’s sterner than normal, more forceful. There’s no teasing edge to it, that comes from you hingeing at your waist, threatening to splash more water his way. 

It’s then he decides, as he raises a hand to begin popping his buttons undone, that as much as he’s been picturing pressing your spine into the ground, your ass cheeks into the mud, how he'd wrap your legs around his waist, he suspects that you have been imagining something entirely different.

Like him on his back. Your hand pinning his to the ground, as you sink down on him, taking every single inch of him. 

And he thinks maybe this is a fair trade, all of it.

Lifting his chin pointedly as he begins to let his skin be free from his layers, exposing his chest, his stomach, and the rest of himself. Because the look in your eyes, as he does so, is something that makes blood rush to his cock. Makes him hard as he strides, makes him want, need, desire—all the while making him realise that he’s not just wanting someone to whine for him, to moan his name or ask him to go harder. He wants you. He likes having you around. 

Under the sun, under the moon and everywhere in between. 

But, as he reaches you, as he grasps your hip and forces you flush to him, Joel decides that’s another thing he won’t admit. 

[p0ssywhippedcream]

Zuko has been with the gang for a while now and you've been able to teach him how to do most any chore. He can set up tents, bathe Appa and even dry clothes off without lighting them on fire (it happened a couple times tho). But the one thing he just can't get is cooking.

He stands beside you as you lower a pot over the fire gently, his eyebrows knitted. He watches as you angle it so there's no chance of it falling as it small bubbles appear; signaling its commence of boiling. You sit down on a flat stone and take out a small knife, gesturing a c'mere motion with the blade.

"Can you hand me the tomatoes?" He grabs them and passes them over, ears flushing when your hand brushes his.

"You're going to boil them?" You giggle and shake your head.

"No, this is for the broth and the beef. Everybody has been craving it but Aang is a vegetarian, remember?"

He nods and pops a squat next to you on a large rock. Your ankles touch and his toes flex. "You're making him something separate." You agreed with a hum and begin to slice the fruit over a bowl in your lap.

"That's nice of you." You glance up briefly and give him a sheepish grin. He finds it endearing.

As you focus your attention back to the task at hand, Zuko wonders what he should say next. Before he can really consider it, you toss a piece of tomato at Momo and ask, "Your uncle makes tea right?"

"Uh, yeah. Uncle loves tea."

"How come you haven't learned how to?"

He doesn't want to admit that he didn't pay attention when he should've, when he had time to notice how Iroh did it. "I wasn't taught."

"Do you want me to teach you?" You look up and pause your slicing. The bowl has a small stack of tomato piled inside that tumbles when you shake it.

"I'm not very good at uh.. making things." You snicker, remembering when he burned lettuce a couple weeks ago.

"Yeah, I noticed," You smile to let him know you're teasing and he returns it a little shyer. "I could, though. Teach you. You don't have to be good at it."

"What's the point of teaching me if I'm not good at it?"

"I like spending time with you." You shrug and reach for an avocado across him. Your arm is just too short and he takes the opportunity to grab it for you, turning his head so you don't see his blush. "And you'd get the hang of it, tea is like.. your birthright."

Zuko chuckles. He always thought his birthright was violence. He wonders if it still is. He doesn't say that. "Because Uncle owned a tea shop?"

"Yeah," You laugh, "And you can use your fire bending, yunno? But I'm not sure if you have the patience for it."

"Why's that?" Suddenly Sokka is next to him, holding a pile of sticks and asking you where you want them. You point next to the fire and notice the water jumping in the pot. Standing up, you motion for the broth ingredients and Zuko hands you the pre-mixed bowl. Sokka is quickly distracted by Toph demanding to know where Aang went and Zuko turns back to you.

The crackle of the fire comforts the atmosphere as the sun sets, giving your face an orange hue that dances dramatically from your chin to your nose. You tuck a piece of hair away and Zuko can see the way your eyes glitter in the soft glow, your pupils swallowing the color of their rims.

It's silent for a bit, Zuko simply watching as you stir the pot and occasionally call out for Sokka and Toph to stop arguing. You set down the ladle and pick up a bowl of assorted vegetables and fruits, passing it to Zuko.

"Can you find that bread from the village? I think it's in Katara's bag?" He disappears to rummage and returns holding a half-eaten loaf.

"Okay, that should be enough," You remark as you turn away from cooking and towards his returning figure. You make eye contact with him and your nose wrinkles in the moonlight as you smile, "Can you cut that in half and make a sandwich?"

He sits down and follows your instructions, first wiping the knife you'd used earlier before slipping it in the loaf and beginning to separate it. His dominant hand slices down as he keeps it steady in the other and as he gets to the end, he takes his chance to look at you.

Your feet are bare on the ground, a little dirty and as you shift from side to side, your heels lift enough he can see your bridges. A daffodil is stuck to the bottom of your left foot, staring at him before being engulfed in a step again. You move around the pot, pushing the ingredients stuck to the side back in the middle and the flower is left upside down on a rock.

His finger burns in pain and he notices a small cut. He had finished slicing the bread and had dug into his hand. Cursing, he sets aside your assignment and stands up holding his hand as blood flows slowly. You notice immediately and rush over. You bend down and rip a bit of your skirt, wrapping it around his hand and shushing him back down onto the rock again.

"It's not too deep, you should be okay." He nods, hissing as the fabric rubs the sensitive flesh. "It hurts?"

"Yeah." You press his hand towards you, checking it again and clutching it from the palm.

"You can go back to cooking." You look up at him confused and he continues, "It might burn."

"It's fine, it needs to marinate. You need my attention more."

The firelight covers the furious burning of his face, "Are you sure? It's a small cut."

Your expression is hard to see in the dark but the coy fluttering of your features is obvious enough. You're nervous, and a shade darker on your cheeks and oh, you're blushing too.

"I care about you." You murmur and it's a blessing he hears it.

"I- I care about you too," He offers, the urge to look away would be worse if you weren't already doing that. He watches the twitch of your nose as your smile takes your lips again. You meet his gaze and he realizes how close you are. He feels your hot breath on his face and leans in just a bit more. "You look really... really pretty."

Your eyes crinkle in the corners as your mouth spreads wider and reveals your teeth, dimples making his heart flutter as he confesses, "You're glowing. The- the fire makes you glow."

You digest his words with a gentle laugh covered by your hand. "Yeah," You pause and quirk your head to the side, "You do."

He wants to faint and of course he doesn't know what to say. You help him out again and suddenly your nose is brushing his. "You like me?"

He nods because he's not sure he can speak without squeaking.

"I like you too.." Your words are felt on his lips as you get even closer. Your eyes dart across his face, seemingly checking for affirmation before your mouth is on his and all the blood rushes to his head. His hand comes up to hold your head as he kisses you back. For a second, it's so amazing as you lick across his bottom lip until pain is shooting up his hand and he has to pull away.

Your hair had brushed his still open cut and he cradled his hand a little closer to himself as you re-examine it. "Sorry.."

Zuko looks at you like you're crazy, "Don't be sorry."

You glance up and away, still flustered.

"I've liked you for so long," His admission fills the night wind and you prompt him to continue with wide eyes. He's a little quieter as he finishes with, "Since Ba Sing Se."

He misses your voice dearly as he waits for your answer. He gets it in the form of giggles ticklish as butterflies. He watches you with curiosity until you say, "I was wrong, you are patient."

He laughs too now and you both shake beside the fire with hands holding bellies. The spurt of broth leaping out of the pot brings you back and you scramble up to stir it. Zuko watches as you step over the daffodil again and it flips upright, showing him that it was two, smushed so closely it looked like one. He looks up at you in admiration as you taste the stew and feels a surge of affection for whatever luck landed him at your side tonight.

"You were wrong too," His face contorts in confusion and you elaborate, "You're good at making things... you made me like you."

He's the luckiest guy in the fire nation. He goes to tell you but you speak first. "And I want to teach you how to make tea, but I think I should let Iroh. When we find him."

Zuko's left with a mouth hanging open and a heart stuck between missing his Uncle and loving you for all your kindness and thoughtful nature. He settles on both. "I don't know if he'll forgive me."

You make a strange face as you gaze at him over the open flame, it looks intense in the orange heat. "You don't give his love for you enough credit."

Then you're coming over and pecking him on the cheek, making him dizzy again. You bring your lips to his ear and whisper "I think he'll do anything if you let him teach you to make tea."

His smile is warm and flustered when you teasingly add, "I would, and I like you a little bit less than he does."

[xlatiwritesx]

For Good | LN4

Genre: angst

Words: 1.5K

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: after four months of healing, you think you’re finally over the love of your life. But when he randomly shows up heartbroken at your doorstep late at night, you start questioning everything.

…

If someone asked what was one of the greatest luxuries that life offers, you'd immediately say the ability to forget. The ability of time to mend broken hearts and stitch up wounds. Even if not entirely.

You think of this as you wave goodbye to your friends whom were still talking around a small, round coffee table at a cafe downtown you've been planning to go to for weeks. You don't realize it until you were leaving that Lando was the one that had recommended this place to you. Your smile widens at your progress as you get in your car to drive home.

You stop at a red light, watching as the people pooled into the street to cross it, going on with their day. You smiled at a couple holding hands. You smiled at another holding each other close. You think back to the earlier days after your break up. How these scenes would've sent you over the edge. How these scenes kept you locked up in your apartment because it was easier to be a prisoner to isolation and loneliness than to endless heartbreak.

As you take the elevator up to your floor, you can't help but think of how it would’ve been if things were different. If he was different. No. If his life and what he was was different.

Would your heart have been torn apart into shreds and just barely brought back together?

You shake your head as if it would shake off the thought and unlock your door. You hang your coat behind it and drop your keys on the kitchen island.

Throwing yourself on your living room couch and kicking off your shoes, you can't help but think of how many nights you've woken up in the middle of, lonely and choking on nothing but a lump caused by loss and heartache. You shiver, feeling grateful that part of your life was over. That you've grown since then.

You focus on whatever was on the TV to stop you from thinking of the worst period of your life. You take a deep breath and force it out, getting comfortable by pulling a throw blanket over your cold body.

You get lost in the many ads and all their flashing colors, almost missing the ringing doorbell. You frown, wondering who could show up at that hour. You check your phone clock and it reads 11 pm. Your frown deepens as you sit up, giving the ringer one last chance before you went to open.

It rings again.

You finally get up, walk to the door and open it. Suddenly, it made sense why someone would visit you at that hour.

You look at him, his curls messier than you remember them to be, his eyes darker than you do as well. His athletic physique seems weak and beat up by something only you would know so well. He looks at you the same way you looked at his pictures when you left him that night.

"I can't do it, y/n" he whispers, barely having the strength to shrug. You open your mouth slightly, but nothing comes out.

You just open the door farther, moving out of the way so he could come into the place he has memorized by heart. He drags his feet along your wooden floors to the living room you had danced around in for many nights. Where you've shared words for only both of you to hear, confessions of admiration, and jokes no one else would laugh about but the both of you.

He drops on your couch and his head falls back. You shut the door and stand there, your hands behind you and your brows furrowed. So many emotions run through your body. Longing. Worry. Panic.

You didn't know how to act. Because the only way you knew how was to run into his arms and hold on to him forever. But you shut your eyes and pierce your lips. You couldn't do it to yourself. Not again.

You slowly walk closer to where he was, yet still stand far enough to be out of reach. You take a closer look at him. You've never seen him like this and it killed you.

"Lando" your shaky voice echos. He opens his eyes and look at you. You didn't think it was possible for more pain to find its way to his eyes. But somehow it did.

"Don't call me that" he frowns, standing up and walking closer to you. You keep your eyes on his, not able to move any inch of your body.

"You never call me that" he whispers, his face finally just inches away from yours.

Your heart squeezes. Squeezes so tightly that your eyes are forced shut and your tear ducts are suddenly full. His scent. His face. His voice. His mere existence. You missed it. You missed him. So much that you were barely standing on your feet still.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice is barely audible when you finally speak, your eyes still shut to keep your uninvited tears from exposing your tortured soul.

“Look at me” he begs, voice desperate. Way too desperate for you not to listen. Your eyes meet his again, except it’s a blurry version of them this time.

“Why are you here, Lan?” You promise yourself to call him by his nickname once. Just once more. He smiles through the storm of his emotions when you say it and you immediately question your integrity for already wanting to break the promise you’ve just made.

“What is it?” You pressure and his faint smile fades. He opens his mouth to answer, but no words come out immediately.

“I can’t do it. Being away from you-“ you turn around before he could finish, pressing the bottoms of your palms against your eyes to hopefully keep the tears in, but even dams fail to keep raging rivers.

His hands find your waist, his forehead resting inbetween your shoulder and neck. You both stay like that for a while. It takes every ounce of strength you have to keep yourself from sobbing. Whaling, even.

You thought it was over. You thought you were okay. That time did heal. And that you broken heart was mending. But it took one look at him to get you right back to that night. And one touch to make it all worse.

“No, Lan” you shake your head, unable to keep yourself from crying anymore.

“We already talked about it. This won’t work and-“

“No! We didn’t! We never talked about how every night it feels like bricks are piling over my heart, crushing me into pieces because I can’t reach out and feel you by my side!” Lando’s voice fills every inch of your apartment. You keep your back to him, hunched over as tears streamed down your face.

“I can’t do this anymore! I’ll do anything. Anything you want, just name it and I’ll do it. I’ll buy it. I’ll be it!” He continues. You feel him coming back to hold you and you don’t move. Instead, you anticipate it. Hoping, praying, begging for it.

“Just please come back to me” he wraps his arms around you from behind, pressing his temple on your wet cheek. You keep crying silently, hoping for a moment of strength so you could reply.

You slowly turn in his arms to face him, holding his face and pressing your forehead to his. You both close your eyes and for a moment it’s like nothing changed. It felt like the many nights you spent loving him over and over again until you were incapable of loving anything else.

“I believe we tried everything, Lan. It’s time to let this go. For good” you somehow manage to say that. He somehow heard you, because he shakes his head slowly, disapproving.

“Yes” you whisper against your wishes. Against all your deepest desires and dreams to be with him forever. To hold his hand and never let go.

“No” his voice breaks and you break beyond breaking with it.

“Please” you breath shakily.

“Don’t make this harder than it already is, Lan” you beg. His arms find their way around you again, his head buries in the crook of your neck. You feel him shake against you. You wrap your arms around him too. Taking him in as if you didn’t have him memorized already.

You both stand there, in each other’s arms, listening, watching, feeling your hearts shatter for the millionth time, cursing your circumstances for tearing you apart. For being too drastically different.

“I love you” Lando mumbles and you smile lightly through your tears, holding him tighter.

“I love you, too”

[zhaobear]

a perfect match

PAIRING : sung hanbin x fem reader

GENRES : fluff, crack, college au, barista au, mild enemies/rivals to lovers au, sick fic

WORD COUNT : 4310 words

SUMMARY : you and sung hanbin complement each other perfectly, whether it's behind the coffee bar or during late nights in your dorm building. however, companionship quickly turns to competition as the end of the year approaches — and with that, the glorious title of employee of the year. but when hanbin falls sick, you decide you can put your feud aside for one day.

WARNINGS : profanity, brief mentions of drinking, one slightly heated kiss, mc is competitive, hanbin is messing with her, jiwoong is just there, injeolmi toast reference, there are interspersed flashbacks in italics & one tense change!

AUTHOR'S NOTE : helloo making my zeroseblr debut!! thank you so much to anyone who reads i hope you enjoy <3 a huge huge thank you to @jayflrt and @s7toru for the support and encouragement, i don't think i'd be publishing this without them!

“HANBIN DIDN’T COME IN TODAY,” Jiwoong says in lieu of a greeting as soon as you enter the back of the store. 

You flip through the café’s records book, noting down your time of arrival. Jiwoong can yap about Sung Hanbin all he wants, but you won’t let that stop you from getting paid. 

“What does that have to do with me?” You shoot back, tying up your apron.

Jiwoong shrugs. “You guys are close, right? I thought you’d know what’s up.”

You scoff. You and Hanbin may have been close once, but that was before he started coming for your position.

“Keep it up, Hanbin!” Jiwoong claps Hanbin on the shoulder as he finishes taking a customer’s order. “Engaging with customers and making them feel connected to the store is one of our most important values.” 

“Thanks, Jiwoong,” Hanbin beams, the sight of his dimples causing butterflies to take flight in your stomach, for whatever strange reason. That is, until Jiwoong’s next words. 

“With how much improvement you’re making, you might just be up for Employee of the Year.” Jiwoong winks. Your jaw drops to the floor. Jiwoong doesn’t notice your mouth hanging open and simply returns to making drinks like he didn't just shatter your entire world. 

“What the hell!” You call out indignantly. “Why would he get Employee of the Year?”

Jiwoong turns to look at you like he’s just remembering your presence for the first time. 

“Well, Hanbin’s been learning very quickly since he joined. He’s made a lot of improvement and the customers love him.” 

“He served a frozen sandwich the other day!” You cry out. You remember it clearly — the customer had approached you with a furious glint in her eyes, demanding to know why her sandwich wasn’t heated. Hanbin had popped up behind you to apologize for his mistake, and a blush immediately overtook her face as she shoved the sandwich into her mouth, claiming she preferred it frozen anyway. 

“That was last week! I’m a changed man now,” Hanbin insists.

“The award should not go to him,” You splutter at Jiwoong. “I can talk to customers too!” You shove Hanbin away as the next customer in line approaches the register. 

“Hi, could I please get an iced matcha latte, and a—”

“Hi, how was your day?” You interrupt loudly. Jiwoong slaps a hand to his mouth to stifle a poorly-contained laugh. The girl’s eyes go wide as she takes in your expression, her gaze flitting nervously between you and the door, like she’s considering bolting out of the shop. 

“Sorry, don’t mind her. She means well,” a smooth voice interrupts. Hanbin slides back to his position on the register, his hand circling your waist as he gently eases you to the side.

You huff. “I can handle myself on register!” 

Hanbin’s hand shifts to your lower back as he leans over to whisper to you. “You’re staring the poor girl down like she just murdered your family. I got this.” 

True to his words, the girl visibly relaxes when Hanbin takes over and begins to make conversation. Your cheeks grow hot at the gesture. You should be angry, but Hanbin’s hand is warm on you and his shoulder is knocking into yours and you can’t seem to think straight. 

Hanbin leans close again, and your brain short-circuits.

“I’m coming for your award,” he breathes cheekily into your ear. 

The giddy feeling in your chest immediately dies on the spot. 

You scowl at the memory, your knuckles turning white as you tie the strings of your apron tighter. Jiwoong raises an eyebrow, reminding you of his question. 

“I’m not speaking to him anymore.” You have to hold back from crossing your arms like an angry child. 

“You were fighting him over the register on Wednesday,” Jiwoong points out.

“A lot can change in three days.”

Jiwoong sighs. “Seriously, do you know what’s up? He hasn’t called or texted at all.” 

That makes you pause. Ever since your current feud with Sung Hanbin, he became particularly more committed to “beating” you at work, whether it was clocking in earlier than you, going beyond the necessary opening requirements, or covering more shifts than usual. For him to not show up to work without any prior notice or explanation — maybe there is something wrong. 

You relent. “I’ll go check up on him after my shift, okay?” 

A Cheshire grin spreads across Jiwoong’s face. “So much extra effort,” he muses. 

“We live in the same building,” you deadpan. You check your hair in the small mirror on the wall before heading to the front of the store for your shift. 

“I didn’t even tell you to go check up on him!” Jiwoong calls to your back. You give him the finger in return. 

“Hanbin, open up!” You yell, pounding on his door for what feels like the millionth time. You press your ear to the wood, but hear absolutely nothing. 

“I can see your Snap location!”

Then, a rustle. 

You hear the creak of a bed, and the sound of soft footsteps gradually approaching closer. The door swings open, revealing Sung Hanbin in his pajamas. 

“You were in bed the whole time?” You shriek. “Jiwoong was worried sick! He was acting like you dropped off the face of the Earth when you didn’t contact anyone!” 

Hanbin wordlessly turns around, making a beeline away from the door. You huff, following him inside his dorm without another thought. 

“You’re just going to leave when I’m talking to you? Look, I get it if you don’t want to interact with me, but you shouldn’t ghost your manager. Isn’t that—”

Hanbin stumbles into the bathroom and slams the door shut on you. Realization dawns upon you when you hear retching from the other end. The puzzle pieces slot into place — his glazed eyes, paler-than-usual face, and complete lack of energy. 

“Hanbin?” You ask, your voice softer than before. No response. “Do you need any help?” 

“No,” Hanbin whispers faintly behind the door. 

“Okay,” you respond uneasily, “but I’m staying here until you come out.” 

You take his soft sigh as affirmation, and immediately pull out your phone to text his roommate. 

you: wya??

taerae: staying w my aunt for the weekend taerae: why whats up?

you: hanbins sick

taerae: oh shit taerae: well. gl to him

you: 😭 you: do you have medicine

taerae: no 😂 taerae: wait actually taerae: check the bottom drawer on my desk

you: found it ty

You gather whatever medicines look helpful from Taerae’s drawer, then grab water from the fridge. Soon enough, you hear Hanbin moving behind the door, followed by the flush of the toilet and water running from the sink. He emerges from the bathroom, his face glistening with water droplets. He looks tired in a way you’ve never seen before as he trudges past you and collapses at the foot of his bed. 

He groans softly at the hard surface, but makes no move to get up. You crouch down to the ground, pressing your hand against his forehead in concern. 

“Hanbin,” you gasp. “You’re burning up.” 

Hanbin makes a pitiful noise, shifting so he’s pressing his flushed cheek to the cold tile. You loop your arms through his and haul him to his feet. 

“You missed the bed,” you try to joke, but even you can hear the terribly masked worry in your voice. Hanbin slumps onto the mattress, and you carefully pull the covers over him despite his small sounds of protest. He’s clearly not concerned enough to do anything more, so he mutters incoherent nonsense under his breath and then closes his eyes. 

You can’t help the minuscule twitch of your lips at the sight, but you turn back to the medicine bottles before you can allow yourself to dwell on it. 

Once you’ve arranged an assortment of pills and the water, you gently shake Hanbin, whose eyes are still shut. 

“Sit up,” you urge, tapping his shoulder. Hanbin cracks open an eye, sulking. Regardless, he complies, sitting up and fully opening his eyes. “Take these.” 

His frown deepens, but his gaze scans your face and he obeys without another word. 

“How long have you been sick like this?” 

Silence. 

“When’s the last time you ate?” You try instead. Hanbin pauses, like he’s taking a moment to genuinely think about it, then shrugs blankly. “Hanbin, you have to eat!” 

“Not hungry,” he mumbles. 

“This isn’t up for debate,” you shoot back. “I’ll go grab you something, so stay here, okay?”

Hanbin nods, sinking back into bed. You shoulder your bag and search for his phone and keys, finding them on his desk. 

“Here,” you say, tucking his phone under his pillow. “Call me if you need anything. I’m taking your keys so you don’t have to let me in. Take a nap, and I’ll be back soon.”

Hanbin only buries his face further into the pillow. You refill his water and adjust the room temperature before slipping on your shoes at the front. You helplessly turn back to look at him once more, like a compass straying north. Then, you leave. 

When Sung Hanbin first walked into Say Yes! Coffee with a stunning resume and even more stunning smile, you recognized him instantly. 

You had met Hanbin in the beginning of your sophomore year on a Thursday night, when the noise from the room above yours was becoming unbearable. 

You had stormed up the stairs in your pajamas, too tired to care about appearances as you incessantly knocked on the door. When the door opened to a man clad in all black with an unnervingly handsome face, you faltered slightly. However, the sight of the dim lights and red solo cups behind him rekindled your anger, and you immediately began to tell him off. 

He was holding a party on a Thursday night, for god’s sake, couldn’t he at least have waited until the weekend? As you continued on about the lack of consideration for those with Friday morning classes — however small the number may be — your voice got stuck in your throat when the man responded with a dazzling smile. 

“Cute,” he had said, causing you to flinch in shock. He agreeably promised to keep the noise down, and with your face heating up from a mixture of embarrassment and surprise, you turned around and left without another word. 

You didn’t see him again after that incident, but true to his word, the noise was considerably softer in the following parties. When you saw him again at your workplace, you weren’t even sure if he’d remember you. 

However, Hanbin’s eyes had instantly lit up. “Pajama girl!” He’d exclaimed, and your smile dropped. 

From then onwards, your relationship had taken a turn. Jiwoong began scheduling the two of you for almost every shift together, allowing you to witness every step of his journey — from training, to slowly taking over register, to becoming a pain in your ass. It almost made you sentimental, thinking about how much you’d gotten to see. 

With the increased shifts came increased shenanigans during breaks, from ridiculous drink concoctions to espresso shot chugging competitions. Eventually, these were followed by unexpected knocks on your door and boba runs between classes. 

Hanbin would let you into the dance studio, smirking at your reactions in the mirror whenever he caught you staring as he practiced. You allowed him to tag along on your trips to the library, even though he would use the soundproof study room to loudly poke fun at you while you would fret over your lab reports and problem sets. 

Despite the vast differences in your majors, you still had the common denominator of a shared dorm building. This was clear every time Hanbin would knock on your door to drag you to his upstairs parties to expand your social circle, or when you would knock on his to deliver successful baking experiments. 

In your second semester, he joined you in a General Education class that he absolutely did not need to take, and you started going to his open dance classes despite your severe lack of coordination. 

So perhaps Jiwoong was right, maybe you were incredibly close — until the possibility of Hanbin winning Employee of the Year became real enough to scare you, until you decided it would be easier to hate him. (Was it Employee of the Year that you were afraid of, or something else?)

You reenter Hanbin’s dorm with a giant thermos of steaming hot soup, an extra blanket, and an assortment of items from the nearby drugstore. You dump the contents onto the table, wincing at the amount. You may have gone slightly crazy and swept nearly everything off the shelves at the pharmacy, but you convince yourself they’ll be necessary. 

When you enter his room with the food, you’re surprised to find that he’s already awake. His brows furrow slightly at the sight of you.

“I brought you soup,” you explain, nodding at the bowl in your hands. “Eat.” 

While the Hanbin 30 minutes ago was so sluggish he could barely keep his eyes open, this Hanbin is uncannily alert. His eyes dart back and forth between you, the soup, and the medicines scattered across his desk. He opens and closes his mouth, like he’s searching for the right words. 

“Why’re you doing this?” A strange question to settle on, but you smile at him softly. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t understand,” he replies, his gaze wary. 

You frown. “You’ve done the same for me. Remember when I got super drunk at Matthew’s and you brought me home?” 

Hanbin goes silent. 

Things like this between you and Hanbin are never questioned — they always go without saying. He threatens you at work, but he still picks you up when you drink too much. You fight him over the register, but you still sit next to him in class and watch him from the back of the dance studio. You’re still here, because you know Hanbin would be no different. 

“You don’t owe me for that,” Hanbin blurts out, red creeping up his cheeks. 

“I don’t think of it like that. I’m here because I want you to get better,” you say, holding out the bowl of soup to him. A peace offering. 

Hanbin hesitates, then accepts it, blowing on it to cool it down and taking a sip. He hums in satisfaction, then shovels the rest down his throat within a minute. You gape. 

“Slow down,” you scold, remembering the vomiting from earlier. You feel a pang of guilt realizing how hungry he must’ve been, motionless in his bed without the energy to eat. 

Hanbin grows more lethargic on his second bowl, his eyelids beginning to sink. He catches himself just before he can allow himself to doze, and you frown. You can’t help but wonder why he’s fighting sleep when it’s what he needs the most — his half-lidded eyes stay focused on you, and then it hits you. Maybe he wants to be alone. 

You take the bowl back and pull the covers over him, noting with a twinge of satisfaction that some color has returned to his face. 

“I’ll clean things up and then head out so you can get some sleep,” you tell him. Although something deep inside you longs to stay, to stick with him until you’re sure that his fever is gone, you stand up from the chair. 

However, Hanbin grabs your elbow before you can fully turn away. When you look at him, there’s a plea behind his eyes that he doesn’t seem keen on voicing. Even when he’s sick, he’s strong, tugging you back towards him until you’re sitting at the edge of the bed. 

“Do you want more soup?” You ask, unsure of what he needs from you. 

Hanbin shakes his head. “Stay,” he mumbles, so faint that you barely hear it. 

Oh. 

“Sleep,” you coax him gently, your heart squeezing at his request. “I won’t go anywhere.”

Hanbin searches your face with a hint of desperation, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sparkle in his eyes. (Did Sung Hanbin always look at you like you had hung the moon and stars?) 

You don’t have to think about it for too long because Hanbin seems to find whatever he’s looking for in your expression and finally closes his eyes. Sleep pulls him under within minutes, evident in his deeper breathing and the loosened tension in his body. 

You brush some of his hair away from his forehead, softening at the lines of his face, more youthful and relaxed with the rest. 

In a few minutes, you know you’ll have to clean up, restock the fridge, and find a damp washcloth to reduce his temperature. But you allow yourself a moment to stare, brushing his thumb with your cheek. 

Even while asleep, Hanbin leans into the touch, like a flower searching for sunlight, and you flinch. You return to your chair next to his bed and watch him until the sun rises, your heart a jumbled mess. 

“Jiwoong.” Hanbin calls out one morning towards the end of his training, when the three of you are opening the store. 

“Hmm?” Jiwoong shoots Hanbin a brief glance before going back to busying himself with the espresso machine.  

“Why do you always schedule me and Y/N together?”

You turn at the mention of your name, perking up with curiosity. Jiwoong’s brows furrow, almost as though the answer is obvious. 

“Y/N is efficient, in pretty much all ways possible. She can make the most drinks in the least time possible, without compromising quality. She’s also great at responding to unexpected situations,” Jiwoong explains. You grin at the compliment but stay silent, sensing he has more to say. 

“Hanbin, you’re slower and sometimes you freeze up during mishaps. But you’re good with customers. You know enough about coffee to make recommendations. You’re perceptive, so you’re first to know when we need to restock. All of which Y/N tends to fall short on. Which is fine, of course, because neither of you is perfect.

“But what one of you lacks, the other one makes up. You’re imperfect separately, but a perfect match together.” Jiwoong puts a pause to his grandiose speech to fish for the keys in his pocket. “Anyways, I’m going to unlock the door now.” 

You shoot Hanbin an incredulous look, despite the warm feeling spreading throughout your chest. Hanbin looks equally confused, but his gaze softens when you make eye contact. The smile he returns is so tender that you have to look away, your face burning like a star. You go back to wiping down the counters, and avoid thinking about Sung Hanbin and how incredibly red his ears were. 

When Hanbin wakes up, you’re reminded of his training days from all those months ago, of his shy but earnest demeanor, unafraid to reveal his struggles and ask for help. 

This Hanbin is similarly vulnerable, allowing himself to be open and show you weakness. Allowing you to help him. 

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” Hanbin’s voice interrupts your thoughts, and you flush, shaking yourself out of your nostalgia. You press the back of your hand against his forehead, sighing in relief. 

“Drink this, it’ll help," you say, avoiding his eyes as you hand him a glass of orange juice. “Your fever finally broke.”

“Yeah, no shit. I’m sweating balls,” he rasps, kicking off the blankets you’d piled on top of him. He chugs down the juice and rubs at his eyes. “What day is it?”

“It’s Sunday evening. You pretty much slept through the whole day,” you grin.

“Did you stay since yesterday?” A hint of guilt flashes across Hanbin’s face. 

“It’s fine, I got some work done,” you wave it off, gesturing to your computer propped open on his desk. “Taerae’s gonna be back soon, so I’ll head out, okay? I texted Jiwoong for you, so you’re not working tomorrow. There’s some extra soup in the fridge, so heat that whenever you want.” 

You start to gather your things, but Hanbin catches your wrist. His expression is abnormally serious, his eyes piercing holes into yours. 

“What’s wrong? Do you need something?” You use your other hand to check his forehead again, but he stops you.

"I need you."

Your mouth falls open. “What?” 

Hanbin quickly catches himself. "I need you — to drop this Employee of the Year thing. Jiwoong already told me he's giving it to you."

You're still stuck on the first three words of his sentence, but when the gears in your head finally turn you gasp. It's a lot to process and you shake your head, wondering if you even heard him right. How long were you fighting for an award that was already yours?

"I thought you wanted to win," is all you can think of saying.

Hanbin smiles, warm and soft in a way so familiar that your heart aches. “Y/N, I don’t care about Employee of the Year. Go out with me.”

You find yourself at a loss for words, but Hanbin doesn’t seem to mind as he continues.

“I know I still have a lot to learn, and I didn't even care about the award that much. I was mostly just teasing you, so can we please stop fighting over it? Or else I’ll seriously think you hate me.” 

“I don’t hate you,” you choke out. 

Hanbin chuckles. “I figured that now. No one spends this much time and effort on someone they hate.” 

“Shut up,” you say halfheartedly, your heart hammering in your chest. “Are you serious?” Hanbin tugs you by the hands, enough that you’re sitting on the edge of his bed. All traces of humor vanish from his face as he stares at you intently. 

“Y/N, I like you. I thought you were cute ever since you showed up at my doorstep in your pajamas. And I’ve been hopelessly obsessed with you ever since we started working together. Does that answer your question?” 

Fireworks explode in your chest as you think back to Jiwoong’s old words. 

What one of you lacks, the other one makes up. 

When Hanbin is sick, you take care of him. When Hanbin forgets to eat at the dance studio, you bring him food. And despite all your incessant fighting, Hanbin covers for you at the register. Hanbin invites you to parties when you’re cooped up in the library for too long. Hanbin sends you his notes when you doze off in class. 

Your heart thumps in your chest as you begin to put together the little moments of your relationship. You were a perfect match the whole time, just as Jiwoong said, only you hadn’t truly realized the weight of his words. You itch with the need to do something, but your hands are still tightly grasped in Hanbin’s and you can’t think of much else to do than to lean down and press your lips to his cheek. 

Hanbin makes a small noise of surprise at the contact, his hands slackening around yours. You flush at the warmth of his skin against your mouth, feeling as though you’re floating somewhere above the stars. When you pull away, Hanbin’s eyes are closed, lashes fanned against his cheekbones and face tilted upwards like he’s hoping for more, or savoring it. His eyes are glassy when they finally open, eliciting a giggle from your throat. 

“I like you too,” you grin, “if that didn’t make it clear.” 

Hanbin smiles then, so wide that you can see his whisker dimples. He pulls you down and on top of him, burying his face in your neck. 

“Let me kiss you properly,” he whispers into your skin. You separate from him enough to read his expression, eyes widening at the sudden sharpness in his gaze. His eyes flicker between yours, before darting down to your lips and fixating on them. 

“Won’t your mouth taste horrible?” You tease, but you’re already leaning in. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” he murmurs against your lips before closing the distance.

A thousand firecrackers flare up in your body when his mouth meets yours. You gasp when his tongue slips into your mouth, leaving behind the pleasantly surprising taste of orange juice. 

Sparks fly where his skin touches yours, multiplied by a thousand when he cradles your cheek and deepens the kiss. Your hand moves to the back of his neck, tugging lightly on his hair. The soft groan that emits from Hanbin causes a jolt of pleasure to shudder down your spine, and you instinctively tug harder.

You pull away far too soon to catch your breath, breath hitching at the string of saliva between both your lips. 

“Gross,” you lie, but Hanbin’s eyes only darken. 

“I wanna do that again.” He leans in again, but you veer away before you can allow your judgment to blur. 

“You have to focus on getting better first!” You swat at his hands. 

Hanbin pouts. “I’m way better. Stellar, actually.” 

“You can kiss me in two days.”

Hanbin’s answering smile is blindingly bright, even though you didn’t say anything particularly funny. 

“What is it?” Your pulse races at how he looks at you — like you’re made of every precious thing in the world, like you’re a dream made alive. 

“I think this might be the happiest day of my life,” he answers. As he grins at you with the warmth of the entire sun, you realize the fluttering behind your ribcage was never a new feeling — you were just as enamored with him when you first met. 

You smile back, bigger than you’ve ever smiled at Hanbin, watching his gaze turn awestruck as a red-hot blush creeps up his cheeks and neck.  

“I think it might be mine too.” 

[httpsserene-main]

hi hi! this is another prompt list i made for hitting 3k. once again feel free to use this for your own writing needs if you'd like! please reblog, link, and credit me if you decide to use any of prompt(s) from this list !!! tysm < 333

𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 — a list of situational (and a few dialogue) prompts for some fluffy and mildly-suggestive dating ideas ! it's soft-life coded, i think lol.

Trying and failing to stay awake while your partner is on the way home.

Getting up before you to make you both a cup of coffee/tea and gently wake you up.

Driving your car routinely to fill the tank, wash it, clean it out, etc.

Noticing when you're running out of certain products and restocking it without saying anything.

Learning how to do your hair.

Being able to sit in the same room in complete silence that doesn't feel awkward.

The glove box of their car becomes accumulated with items you leave behind.

Coming home one night to find out that you cleaned their entire house even though you don't live together yet.

Using your partner's phone and discovering a note that has all of your likes/dislikes/food orders etc. written.

Making sure you always exchange "I love you" 's and "be safe" 's before one of you has to leave.

Finding a photo album on their phone full of candid images of you.

Cooking your partners favorite meal just because.

"Can I kiss you?" "You know you don't have to ask me anymore, right?"

Scolding you for not wearing a jacket even though they told you to, multiple times.

Sighing and pouting loudly because you haven't paid them any attention.

Seeing something that you would like and buying the item in every color.

"I love you." "Damn, that's crazy."

Telling their family that they think they're going to marry you.

Staring at their your lips when you talk.

Speaking to you in a softer tone of voice.

Playing with your hands or jewelry while they're focused on something else.

"You remember what I was wearing the first time we met?" "Of course I do!"

Noticing you picking up their mannerisms and slang.

Giving up their seat to let you sit or pulling you to sit on their lap.

Getting giggly and touchy when you do something they find cute.

Eagerly watching you hold a little fashion show after coming home from shopping.

Understanding when you're ready to leave an event without having to ask/be told.

Getting lost in your own conversation when hanging out with friends, and being roasted by the friend group for how in love you both are.

"Stop staring at my ass, please."

Falling asleep within minutes of you playing with their hair or scratching their back.

Getting flustered from extended eye-contact.

Exchanging flirty looks from across the room.

Becoming your shadow and following you around the entire day.

Asking you if you're okay with them going to hang out with their friends tonight, except they really want you to say no.

Making sure you always adjust/fix each others appearances when you notice something off.

© httpsserene 2024 - please tag and reblog if using one or more of my prompts.

[buggybambi]

gallagher next door | lip gallagher

lip learns an interesting fact about you and has to change it. ─ 1.43k ─ nsfw content, minors dni! (fem/afab!reader, 'angel', 'honey', other pet names used, oral - f recieving, unwrapped p in v, fingering, friends to lovers, no use of y/n)

Lip Gallagher’s throwing pebbles at your window, and it doesn't surprise you.

Lip had been your best friend for a few years now. He was the boy you went to for dating advice, you were the one he went to for his crazy family dramas and advice on what to do most of the time. You two were each other’s soulmate, as people joked.

Ever since you moved to Chicago nearly sixteen years ago and met Lip as the boy next door, you knew there was something unique about him. Something that drew you to him naturally.

He’d made a habit most recently of climbing into your window to talk. Late night thoughts, troubes. Anything and everything, all he had to do was throw small enough sized pebbles to get your attention and you’d sneak him in through the front door up to your bedroom.

Sure enough, it was happening again tonight. An oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts, you stuck your head out into the cold summer air. Finding Lip down below as you hum. “Whatcha doing, Gallagher?” You ask.

“Hey, there’s the prettiest girl. Do you look prettier then the last time I saw you?” He asks, head tilted up at you as your roll your eyes. “You saw me this morning, Lip.” You comment.

"Point stands, sweetness. You gonna make me stand here all night or do I get to come in?" He asks. You pause like you're contemplating it before you giggle, rushing downstairs and opening the front door. "Your parents home?" He questions as he hangs his coat up.

You shake your head. "Business conference." You answer as you walk upstairs with him. He plops himself down on your bed, grabbing one of your stuffed rabbits and playing with its ears. You sit beside him. "Have you eaten today?" It's always the first thing you ask him, knowing he can either get so busy and forget, or just forget to eat in general.

"Nah. Had oatmeal Fi made this morning, though. Wasn't very good." He answers as you frown. "Lip, that was like eight in the morning. It's almost.." you give a glance to the clock. ".. nine pm. Let me make you something. Mac and cheese?" You offer, remembering it's one of the boys favorites.

He lets out a soft groan. "That sounds better then head right now. You know me so well." He says as he sits up. You laugh nervously. "I wouldn't know but.. whatever you say." You comment.

He stares at you. "No one's ever gone down on you?" He asks, all seriousness in his voice. You roll your eyes. "Don't call it that, Lip. But to answer, no." You say with a shrug.

You frown as he continues to stare. "It's not a big deal." You mumble. He shakes his head. "No, no I just- I guess I assumed an ex would have offered or something at least."

"I don't know. One guy.. tried I guess.. but he wasn't very good and he stopped just like, a minute in cause I took too long." You answer.

"Okay.. angel, can I ask you something?"

"Of course you can."

"You trust me, right?" He takes a step. "Of course I do, Lip, more than anyone." He nods. "Next question.." He says.

"Would you let me taste you?" He's suddenly standing closer to you, just within arms reach.

Your eyes meet his instantly as you stare at him. "Lip-" You begin to speak but cut yourself off, shaking your head. "I don't want you to feel like you have to or anything, and I don't want this to change things between us."

"It won't. You trust me, don't you? I wanna do this." He says, pressing his forehead against yours. You stare at him before you exhale. "Okay." You agree, your voice soft.

It doesn't take long after that for his lips to be on yours, kissing you slowly. Your hands sit at your side before you think to move them, wrapping them around his neck. His find your waist, slowly beginning to move you toward the bed, letting you fall back first as you smile against his lips.

His hands explore new areas, as he slips his tongue into your mouth. You let him do as he pleases, your hands gripping at fabric as he pulls away, beginning to kiss down your jaw.

“Lip.” You moan as he begins sucking on your neck. He only pulls away to remove your shirt, so he can have easier access to your chest. Kissing down your chest, hands on your thighs as you let out soft moans that he thinks are heavenly.

He then removes your shorts, removing his own shirt. Hands kneeding at the skin at your thighs, as he begins kissing down your stomach. You let out impatient whines as he smirks against the skin. “Patience, angel. Gotta take my time with you, y’know?” He whispers to himself as he finally reaches your wet cunt.

“So wet f’me, aren’t you?” He asks softly, the only sound filling the room was the fan blowing in the corner. You can't answer, anticipation stopping you as you just nod, staring at the ceiling. Staring at Lip as his nose bumps against your clit seems impossible.

He gently slides his tongue past your wet folds, your body wanting to arch at the sudden intrusion of his tongue in you. He holds your hips down, only moving away from placing kisses on your clit to gently insert a finger in you. "Taste so sweet, angel." He whispers.

Your mind is fogged, the only thought being one thing: Lip. Needing to feel him, you reach a hand down to run a hand on his hair. He grins, placing kisses on the inside of your thigh as he adds a second finger. He begins leaving a hickey on the inside of your thigh, as he arches his fingers.

He removes them, replacing them instead with his tongue. Eating you like a man starved. He can't stop, he tells himself that he cannot stop. Grinding into the mattress, the only thought plaguing his mind is you. How sweet you taste, how tight you feel. The way his jaw is soaked with you.

"Lip, I'm close." You moan softly, as he kneeds the skin on your thigh.

"Come for me, sweetheart." He requests, and you do so. Letting yourself fall apart for him, as you throw your head back.

He grins, as he pulls away. "I need to feel you, Lip, please." You beg, and he's already removing his pants and freeing himself from his boxers. "Okay, okay.. now, honey, I can grab a condom but-"

"No, please. I'm on the pill, we're safe." You confirm with a nod, as you stare at him. He laughs, as he kisses you again as he slides himself past your folds, giving a quiet warning before he inserts himself into you.

You let out a mix of a gasp and a moan, wrapping your legs around him in an attempt to push him deeper. "Shit, angel." He mumbles as he does go a bit deeper in you, thrusting ever so slowly.

“Squeezing around me so tight, yeah? This - fuck - pussy was just made for me, wasn’t it?” He asks, knowing you’re too fucked out to respond with anything more then nods and moans.

“Good girl. Taking me so well, yeah?” He asks, a hand snaking through between your bodies, finding your clit and his fingers rubbing small circles on it. “Could stay here forever, y’know? Just live right here with you..”

You don't hear most of his incoherent rambles except for one more thing: a very soft "I love you."

"Lip, 'm close." You signal as you run a hand through his hair. He continues rubbing circles on your clit, as he buries his face in your neck. "Let go f'me, sweetness." He pleads softly.

You give in, your climax succeeding as you sigh into the mattress. He doesn't last long after that, spilling into you before pulling out swiftly.

Neither of you say anything until you remember what he mumbled. An I love you. "Did you mean it? When you.. you said you loved me?" You question. You're really asking if he meant as a friend or as more.

He looks over at you. "I've been in love with you since I met you, sweetness, of course I meant it.” He answers. You stare at him for a moment before you kiss him again.

Things definetly couldn’t be the same between you two.

˙ ✩°˖🌸 ⋆｡˚꩜

shine on, shine on, my loves!

thank you for reading! please feel free to engage with this post by reblogging, commenting or sliding into my inbox to leave feedback! i appreciate all of you! check out my lip gallagher masterlist here for more fanfics!

- mae

[carolmunson]

orange colored sky (older!modern!eddie)

older!modern!eddie - setlist inspired by the fact that i fall in love with someone new every time i got to trader joe's and @loveshotzz new older!steve series. manip by my fave @eddiemunsons-missingnipple tw: nothing really, very much a meet cute at a grocery store. eddie is in his early 40s, reader is late-late 20s/early 30s. lemme know if you guys want this to be a whole thing.

the automatic doors rush cool air into your face, a sweet reprieve from the sticky heat of this summer. a much muggier july than you remember having as a kid. but then again, you don't remember that much about being a kid these days. trader joe's is a little busier than usual, which makes sense with the holiday weekend coming up -- but you hate when it's busy. there's already too many sounds -- some summer 90s playlist and the squeaks of the carts, people in their hawaiian shirts milling around with boxes and box cutters. you just want some snap peas for god sakes. 

you grab a basket and adjust your canvas bags on your shoulder, tossing your headphones in them for later. you feel 'running errands ugly' but everyone seeing you in the bike shorts you threw on this morning doesn't think that view is ugly at all. your music drowned it out on the train ride over here. you're already sort of annoyed. people just don't know how to do anything anymore -- why are we just standing in front of produce. get what you need and go! you think hastily. but you wait for people to stop gawking at the produce and make their selection before you grab the romaine, snap peas, and shredded brussel sprouts you need. when you turn you almost walk entirely into someone's cart, eyes flitting up briefly and muttering a 'sorry, s'cuse me'.

can everyone just get off my fucking ass? you huff to yourself internally. you maneurver over to fruits, a few stands in a row -- citrus, apples, berries. all separated by category in large cargo looking boxes. you snag a big box of cherries, the three pound one, knowing you'll go through the small ones too fast. you frown over the lack of watermelon, continuing along while someone turns the corner into your aisle. you look up for a moment, just to scan your surroundings, to see who it is.

 you've never seen him before, but you've never seen anyone here before. it's not like there's regulars at the grocery store in a city like this. his hands hang over the handle to his cart by the wrists, knuckles tattooed in shapes you can't make out. you follow the leather banded watch up to a full sleeve of ink, only obscured by the start of a cuffed t-shirt sleeve, a crisp white that blinds against the black of the elvira pin up tattoo on his tricep. horror icons blending into each other seamlessly. you can see more black and color peeking out from the collar of his shirt --vintage judas priest, mint condition, tucked comfortably under a well perserved denim vest covered in patches of bands you've never heard of. you're surprised by the black chino shorts on his bottom half, not expecting someone who was clearly still stuck in their grunge phase to wear those over cut off jeans. the busted up reebok's on his feet make up for it though -- pairing nicely with the tattoos on his calves and thighs, not quite sleeves, but enough to make a statement. 

you grab a box of strawberries and pop them into your basket, surveying the mangos on the top shelf at your eye level while he maneuvers behind you. you think he's cute but you don't take too much stock in it -- it's so like you to have a 'train boyfriend' or 'trader joe's boyfriend' for a brief moment in time. someone cute that you spot outside and never speak to. it's one of those days.

he has brown eyes and thick lashes, hair dark wrapped in a bun on the top of his head with streaks of silver poking through, bangs in his face. some curls stick to the heated skin by his neck and jaw. not that you're looking. the scruff on his face is littered with salt and pepper -- maybe that part of him aging more than the rest. he grabs a heap of bananas to his nearly empty cart. he also has a big box of cherries in there. he wears a cologne with spice and suede in the notes, it's familiar, a little smoky. maybe an old boyfriend used to wear it. you shrug it off, grabbing a mango or two and popping it in a produce bag before hocking it in. more veggies for a greek salad. an onion. some pre-packaged turkey slices. 

you turn into the first frozen food section, weaving through more people who just stand there and you grit your teeth. you snag some frozen broccoli, the coolness bringing you a moment of calm so that you don't lose your mind inside the store. more like traitor joe's. you grab a few more things, a veggie medley for a tofu scramble, some scallion pancakes that you’ll use as meal replacement because no matter how many times you think you’ll food prep you never do. you see him at the end of the aisle, rifling through bags of frozen shrimp to find one he likes. you notice he has a ring on but it’s on his pointer finger, two more rings on the hand that holds his cart by his hip – a silver chain dangles from what you assume is his wallet in his back pocket. his keys jingle from a carabiner by his front belt loop. slut, you think to yourself. you grab a bag of small frozen salmon filets, not paying much mind to your grocery store boyfriend of the week when you turn the corner to the next frozen food aisle. he’s there not soon after you, grabbing frozen fruit medleys and a few bars of chocolate on the non-frozen shelving above. you aren’t sure if he sees you, but you see him. you can smell the suede and spice of his cologne as his moves past you to the other end. bread is on the back wall of the store, you want to get sourdough but you know you’ll just eat it plain and not make sandwiches so you opt for the tuscan loaf instead. you snag a bag of mini bagels, forgoing the small baguettes this time. you can’t afford the good burrata this week for any special girl dinner you come up with, so it’s best to not have it around if you can’t pair it with anything pretty. further down the back wall you get to snacks and don’t ignore the bag of yogurt covered pretzels – a basket must. seaweed snacks for salmon rice bowls. plantain chips. Your basket feels a little heavy but at least this errand is almost over. you turn down the pasta, beans, and rice aisle and there he is turning down the other end. you both catch each other this time, because this time feels like it’s not a coincidence. you both break eye contact as quickly as you make it, both of you looking down and smiling to yourselves. you feel the heat on your cheeks but you don’t see his blush, both of you too preoccupied with whatever you have to pick up to pay attention to the other. you smell the suede and smoke even after you lose him to the next couple of aisles. 

pre-packaged tortellini, lox, shredded cheese. chicken thighs. a six pack of some pretty sounding beer you’ve never tried. your basket overflows but it’s fine. the errand is over, at least here, before you need to run into target which for some reason is far less overstimulating. he’s a few people ahead of you on the opposite line, still leaning over the edge of his cart with his hands hanging, one thumbing a text to someone before he stands up fully to push the cart ahead. he looks over his shoulder and your eyes briefly meet for a moment – heat on your cheeks – before he moves ahead to turn down the long row of cashiers to pay. you don’t see him when it’s your turn and by the time you’re done paying you’ve already forgotten about him, lost in a flirty conversation with the guy ringing you up. target only has half of what you need and that’s fine because nothing else will fit in the big canvas bags you brought with you for your groceries and it’s at least an eight minute walk back to the train. you groan when you get back out into the heat, the boiler room of the subway cooking you as you make it down to the platform. a pleasant sigh passes your lips when you see it’s at least only a four minute wait until your train makes it to you – only a few more minutes of suffering before you’re on your way back to your air conditioned studio apartment. you look across the platform where some old lady’s push cart rattles as it makes it down the stairs on the other side. her little body walking ahead, a voice saying ‘i got it, ma’am don’t worry,’ echos down into the chamber of the subway.

there he is. a canvas bag on each arm filled to the brim and the push cart lifted in front of him. while you can’t see from this distance, you have a feeling you’d like how his arms looked at full capacity like this. the cart’s metallic jingle continues when he places it on the concrete ground, pushing it over to the woman who now sits pleasantly on the bench. you watch their conversation while they say quiet ‘thank yous’ and ‘your welcomes’ to each other and he checks his phone while he finds a spot to stand, waiting for his train on the opposite side.

you check your phone just the same and look up again as he puts his phone in the pocket of his vest. his attention catches on you from across the way.

he gives you a small wave and smiles. he has a nice smile, infectious.

“hi.”

you wave back with two fingers, a small salute, “hey.”

“i’m eddie,” he starts as the red glow of the light on your train starts to pull in. 

the chug, chug, chug starting to drown him out. he raises his voice with a boyish grin, you hear him just before the train obscures him from view – whooshing past you as it pulls into the station. “i normally go to trader’s on wednesdays!”

you get on the train when the doors open, seeing him still on the platform, searching for you in the windows. you put your hand up again in an awkward wave and he grins when he finds you. ‘stand clear of the closing doors, please!’ he puts a hand back up with two fingers, mouthing out a message. ‘wednesdays around two.’

you give him the okay symbol with your fingers and nod at him, chuckling at the ridiculousness of the situation, he chuckles too. his smile is pretty, lips are full. his two fingers point to his eyes and then at you – ‘see you then’. 

the train pulls away before you get a chance to reply. 

next

[sneakyparsnipslicer]

The Cosplayer

For a few years now Glen had been going to an unofficial event for a game he loved. It all began around 2021, he'd seen his friend Kieran talking about it on Twitter; a gathering of fans of the game in a town he'd be able to get to. The first time he'd gone to the event, he was able to meet many other fans of the game, recognising some content creators he'd interacted with before online. In the midst of them all, there was one guy that stuck out to him; a cosplayer dressed up as one of the main protagonists.

Glen had seen a fair few cosplayers at places like Comic Con, but this guy was good. Very handsome. From what Glen could gather from others was he was a professional cosplayer that went to many official events hosted by the company that made the games they all enjoyed. Glen knew then and there that he'd have no chance getting to know the guy, but all the same he could admire him from afar.

The next two years were the same, Glen went to the event, so did Mr. 'Geno-Morphus' as his username online had him called. It was clear Geno had a band of friends he'd always hang out with at the events, some of which were shared with the people Glen had come to befriend over the years, though Glen never got the chance to meet Geno, they could never seem to be in the same place at the same time. Each year Glen would see him co-hosting a cosplay panel with another professional cosplayer. Glen had thought they were together until Kieran told him that Geno was actually gay, but also married. Glen had never felt his hopes rise and fall so fast, but he accepted the fact.

In late 2023 a small group of the event goers organised a little meetup in a town a little further away, and Glen was asked by Kieran if he'd like to go. Hanging out with the people at the events had fast become a highlight of each year and so he jumped at the chance. They'd all be meeting up early 2024, granted it wouldn't be as big as the main event, but it would be nice to see the friends all the same.

The journey took a while and Glen had just journeyed up following a night shift, so after a little nap at the hotel he'd booked a room at, he went down to the bar to meet up with Kieran, who waved to him. "Kieran! So good to see you!" cried Glen sweeping his friend into a hug. "Hey mate, good to see you too! Did you get a good rest?" Kieran asked, reclaiming his seat. Glen grabbed a seat next to him. "Oh yeah, NEVER travelling 3 hours after an 8 hour night shift again! Had to stop at Costa and get a shot of Espresso" Glen shuddered. Kieran chuckled, taking a sip of his whiskey. "Ah right, be right back, just gonna get a drink!" said Glen quickly, he headed to the bar and soon returned to the table with a pint of whiskey also. They both said "Cheers!" and clinked their glasses.

"So, is anyone else here yet?" Glen asked. "Well Caitlin says she'll be along in a few hours, Jack's here but he's taking a rest, he has come up from London of course" started Kieran. "Of course, I don't blame him" said Glen, Kieran nodded in agreement. "Fred and Kim are on their way with little Sammy, but their train's been held up" said Kieran. "Oh no, that sucks. Really hope Sammy won't kick up a fuss. Remember that time in 2022 when he had to be taken out the room?" asked Glen laughing. Kieran smiled, chuckling. "Yeah I think they want to forget about that, so don't bring it up!" said Kieran. Glen took a sip of his whiskey and gave him a thumb up. They both sat and talked a while, updating eachother and how life's been since the previous event, Kieran was surprised to learn that Glen had been invited to a Halloween party by Jack that had been hosted by another couple they knew based in London. As the night went on more people did arrive, drinks were had and to Glen's surprise, who should show up but Geno-Morphus. It seems he didn't live too far away and had actually decided to come along earlier in the week. Glen didn't quite know what to say. It wasn't like he didn't know who Geno was, but he wasn't exactly acquainted with him. Geno went to get a drink and came back, sitting next to Glen.

"How're you doing mate?" Geno asked Glen, smiling at him. "Oh you know, just happy to be here, happy to see everyone" Glen smiled. "We haven't spoken before have we? I know I've seen you at the events but I think I've been a bit to busy with the event organisers" said Geno, looking Glen up and down. "Yeah, I totally get that. Must be tough to get a moment to yourself at times like that" Glen replied. "Oh mate, you know it! So what's your name?" Geno asked. "Oh, I'm Glen, love your work!" Glen chuckled. "Cheers man, I really appreciate it. My name's Wesley in case you didn't know" said Wesley, offering his hand to shake, at which Glen accepted it. Glen and Wesley chatted a lot about their jobs, Glen joking about the actual shit he has to clean up at the cinema, Wesley talking about his cosplaying schedule. Eventually the group carried chatting til past midnight when the last call bell was rung. Some of the people took their drinks back to their rooms, Glen found himself walking with Wesley to Caitlin's room, she'd had way too much to drink and so they made sure she got back to her room and into bed safe. Glen left a glass of water on the side table for her and they both left. "Guess it's just us now Glen, fancy hanging at mine for a bit?" Wesley asked. "Sure, sounds good!" said Glen. They both headed to Wesley's room which was a floor above Caitlin's. Getting in, Glen saw that Wesley had brought his laptop, which was still on.

"Ah, thought I'd closed it. Oh well, wanna hear the playlist I'm putting together for my birthday party?" Wesley asked. Glen nodded. He pressed play and 'A Little Piece of Heaven' by Avenged Sevenfold started playing, Glen started laughing. "Oh man, no way! I haven't heard this song since 2012!" cried Glen, they both had fun singing the main chorus. "God you are so down to Earth Glen! How have we not spoken sooner?" asked Wesley, laying down on his bed looking at him. Glen shrugged. "I guess I always thought you were on another level. I mean we have guys that stream the games, podcasters, people making custom levels and I come along like 'Hey, I clean toilets at a cinema!'" said Glen. Wesley laughed. "I like you Glen, you're a good laugh" smiled Wesley. Just then, 'The Best' by Tina Turner came on. "Oh Tina Turner, you have great taste Wes!" said Glen, closing his eyes and swaying to the music. "Yeah, love Tina. Got to see her and Bryan Adams perform 'It's Only Love' back in 1985, God that was a good night" said Wesley looking at the ceiling. "1985?! Fuck man I wasn't even born!" Glen laughed. Wesley nodded sadly. "Yeah, this birthday coming up I'll be 47" said Wesley. Glen's jaw dropped. "No way are you 46!" said Glen in disbelief. Wesley shrugged. "It is what it is" he said. "But you're fine as fuck!" said Glen, clapping a hand over his mouth, realising what he'd just said. Wesley looked at him and laughed. "You really think so?" he asked, smiling. "Well if we're being honest, yeah. Your husband's a lucky guy, whoever he is" said Glen. Glen fell silent for a moment. "Maybe I should be getting back to my room now, sorry Wesley" said Glen, standing up and moving to the door. Wesley stood up and put a hand on Glen's shoulder. "It's ok, it's sweet of you to be honest, you've been so open tonight and I really appreciate that" said Wesley, standing before him, smiling.

Glen's mind was racing, he'd long had a crush on Wesley, he just never imagined he'd ever be in a room alone with him. Wesley moved in and kissed Glen gently on the lips. Glen didn't resist at first, but he pulled away and shook his head. "Sorry Wes, this isn't right, you're married" Glen began, Wesley put a hand gently on Glen's cheek. "Hey it's alright! We have a bit of an open relationship. Polyamorous, you know. He'll always come first of course" Wesley explained. "Well, unless you cum first, right?" Glen chuckled, then hid his face in his palm. Wesley cackled at the joke, pulling Glen's hand away and kissing him again. Glen could feel his dick harden, he'd wanted Wesley for such a long time now and this was it. This was where he got to know Wesley intimately. Wesley pulled back and smiled, taking his jacket off. Glen began to unbutton his shirt and Wesley pulled his t-shirt off. They both looked at eachother shirtless, next moment they were in eachother's arms, making out, hands on eachother's backs, Glen running a hand through Wesley's hair and Wesley slipping a hand below Glen's jeans to feel his ass. They both pulled away, panting. "You've been wanting this a while, haven't you?" asked Wesley, grinning. "Oh if you could only know!" said Glen breathily, rubbing his hands over Wesley's well-defined pecs. Wesley wrapped his arms around Glen and thrust him onto the bed, sitting atop him, beginning to unbuckle his own belt. Glen watched in anticipation as Wesley threw his belt away and began to pull down his trousers and boxers, revealing his girthy dick. "Am I living up to the dream?" asked Wesley. "I'll say! Fucking hell!" said Glen, reaching out to grab the shaft, beginning to pump it. Wesley threw his head back and began to moan, Glen sat up and began to suck his dick. Wesley looked back at Glen and smiled, pushing him back down on the bed. He stood up and kicked off his trousers and boxers. "Here" he said, laying back down on Glen, grinding his crotch into him whilst kissing him on the neck.

Glen cried out in orgasmic ecstasy as he wrapped his arms around Wesley's back. "I want you inside me!" Glen said, and Wesley stopped, they both stared eye to eye for a moment. "Well now I have your permission…" Wesley said sinisterly and proceeded to force Glen down stronger than before, grinding his crotch into Glen furiously, the sound of squeaking, squelching rubber filling the room and Glen moaned out. To his surprise, Wesley was beginning to sink into his own body, Glen put his hands on Wesley's ass, helping force him in. Glen had never felt more aroused and his sense of feeling was beginning to diminish, this absolute stud of a man was fucking his way in and it was amazing. He didn't know this was even possible, but somehow, he felt he'd needed it.

Under Glen's skin, Wesley was shifting himself, moving his arms and legs to fit correctly, lining up his face with Glen's. He unbuckled Glen's belt and pulled down his jeans and briefs, grabbing Glen's expanding dick and choking it, ensuring his own dick was stretching nicely into Glen's, using both hands he jacked off working up a sweat until finally he let out two, thick squirts of cum, laying back on the bed, panting. Glen's body was now in Wesley's control. He leaped off the bed and ran his hands down his slippery body. He walked over to the mirror and looked at himself. There was no trace of his old face at all, he was effectively Glen with a bit more musculature than before. "Well I've had fursuits and morphsuits, but you Glen, you've got to be my first bodysuit!" Wesley said out loud in Glen's voice. Hearing Glen's voice escape his mouth only made him smile, this was perfect. Wesley had grown bored of continual convention cosplay, it paid good, but required him to be available, never really leaving time for himself. Glen was to be Wesley's final cosplay, he'd announce Geno-Morphus's retirement on the socials later, and who knows, maybe his husband will enjoy Glen too!

[nights-legacy]

Hii, i just read one of your oneshots in which Aizawa and hi sidekick are kidnaped by Shigaraki. So i wanted to request a platonic Aizawa onesjot in which he and his daughter are kidnaped by a enemy of Aizawa with the porpouse of making him suffer by torturing his daughter.

Thankss

I don't think the kidnapped sidekick was my one shot but I decided to write your request anyway. Hope you enjoy it!

He's Projecting - Aizawa x Daughter! Reader

2230 words Warnings: Blood, mentions of torture + Being a hero, Aizawa has a lot of enemies. Unfortunately, sometimes it hits to close to home. Especially this time when a vengeful villain kidnaps Aizawa and his daughter with the intent to make Aizawa suffer for his actions.

3rd POV

Aizawa groaned as he woke up. His neck was killing him from where his head as hanging backwards where he sat. He slowly lifted his head and went to reach up to rub it but his hand was tied down. He immediately became alert and looked down at himself. He found he was tied to a chair. Tugging against the bonds, he couldn’t break free. His next move was to access his surroundings. He looked up and looked around. It was a windowless room that was surprising well lit.

“What the hell is going on? What happened?” He muttered. The last thing he remembered was having dinner with his daughter at her favorite restaurant to celebrate her recent achievement in big project for school. He remembers them were walking home when his memory goes black.

“Looks like someone is finally awake.” A familiar scratchy voice say through speakers he finally notices in the room.

“Dagger?” He muttered. The door to the room to his left slammed open. He looked and saw the man himself. Dagger was an enemy he made early into his hero career. He had a quirk where he could create metal dagger from his own body. Similar to that of his student Momo’s quirk to create anything she wanted from her own body.

“Eraserhead.” He growled. Dagger stood with his arm out, extending past the door out of Aizawa’s sight as if he was holding something. Dagger smirked evilly.

“What do you want Dagger? Where is my daughter?!” Aizawa snapped.

“Oh, she’s right here.” Dagger yanked on whatever he was holding. Y/N stumbled into view where Dagger held her by her hair. Her hands were tied behind her back and there was a gag in her mouth. Aizawa struggled against his bonds furiously.

“Get your hands off her!” Aizawa yelled. Panic was rising in him. “So help me…”

“Oh, Eraserhead. You are in no position to be making demands.” Dagger pushed Y/N into the room while a sleek dagger formed into his hand.

Y/N’s POV

I stumbled forward and was able to catch my self before falling. I looked over my shoulder at Dagger before looking at my dad. I could see anger and panic in his eyes. I felt the same panic as well as terror. I was no hero in training like my father’s students. Sure, he taught me plenty of self-defense but right now, it was useless.

“Dagger! If you hurt one hair on her head…”

“You’ll what?!” Dagger pointed his dagger at my dad. “You are useless right now. And even if you use your quirk on me, I already have my weapon and your quirk can’t stop me from using it.”

“Why are you doing this?” Dad asked frantically as Dagger came closer to me with the dagger. I backed away from him.

“You took everything from me. I was just trying make a better life for my family and I. I wasn’t doing anything extremely bad. A few armed robberies here and there. Maybe a few stabbings when things got messy but I never murderer someone. I never deserved what you did to me. I lost my family. My wife.. my child…” He growled. I hit the wall and Dagger swung the knife. The gag fell from my mouth where he cut it off.

“Y/N!” Dad gasped.

“I’m okay.” I said quickly with a shaky voice.

“You made me suffer…so I am going to make you understand what I went through. Expect, I am going to make you watch.”

“She has nothing to do with this!”

“Maybe, but my family suffered because of you so it is only fair yours does too.” Dagger charged at me. I dodged in a panic and ended up on the floor in front of my dad. I tried to get back up as my dad yells in warning. I was pinned to the ground roughly before being flipped over. Dagger was kneeling over me with a wild look in his eyes.

“Dagger! Don’t you fucking dare!” Dad half commands and half begs. Dagger just laughs.

“Here we go.” He says sinisterly before bringing his dagger down at me.

3rd POV

Y/N screamed as Dagger slashed and carved into her skin. Aizawa could only watch and listen in horror as Dagger tortured his daughter and himself in tow. Eventually Dagger left the room, leaving Y/N bleeding out on the floor. Aizawa carefully watched her to make sure she was still breathing. The subtle rise and fall of her chest gave him some comfort.

“Y/N? Please answer me sweetheart.” He spoke softly. Her head turned towards him slowly.

“Daddy…” She whimpered. Tears were streaming down her face, mixing with some blood. Aizawa flinched at the sight, his own tears building up in his eyes.

“I am sorry sweetheart. I can’t believe I let this happen.” Aizawa said softly.

“It’s not your fault.” She says. He couldn’t believe she would say this. She had always been so understanding and kindhearted. Even in a situation where her life was threatened by direct consequence of his past, she was not placing blame on him.

“But it is, sweetheart. Dagger is hurting you because of me.”

“He is projecting, dad.” She said before flinching as she tried to sit up. After achieving that goal, she looks at him. “You put him in jail and then his wife and kid get killed in a freak accident. In his grief he correlated your putting him in jail, taking him away from them was the direct cause of them being in the accident.”

“How did you…” He was surprised that she knew so much about Dagger.

“Midoriya gave me a whole lesson on my father’s Hero history one day while I was visiting.” She said and they both give a small chuckle. They go quiet. “I just connect the dots about his correlation during his little rant before he, um, you know.”

“How did you get to be so smart?” Aizawa gave a watery smile.

“Touching.” Dagger’s voice echoed through the room.  “Father and daughter having a moment. Disgusting.”

“You’ve made your point Dagger. Now let me go so I can give you the fight you deserve.” Aizawa exclaimed.

“Oh what would be the fun in that?” Dagger came back into the room. He quickly made a dagger before throwing in across the room. Y/N was able to dodge most of them but not all. Y/N screamed as the blade lodged into her thigh.

“No!” Aizawa struggled against his bonds. Blood began to pool slowly on the floor. Dagger came over and pulled the dagger out causing the wound to bleed faster. Y/N cried out in pain. “Now Eraserhead. What should I do next? Cut off a finger? Oh! Maybe an ear?”

“No!” Y/N screamed.

“Dagger I swear I’ll…”

“You swear you’ll what?! Arrest me? Beat the shit out of me? You’ve done that all before.” Dagger snapped stepping closer to Aizawa. Aizawa gave him a death glare, not knowing what to say in the moment. “You got to think of something new, Eraserhead.”

“How about this?” A new voice cut through the space before Dagger was on the ground twitching from an electroshock. Kaminari stood in the door way with Present Mic and Midnight standing behind him. “I think he is going to be completely shocked when he comes too.”

“Dammit kid. We talked about the puns.” Midnight grumbled and ushered him out of the way. Present Mic and Midoriya rushed into the room with Recovery Girl in tow with Nezu. Recovery Girl and Mic went straight for Y/N while Midoriya and Nezu went to Aizawa’s aid.

“How did you find us?” Aizawa asked.

“Mirio had alerted Present Mic that you two hadn’t returned from your dinner to pick up Eri. After a while more of no word, we began immediately retracing where you went tonight or should I say last night to locate you. Dagger wasn’t the best at covering up his tracks when he took you two.” Nezu explained. Midoriya got the ropes undone. “And a couple of your students refused to be left behind when we came to rescue you.” 

“Thank you.” Aizawa got up and immediately went over to his daughter. She was now unconscious with her head in Kaminari’s lap. He held back tears as he looked her over.

“She’s going to be okay, Shota.” Mic said while placing a hand on his shoulder. Aizawa nods and looks over to where Dagger laid still twitching from the shock. He walked over and lifted him by his collar. Dagger gave a sinister laugh.

“What are you going to do Eraserhead? Beat me to a pulp? Use those fancy hand to hand combat skills on me?” He laughed.

“No.” Aizawa said as he set Dagger down on his feet. “You threatened and hurt my daughter. As much as I would like to pummel you to the ground, I will not sink to your level of petty. But I promise you that you will rot in the deeps darkest cell in the world before this is over.”

“You don’t scare me Eraserhead.” Dagger said. Aizawa shrugged as Mic and Midnight took him away. Aizawa walked over as Recovery Girl healed Y/N. She groaned as she woke up. Aizawa knelt next to his daughter.

Y/N’s POV

“Dad, I want to go home.” I said softly I looked up at him. My whole body ached. The wounds were gone but I knew that I wasn’t completely healed.  He nodded and gently picked me up. He walked out with Kaminari and Midoriya in tow. Once outside, I noticed he was gathering his bearings and the look of realization came across his face.

“What an idiot…” He muttered. I looked at his confused. “We’re only a few blocks from UA.” He said. The sound of Dagger yelling profanities pulled my attention. I saw Midnight and Mic putting him into a police car. My dad ignored him as Nezu caught Dad’s attention.

“I have a car over here to take you two home. “ Nezu said as led my dad to the car. “You are required to take a week off at least. Be home with your daughter while you to BOTH work through this together and get on the road to recovery.”

“Thank you, Nezu.” Dad said as he set me down on my feet. I held onto the car door for support.

“I will send a doctor in the morning to check on the both of you.” Recovery Girl said. Dad nodded and I carefully sat down in the car.

The next morning, the sound of snoring woke me up. As well as being poked in the side. I opened my eyes and saw Eri sprawled out against me. I smiled and flinched as my body began to ache.  I sat up slowly and ran a hand through my hair. I got up and walked out of my room. I walked into the kitchen to go get something to drink. I pulled out a glass and accidentally knocked something off.

“Oh crap.” I muttered. I turned just in time to see a kitchen knife hit the floor. I felt instant panic shot through me. A flash of a knife went across my mind. I screamed and covered my face, dropping the glass. I didn’t hear the glass shattering and uncovered my face. The glass was caught midair and a gentle hand was placed on my back.

“Come on sweetie. I’ll get you a drink. Go sit on the couch.” My dad said softly.

“O-okay.” I nodded. I turned and went to walk out of the kitchen. On the walk to the living room, I noticed I was shaking badly. I wrapped my arms around myself to try and calm myself down. I cuddled into the couch. Dad came in with a cup of juice. He sat next to me.

“Here you go.” He held out the cup. I took it and drank slowly. He wrapped a blanket around me before wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I leant against his side. “It’s not going to be easy sweetheart. There are going to be times where things are going to bring up bad memories.”

“Will it get better?”

“In time but I will be here every step of the way. If you ever need help, don’t hesitate to ask.  No matter when or where, you call me when you need me or Mic or Midnight or whoever. Okay?” He looked down at me.

“Yeah. I will. I promise.” I nodded.

“And I promise nothing like that will ever happen to you again.” He said. A quiet yawn pulled their attention. Eri was sleepily stumbling through the living room. She wordlessly walked over and climbed into my lap, snuggling into my chest. “And I don’t think Eri will let you out of her sight again.”

“You’re right.” I chuckled. I wrapped my arms around her with the blanket while setting my head on dads shoulder and yawning. “I think I am going to go back to sleep now.”

“Okay sweetheart.” He rubbed my shoulder. “I’ll wake you up when the doctor gets here.” He got up and I laid down with Eri. He kissed my head and walked over to the kitchen. I heard soft music start to play. I sighed and fell asleep.  

Tag List: @iris-shihabi @cl0verbby @lilparcheesie @keigos-baby-bird @evilunicorns4minions