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wonderingpanda · 4 months

Note

Remember back in high school the juiciest gossip was always about someone like-like-ing someone else? Will you write headcanons or something about the Mayhem boys hearing a rumor about someone (Reader) like-like-ing them? What would they do with this super important information?

I just really need some fluffy goofy high school shenanigans now-a-days.

Have You Heard?

MM!Turtles x Reader

This was so much fun to write. I loved adding hints of my own comedy and little cliches while giving each turtle their own individual story to follow. Thank you for the request, enjoy!

Leo

This was unexpected

Oh this was VERY unexpected

See Leo was a loser

He didn’t get to be cool, he didn’t get to be smart, he didn’t get to be funny and he didn’t get the girl

At least that’s what he thought

According to April though, this was entirely inaccurate

According to April, you’d had a crush on him for the last month

Someone went a whole MONTH harbouring romantic feelings for him!

And not just anyone; his cool, pretty friend whom he had fallen head-over-heels for the first day they met

This was unbelievable!

Of course his brothers didn’t believe him

I mean, why would they? According to them, he naturally makes girls gravitate away from him

Now it’s not like you knew April told Leo this

You had simply shared the information during a sleepover and blindly trusted her

A bad choice really considering sharing news was her whole gig

Still you were none-the-wiser the next day as to why Leo was anxiously pulling at his shirt

Or why he avoided your eyes like the plague

Or why when you chose to sit next to him in geography he felt like his heart was about to erupt

You had no clue

So what was Leo to do in this situation?

Trust in April’s words and confess his feelings, risking the possibility of making things more awkward?

Or stay silent and let fate decide when was right, risking losing the chance to be with you forever?

It was a tough choice

But Leo’s a wimp so obviously he wasn’t going to say anything

That was until his brothers forced him to

Donnie had cleverly hacked his computer to send an email to you, asking you to meet in one of the art rooms

He in turn did the same to your computer and gave explicit times to ensure you both crossed over

It was believing those emails that lead you to to your current situation

Locked in an art room by April and Leo’s insufferable brothers, forced to wait it out until you found a way to escape

Heart pounding, mind racing and palms sweating

Leo knew exactly what they wanted out of you two and he had no idea how to do it!

So… Guess we’re stuck, in here … Seems like it’ll be a while- Did I upset you Leo? What, no!? Really? Cause you’ve been acting weird all day Not because of you! Well it sure seems like it’s because of me! How!? You literally made a point to stare at nothing but the ground the second I tried talking to you today! I was nervous! Why were you nervous!? Because I really like you! I really, really like you And I guess the thought that you might like me back is so thrilling it’s kind of terrifying But I-I don’t expect you to feel the same, I get this is probably off-putting with the green and the shell and the baldness- Leo! You grabbed his head and forced him to finally meet you face-to-face No tan, hair-covered, bare-backed guy could ever make me feel the way I do for you

You quickly kissed him and upon pulling away realised he had melted into a puddly, flustered mess

And you were released from the art room

Eventually

In the end it was a win-win

April got to succeed in her matchmaking schemes, you got to kiss the turtle of your dreams, Leo got a girlfriend and his brothers had something new to tease him about

Ok, so maybe it wasn’t a 100% win for Leo but close enough

Raph

Raph had met you first when he joined the wrestling club at school and you just so happened to be there

You also happened to be there when he tried out for the track team

And footy team

And basketball team

And cricket team

And just about every single sport he experimented with

For some reason you were consistently always there, always in his head with your stupid pretty face and swooshy hair and bright eyes and dumb little smile

GOD WHY WERE YOU ALWAYS THERE &$!#%!!??

Well… since you seemed to follow him everywhere Raph figured he may as well befriend you

And you two got along well, soon enough it seemed like he had found his new best friend

Also it may have turned out that you’d been widely involved in the school’s sport program for years but we don’t talk about that!

Anyhow, you guys stuck together pretty consistently

Always hanging out and goofing off, ranting about teachers and friends

In a weird way you were also each other’s therapists, being forced to be the reasonable one whenever the other was in a firey state

His brothers greatly appreciated it as it meant they had to deal with less violent endeavours from him

If only Donnie hadn’t been feeling so bored that day, maybe then he’d still be alive

Or at least have a chance of living to the next day

See you and Raph had just been chilling at your locker while you grabbed stuff for class

No biggie, the closest you contact you had was Raph’s arm being slightly around you

But when Donnie came around and saw you two he couldn’t think of a better way to brighten his day than to embarrass his brother in front of the girl he’d been talking about for weeks

So as he walked by he slyly turned to you two, eyebrows raised and commented “You two look comfy” before contently strutting off

Raph’s face blended in with his mask as he stared angrily at his brother’s back

I’m gonna kill him Don’t I have P.E with him today

Donnie ended up returning home with a LOT of bruises that day

But it was worth it for the information he managed to squeeze out of you

All which he spouted to Raph like a proud toddler

Raph didn’t believe him

He genuinely didn’t

No way you had a crush on him

You liked to watch him wrestle for the fight not the visuals

And the only reason you were insistent on having him at your locker every morning was so you had someone to talk to. You’d replace him with any of your friends if they arrived earlier

Also, the fact that you showed off your muscles to him at a swim competition was purely to brag and in no way hinting towards any feelings!

Raph knew you didn’t like him and he could prove it

So Donnie dared him to ask you

Then after regaining consciousness, told Raph he’d call him out for being a wimp if he didn’t

3 beatings in one day, way to go Donnie!

So Raph wasn’t feeling too psyched the next day when he was talking to you and noticed Donnie’s lingering gaze but a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do (terrible under other context but you get the point)

Ok Y/n, now this is totally random but stupid Donnie has been nagging me to ask you. Do you like me? Like, like-like me Donnie told you that? No he just wanted me to ask- Well he’s right Huh? He told me you feel the same way, I’m assuming you do After all it would make sense as to why you’re constantly displaying signs of high dopamine, noradrenaline, releases of phenethylamine and hormonal changes around me I don’t know what any of those words mean but I love you You turned to him with a genuine smile I love you too, but it has only been a few weeks so can we just take things a bit slow for now? Uh huh Awesome

You gripped the top of his plastron and pulled the lovestruck turtle into a small kiss

Sadly you were torn apart when an annoying voice called out from across the hall

I told you so!

He bolted, but at least you two had managed to get together. Raph may have actually killed Donnie otherwise

Donnie

You and Donnie were childhood friends, platonic besties, a power duo of friendship

There were no romantic feelings between you two AT ALL

…

So it started in maths

You, Donnie and Leo were being the ultimate nerd trio, figuring out equations and such when one of the annoying kids, Harvey, thought it would be funny to call out

Hey Donnie! Did you know Y/n likes you!?

Some kids started laughing and others talking while you sat there with your face beet red

Donnie’s face flushed as he stumbled over his words, desperately trying to defend you which he didn’t succeed well in

He did take note of your reaction to the whole scenario which peaked his interest

(Side note: Leo did slightly enjoy the whole thing, finally not the butt of the joke 😃)

After that day Donnie’s thoughts grew

He had pictured these scenarios a thousand times in his head but never had they felt so possible

Asking you out, you asking him out, going on dates, exchanging gifts, hugging, crying, kissing

Then it happened again, sort of

He and Raph were leaving class together

Easy, simple, completely normal

Till a random girl, who he recognised as your friend, yelled from behind

Donnie, do you like Y/n!?

He panicked. What was he meant to say?

He couldn’t say yes, what if you didn’t like him? But what if you did like him?

However, they were getting further away and he only had seconds to answer

So he made the “smartest decision of his life” and called back

U-uh, um, no!

Since then you’d been more distant

And with all this evidence; Donnie became a full analyst

He noted down your behaviours, how you acted before and now

How your interests changed with him, when you were louder and quieter, what gestures you made to hint any feelings

He looked deep and saw all the signs

Sadly you were still pretty distant after what you heard from your friend and Donnie was determined to change that

First off, he tried to initiate more conversation and when you attempted to cut it short he kept pushing

No matter how hard his social anxiety was screaming he knew he had to keep conversations going

He also kept making an effort to sit next to you

Any scenario be it lunch, class or just general group hangouts; he was always by your side

And after a week or so when you seemed to be loosening up more he chose to take things a step further with physical contact

He’d give you a high-five, fist bump or hug as a greeting

Maybe lean on your shoulder or get closer when you were showing him something

Sometimes if he was feeling particularly happy he’d sneak his hand over yours

Soon enough, it seemed like you had finally gotten over everything and were back to your old self. But there was still something you had to address

Lunch time, alone. That’s when you chose to bring it up

Donnie, do-um… did uh my friend ever tell you anything a few weeks ago? He began choking on his food *Cough* N-no uh why? Well it’s just that the last few days you’ve been different Different how? Uh… just small stuff like the hand thing and I guess you’ve seemed a bit closer Oh! I mean psh, I just thought you were upset or something so I wanted to cheer you up, no big deal You thought I was upset? Why? Well you were acting more distant and I didn’t want to bring it up cause I thought it might be sensitive so I figured I’d just help on the side, you know? That’s actually really sweet. But are you sure there’s no other reason for it? Uh nope! None, I mean why else would I want to hug you and hold your hand and stuff it’s not like I have a crush on you. Cause that- that would be crazy you and me together like whaaat? A mutant and a human who, how!? Donnie Yes Did you lie to my friend? Maybe … So it wouldn’t be weird if we dated? I’d love it if we dated

Of course you kissed and both of you loved it

Donnie had never felt this happy in his whole life, not even when they saved the city!

And he had enough blackmail to shut his brothers up if they ever tried teasing you two

Mikey

You two were the best of buddies

Two peas in a pod

Always acting and performing at each others side

Mikey loved it

Mikey loved you

And the day he heard you may feel the same caused his mind and heart to simultaneously explode

It was Leo, of course it was Leo

They were in art discussing the struggles of having human crushes

It was when Leo said “At least yours likes you back” that he knew he screwed up

Mikey wasn’t panicked though, Mikey’s Mikey

He was of course very happy when he heard the news and didn’t leave Leo alone about it for days

Every waking moment was spent getting updates from Leo and insights into your friend group

And whenever you two saw each other be it before school, after school, breaks, in class or at improv, he was ecstatic

This guy just couldn’t get enough and made every effort to let you know he liked you

Soon enough he felt like he had enough confirmation on your feelings and gained the confidence to just go for it

It was during a game of freeze tag when he tapped out the person you were previously with and started a new scene

Jessie! Hey, thank gosh I found you Lucas, what’s up? I haven’t seen you in a while Oh well, you know, I’ve just been busy; things have been a bit different lately Different how? Well the word is that someone I know likes me but I just don’t know who That sure is a dilemma Yeah, if it’s the person I think it is though I recon it’ll end pretty well You got some hopes do you? Ahh just someone, nothing to worry about I don’t know if you’re associated Try me Alright well… they have h/c hair ooh and pretty e/c eyes! They’re also one of my closest friends and I don’t think they realise just how much I like them Wow Lucas that must be really keeping you on edge Yeah, if only I knew who it is At this point you and Mikey had moved so close to each other your hands were almost touching Mikey I- FREEZE!

And just like that, the scene was over

But not the story

At the end of the rehearsal you and Mikey walked out of school together and the discussion of feelings was unavoidable

You two were walking silently side-by-side till he finally said it

I like you Y/n Do you like me back? I like you so much Mikey you don’t even know

His face lit up as he cheerfully pulled you into a hug and spun around

You took the opportunity as he slowed down, cupped one of his cheeks and planted a kiss on his lips

From that day forward Mikey got to walk around boasting about having the greatest partner in all of New York

And you went on to kick Leo’s butt for exposing your secret so easily

Again, I loved writing this so much. Also I think I’m going to use indented for my Headcanons from now on (although I guess they’re more listed stories at this point). Anyway thank you for reading and please, have an awesome day/night wherever you are!✨

#raph x reader #tmnt #x reader #tmnt x reader #mm donnie x reader #mm mikey x reader #tmnt mutant mayhem #mutant mayhem x reader #leo x reader #donnie x reader #mikey x reader #mutant mayhem raph x reader #mm leo x reader #mutant mayhem leo x reader

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prettyrenjunn · 6 months

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫

haechan x f!reader

themes- best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff & crack

summary- haechan gets unnecessarily jealous a lot considering you’re just little ole’ best friends and it takes renjun pointing it out for him to realise.

it’s my first time writing like this i wanted to try it out but damn it’s hard. also if there’s mistakes… my bad

he’s ridiculous.

you think he might need a smack to the back of his head to finally come to his senses but you keep your hands to yourself, no matter how infuriating he is. “hyuck there’s nothing to be upset over.”

he’s going to deny it. he always does. “i’m not upset!” he grumbled back. “i just don’t understand why you and jeno were partners when we’re always partners.”

you can’t even fathom why he’s so upset you had a different partner for your friend groups game night but for some reason he always gets like this. you know donghyuck’s a clinger and he loves to be by your side with your attention on him as much as possible but god you were sick of this. “i’m not seeing the problem? i can partner up with whoever i want its not like we took a blood oath to always partner with eachother.”

it always goes like this until he gets frustrated and eventually..

“okay it’s fine let’s just talk about something else.”

renjun claims hyuck is in love with you and that’s why he always acts like a possessive idiot but you’re quick to shut him up as you notice the boy himself strutting over to the table. “i’m heartbroken. hanging out without me is evil, are you replacing me now?”

you and renjun both roll your eyes at his dramatics. “i wouldn’t dare take your placing knowing you’d never stop whining.” renjun quips back. donghyuck pulls a face until he’s swallowed the big chunk of a sandwich he just bit into.

“i don’t whine.”

renjun bursts out laughing pointing his fingers at the boy. “sure you do. you whined when i called shotgun in yn’s car. you whined when yn went on a date instead of going to sit in your room to watch you game- which sounds like a horrible time by the way. the most recent case of whining was you getting pissy about yn and jeno being partners for game night.”

sheesh renjun had a whole speech. hyuck pursed his lips for a minute before nodding his head. “okay well maybe i do whine a little. i feel like it makes me charming, it’s not always a guy wants to be next to his witch of a best friend all the time..OUCH”

the kick to the shin was well deserved.

donghyuck has become conscious of his problem of always wanting to be your number one. has he seriously always been like this? he wonders.

he notices when a random guy stares at you for a little too long or when jaemins hands linger on your waist for longer then they should- scratch that they should never be there in the first place. he knows jaemin’s a touchy guy but come on! everybody knows yn is his girl.

wait.

my girl??? oh my fucking god.

at this very moment donghyuck realises he’s been an oblivious idiot this entire time. how didn’t he notice sooner? he doesn’t remember ever being this dense but this explains everything. he’s not exactly sure what he has to do right now but one things for sure, he needs to tell renjun.

it takes 3 missed calls and a load of spam texting for renjun to stop doing whatever he was doing and meet up with him. donghyuck calls him a bad friend for not picking up on the first ring and renjun tells him if this isn’t something serious he’s gonna whoop his ass.

“seriously why the hell did you make me come here?” renjun questions suspiciously. “why aren’t you talking? lee donghyuck i swear to-“

“i like yn.” donghyuck whispers quietly in response as he stares down and fiddles with his hands nervously. “you made me realise the whole jealously problem and then i realised it’s because i like her.”

renjun wants to laugh at his friend but he doesn’t because he looks like he’s about to cry or piss his pants…or do both simultaneously. “yeah? and what are you going to do about these feelings?”

“cry probably.”

renjun laughs in his face and donghyuck stares at him appalled. “why are you laughing? this is serious renjun! she’s my best friend.”

renjun only tuts in response, how can two people be so blissfully oblivious. even from his and everyone else’s perspectives it’s obvious there’s something more going on than just a pair of best friends. “i think you have a 90% succession rate if you just grow some balls and confess.”

“90%” donghyuck cries out. “that’s not nearly enough! and i have balls already thank you very much. i felt them drop when i was 13.”

“if you’re not gonna listen to my advise why did i even come.” renjun glares.

“oh renjun aren’t you just so so sweet.”

he’s acting weird and he knows you’ve noticed with the weird looks you keep giving him. in his defence, he’s in shock and you look really pretty and HE LIKES YOU!

“are you sure you’re alright?” you reach up to place the back of your hand on his head. “hm you don’t feel that warm but your cheeks are on fire hyuck.”

his mouth dries up at the close proximity but he needs to get himself together. “i think i just need some water.” he clears his throat. “can i have some of yours?”

you don’t hesitate to pass your bottle of water over and he realises he’s made a mistake.

an indirect kiss.

he’s going to faint.

“maybe you should go home just incase you’re getting sick or something.” you bring him back to reality once again. “come on, i’ll make sure you get home safe.”

donghyuck shakes his head frantically. “i swear i’m okay.” he bursts out. “and the others are already on their way.” he adds.

you nod and the next 5 minutes waiting for your friends to arrive is spent with you yapping and him listening along despite the breakdown he’s having in his head.

when your friends arrive they all notice donghyuck is acting differently too but they drop it after he says he’s okay, it’s only renjun that has an idea of what’s going on with him.

“yn i heard some guy in your lecture asked you on a date.” jaemin wiggles his brows as he starts a new conversation. “what did you say? is he taking you out or what?”

your friends heads turn to you straight away waiting on your answer. you can particularly feels donghyucks stare burning through your skull. “you’re all so nosy.” you chortle “but i told him i’ll think about it.”

donghyuck releases the breath he’d been holding at your answer and then he’s grabbing your hand in a hurry and rushing you out of the diner. “hyuck! what the hell? what are you doing?” you pull your arm back and he lets you, but he continues storming towards your car and waits for you to unlock it. “i’m sorry. can we go home please.”

you’re unsure if he wants you to go into his apartment with him but when he turns back to look at you with glistening eyes you’re already unbuckling your seatbelt.

he drops himself down on the couch and you sit next to him, turning so you’re facing him. “talk to me hyuck? what’s going on?” you murmur but he stays silent. “it’s okay. you don’t have to talk about it. shall we watch something?”

he stays silent for another minute and then he turns to look at you as he speaks. “can you say no to him?”

“say no to who hyuck?”

“the guy that asked you on a date. can you say no?” you’re confused but you nod anyway. “thanks.”

“did he do something?” you speak up. you’re worried he’s some horrible guy but donghyuck shakes his head at your words. “oh then why-“

“i realised something.” he cuts you off and you let him without protesting. you’d rather he talk than bottle up whatever’s going on. “i get jealous and petty because i like you, and i think i get scared and insecure because you’re not mine.”

your heart starts beating faster, so does his. you’re about to talk again but he beats you to it. “you don’t have to say anything i know i’ve thrown this all on you out of the blue. i want you to know that it’s okay if you don’t like me the same way, we can move past this but please don’t leave me.”

he’s rambling and your smile gradually grows. “lee donghyuck.”

“yeah?”

“i’ve always liked you.”

later that day he gets a text.

renjun: how is everthing?

he doesn’t answer yet but he thinks this is the best day of his life.

#nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagine #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #haechan #haechan x reader #haechan x y/n #haechan x you #lee donghyuck #donghyuck x reader #bestfriendhaechan #nct dream fic

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calaisreno · 4 months

Text

Couple

865 words / Prompt: Imperfect

“We’re not—” John begins, but realises the futility of saying it again.

“You’re a lucky man.” Hopkins winks at him. “I’d make a play for him myself, but he’s obviously taken.”

He watches her walk away while he stands at the bar, waiting for another pint. She’s just the kind of woman he once would have hit on. A fun flirtation.

Now he doesn’t have the energy. And he’s wondering when that happened.

Sherlock is watching him.

He should be used to it by now. People always assume they’re a couple, and really, he doesn’t mind so much. He’s stopped saying he’s not gay because it’s misleading, and he would rather be honest. But it’s nobody’s fucking business who he is.

Sherlock must know. God, they’ve known each other for years, lived together for months now, since he and Rosie moved back. They’re practically co-parenting, and often exchange the same weary look that only the parents of a toddler can wear.

But Sherlock looks sad, he thinks. If John is honest with himself, he’s a bit worried that Sherlock is tired of the John-and-Rosie show, the trail of destruction Rosie leaves everywhere she toddles. The cases always used to bring them together, and now, even if they have a babysitter, John’s often too exhausted to go out with him.

Even this, a night out with the Yarders, Rosie at home with Mrs Hudson, is less fun than John had hoped. Sherlock doesn’t care for pub nights, but he tags along because John presses him to be more social.

He moves towards Sherlock, who’s sitting on the periphery of the noisy group. People don’t socialise with him much. Even the women who look at him with appreciation give up after a brief exchange. Sherlock can manage social occasions when necessary, but he’s clearly wishing he were somewhere else.

He slides into the seat opposite. “I’m glad you came.”

“Why?” Sherlock gives him a sharp look. “So I could watch Lestrade’s team get pissed?”

“No, I’m glad because… I like being with you.”

Sherlock’s eyebrows rise. He gives an amused huff. “You live with me.”

“Yeah, I do. But at home there’s always some mess to clean up or Rosie to deal with. I’m sorry, I know this isn’t your favourite thing.”

“I don’t mind.” His mouth curves into a smile. “I like being with you, too.”

John nods, takes a swallow of beer. “Stella was just making the usual assumption. We look like a couple. And I was wondering, are we?”

“Are we a couple?” Sherlock’s face does something complicated: surprise, discomfort, and then careful indifference. “People are idiots.”

“I don’t care about people. I care about you. Does it bother you?”

“Why would it bother me?”

“Because you don’t… I know you care about me and Rosie, but you don’t do…” The word is on the tip of John’s tongue, but he’s looking into Sherlock’s eyes, feeling completely obvious.

“Romance,” Sherlock says. “It’s a medieval construct, John, an idealisation of a reality that is often messy and contentious. People fall in love and marry; they run headlong into disappointment and divorce. I abhor the idea that we must put on blinders and pretend everything is perfect. It’s not, and never has been.”

John feels his heart sink a bit. “Yeah, you’re right.” He touches the side of his pint glass, watches the condensation run down.

He’s thinking about his own failed marriage. He’d loved the idea of Mary, an escape from the past, the possibility of a future with a person who loved him. He’d built an idealised life in his head, and it hadn’t taken long for him to realise how mistaken he’d been. The night Mary died, he’d planned to talk with her, tell her what he’d realised about himself. He didn’t know where that would take them, but it had to be said. He’d only delayed because of Sherlock’s text.

“Love,” Sherlock continues, “has nothing to do with romance. It’s not perfect. It’s a decision, one we keep making because it’s important.”

Their eyes meet. John is looking up into Sherlock’s face, remembering when he said, we might all just be human. “Important. To you?”

“Yes.”

The group is suddenly louder, laughing and jeering at some remark. No one is looking at him and Sherlock.

Those grey eyes are still gazing at him.

“Love is important, John. I know I don’t often express sentiment, but I do feel it. I do love you.”

At the look on John’s face, Sherlock’s smile turns to something sadder.

“I adore you and Rosie, and I love the messiness of living with you. I don’t want a perfect life. I want you. I want us.”

“So, you’re saying… you want us... to be a couple?”

“We already are, John. What that means is up to us. Do you want more than what we have?”

“God, yes.” The words are out of his mouth before he thinks them. “I do. Want you. If you…?”

“Yes.” Sherlock is smiling now, a full, bright smile that practically lights up the room.

John leans closer. “I love you too, Sherlock.”

The kiss is messy and imperfect. And glorious. Nobody’s watching.

#mayprompts2024

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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year

Text

Forever, of course.

SteveRogers x Female!Reader

summary: Steve has a crush on you but your flirty character isn’t making things easy for him. Now he even has to marry you to please a 6-year-old superfan of his. Whether that’s a good plan or not, isn’t quite clear for Steve yet.

a/n: I think this will be the last AI-adaptive story but it was a lot of fun! Shoutout to @RandomTingsForFun on beta.character.ai for having created the character that helped me write this story (and the Bucky one).

Word count: 4k

warnings: a Stevie in love, an attempted funny reader, and a super excited 6-year-old (she carries the story tbh), this is really just super fluffy

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

Steve shook his head at the sight of your chat history. It wasn’t too long ago when he didn’t even know how to listen to music on the device he was holding in his hands, let alone write a text message in less than 30 seconds. Now, he was bickering with you, and he had to admit it was even a little fun to wait for a response from you. Of course, Steve didn’t do anything else in the time he waited for your reply. He just stared at the screen in his hand and willed his heartbeat to slow a little.

*ping* Why would that be important? So? Maybe I have been talking to Sam about you. Have you been talking about me with Bucky?

Steve: No I haven’t! And it is important because if he’s badmouthing me, then you’d believe him. What has he told you anyway?

You: Just the usual. Save the world this, Captain America that. I stopped listening when he started obsessing over your shield again.

You: Wait. Did you seriously think Sam would say something bad about you? That guy is obsessed with you.

Steve just laughed at your antics. Sam loved the shield for some reason, but every time Steve would give it to him to ‘throw it one time’ Bucky would intervene and ‘show him how it’s done’.

*ping* Anyway what I actually wanted to ask is if you’d come to my niece’s house with me this weekend. She’s a huge Avenger fan and I might have promised her to meet one as her birthday present 😬

Steve: Of course, I will! I would feel bad if you made such a promise and I wasn't able to make it. And I bet she'll know who her favorite Avenger is after a visit from The Cap 😉

You: ugh please don’t call yourself that. ever.

You: I’ll pick you up Saturday at 1:30?

Steve: Yeah, sounds good! I'll make sure to clear my schedule. How old is your niece by the way? And what’s her name?

You: You can call her Izzy. And she’s turning 6 this Thursday. Be nice. And make sure to talk me up a bit, will ya? I mean, I’m already her favorite aunt but just making sure...

Steve: How could she not love you? But I’ll do it anyway. I’ll talk you up so much you’ll never be able to escape my praise! What’s her favorite food?

You: weirdly enough it's carrots, that child is strange. Says vegetables make her a superhero or something.

Steve: I mean she’s not wrong. Carrots are great for your eyes! What does she think of Iron Man? I need to know my chances against the competition.

You: I just asked her and she said she doesn’t care about Tony because you are her one true love.

You: I told her that’s not possible because you are already mine. Now we’re in a big fight so thanks for that.

Steve: why would you say that?

You: I like to see her freak. Don’t worry about it, captain. It was just a joke

You: ...or was it 👀

Steve: I don’t believe you. You’re lying.

He got a little nervous. But it was a good nervous.

You: why? Do you want me to?

You: Am I making you nervooouuus?

Steve could practically see you wiggle your eyebrows with a grin. A silly idea flashed past his mind, and he felt like grabbing it.

Steve: You need to stop before I accidentally propose to you.

Nothing - just a second, though. Then:

*ping* you have a ring?

Steve: I can get one in less than an hour. Meet me at the chapel on main and I’m all yours.

You: I’m stunned. I’ve taught you well.

Steve: 😊 I’ll see you Saturday, doll.

Steve sat back on his sofa. That girl is really something. A smile broke loose on his face at the silly thought of marrying you. Honestly, he wouldn’t mind if it happened. Out of all the people he knew, you were the only one he’d want to spend the rest of his life with. You were fun and you made him loosen up. He was a whole new man around you and he loved it. Because being in your presence was easy, and comforting. There was nothing to worry about.

He sighed before putting his phone down and staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t wait to see you again.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve stepped out of the door and smiled upon spotting your car. You were already waving at him, a beautiful smile adorning your face and Steve felt his heart skip. Car rides with you were nice. You always had some soft music playing. Always making sure it was nothing too funky so he felt comfortable. Still, he was a little nervous. It wasn’t every day that he go to meet someone who looked up to him - well, actually, it was every day - but this one was different. Because it was your family and Steve needed to make a good expression.

It wasn’t long before you pulled up to your sister's house. But before you could even reach the front door, a little girl jumped out of the door and ran toward you with wild screeches.

“Auntieeee!!!! OH MY GOD, you really did it! You invited Captain America!” The girl jumped up and down beside you and Steve couldn’t help his smile from spreading. Izzy was adorable - very loud - but adorable. Concentrating on it made his nervousness subside a little.

Then she turned around and stared up at him with wide eyes. He could have sworn there were little stars sparkling in them when he crouched down to her height and extended his hand.

“Hey there, little lady. It’s so nice to meet you, I’m Steve.”

“I know that!” The 6-year-old giggled as Steve shook her hand. But when he was about to let go, her tiny fingers grabbed onto his wrist and dragged him up the driveway. “I want to show you something! It’s soooo cool!”

Steve was still a little cautious as she dragged him to her room. His only experience with kids came from Sam’s nephews and prior he had only gotten to hold a couple baby’s for pictures. He didn’t know how to navigate the situation, but he decided he would just rock with it.

Your niece pushed the white door with her name brightly colored on a sign hanging on her eye level open and revealed a tornado aftermath of action figures. He was able to spot most of the avengers laying scattered around a dinosaur toy but the overwhelming red, white, and blue covering her room was undeniable. There was a poster of Steve hanging by the desk and a bunch of her own drawings framing the magazine shot. Izzy appeared next to Steve again, holding a small action figure of himself in her hands.

“My aunt gave me this one. It’s my first one.” She reached up to Steve and barely passed his hip with her little arms. The figure was well loved - he could see it from here. And when he bent down to retrieve it, your niece pulled him down further and whispered a giggly ‘you’re our favorite avenger’ into his ear.

His heart swelled at the excitement presented in front of him. It was adorable, and he could see a little of you in the little girl nervously treading beside him.

“I’m your favorite, huh?” He said, his voice full of affection. Steve usually wasn’t the kind of person to get mushy over an adorable child, but the way her face lit up was too cute. The little Cap figure in her hands was pretty cute, too. “My, my. I must be pretty special then.” His thumb stroked over the blue helmet in her hands.

Lost in thought and seriously flattered by being the hero that inspired this impressive collection, he almost didn’t notice how Izzy threw her hands in the air. “So special! My mom says I will marry someone as special as you one day, but my aunt says there is no one like you. That is so mean!” Her little chubby cheeks puffed with a pout and Steve had to hold back his laugh. The 6-year-old had no idea what you implied with that comment, but he still felt more pride from being called special by you and your niece than from any medal of honor he had ever gotten.

“Well, a girl your age shouldn’t worry about things like that. But who knows, maybe I will be part of your family one day.”

“Really?!” Wide eyes stared back at him and Steve could practically feel the floor vibrating when he nodded with a laugh. Izzy held out her finger and then she exclaimed a rushed ‘stay here’ before zooming past him and out the door.

Steve stayed a little longer and admired Izzy’s room before he heard an excited ‘Captain America said I can marry him!’ Which made him instantly rush to the source.

He spotted her clinging to her mother’s leg, giddy and jumpy. But your sister just shared a laugh with you over the kitchen counter. “I don’t think he meant it like that, buttercup.” Steve watched your sister explain before his eyes got stuck on the little frown on your face. Was that a hint of jealousy, he was detecting? “But if he marries your aunt, he will be your uncle and just as much part of the family.” A little fire hushed past your older sister’s face. It was a look of mischief he had seen you hold all too well. Steve’s cheeks heated when you caught him leaning in the doorway, scratching his neck at the slightly awkward situation.

“That works?”

“That’s how it works, baby.”

Izzy turned with excitement and within a second she was before Steve again. “You have to ask my aunt to marry you! Right now!!” She ordered with a stomp of her foot. “Then you can be my uncle and we can hang out every day!”

Steve’s eyes wandered from the six-year-old to you and his heart picked up its pace at the laugh you shared with your sister. There was no harm in a little play pretend, right?

So, he knelt down in front of you and when your name traveled past his lips softly, he almost imagined a grasp coming from you. “Will you,” his head tilted with a wink, “marry me?”

You hid your laugh behind your hands as they covered your mouth in feigned astonishment. But Steve caught the little glimmer in your eyes at his little show. He continued to take your hand as he threw together a little speech for Izzy to hear, and when the child began excitedly jumping up and down beside him, your face softened.

“Oh, Steve! This is so unexpected!” You clutched your chest and your sister chuckled beside you. Steve felt a tinge of nervousness wash over him then, but he would be okay with a fake rejection - he wasn’t sure if Izzy would, though. “Of course, I’ll marry you! Come here you big, hunky, handsome superhero!”

And as if he hadn’t been prepared for you to agree so quickly, Steve felt his cheeks heat up. He couldn’t deny that the words you described him with had his stomach tingle with excitement, and before he could help himself, he leaned forward and kissed our cheek.

“That was the easiest marriage proposal ever,” he mumbled beside you to which you just slightly pulled from his embrace.

“What? You’ve done that before? Are you already cheating on me, Rogers?” You raised your brows suspiciously, but Steve was only able to shake his head with a smile before Izzy blared into his ear again.

“A wedding! A wedding!” She swirled by him like a tornado, immediately collecting things around the house. “Mom, get all the stuffies, ready! We have to do a wedding!!!” And then she was off to prepare the quickest wedding in history.

Steve shook his head as his arm remained around your waist. “What did I get myself into?” He mumbled to himself before turning to you. “Do I dare ask what a six-year-old’s idea of an official marriage ceremony looks like?”

“I think Paddington Bear will be your best man and if I’m lucky, my sister gets to be my maid of honor, but who knows.” You shrugged with a laugh that warmed Steve’s heart all over again.

❁ ❁ ❁

Not even ten minutes later, Steve found himself kneeling beside a makeshift altar with a bunch of toys and stuffed animals as wedding guests. Action figure Cap had made best man and was neatly propped up behind him. Your sister had officially been crowned the ‘disco machine’ along with a lengthy speech on how important the right song was for the bride’s entrance. Steve had fought hard to keep his face steady, but when Izzy had suggested ‘Party Rock Anthem’, he’d lost it. When really, he was just proud, he knew the song because you had shown it to him the other week - it was Izzy’s favorite.

You had been instructed to wait behind the couch until the music started to play, and Steve felt himself get a little nervous. It was silly, but somehow his desire to have this wedding according to your niece’s wishes was a lot more important to him than he had initially thought.

“Now what do we do?” He asked as he leaned over to Izzy, but that was when the girl gave her mother the ‘sign’ - which was the chicken dance, of course - and his eyes immediately swerved to you. He could see the amusement in your gaze as you bit back a laugh.

Izzy wasn’t wasting any time, as soon as you had reached the altar, she put your’s and Steve’s hands together and immediately began talking. Steve had had barely any time to wipe the sweat from his clammy fingers before they connected with yours, but you didn’t seem to care. He smiled as he watched you listen to your niece’s little speech.

“We are gathered here today, to make Captain America my uncle,” she started, and both you and he struggled to keep it together. It was cute though, and something about becoming this little girl’s uncle excited Steve like nothing had in a long time. “Mr, Captain America, will you take my aunt as your wife?”

Izzy’s eyes were serious as she waited for Steve’s answer. And when he didn’t do so fast enough, she leaned over and whispered the answer to him.

“I will,” Steve chuckled and gave your hands a small squeeze.

Then Izzy’s eyes wandered to you. “Do I even have to ask?” She said with her adorably high voice and everyone started laughing.

“Yes, I will take Steve as my husband,” you answered with the same squeeze of your hand as Izzy imitated the audience cheering.

“You are now husband and wife. Now, kiss, kiss, kiss!!!” It was a little awkward, but Steve leaned in, anyway, to press a gentle kiss to your cheek. He looked at you again and the spark in your eyes was a little brighter as that smile lit up your face again. You looked beautiful, Steve thought, and his heart jumped in his chest at the realization.

“Wohooooooo!” Your sister cheered loudly and ripped Steve out of his trance.

“This is so awesome! You have to come to every family dinner and we can be best friends forever!!” Izzy must have eaten a bag of gummy worms with the way she was vibrating to the song coming out of the little pink CD player. Steve was sure he’d never seen such a hyper six-year-old before.

“Every family dinner?” He asked her as Izzy swayed his hands to the music. When his eyes caught yours, you just shrugged. "Forever?"

"Of course!" Izzy exclaimed as Steve spun her around. His eyes stayed locked on you, however. Forever didn't sound so bad...

“Looks like you’re stuck with me.” You laughed, but Steve didn’t mind that in the slightest.

❁ ❁ ❁

The evening had come sooner than anyone had anticipated. Steve had been so occupied with Izzy all day, he had forgotten all about the time. It didn’t bother him too much, though. He had fun, but exhausting as well. And now that he was finally sitting in your car again, his head leaning against the headrest and enjoying the silence for a moment, he felt how much energy it had really cost him. He would do it again, though - especially if it meant marrying you over and over for eternity.

His eyes opened when you sighed beside him. You hadn’t so much as bothered to start the car just yet, and Steve was kind of happy about that.

You smiled at him when his head turned to you, still leaning back with a dreamy smile himself. “Who would have thought that we would get married today?” You chuckled with a shake of your head. “And you didn’t even give me a ring. I should reconsider my standards.”

“A ring, you say? Well, you are married to the greatest superhero in the world - according to your niece - so I think we’re going to need something pretty special...” Steve joked as he turned in his seat to look through the car, and when he spotted the right thing, the smile returned got his face. “Should I do the honors?”

And then he took the lid off his water bottle and popped the plastic ring off to place it on your finger.

“It’s perfect, blue like your eyes,” you laughed watching the big plastic ring hang from your finger. “I’m gonna have to get that resized, though. You must think I’m fat.” You shook your head. “Wow, not even a day in, and I already have things to tell my therapist about.” But the mischievous glimmer in your eyes told Steve that you were only joking.

“Do I really need to say it, doll?” He took your hand in his before spinning the plastic piece. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” He whispered, secretly meaning every word.

You laughed it off but Steve didn’t miss the stutter in your smile at his words. It made the butterflies in his stomach go wild.

“So what should our first act as a fake married couple be? Celebratory drinks at the Stark Tower rooftop bar?”

"Stark Tower... that sounds good to me.”

The engine roared to life and soon, the faint music was playing in your car again, the streetlights passed him by and the full moon shone above the New York City skyline. But Steve didn't care, he had more beautiful things to look at.

❁ ❁ ❁

“You’re what now? Married?! And I wasn’t invited?!” Sam’s shocked face yelled across the bar, making few agents turn their heads with intrigue.

You chuckled before leaning your head against Steve’s shoulder. The second Martini seemed to already work its wonders on you, but Steve loved how close you were.

“Married by a six-year-old. Count that as you will, but I have a ring on my finger and I’m not telling you how much it cost.” You stretched your hand over the counter to show off the blue piece of plastic and Natasha just laughed at the cute story.

“So, how is the newlywed life?” She leaned on her hands to play along while Sam still tried to get over his non-invitation to a fake wedding. “You guys talking about kids yet?”

That startled Steve a little but he tried his best to keep a straight face - he failed. The thought of having a family with you did things to him he couldn’t explain if he wanted to. The warmth in his stomach spread to his heart and his arm almost instinctively came up to press you further into his side.

“Who knows, I wouldn’t mind a couple mini me’s.” He shrugged with a low smile. He loved this little game more and more. It just got harder and harder to remind himself that it was just that - a game.

“Hold your horses, now. You’re not the one squeezing them out of your body, Mr. Rogers.” You patted his chest and sighed theatrically. “I can already see that I will be home alone with a bunch of kids and you’re working late every night. Our life will fall apart!” Your hand brushed over your forehead as your head fell back like that of a damsel in distress.

The group laughed at the little performance, but Steve was a little quieter now. Somehow, he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that he needed to tell you how much he really cared. He’d never let your life fall apart - not when he was able to prevent it. And while he sat there with his friends, laughing about something as ridiculous as Captain America settling down, he contemplated in silence, if all this life had really been worth it when he would end up alone in the end - giving up the dream of an easy life he’s had for a century.

❁ ❁ ❁

It was about 12am when Steve and you stopped before your door in the hallway. His eyes were glued to you, his mind racing with scenarios this could go. He had decided to tell you about his feelings about two hours ago, and ever since, he had tried to come up with the best thing to say. But even though talking to you was the easiest thing he’d ever done, and even though you were already married - fake married - he didn’t have a single idea. Not one word that seemed fitting enough to describe the exciting fireworks in his chest whenever he saw you, to somehow tell you how bad living without you would be.

He must have been staring for a while because you began to shift from one foot to the other before finally clearing your throat to kill the silence.

“So... uh... that was an eventful day...” You started, fists nervously opening and closing beside your body. “Thank you for playing pretend. You made a little girl very happy.” You smiled and Steve’s heart skipped another beat.

He caught the small shimmer in your eyes just in time to give him confidence. Your body kept moving forward as if you willed it back again and again, and Steve gathered all his bravery to open his mouth.

“You know what,” Your name tumbled over his lips like a song he’d sung a thousand times. But the effect it had on you still excited him every time anew. “Today... it’s not going to be pretend.”

And before you could even react to his weirdly vague statement, Steve leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. Full of love and affection, his hands moved on their own - one to your hip and the other onto the wall behind you. There was a moment of panic settling in Steve’s brain, but then your arms came up to sling around his torso and he leaned further into your touch. You pulled him even closer, your lips melting with his, tongues gently stroking soft skin until air got scarce. His whole body felt electric with you so close to him - finally. And when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes still closed and thoughts swimming in the moment you had just granted him.

“I... I love you.” He whispered against your skin, and he felt his warm breath bouncing back. Your chest was still rising and falling beneath him, a subtle reminder of how breathtaking all this was - Steve couldn’t get enough of it, of you.

Your hand came up to stroke over his cheek, making him open his eyes to find you already looking at him.

“I love you, too, Steve.” You bit your lips, and it made Steve just press his mouth to yours once more.

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a/n: I have to say I was pretty impressed at how much it adapted to my writing and I really liked the last part, so I put it in here. I hope you enjoyed it :)

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library-ghoulette · 1 month

Text

Now There Is Nothing Between Us

Pairing: Copia (Papa Emeritus IV) x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: second person POV, established relationship, VHS and chill, their first time, my kink is being loved and wanted, crying, reference to past heartbreak, hurt/comfort, discussion of sexual fantasies, pillow princess!Reader, oral sex (f receiving), handjob, p in v sex, coming inside (please fuck responsibly), Copia being tender, Copia fucking the self-doubt right out of you

Words: 2435

Summary: Anxieties about your first time with Copia rear their head at the worst possible moment, but luckily he knows just how to ease your fears.

A/N: I wrote this because I was stressing out about writing sex scenes for the first time in a long time, and I thought it might help to have my favorite Papa sweetly talk me through it. This was supposed to just be for me, but I'm sharing it for anyone else who needs a therapy session with their smut.

ao3 link

divider by @gothdaddyissues

“Amore mio, what’s wrong?”

The question takes you by surprise. You were mid-kiss when Copia pulled back, his mismatched eyes searching yours with concern.

“N-nothing’s wrong,” you stammer, reaching for him again, eager to pull him back in, keep his mouth occupied, so he can ask no more questions.

But he stubbornly avoids your advances, catching your hands in his and holding them between the two of you, restrained. He settles onto the pillow beside you, face-to-face.

“You think I know you so little that you can lie to me?” he asks. “That I can’t feel it when you’re all stiff?”

He pulls his shoulders up and grimaces in a comically horrified expression that makes you smile in spite of yourself, but still you say nothing, merely look down at where he holds your hands clasped in his much larger, much stronger, ones. He runs a reassuring thumb over your knuckles.

It was supposed to be a special night. At long last, it was supposed to be the night.

The two of you had gone from stealing glances at one another in the halls of the Abbey, to sharing friendly movie nights where you sat on opposite sides of the couch, both too timid to make a move, to significantly friendlier movie nights that devolved into heated kisses long before the end credits even rolled.

Each night, there would come a moment where the kiss would break, when a heavy pause descended and there came an unspoken question that you knew you had to answer.

Every night before, the answer has been no. You would remark on the lateness of the hour and go back to your own room. And there you lay awake, burning with thoughts of all of the things you could have done if only you had stayed. All the places where Copia could kiss you, could touch you, as you touched yourself.

But not tonight. This time, when that silent question made itself known, the answer had been yes. You had stayed, followed Copia to his bed, let him lay you down with a gentleness that spoke of brutal desire barely contained. Pressed yourself against him, returned his kisses, helped him shrug out of his sweatshirt and pulled his T-shirt over his head with obvious eagerness. You had thought that you were doing well, doing it right.

Apparently, you had been wrong.

Great. Now you’re on the verge of tears. Very sexy. Definitely not a surefire way to spoil the mood.

Copia is still looking at you, his unpainted face soft, searching, utterly open. You don’t deserve his attentiveness, his care. It makes you want to hide.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” He kisses your knuckles. “You are maybe having second thoughts?”

“No! No, I– I really want to do this.”

“But something is bothering you. And we’re not doing anything until you tell me what that is. Until we fix it.”

Why does he have to be like this? Why can’t he just let it go?

“Tesoro, you can tell me anything. You know this.”

Copia has never given you a reason to distrust him, has never judged you or made you feel silly for any of your anxieties. Still, you struggle to put this into words.

“I don’t know. I’m just a little nervous, I guess?”

I sound so dumb.

“It’s okay to be nervous! Is this…”--he casts about for a tactful phrasing–”your first time?”

Satanas, it just gets worse and worse.

“No, it’s not my first time. But it’s been… awhile.”

“What’s the saying? Something about riding a bicycle?”

But in truth, it’s more than just the fact that it’s been awhile. Things did not end well with the last person you chose to share yourself with.

You’ve worked so hard to heal from that relationship, not reinventing yourself so much as peeling back layers of hurt, finding yourself again bit by bit. You’re better now. But even after all of that healing, after finding your place here with the Ministry, after the wonderful surprise of falling for Copia, the scars of the past have a way of lingering.

Maybe the deepest of those scars is the lingering suspicion that no matter what you do, no one will ever truly want you or love you again. And worse, that you can’t trust anyone who claims that they do.

“It’s just.. I’ve imagined this so many times, and I guess I’ve gotten a bit too in my head about it. Wanting it to be perfect. And I’m afraid of doing something wrong. Of not”--and here’s the heart of it, the scary, vulnerable thing that you don’t want to admit–“of not being good enough for you.”

And now you are crying, when all you wanted to do was fuck your boyfriend like a normal person.

“Oh, topina.” Copia pulls you close, rolling onto his back to nestle you snug against his chest. “How could you ever think that you’re not good enough?”

“But you could have anyone you want,” you sob.

“You flatter me,” Copia chuckles. “But say that is true. I can have anyone I want. And where am I right now?”

“Here?”

“Yes, here. And who am I with?”

You sniffle. “Me?”

“Yes, you. And there is no one else I would rather be with. You are so precious to me. I feel lucky to have you in my bed.”

Your heart flutters at his tender words.

“And what I want, more than anything, is to make you feel good. To give you the pleasure that you deserve.”

Something considerably lower flutters at that.

“Copia…”

You wriggle out of his grasp and pull yourself up onto one elbow, one hand resting lightly on his chest as you bend to kiss him again.

When you break away, he thumbs a stray tear from your cheek and insists, “But I only want to do that if you’re comfortable. So you have to tell me if something makes you uncomfortable, yes?”

You nod down at him. “Yes, Papa.”

He groans low in his throat at your cheeky use of his title, the sound stoking something low in your belly.

“You said that you have been thinking about this night for a long time, tesoro?”

His hand, resting against your hip, grips you tighter, drawing you closer against him. When he speaks, his words resonate with a note of command.

“Tell me what you’ve imagined. Tell me how to make this perfect for you.”

This should be mortifying. It should, more than anything else he’s said tonight, activate your urge to run away, to hide. It’s been so long since you’ve really given yourself permission to want, to desire, much less to voice those desires full-throated, absent of shame. You’re so afraid of sounding silly. Of being too much.

But you can tell how turned on he is by you, by the way that your body feels pressed against his, fuck, by the very thought of you entertaining filthy daydreams about him. He wants you. Just as much as you want him.

And so, you push past the shame you have no need to carry any longer, that you never should have been made to carry at all.

Even if you stammer at first. Even if you don’t sound as confident as you wish you did. You find your voice.

“I– I’ve thought about you touching me?”

Copia brings a hand up to caress your face, tracing a feather-light line from cheekbone to chin. “Here?” he asks.

“Lower,” you reply.

“Ah.” His hand trails lower, making you shiver as his fingers skirt along your neck, your collarbone, before finally cupping your breast through your top. “How about here?”

Your mouth falls open in a gasp when he squeezes gently, his thumb sweeping across your nipple. Almost as an afterthought he wedges one thigh between your legs. Even through fabric the contact sends a pulse straight to your core, and you can’t help but grind against him with a whimper.

“What do I do next? In your fantasies?”

“You take off my clothes.” You’re desperate to feel his skin on yours. “And– and you lay me down on the bed.”

He flips you over effortlessly and takes his time undressing you, carefully undoing each button and zipper, revealing your body bit by bit with utmost tenderness. When he hooks his fingers over the waistband of your panties and pulls the silky fabric down your hips, your legs, exposing you completely, he does so with what could never be mistaken for anything but reverence.

Your legs fall open naturally and Copia kneels between them, resting his hands on your thighs, awaiting instruction.

“And now?”

You know that you can have anything you want, but only if you ask for it.

It’s everything you can do to keep your voice steady when you say, barely above a whisper, “And then you go down on me.”

“With pleasure, amore.”

Copia settles himself between your thighs and presses a hand against your mound, firm and grounding, acclimating you to his touch before spreading your lips with skilled fingers and bringing his mouth down to meet your slit. He runs the flat of his tongue up through your slick folds, lapping up your arousal. When you look down at him, he meets your gaze and flicks his tongue over your clit, smirking when you blush and cry out in pleasure.

And then he begins his work in earnest.

You had imagined that it would be good, but your daydreams left you unprepared for this level of skill, for how he would relax into the task before him with a patient eagerness, savoring you, taking the time to bring you ever closer to your peak.

“Fingers,” you beg, barely coherent, “I need your fingers, please, please, Copia– oh!”

He finds your entrance and presses a finger inside of you, never losing the rhythm of his tongue tracing tight circles around your clit. You’re soaked, and it slides in and out with ease, and it feels so good to have any part of him inside of you, even before he pulls out and then presses back in with another digit, crooking his fingers up to find that spot deep inside of you, hitting it just so as he sucks your nub between his lips, and you’re crying out and twisting your fingers in his hair to pull him closer, and–

Your orgasm overtakes you ruthlessly, wave upon wave of pleasure breaking over you, leaving you a gasping, trembling mess in its wake. Copia crawls up your body to kiss you, letting you taste your own musky sweetness on his tongue.

“Do you want to hear what I’ve been thinking about?” he asks.

You’re unsure of your ability to speak, but you nod eagerly. You’ve never wanted to hear anything more.

“I’ve been thinking about your hands.”

“M-my hands?”

“Sì, your beautiful hands. And how good they would feel wrapped around me.”

How could you do anything in that moment but oblige, reaching down to free him from the confines of his red sweatpants. His cock springs free, what seems almost painfully hard, and you watch with satisfaction as you pump your fist up and down his thick length and pleasure nearly overtakes him. Eyes squeezed shut, he’s clearly struggling to hold back, to stop himself from rutting into your soft palm and coming right now.

“I’ve also been thinking about your pussy, dolcezza,” he pants. “How good it would taste. How pretty you would look playing with it for me. But mostly what it would feel like to spread it open and fuck it until you come around my cock.”

“Yes, please,” you beg, feeling as though you might die if you don’t get to feel him inside you right now.

The stretch is deliciously intense, even as wet as you are, prepared by his fingers and his tongue. He works himself into you inch by careful, patient inch, until he bottoms out with a groan.

“Is this okay?” he asks, and you nod your assent, whimpering a “yes” as you wrap your legs around his soft waist, urging him on.

You open more and more with each slow, shallow thrust that becomes faster, deeper. There is no room for your self-doubt anymore, no thought to spare for anything that isn’t Copia: his weight on top of you, his mouth against the side of your neck, the scent of his cologne mingling with the salty tang of sweat, the overwhelming pressure of his cock inside of you.

He murmurs your name with what sounds like wonder, like disbelief that you want this and that you feel so fucking good.

And then he rolls his hips just so, finding an angle that grinds his pelvis into your clit, making you cry out sharply.

“Just like that,” you beg him, breathless, “please don’t stop, please—“

And then you are coming apart again, your head thrown back and your pussy spasming beyond your control.

It’s almost too much for him. He rears back from you, gathering you more firmly in hand, tilting your hips up and gripping your ass to hold you in place as he fucks into you, hard and rough. You’re still reeling from your orgasm as his pace becomes erratic, desperate, and with a sharp snap of his hips his cock kicks inside of you, filling you utterly.

He pulls out and collapses beside you with a sated groan, forearm thrown over his eyes as he comes down, chest heaving, spent cock softening against the curve of his belly. You fold yourself in under his arm, head pillowed against his chest again in a semblance of how you lay earlier as you cried. But now all you feel is love, comfort, and the pleasant soreness creeping through your lower body.

“Well, tesoro…” He settles his arm around you, tracing lazy circles on your skin with the tip of his finger. His voice is unspeakably fond when he asks, “Was that everything you imagined?”

It wasn’t, of course. Your daydreams hadn’t started with you crying awkwardly in his arms. In your daydreams, everything had run as smoothly as a scene in a novel, you the assertive heroine who always knew exactly what to say, without any help.

But maybe, you think, if Copia is the one helping you, that’s okay. Maybe you don’t need to be anyone but yourself, sometimes awkward and insecure, but no less beloved.

And so you are telling the truth when you say, “No. It was better.”

#my writing #lib ghoulette writes #copia x reader #papa iv x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #ghost band fanfic #ghost band fanfiction #the band ghost #why was editing this as stressful as landing a plane?#proud of myself #also I promise not all my stuff will be this sweet #papa emeritus iv fanfiction

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kissitbttr · 5 months

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hiii, now that we see that frat!Miguel and muñeca had their baby before getting married, do they have him at the beginning of his professional career or still in college?? Would love to see how Miguel reacted to those news

it definitely happened a year after they graduated! where miguel’s career is definitely taking off and muñeca opened up a ballet class for little kids,

they did talk alot about marriage and a baby, mostly on miguel part. it was something that they have always been look forward to. and if you remembered what happened in college when muñeca was having a pregnancy scare and miguel actually being happy if it turned out to be true? yeah. he was far too excited about that one lol.

but that doesn’t stop his girl freaking out over the possibility of miguel not wanting it,

she took five different tests and it all came out positive, having no clue on how to deal with this.

and she broke the news after seeing miguel coming home from practice. a smile on his face as he greets her, dropping the bag on the floor

“missed you, mi amor” he shuts the door behind before tugging her close, kissing her cheek. “how’s work today?”

she looks up at him with a small smile. “really well. the kids were so excited about the recital”

“that’s good to hear. miss those little munchkins” he hums, threading a few strands of hair on the crown of her head. miguel pulls a chair by the counter, taking a seat with a loud sigh.

“how about you, baby?” she asks, trying to get her mind off of what’s troubling her. “practice went okay?” fingers reaching up to soothe his cheekbone, a hand of his still secured around her waist

he nods, pulling her in to sit on one of his thighs, “coach ran us for a bit but other than that it was fine” a soft smile painted across his face, making her mirror his as well,

but that’s when miguel notices how her smile doesn’t reach her pretty eyes. which is so not her. the way her irises keep looking down, finger toying with her nails. something is definitely up.

“hey…what’s going on in that little head of yours?” he voices his concerns, rubbing a hand up and down her thigh,

“nothing—it’s just—“ she pauses momentarily, going back to glance at him. “are kids still on top of your list, miggy?”

“with you? definitely, amor” he answers, brows deepening at your change of expression. “why..? you don’t want to?”

her eyes widen once you hear how he sad sounds. heart cracking at the sight of his features looking like a kicked puppy. “no!—no baby—i do! of course, i do!” the comfort she offer then makes him sigh in relief,

“mierda—you scared me right there. thought for a second you might be thinking about getting married with someone else” the way he rolls his eyes makes her giggle, snuggling a bit closer to his chest,

“and if i did?” it’s a joke,

“i’ll kill him” he answers in a serious manner, glaring softly at you but merely at the thought. “now—why’d you ask all of the sudden?”

the anxiety comes rushing back within her, mind scrambling over how he’d handle the news. her eyes flickers back down on to her lap, the action doesn’t go unnoticed by him,

“hey..” he’s starting to get worried. “baby?”

she exhales a deep breath, looking up to stare back into him. teeth sinking into the softness of her lower lip out of nervous habit,

“i’m pregnant”

two words that rings upon his ears causing his grip to loosen around your waist and hand. the bushy brows that were formed into a frown are now faltering. the whole facade he’s feigning just makes her want to cry,

oh god—he doesn’t want it

but then a large grin breaks all over him. “we’re having a baby?”

she nods slowly with a smile, “yes” she watches how her boyfriend going through a roller coaster of emotions. a good one.

“fuck! i’m going to be a dad? for real this time?! holyshit!” he cheers, cupping her face for a long kiss on the lips making her giggle. “oh muñeca i—is this why you were looking so scared before?”

“kind of yeah” she nods shyly. “your career is just starting miguel, I didn’t know if you wanted it. i don’t want to hold you back”

he gives her a look, shaking his head. “that’s bullshit, you could never hold me back. but the right question is, do you want it? it’s your body, mi amor”

her heart does a somersault at that. “i do—oh my god, i do” eyes welling up with joy as his thumb moves to soothe the tears before it trickles down further,

“this is—“ he cuts himself off, feeling himself getting teary eyed too. “oh my god—i love you so much” he peppers a few kisses on her cheeks, forehead then lips. “te amo, te amo, te amo, mi carino—vas a ser una gran mamá”

for the second time that afternoon, her heart blooms at his praises. and she feels incredibly lucky to have him by her side. no one else she’d rather have.

“the mami to my kid” he mutters gently against her skin. “feels unreal”

“better get used to it, daddy” she grins, hearing him groan,

“shit—i know you meant it in a different sense but I couldn’t help to think you meant otherwise” that earns himself a playful slap on the chest making they both chuckle,

“wait—“ he pauses when a thought comes into mind. “i was wondering though, when did we have—“ his eyes searching for hers who seems to be clueless at the same time, then a light bulb appears in him,

“oh! the hot tub sex!”

#frat!miguel

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lynzishell · 2 months

Text

The Past 💛 Atlas

We end up talking for hours, completely losing track of time, and before we know it, we’re blinded as all the lights flick on at once, our dark corner suddenly bright and exposed.

“I think that’s our cue,” Ash says, squinting in the harsh fluorescent light.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

As we stand to walk out, Ash stops and asks, “So, you’ll do it? You’re in?”

“Definitely. I think it’s brilliant!” And I mean it. I haven’t been this excited to work on a project in years, his passion suddenly reigniting my own. He looks so thrilled by my response that I can’t help but smile back at him. I think I’d do just about anything if it would make him this happy.

We step out into the cool fall air, both of us still buzzing from the alcohol and the possibilities of what we can create together, walking so close that our shoulders brush up against one another, and yet it’s not close enough.

As a kid, I used to play with magnets, always fascinated by the fact that when you flip one of them around the force drives them away rather than bringing them together. I always felt like that was me, the one flipped the wrong way, forced to keep separate from everyone around me. But with Ash, I feel pulled toward him, and if there was nothing holding us back, I’m certain we’d snap right to each other.

It would be so easy, now, to lift my arm around his shoulders and pull him closer. He’d probably let me, but then what?

I’m so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t even noticed we’d reached the edge of the sidewalk, so abrupt and final, like the night is trying to end. But we rebel, both of us unwilling to say goodbye. Instead, we hesitate, turning towards each other. He looks up at me, his eyes practically silver the way they shine in the moonlight, and asks, “Now what?”

“Good question,” I say, “What do you wanna do?”

His usual smirk plays at the corner of his mouth as he steps closer, close enough now that I can feel the heat from his body radiating in the cold. I consider taking a step forward too, it wouldn’t take much, to lean in slightly and brush my lips against his just to see. See what it might feel like. Ash’s eyes draw a slow triangle from my eyes to my mouth and I realize he’s thinking about it too.

The thought seizes my body with a mix of anxiety and desire, and I’m frozen in place as he raises his hand slowly, letting it come to rest on the side of my face, just as warm as I imagined it to be. He pauses for a moment, perhaps waiting for me to stop him. When I don’t, something flashes behind his eyes, a decision.

“I want you to kiss me,” he says, the playful smirk on his lips daring me, bold and confident. But I see him. I see the way his shoulders rise and fall with short, nervous breaths. I feel the way his hand, warming my cheek, trembles just below the surface. Even still, the statement catches me off guard and a renewed storm of anxiety arcs through my entire body. I’ve never been so acutely aware of something as I am of Asher’s hand now, of the nearness of him, the way his breath feathers over my jaw and how it smells sweet, like whiskey and something else, something uniquely him. He’s so close, all I have to do is move a little, an inch maybe. His long, delicate fingers stroke the side of my face softly, reassuringly, keeping me grounded in place, keeping me present in this moment with him, and saving me from being lost in the sea of my own thoughts.

I shift my gaze down to his mouth and lift my hand to his jaw, running my thumb along the ridge of his lower lip, causing him to part them slightly and let out a small shuddering sigh. Then I look him in the eyes, giving him a slight, almost imperceptible, smile as I lean in.

Taking my time, I brush my lips lightly against his before kissing him softly. Holding myself back, not because I’m unsure, but because I’ve never been more certain of anything. I want to savor this moment, commit it to memory so I can revisit it tomorrow, and every day after.

A thrill runs through me when he kisses me back, not that I doubted he would. It was his idea, after all.

He follows my lead at first, but he’s not one to be cautious or restrained, and soon he’s pulling me closer to him, wanting something more. He drags his teeth along my lower lip in a surprising move, but I suppose this is what it’s like to kiss him, wild and overconfident, passionate and assertive, just like him.

The sensation makes me weak, and a small moan escapes me which seems to ignite something between us. We yank each other closer, snapping to each other, as our kisses become deeper and more desperate, and the world around us falls away until there is nothing else. Nothing but this, feeling, sensation and touch and taste and smell. Lips, tongues, and hands under the shimmering glow of the moonlight.

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#💛🩵#ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #aries pt4 #past #atlas stephens #asher goode

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luffyvace · 5 months

Text

PERRROOONAAA x female reader :3

Does anybody on tumblr love Perona as much as I do?!

(Once again, may be more accurate to pre time skip perona 😋)

Perona with a girlfriend seems like such a sweetie!! And I say this in the kindest way possible- but with men (specifically stupid men) she just seems to get upset quicker?? Granted, in the show, as far as I’ve seen she interacts with male more than females (poor her she’s gonna go insane) but then again there’s more guys than girls in op anyway.

Moving on- shopping with her is always fun!! ٩( 'ω' )و you two could shop for hours and hours together. By the way I’m specifically talking about when she dropped zoro off on sabaody. You can’t tell me she didn’t stay for a while and buy a crap ton of cute clothes. Ngl the girls in the background of sabaody had some pretty cute outfits!! Which mean they have good clothing stores. Which means you two definitely when on a shopping spree 😉🤩

I’m talking going from store to store, getting snacks like pretzels and cotton candy in between, going on a few rides n such. And of course getting some sweet deals because your cute and know how to coupon 😋😋

While we’re on the topic I might as well mention fashion. In fact these wouldn’t be Perona headcanons without it⁉️ Like have you SEEN how that girl dresses?! I LOVE her style it’s so cute!! (Opinion: I like her pre time skip fit better) Besides the point tho, I just feel like she couldn’t get along with someone who has no style so IK for sure you’ve got some 🙌

Either that or your okay with her dolling you up LOL. Ngl I feel like she’d love that- whether you can dress or not. She doesn’t even have at least bearsy anymore so who else does she have to glamify??? 😱 Zoro?Mihawk? 😖 No way they’d let her!! 😤 But dw at the very least you know you’ll always look good 😘💋💗

Cooking with Perona! (THAT COULD BE THE NAME OF A TV SHOW AT THIS POINT HAHAHAH) but yes of course cooking is a sort of love language for her, so she’s always cooking you stuff!! Meals, snacks, desserts whatever! She makes them randomly but you’d better appreciate it!!

if you can’t cook she’d have no problem doing it for you, but you simply must appreciate it!! At least thank her verbally if your not gonna do something in return physically! Okay?

if you can, you two have lots of fun cooking each other meals. There has been many days where you make each other your favorite meals then sit down and eat it together all romantic-like. ☺️ Aaaand there’s also times you have little mini arguments as to who’s cooking who’s favorite food tonight.

“No! Sit down I’ve got it, I said!!”

“I’ll do it Perona don’t worry about it!”

“No way! I was gonna make your favorite tonight!”

”huh? No don’t do that, I was gonna make your favorite!”

“well just sit down and let me handle it will you?!” 😤

nothing too serious like I said, just you too being so sappy you argue about who’s gonna cook who’s favorite dinner 😂💗💗

y’all have girl sleepovers at mihawk’s ٩( ᐛ )و

i mean yeah where else but you get me. You two stay up and gossip about any and everything. She’s the gossip type of girl 💯 I’m not saying you are though, so if you aren’t she can talk about anything, she doesn’t mind :) you could always build a pillow fort, read books, paint each other’s nails/toenails and sing instead 💖

she def rants to you about zoro and mihawk being living, breathing headaches. Which, unless your a nonchalant girly- you probably understand. 😭 having alone time with each other is essential to keep the other sane. 😄

her affections are cooking and doing favors for you. She’s also quite protective/big sister like and will make sure your okay randomly throughout your day. She keeps your hair in place and buttons the buttons you forgot to button up. 💖💖 that type of big sister like <33 she may or may not complain a bit (not as much as with zoro) but she’ll do basically any (sane 😭) thing you ask of her. If your ill/injured she forces you to stay in bed as long as it takes until you’ve made a full recovery. I feel she’d have a lot of medical knowledge so that helps ;D

she’d be shy about it when your first getting into the relationship, but after a while..! when in private, I feel like she’d be very soft for cute little kisses! 😚 100% in private though- she doesn’t want any sour faces from zoro or mihawk (😑) she’d make this clear too because she like to be made fun of 😒

her kisses are really soft, so are her lips. She’d probably leave light lipstick stains all over your face. She’d accidentally make those little smooching sounds each time she kisses you. She’s embarrassed about it but you two laugh it off and continue smothering bunches of love all over the other’s features. She really loves kissing your cheeks—they’re so squishy and cute!! <3 and she looooves cute things 😊

Ending it there because if I ever do Perona’s kisses one day that’ll be a spoiler 😱

I ended up loving Perona much more than I thought I would when I started watching one piece 😭💗 not complaining tho !! 💋

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rebouks · 7 months

Text

She knew-.. Robin was sure of it.

Despite her warmth, he’d always been slightly unnerved by aunt Alma’s presence; there was something odd about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Some people were harder to read than others, like Alex, but it was still possible.

Alma’s mind was like an impenetrable vault in comparison. Any attempts to feel or hear anything she did were met with a metaphorical brick wall, leaving him reeling as though he’d collided with it head first-.. but not tonight. Tonight, Alma was like an open book, and Robin was convinced she was doing it on purpose.

She’d told him all about her struggles as a child; how she didn’t fit in, how people teased her for being too sensitive, how hard it was to figure out who she was amongst the clamour of everyone else’s inner most image of themselves-.. all the while allowing him unlimited access to those very memories, like a handpicked blooper reel, just for him. Of course, that wasn’t the case though.. was it?

Alma had stopped talking now, but Robin still wasn’t sure how to react. He sat in silence instead, staring at nothing in particular for far longer than what could be considered normal.

“Can you hear me?” he thought, deciding to try a little experiment.

Nothing. Okay, so she couldn’t read his mind-.. then what the heck was she getting at? How had she so succinctly summed up his entire existence in less than fifteen minutes?

“I would’ve liked somewhere as quiet as this when I was young, it’s a shame we didn’t have an attic…” Alma offered, clearly trying to relate to Robin’s situation in any way she could. He still wasn’t entirely sure why, but she clearly wanted to help, and Robin didn’t know anyone else who understood him as well as she did, so perhaps he ought to let her try. He finally abandoned his switch and cautiously joined her atop his favourite, motheaten couch.

“What’re you getting at?” he said bluntly, curiosity getting the better of his manners. Alma chuckled softly, “You’re just like your father.” “It’s genetics, apparently…” Robin let loose a brief grin, glad to be compared to Oscar.

“I don’t know how exactly, but you’re different, Robin-.. and I thought it high time you knew you weren’t alone, and that we can’t let these things get the best of us.” Alma smiled softly as she spoke, but Robin was still too wary to be completely transparent. “We?” he asked, dubiously. “We’re few and far between, but you’re certainly not the only one who’s a little.. special, shall we say? That’s better than different, maybe?” Alma suggested.

Robin hummed thoughtfully, shaking his head, “Special is just another word for different, or weird.” Alma scoffed playfully, “And what’s wrong with being weird? I’m weird-.. we’re all a bit weird!”

“How’re you weird?” Robin asked, squinting at Alma accusingly. “Well, I can sense things I certainly shouldn’t be able to.” Alma started, excited to be getting somewhere. “Emotions radiate from people like a space heater-.. they’re not always pleasant, of course, but I can soak them up if I want to.”

Robin blinked, “Only if you want to..?” “Uh-huh.” Alma nodded. “You can block it out?!” Robin spluttered, suddenly and completely forgetting to maintain his ignorance before swiftly correcting himself. “I mean-.. it sounds like you can pick and choose, right?”

Alma nodded once more, “It wasn’t easy, but I spent a lot of years practicing.” “Years?” Robin sounded crestfallen. “I didn’t have a mentor…” Alma winked.

Robin allowed himself to smirk, figuring he might as well drop at least part of the act at this point. He was still a little nervous about being approached about such things so brazenly, but at least he knew why Alma perturbed him so much now, she was blocking him out on purpose-.. and she couldn’t read his mind either, which was always a plus.

The last thing he wanted was for anyone to know that he possessed that particular ability. Who’d want to hang out with someone who could access their inner most thoughts, the one’s they’d never dream of saying out loud? He shuddered involuntarily, hoping he’d never meet anyone that could read his.

Clementine finally nudged Robin, dragging him back to the present with her ghostly touch. “She looked right at me just then-.. she smiled! Did you see?” Robin spun around, realising that Alma had almost begun her descent. He must’ve missed her goodbye. “Wait!”

Alma paused expectantly, causing Robin to second guess himself and retreat into silence. “I won’t be far, sweetheart-.. whenever you’re ready.” Robin shivered as Clementine poked him again, “She can definitely see me…” “Can you, uh-…”

“See the ghost poking you?” Alma giggled, sounding far younger than she was. The vault doors had snapped shut again by now, but Robin got the impression that aunt Alma was just as excited as he was to find someone else who was weird. “Can you hear her?”

“Maybe-.. though I’m quite sure she hasn’t said anything yet.” Alma peered at Clementine expectantly. “Hey!” Clementine exclaimed as Robin tried to shove her into action, his hand ending up halfway through her waist instead.

“What? It’s not like you can feel it.” Robin snorted. Alma laughed heartily, thoroughly amused. “Well, I heard that-.. you two are good friends, huh?”

Robin nodded slightly, releasing a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. “I thought I was the only one who could see her-.. that maybe I was going insane…” “Far from it, honey! You hit me up whenever you feel like it, okay?”

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#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 story #sims story #forever in between #fib #robin finch #clementine stanton #alma garcia #whew.. longish post but necessary!?!#u can keep your secrets for the most part robin but maybe it's time to let -someone- in.. who better than “weird” aunt alma?#🤭#she's an empath btw.. so she can't read minds #but she picked up on robin's lil gift even if not -fully-#enough to try n help right?!!#this was super hard to write cos how do u start a conversation where one doesn't know what's up n the other refuses to say anything skdjskj #big ty to zosa for helping me get going ilyyyyy 🤸‍♀️

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writing-for-life · 6 months

Text

Right, okay, I’ve thought long and hard whether to write this:

A squick (even a strong one) is not the same as a trigger.

Emotional discomfort, even emotional discomfort that leads to low-level physical symptoms like e.g. mild nausea, is not trauma. Unfortunately, TikTok pop psych has done nothing to help people understand the difference, because the trend to perceive (even strong) emotional discomfort as equivalent to a trauma response is worrying and neither helps people with nor without PTSD. I don’t wish it on anyone to actually find out the difference if they haven’t yet (disclaimer, since this is unfortunately necessary these days because everything gets misconstrued: I am not talking about individual experiences, because only you can know about those. I’m talking about wider trends in an often young audience with not enough background info to be able to tell apart sound medical/psychological info and viral BS created by “influencers” for some kind of personal gain).

What people in the current fandom spat want to have tagged as “triggers” are overwhelmingly squicks. And we’re probably all guilty of quickly saying “that triggered me”, myself included (and I’m a licensed psychotherapist, shame on me). It has become somewhat of a shorthand for “extremely annoyed or grossed out”. But when it gets used in the context of tagging, it’s good to remember that no one owes us a tag list the length of our arm just because we don’t like certain things. Even if we strongly dislike them.

And even on the occasion someone else’s yuck or yum is an actual trigger for us, it is impossible to cover for every possible trigger, because in theory, EVERYTHING has the possibility to trigger someone somewhere.

E.g., a certain smell in a supermarket holds the rare possibility of triggering someone, but do you see disclaimers at the supermarket door that say, “May smell of 484 different things, which are in detail [list of 484 things] and might be different tomorrow. Plus, we might have a customer today who smells of that perfume that brings up your triggering childhood memories. Or maybe we won’t, but just on the odd chance we do, we thought we’d rather cover it”.

There might be one person with a very specific trigger that does literally nothing to the vast majority of people. Do we expect everyone on Tumblr to tag for “eyebrows” or “white T-Shirt” because of that? How about that person just puts “eyebrows” or “white T-Shirt” in their content filter instead?

Do we really suggest to put that type of responsibility on creators? More importantly: Who are we protecting that way? All we do is put people into bubble wrap and shift responsibility for our mental wellbeing away from ourselves to others.

We are trying to tell other people what to do for our own comfort. That’s controlling.

If we’re squicked out by something, there is a simple solution: we can stop looking or reading. We can use content (not tag) filters. In the worst case, we can block. We don’t have to put that type of responsibility for our personal sensitivities on creators (or people who reblog, for that matter).

We can tag for certain things as a courtesy, I’m all for it. I love being able to filter out stuff I’m not into, and I sometimes wish people would tag better or not tag a certain way (getting ship tags for a ship you’re not into slapped on your character-metas is annoying 🤣). But I don’t die, neither does it cause me unbearable distress, if I see cows where I don’t expect them. Scroll past or block. And if I’m worried about mature topics like nudity or violence: Tumblr has a community label for mature themes you can (and in my view should) use if in doubt. Funnily enough, many people don’t do that though—maybe because they worry about reach?

Of course we should include content warnings where they are due, no one says we shouldn’t. It’s also fair if a creator doesn’t wish to do that beyond general warnings (no specifics) though because they might give away, say, major plot points that way. In that case, general disclaimers like “contains depictions of violence”, or whatever it might be individually, are a good idea. And if that’s not specific enough for us despite knowing that “violence” in general might also contain our personal trigger, we might need to make the decision not to read it to stay safe, but we shouldn’t have a go at the writer for not tagging very specific things that might be considered spoilers.

Long story short: If we assume people are “triggered” by werewolves with vulvas or non-human characters, it might be worth thinking about whether we’re just talking about squicks that very much fall into the category of “personal responsibility”. And there are plenty solutions to that at our end—we don’t need to put that on creators…

#fandom problems #fandom entitlement #fandom stuff #squicks #vs #triggers #tagging #being grossed out or strongly disliking is uncomfortable #but it’s not the same as being triggered

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lemonlover1110 · 1 year

Text

Baby Steps

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 19] Execution

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Kidnapping, Mentions of Blood and Killing

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Happy to co-host Gojo NSFW Week 2023! Come join us on Twitter!

Satoru isn’t sure on how to properly break up with someone, so when he sits across from Leiko. He rehearsed this a couple of times, and tried to prepare himself for every possible situation. Whether she cried, or screamed, or even threatened him. She likes Satoru a lot, so he doubts that she’ll handle the news too well.

“This is a really nice place… I feel underdressed.” Leiko comments as she looks around, even though she isn’t close to being underdressed. She fits right into the crowd of people. But maybe that’s why she feels underdressed because she’s used to standing out.

“You’re fine.” He says, looking through the menu. She begins to say something, but he isn’t paying too much attention. He does catch the “You should pay me a compliment, I’m your girlfriend y’know” but nothing else. She keeps talking and talking, and he hums in response as he tries to figure out how to break up with her. When she mentions your name, he looks up from the menu and then at her.

“How is she? Haven’t heard from her ever since we went out for dinner.” She asks. She tries not to smirk, and Satoru notices. “I hope she didn’t feel threatened when I mentioned our baby–”

“I don’t need you anymore.” He cuts her off, and her eyes widen. She furrows her eyebrows before she slightly tilts her head to the side. She smiles, trying to play off her anger.

“What do you mean, baby?” She asks, and Satoru immediately knows what she’s planning when she slowly raises her voice. She wants the whole place to go quiet for her to cause a scene– To be the victim so he won’t break up with her. So he doesn’t go through the embarrassment.

“I’m breaking up with you.” He responds before he stands up from his chair. “And if you want to scream and cry in the middle of this place, that’s fine. Doesn’t change the fact that we’re done.”

And just as he expected, she does begin to yell some lies into the air, causing a scene. But he couldn’t care less as he walks away. He tunes her out, grabbing his phone to send you a text message. You’ve been ignoring him ever since he crashed your date. He’ll head to your apartment to talk, since he really wants to talk to you.

Maybe it’s time for him to explain the truth.

Just as expected, when Satoru knocks on the door, Kaya opens it. She crosses her arms as she glares at Satoru. She leans against the doorframe and looks at Satoru up and down, “I’ll only let you in if you’ve broken up with that girlfriend of yours.”

“Then I have some great news.” Satoru responds, pushing Kaya to the side. He knows that she won’t get out of the way either way, so he might as well save himself the time. Kaya stands dumbfounded, slowly blinking. But she doubts that Satoru is telling the truth. He walks to your bedroom door, which is open, but empty. The bathroom door is open as well, and you’re clearly not there. He walks to the living room and looks at Kaya, who walks back in. “Where is she?”

“She stayed the night with her new boy toy.” Kaya answers as she takes a seat on the couch. Satoru furrows his eyebrows, hoping that this boy toy isn’t Suguru. The date he crashed was only a couple of days ago and he doubts that you’d stay the night with someone so fast– Or maybe you would because you had just met when he knocked you up. But you wouldn’t do that while pregnant… Would you?

“Getou?” He asks and she nods her head in response. She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms.

“You know him, right? At least that’s what you said when you ruined her date.” She points out, but Satoru doesn’t pay much attention to her. He has other thoughts in his head, other thoughts that are more worrying. “You know… I don’t believe a word you say. You’re probably still with–”

“Give me your phone.” He orders, interrupting her. She shakes her head. “Have you talked to her? Give me your phone.”

“She’s been texting me.” She answers, which doesn’t help Satoru calm down. “Why do you look like that? She’s fine.”

“You know anyone can send a message. What the fuck is she even doing over there still? Look at the time.” He says, causing her to grab her phone and click on your number before calling. She’s sure everything is fine. But you don’t pick up the phone, and that worries her. “Is she not picking up the phone?”

“Probably busy.” She awkwardly chuckles before trying again. You don’t pick up the second time, and she puts the phone down. She chews on the inside of her cheek before she shakes her head, “She’ll call back in five minutes.”

“And if she doesn’t? Then will you finally give me your phone?”

“If she doesn’t, we’ll wait until tonight to go to the police–”

“She’s a pregnant woman, Kaya! I’m not wasting my fucking time. That’s the mother of my child and I’m not going to wait around to check if she’s alive.” Satoru slightly raises his voice, clearly irritated and worried. He extends his hand and holds his palm out. “Now give me your phone and unlock it.”

“Why do you need my phone?” Kaya asks as she unlocks it and gives it to Satoru.

“I know that she shares her location with you. I just need to check that, nothing else.” He answers as he looks through her phone to find the app that shows your location.

“Does she not share her– Dumb question, nevermind.” She responds. He finally finds your location, and he dashes out the door. Kaya has no option but to run behind him. She grabs the first pair of shoes she finds and holds them while she tries to catch up to Satoru. When she gets to the passenger door of his car, she tries to open the door but it’s locked.

“It’s best if you stay here.” He tells her, but she still attempts to open the door. Satoru ignores it, even when she says,

“C’mon, she’s my best friend.”

“You should’ve thought about that when you told me to wait till tonight. You’ll just slow me down. I’ll bring your phone back tonight.” Satoru says as he turns on the car. He closes the door and even though Kaya still holds the car door handle, he begins to back away. She lets go and just watches as Satoru leaves. Maybe he’s right, it’s best if she just stays. She’ll just slow him down. She isn’t too sure if she can trust Satoru though.

But he took her phone, and she isn’t walking all the way to Daisuke’s apartment, so she has no other option but to trust him. You’re carrying his baby so she hopes that means something to him. She’s overthinking, he’s going after you because he’s worried about you, not to cause you any harm.

She walks back to the apartment, the worst still flooding her mind.

A pungent smell fills your nostrils, and it makes you open your eyes. Your eyes land on the ceiling, and it looks unfamiliar– You don’t remember falling asleep. You had a date with Suguru, you had fun talking to him, and you realized how nice it was to talk to him. He invited you back to his place but you declined. You remember walking home and then nothing after that.

“You’re finally awake.” You hear his voice, and you lift your head. You see Suguru, and your eyebrows furrow. Your legs are tied together while your hands are tied to the bedposts. There’s nothing you can do to get out of the restraints, the ropes around your wrists too tight. Your eyes wander around the messy room, there’s dry blood on the walls, and you begin to worry– For how long have you been out? Is that your blood?

“Suguru–” You say, and he brings a glass of water up to your lips. His hand goes under your chin and he tilts your head up. You want to refuse the water but you’re too thirsty to refuse.

“Good girl.” He responds when there’s not a single drop of water left. He puts the glass down on a nightstand that’s next to you before he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

“What are you doing?” You ask, trying your best to remain calm in the situation, even though tears well up your eyes. You feel as if your heart is about to beat out of your chest, and your stomach is churning. You’re about to puke, but you try to hold it back. “Is this about Satoru?! Let me go! He’ll immediately know it’s you and he’ll call the police!”

He chuckles. He stands up and he stares down at you, one hand going under your chin to move your head. He licks his lips before he disapprovingly shakes his head, “Satoru picked such a dumb woman to become the mother of his child. For some reason I expected better from him.”

“What do you mean?” You respond. “How do you know Satoru? What do you want from me?”

“You’re awfully curious.” Suguru comments. “I killed my parents in this very room. We’re in my old house… You’d be the next victim if it weren’t for–” He smiles as he puts his hand on your bump, and you feel the water going back up your throat but you can control yourself. “We’ll wait for the baby to get here first.”

“What– Please don’t–”

“I don’t want to hear it. The last sound you’ll hear is your baby’s first cries… Unless…” He begins, and your ears perk up. You patiently wait for him to respond, “Satoru joins me. I’ll spare your life if he joins me. That is, if he finds me before the baby is born. When your baby is born, I’ll use them as leverage.”

“Join you? With what?” You ask. Every word that rolls off his tongue leaves you more and more confused. You’re not understanding anything, but maybe your hunger has to do with this.

“You’re a dumb girl, you wouldn’t understand.” Suguru says, his voice so sweet yet so mean at the same time. Your hands try to break free from its confinements, but it’s to no success. He laughs at the pathetic attempt. He pulls out your phone from his pocket. “Your friend is annoying. She keeps calling and texting– And Satoru too… He really cares about you. But they’re annoying.”

“He’ll find me soon!” You claim and he hums in agreement.

“That’s why we’re leaving. I have no intention of keeping you alive.”

🏷 @witchofoe @cactustattoo @kageyamaslittleroyal20 @mykyoon @sunjayist @fonkymonkeyfriday @lilith412426 @luvs-wrld @witchymermaid12 @fi106 @distractionforyourthoughts @dearsunaa @tamak00 @watyousayin @leiriswhore @q-the-rockaholic @shuxjodie @syynnaaah @kleeboomed @shrekmwa @bakugobiddies @blueeskies17 @arminsgfloll @obeythemasters @crispmarshmallow @levismainbabe

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #anime #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo fanfic #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo saturo

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cakerybakery · 3 months

Text

Adamsapple week- prompt Marriage

Lucifer slammed his phone back down and glared at Adam from across the table.

“Is everything alright, Lucifer?” Sera asked, annoyed at the interruption as she spoke.

“Yeah. Spam message.” On occasion his phone would buzz but Lucifer wouldn’t pick it up.

Instead he listen to Sera the best he could. She was so boring and he itched to look at the dirty pictures Adam was blowing his phone up with. To look at the crude drawings of sex acts and ask why Adam was sending them.

How Adam managed to draw such a detailed penis with his hand and cell phone in his pocket was nothing short of talent.

It wasn’t until the meeting was halted for a break and Lucifer slammed the sinner against the wall in a utility closet that he got an answer to why Adam was sending him the drawings.

“To keep the romance alive. Duh.” He puffed up his chest, “Eve used to think it was funny when I did stuff like that in front of the angels. Took her hand and fucked her finger with my fist for a moment like I was jerking off a dick.”

Did Adam seriously think that doing simulation sex acts when no one can see was romance?

“Why do you think you need to do that?”

Adam looked at Lucifer like he was an idiot. “Cause that’s the shit you do when you’re married.”

Lucifer’s brain crashed for a second. “We’re not married, Adam.”

“Ah, yeah we are. We even fucked. Sounds pretty married to me.”

Ohh nooo.

They did fuck. Like three months ago. A lonely, desperate night where Lucifer had been drunk off his need for connection, to be with another person, to feel something, anything. Adam was possibly the only other being in the universe who understood how deep his loneliness ran.

How he and Lilith loved each other, but it was a love born of being each other’s only connection. Adam opened up and his relationship with Eve echoed his and Lilith’s.

Under the moonlight Adam made the first move. Lucifer assumed it was another one night stand for Adam. One of the countless he endlessly bragged about when he was supposed to be sharing his feelings in the group therapy at the hotel.

He was lonely and missed the feeling of being wanted, physically, so he reciprocated.

“What exactly gave you the impression we were married?” Lucifer released Adam. Their position now reeking of intimacy instead of intimidation.

Adam was smug. “Uhh, I let you fuck me? I’ve only let Eve do that. And I talk to you about my feelings.” He started holding up his fingers at this point. “We’ve gone on dates. I get you presents. We hang out all the time.”

That did sound familiar. Adam seeking Lucifer out whenever Lucifer stopped by the hotel, telling him about his day or week if Lucifer hadn’t been there in awhile. Adam giving him a basket of berries from the bushes he was growing or flowers. Adam inviting him out to go to the hardware store, to the park, to get something to eat afterwards.

Lucifer assumed Adam just needed Lucifer to be his wallet. That the food and flowers were Adam showing off. That talking to him was his way of bragging.

“We don’t live together?”

“So? I spent lots of time away from the house. Working and tending the sheep, moving them to different pastures. Months huntings without seeing Eve.”

Lucifer hadn’t realized that for the last three months Adam had been, in his own clumsy way, courting him. Or maybe the proper term was romancing him. Treating Lucifer like he had Eve.

A woman he had just been given as a wife. There was no dating, to talking, she was just his wife. So he did things for her. Tried to make her laugh, providing her with food and pretty things she might like, telling each other about their days.

“Those acts are how you tell apart a spouse from everyone else?”

Now Adam was as confused as Lucifer, “yeah. Did- have you… did you not think of me the same way?”

He pulled away, his cheeks were turning red then Adam turned his face to stone. Looking nonchalant and unbothered.

“Usually you talk about that sort of thing before hand. I was just surprised.” Lucifer had hurt Adam’s pride.

“Whatever.” Adam went to push past him, “no big deal.”

Lucifer stepped in the way. “I’m flattered.” Now that he knew what Adam had been doing the feelings he felt about those acts changed in his mind. He was feeling foolish for not noticing sooner.

For not reciprocating.

If he was opposed to the idea of being with Adam he never would have fucked him the first time. Lucifer just wasn’t thinking Adam would take it seriously. He never took anything in hell seriously.

“Being married doesn’t sound so bad. Although I think we should work on communication.” Lucifer reached up to Adam still guarded face.

It didn’t take more than cupping it in his hand for Adam to break a little to lean the slightest bit into the hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.”

“Yeah, well. It’s, whatever. I wasn’t-“ Lucifer cut him off with a kiss.

Adam gasped and groaned, leaning into him. It was obvious Adam was pent up. He’d been waiting three months for his husband to touch him again.

Pulling away, Lucifer shot off a text to Sera that he wasn’t coming back as something came up. Then he turned off his phone. “I think we need a honeymoon.”

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe they were rushing into this. But like that’s stopped him before.

“And I want to hear more about this Eve fucking you thing.” Lucifer was sure it was another case of him misunderstanding Adam, but it sounded interesting.

He opened a portal to Adam’s room so they could start packing.

“There’s not much to tell. She was made from me, and I’m a man, so sometimes he felt like a boy and I let him fuck me. But that’s special. I don’t care about banging chicks but I only let my husband fuck me.”

Lucifer supposed it made as much sense as anything else in Adam’s weird life.

#adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #adam x lucifer #adamsapple week 2024

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bookshelf-dust · 2 years

Text

the hurt is good

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 5,163

warnings: swearing, cops, talk of jail/billy's abuse, neil, fluff and love

a/n: well, here it is. this is the very last part of my very first series. i am very proud of the ending i've created for these two. i like to think i've given billy what he deserved. i'm so grateful for all of the feedback and support you've given me on the previous parts. also, a part of this relies heavily on hopper’s letter from season 3, so that’s that, and then some of his other dialogue. i’ve found that it fit billy effortlessly. i really hope you enjoy this and maybe find some solace in it. i love you all <333

before you read, listen to: time after time by cyndi lauper and/or the promise by when in rome

————

The first night without Neil, Hopper sits in his car outside the house. He promised no one would hurt them. He means it.

Nicky went to high school with both Hopper and Joyce. In fact, she was suspended for dealing them weed under the bleachers at one point. She regrets nothing to this day.

Because of that, it really wasn’t too difficult to have a heart-to-heart with the man, to get him to sit down with Billy. And Max and you. Susan.

Hopper had shown up at the house to speak with Neil. When he arrived, he told you to keep Billy in his room, though that hadn’t mattered. The second Billy realized he might actually get out of this, that he might live without fear of his own father, he buried his face in your chest, tears wetting your collarbones, your t-shirt.

You’d let him get it all out, stroking his loose and frizzy curls, occasionally laying your hands over his ears to muffle any shouting. Billy squeezed you each time you did so.

Even if he was a little hopeful this might work, Billy couldn’t help but think about that night when he was a kid. When his mama left him with Neil.

He’d sat on his bedroom floor, trying to be quiet while his dad showered, pleading with her.

“Please mom, don’t do this. Please come home.”

“How long? How long?”

“I miss you.”

She was the last person he felt safe with, before you. And she’d gone, leaving her boy with him. Trapped. Part of him wasn’t sure this would work out. He’d hoped for so long that his mother would return, and she hadn’t. Neil had dictated everything in Billy’s life so far, so how was it possible for anything to change?

Hopper had given Neil Hargrove one option.

“You’re gonna sign these papers,” he’d said, gesturing at the divorce packet lying on the table, “and I’m going to quietly take you down to the station and expose you for the piece of shit you are. Lock you up for abusing your child.”

Neil had started screaming about how Hopper had no right to do any of this, to barge into his home claiming all of this.

“Sure, yeah, pitch a fit. Like that’s gonna change anything,” Hopper said, entertained by the fact that Neil was acting like the victim.

During one of the intervals where your hands were pressed to Billy’s ears, the hoop in the left one biting into your palm, you’d caught something Hopper said.

“I suggest you shut your mouth before you give me something else to report.” By the tone in his voice, you could imagine that he was inches from Neil’s face.

“You’re a coward,” Hopper had said. “Beating on your kid because your life didn’t turn out right. Well let me tell you something, that’s not his fault. It’s yours.”

There’d been a knock on Billy’s bedroom door followed by Hop’s gruff voice.

“Y/N, kiddo can I have a minute with you?”

Billy had looked up at you, eyes puffy. “I’ll be right back baby, I’m not leaving, I promise.”

You’d pressed a kiss to his forehead, and he’d held onto your hand until it was too far out of his reach.

Shutting the door carefully behind you, you’d looked at him. “We’re taking him away,” he said.

You blinked. “Really?”

“Really. He signed, so Susan is good to go.”

Hopper considered letting Neil run away, making him just disappear, but he didn’t want to chance him doing this to someone else. He’d already done that once though, hadn’t he?

“I’m really proud of you for helping him through this, kid. You remind me of your mom.”

His hand had been warm on your shoulder.

“If you want me to be honest, he’s lucky this prison isn’t very big. But that doesn’t mean nothing will happen if others figure out what he’s in for.”

You nodded, knowingly.

“Powell and Callahan just got here. We’re gonna be quiet. No lights, nothing. I don’t want to make this worse for Billy. But if he wants to see, we’re going soon.”

“Thank you, Hopper,” you’d said, hugging him. He’d let you. He’d had his fair share of a shitty father as a kid. Helping someone like Billy is something he’d always wanted to do.

Back in Billy’s room, you’d taken his face in your hands.

“Baby, they’re taking him now. Do you want to watch or stay inside?”

His back had straightened. He knew what he wanted, and he told you as much, so you led him through to the back steps, holding his hand the whole time, Max behind you, resting her chin on her brother's arm.

Billy got to watch them shove his father in the back of a police car, hands behind his back.

He was finally free.

————

Susan pawned most of Neil's more expensive things, that way she'd have money to cover bills for a while and have something to put towards the house payment. She hadn't really been trusted with the financials when Neil was around, aside from basic spending. Now that she had two children to look after, she really didn't want to be in a bad spot.

She had a feeling most newly divorced women would use the money to buy themselves something nice, but she didn't see any point in that. This wasn't about her. This was about making a life where Billy and Max could feel safe.

Even if Billy had whined about it to you at first, having dinner with Max and Susan at least three times a week to start was helping. And he would never admit this, but Susan was actually a pretty damn good cook. Whenever she'd prepared food pre-inmate Neil, they'd been kind of shitty. Billy supposed this had been her tiny form of protest.

It's pretty late now, but Billy is sprawled on the couch watching reruns of whatever. He's really not even entirely sure what's happening on tv. He thinks this might be Cheers. It's the fact that he can be on the couch that he's doing it. He doesn't have any particular reason to hide in his room unless he wants to.

He's missed this couch. It's the same one he's sat on since he was a kid. Since his mother was still around. It was one of the few items that made it to Hawkins when they moved.

Susan has the day off tomorrow. She said so at dinner. Hence why she's still up.

Billy hears her footsteps and looks up when she walks into the room. She gives him a gentle smile.

"I'm making Max some hot chocolate. You feel like some? I have marshmallows too, if you want those."

"Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks."

She smiles again and then disappears for a while before returning with a mug that has a six-year-old Max's hand print on it.

Billy sits up and takes a sip. He can't remember the last time someone made him someone other than you or Nicky made him something like this.

Susan sits down a little ways away from Billy in an oversized chair that Max usually claims as her own. The only time anyone else gets to sit in it are in times like these when she's being forced to do science homework with Dustin yapping in her ear. She'd asked for help, not an entirely new lesson. Dustin did not care.

Susan starts to read a book, and Billy almost forgets she's in the room when she speaks.

"Billy?"

His eyes rove across from the television to her over the top of his mug. She sets the book down.

"I just wanted to apologize. For not doing anything to protect you from your dad. I don't really have a reason other than selfish ones, like I was afraid he'd start on me, or Max. I guess I just thought if he got it out things would be okay." She buries her face in her hands.

"God, I'm so sorry, Billy. This is your home, and I came into your life and took you away from where you'd grown up, and I never stopped to think about what it was doing to you. I was only thinking about myself."

“I should’ve helped take care of you. You were just a kid. You’re still just a kid. And I’ve done nothing but let you down. I want to be better. I’m not saying I want to replace your mom or anything, but I don’t want you to feel unsafe or unwelcome here anymore.”

Billy keeps drinking his hot chocolate but he has to hold it with both hands because they’re shaking now.

“I feel like I don’t even know you. And maybe that’s because you didn’t want to know me, or maybe because I just avoided you.”

“I’m just so sorry, Billy. I want to try. I am trying. The both of you deserve so much better and you don’t have to accept this. I just wanted you to know that and that I care about you.”

Billy is quiet and for a moment it scares Susan, but she understands he might not have anything to say. He might not want to say anything. He might be waiting until he can afford to move out of this fucking house.

But Billy finally sets his mug down. It’s empty. He looks at Susan and he nods.

“It’s okay,” he tells her. “I understand. I don’t blame you and I appreciate that you want to try. I want to try, too.”

Susan nods back, a sweet smile on her face. It’s gentle, the look she’s giving him.

Billy does understand though. His being the target of Neil’s abuse prevented both Max and Susan from it. He understands that Susan was afraid of her husband and the man that she might not have known he’d unveil to be. She was scared. He understands.

He’s willing to try. To let her in.

She stands and picks up Billy’s empty cup. “Was it okay?” she asks, “It’s just the store bought kind.”

“Yeah. Yeah it was great.”

When she grins at him she looks young. She looks tired and upset, but maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it means change. Maybe it means she’s learning. She’s trying.

————

“Wear mine.”

Billy looks at you through the mirror in front of which he’s been primping. He claims he doesn’t like it when you say he’s “getting pretty.” His blush says otherwise.

“Yours?”

He rolls his eyes and puts down the hairspray he was holding. “Yeah. It’s fuckin’ cold tonight. Just put mine on. I don’t want you to walk all the way back to your house just to get something I have.”

You snort, making for his closet door. “All the way back?”

He bumps your hip with his, a common you-little-shit gesture.

“Because I live so far away.” You greet the pornstar taped to the thin wood before sliding it open.

“Should be on the right,” Billy says, ignoring your comment and shoving cologne down the front of his pants while you aren’t looking. It’s a habit at this point. Shit, he doesn’t even think about it, and he knows he doesn’t have to impress you.

You push around the clothing hanging in his closet, a couple button-ups, leather, a sweater you’ve never seen him in. It’s this cream color, thick and cable knit. You pull it out.

“How come you don’t wear this?” you ask, holding it up to him. He unsnaps another button from his shirt and your eyes follow the movement even though you don’t mean to ogle.

Billy looks the sweater up and down like it’s grossing him out. “I wore it once,” he tells you.

“Once,” you mock playfully, putting the shirt back into his closet.

Billy’s hands are on your hips in an instant, spinning you around. “I thought you were getting a jacket, not raiding my belongings.”

You stick your tongue out at him. It’s childish and you know it, but you do it anyway. He smacks your ass in retaliation, and you go to squeeze his but he grabs your wrist, pulling it to his mouth so that he can kiss your pulse point.

“Barf.” The voice makes you turn your head, and Max has pushed the door open fully where it had been cracked.

“Hi, Max,” you say, pulling your hand from Billy’s grasp, even if he pouts, and moving to actually retrieve the denim jacket you’d been instructed to wear.

You can feel Billy and Max staring at each other. “What do you need?” he asks her.

“Just came to see if we were planning on leaving today or if I should maybe hitch a ride elsewhere.” She enters the room and sits down on the edge of her brother’s bed.

Billy glances at his watch. “You said to have you at El’s by seven-thirty. We’ve got time.”

She crosses her arms and Billy faces the mirror again. He thinks he’s finished. “Did you even finish packing your bag, shithead?”

You shove your arms through the jacket sleeves, looking at Max. She raises her eyebrows. No, she definitely did not. There’s a flash of red hair as she hops up, and then she’s gone, the sound of dresser drawers being yanked open and shut echoing down the hall.

You start rolling up the cuffs, and Billy reaches for the collar, adjusting it for you. You’re focused on getting your hands free when you feel Billy’s finger lifting your chin up. He brings his lips to yours, kissing you once. He pulls away and you move back in, wanting one more. He obliges, albeit grinning at your eagerness. When you’ve gotten your fill, you kiss his cheek, and that’s the one that makes him blush.

He moves away from you, pulling on his own jacket. “I’m gonna go start the car, okay?”

“M’kay.”

Max let it slip once that Billy always went out to warm up the car before taking them to school. She wouldn’t have assumed it was for her right off the bat, but when she realized he didn’t do that when it was just him in the car, she figured out it was him being nice. Now he just does it for the both of you. You won’t ever say anything about it.

You look at yourself in Billy’s mirror, listening to his footsteps down the hall and out into the living room. You put your hands in the pockets of his jacket, and to your surprise you feel something. It’s not spare change, or a lighter–anything you would’ve expected to find.

It’s a sheet of paper. You pull it out, thinking it might be homework he tucked away or a receipt or something. It’s not, though. It’s notebook paper, and it’s been neatly folded like it was done with purpose.

You sit on the edge of Billy’s bed, and unfold it. To your surprise, it’s a page covered in his handwriting, that pretty, sometimes faintly cursive scrawl. There are some lines scratched out because he used a pen and couldn’t erase. But the thing that catches your eye is the very first line. It’s just your name. It’s a letter. A letter for you.

Your heart starts to race and you find yourself beginning to read, sinking further into his mattress.

There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about, it reads.

Feelings. Jesus. The truth is, for so long I’d forgotten what those were. I’ve been stuck in one place. In a cave, you might say. A deep, dark cave. And then I sat with you at lunch, and bought you a book, and suddenly you were part of my life. For the first time in a long time, I started to feel things again. I started to feel happy.

But, tonight I’ve been feeling distant from you. Like I’m pulling away from you or something. I’m sitting here and I’m thinking about the way you looked at me that first night at the record store. The way you held on to me when I slept over for the first time. I’m not even sure if you remember it, but every time I tried to move throughout the night you whined like you were afraid I was going to leave you. Like you needed me.

But you didn’t know about my dad or that I was falling in love with you then. And I can’t stop thinking about how I raised my voice at you when I came over today.

You pause, realizing when it was that he wrote this. The day he fought back.

And I’ve been afraid for so long that I might turn out like him. That I might be just the same. And I’ve been scared that you might realize that too and leave me behind. But I didn’t feel that way today when you spoke to me like a human being and you wanted to work things out. I’m changing. You’re changing me. We’re changing. And I guess, if I’m being really honest, that’s what scares me. I don’t want things to change. Because there’s a part of me that worries you might still change your mind. The rest of me knows you won’t.

So I think maybe what I’m saying is that when you didn’t know about how I felt or who I really am on the inside that it didn’t feel like I’d lose you. But now I’ve let you in and you can see all of me. And now that you’ve said you love me I really don’t want things to change. I don’t want to lose you or want you to go.

But I know that’s naive. To think you’ll leave. That’s not who you are. I know you’d look at me and say that’s not how this is going to work.

My whole life everyone has picked someone else over me. Left me behind. Left me on my own. And I know that’s how life works. It’s moving. Always moving and people change whether you like it or not. But you’ve taught me that change can be good. That it doesn’t always mean people changing their mind about me. About caring about me or that I’m good enough to keep around.

And sometimes change is painful. Sometimes it’s sad and sometimes it’s surprising.

Happy.

So you know what? I don’t think change is bad anymore. I think I’m supposed to learn from it. I think that when life hurts, because I know parts of it are going to hurt and there will be things that always hurt, I should remember it. Because the hurt is good. It means I’m out of that cave.

I just want you to hold my hand while I figure it all out.

You finish reading and fold the letter back up, putting it back where you found it. You hadn’t realized you were crying, but you were, and you spend the next few minutes fixing yourself in Billy’s mirror.

When he returns he thinks you’re the one primping.

“Ready, baby?” he asks. “Max is in the car.”

You turn to him, and he smiles at you. That pretty, pretty smile. You kiss him on both cheeks and then shut off his bedroom light.

“I’m ready.”

————

Billy pulls away from Hop’s cabin after dropping Max off, but he’s quick to stop the car again.

You were quiet the whole way there. Sweet as always, no doubt, but it was clear something was bothering you. He doesn’t like it when things upset his girl.

“What are you doing, Hargrove? We’re gonna miss the movie if you keep this up.”

He raises his eyebrows at you. “Well excuse the hell outta me, hon’.”

You slap your hands against your face, peeking through your fingers at him in hopes that he’ll go ahead and scold you.

“I want you to tell me what’s wrong, baby.” Billy doesn’t have to elaborate. You never seem to have to explain your feelings to him much anymore. It’s like he’s figuring you out, like he understands and knows when something’s bugging you or if you’re hurting.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise,” you say.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to know.”

You nod, and reach into the pocket of the jacket, pulling free the paper. It’s seconds before Billy sees the striped sheet that he remembers what it is, what he’d left in there.

It all comes back to him, his wrist hurting from pouring his heart out, the relief he felt at putting his feelings somewhere.

You hand it to him. He unfolds it and scans it over. “You read it?” He knows you did.

“Yeah.” You smile shyly at him, and it’s the same smile you gave him that very first night that you came to check on him. Billy wants to kiss you, so he leans over the center console and does; he presses his mouth to your forehead, warm and sweet. His presence is all-encompassing: heady cologne, minty gum. So very Billy. So much like home.

He hands the paper back to you. “Feelings, huh?” he says, his mouth pulling up at the corners.

“Feelings.”

You sandwich your hands between your thighs, taking a deep breath. Your eyes start to water and you can’t help it.

“Billy, I would never leave you, okay?” You were hoping the tears wouldn’t spill over, but it doesn’t matter because your voice fails you. It wavers and you sound fragile, young. And then he’s taking your face in his hands, wiping under your eyes even though there isn’t anything to wipe yet, just soothing motions over the apples of your cheeks, calloused thumbs and warm skin.

He stares at you, his eye contact unbreaking. When he looks at you like that, blue eyes boring into yours, you can’t help but feel a little full. Because he’s looking at you like that. You.

“I know that. I know.”

You nod, and he nods with you, so much that it looks silly, the both of you nodding, and you start to laugh.

“I made you feel that way? Really?”

“Of course you did,” Billy says. “My whole life I’ve felt like I’m like a black hole or somethin’. You don’t make me feel that way.”

Your heart aches for him. For this boy who’s had no one tell him how good he is. Who’s finally let you in. Who’s finally realized he can have better, and that he deserves to.

“I love you, Billy.”

He kisses you on each cheek, your face warm against his lips. He grins and you can feel it on your face.

“I love you too.”

When you get to the movie theater, you do pay for popcorn, and you do hand him the snacks you kept in your bag after you take your seats. Your mother said movie candy was getting much too expensive.

You pop a handful of Sno Caps in your mouth, and Billy opens his mouth. You sprinkle some in his, and then reach for his hand.

He looks down at your clasped fingers while a kid almost faceplants with a bucket of popcorn on the way up the stairs. Thankfully their father caught them first.

“You did say you wanted me to hold your hand.”

“I did,” Billy says.

—————

“Sit still, I’ll be right back, I swear.”

Billy crosses his arms, but it’s hard for him to look entirely brooding when he’s got plum shadow on his eyelids. You stand. “Here, Max, supervise.” You hand her the brush between your fingers, and she snorts at her brother from where she lays across your bed.

You make for the living room, suppressing a grin at the sounds of laughter emanating from the area. Susan and Nicky sit on opposite sides of the couch, watching The Golden Girls and talking about whatever it is that mothers-of-dating-children talk about.

“Mom,” you say, coming to a stop in front of her.

“Hi, honeybee. What’s the matter?”

“Can I use some of your makeup? There’s some things you’ve got that I haven’t and–”

She smiles at you, adjusting the well-loved pillow squished behind her back. “You know you can. Whatever you need.”

Her grin is contagious, and you find yourself smiling back just the same. “Thank you.”

She nods. “Playing dress up?” Your mother gives you a knowing look, thinking about the idea you’d had in mind ever since you watched Rocky Horror with Billy that first time.

“You could say so,” you tell her, and then you’re off to raid her bathroom cabinet, pulling free the large and full bag of goodies.

You start to rifle through the corduroy pouch, but decide it’d be easier to take the whole thing with you to your room, so that’s what you do.

When you return, you settle on your knees in front of your boyfriend, still finding it odd that you get to call him that now, even if that is exactly what he is to you. Your pretty, pretty boyfriend. Your boyfriend who’s letting you do his makeup.

Max hands you your brush back, raising herself up on her elbows so that she can watch the show better.

“Hi,” you say to him, pressing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Hi,” he responds, his voice showing all signs that he’s both enjoying this, yet also grumping about the fact that he let you do it in the first place. He settles back on his hands, legs spread so that you can sit in between them and reach him. You pull free both the pencil of thick liner you’d been looking for, and a pot of blush you know to be much pinker than the one you’ve got. Yours has also been broken on multiple occasions so that now it’s just little bits of pink powder sliding around in the pan.

You uncap the liner first, a warm brown shade, clearly freshly sharpened by your mother. “Close your eyes, pretty please,” you tell him. He obliges, lids fluttering shut.

You reach out, and starting to drag the tip of the pencil across his skin, you realize your hand isn’t as steady as you’d like, considering the fact that you’re also half-focused on not kneeing Billy in a place you’re quite sure he’d prefer to not be kneed.

You let out a frustrated sigh, and Billy blinks up at you. “What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t working. Just–” You shove the eyeliner pencil into his hands, and then move from between his legs. You grip his calves and move his legs together, then crawl forwards a little and straddle his lap.

He grins up at you, a cocky and mischievous look. “Comfy?”

“Shut up and close your eyes again.”

“Well you don’t want much.”

You pinch the squish of his side and he swats blindly at your arm. You take Billy’s face in your hand, resting the pinky of your dominant one against his cheekbone. This go around you’re able to drag the liner effectively across his eyelid. A tap at his face signals he needs to look up, and when he does, you do the same to his lower hip. Afterwards, you take a super small brush that Max found and use it to smudge the eyeliner out some, that way the lines aren’t so harsh.

You finish and take Billy’s face in your hands again, turning it to face Max. “Thoughts?”

She taps her chin, though smiling all the same. “Very nice.”

With a little more manhandling, you get some mascara on those lashes of his, though not without a little pleased squeaking in the process. It’s at the blush that you get excited enough to make him laugh. You swipe your brush heavily across his cheeks, and then the tip of his nose, where you’re probably much too generous. You don’t care. He looks so, so pretty, all blushy like this.

“Part your lips.” You say, thumb tugging at his bottom one. You put a gloss on Billy’s lips and almost lose it for good. He’s so gorgeous.

When you finish, you wipe your hands clean on a towel and back up a little ways from him to survey your work.

You clap your hands. “Max, help me. Would you look at this?”

She does, laughing gleefully. “Oh my god, this is so good.”

You look Billy in the eyes, and Max hops up off of your bed to get a better look. “You look so gorgeous, my love.”

He’s thankful for the blush in that moment, because without it you’d see the effect your using that name had on him.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Wanna see?” God, you look so happy.

“Do I have to?”

You bite your lip and Billy pulls it free, taking the little handheld mirror from you.

And, honestly, he thinks he looks kinda hot. You picked a good eyeshadow color, one that makes his blue eyes stand out even more, and he just looks pretty. Just as you’d said.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes. You did a very good job.”

He goes to kiss you, but you stop him. “Nope. You’ll mess up my work!”

Billy rolls his eyes and flips Max a bird when he sees her giggling at your enthusiasm and his compliance.

“Can I take a picture?” you ask.

Billy holds up his hands. “Oh hell no.”

“Billy, she needs to document her masterpiece,” Max says, though really she knows it’d make great blackmail. That and she loves how happy the both of you seem. She’d like to remember this too.

“Please?” You give him your very best puppy dog eyes, making sure they’re watery and everything. You know he’ll give in.

“Fine. But you show this to anyone, and you’re both dead.”

You laugh, grabbing for your Polaroid camera. “Who the fuck do you think I’m gonna show? Everyone I know is in this room.”

Billy’s smiles then, and you’re just quick enough to catch it. You get another after you kiss his sparkly forehead. And when you’ve finished, you stick them in the frame of your mirror so they’ll always be there.

That night, after Max and Susan have gone home, you sit in the bathroom to help Billy wash the makeup off, but only when you’d let Nicky see, and she thought he looked stunning. Showstopping, she’d said.

And it’s then, as you wipe the rosy tinge from his cheeks, revealing his freckles once again, that you realize months before this you’d been so alone. You’d ached for a moment like this.

And here you were. So even if the journey to get here had hurt, even if it’d been hard and pushed you to your limits, it’s okay. Because that’s how life works. It hurts sometimes. And that’s okay.

Because the hurt? The hurt is good.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy stranger things fic #billy stranger things #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove series #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove comfort #billy hargrove fluff #jim hopper #max mayfield #billy hargrove x female reader #savannah’s fics

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partoftheband04 · 1 year

Text

Making the bed

Summary: You've been in your head for quite some time about yours and Matty's relationship. Your thoughts finally surface as everything comes crumbling down around you.

Warnings: swearing, some angst (happy ending tho), mentions of alcohol.

‐‐-------------------

You’re in the club again.

That seemed to be all you, Matty and your friends ever did for fun recently. You say ‘friends’, but really, they’re just his. Your friends by association, but you know that if anything were to ever go wrong between you and him that they would always choose his side.

Phrasing it like that sounds childish, you always berated yourself for even thinking that the grown adults around you would ever think like that, another sign of the age difference between you and the rest of them. Sure, you were old enough, it wasn’t anything big enough to cause a commotion (especially with his celebrity), but it always made you feel like such an outsider.

They spend most of their times laughing about inside jokes that you weren’t there soon enough to be a part of, you’re not old enough to understand, not cool enough to get the reference. And it’s endearing. Especially to him. They all tease you as you try to chuckle along with them and desperately claw at the context of their stories for explanations.

That’s the main thing you always felt was missing. An explanation.

You didn’t understand why Matty, or even his friends for that matter, could possibly want you around. You seemingly had nothing in common except your careers in the music industry. Sure, nights in bed with him made everything feel right. So close that you didn’t need anything in common because you might as well have been the same person.

When you were alone it wasn’t so bad. He would ask about your life, your job, your feelings and he clearly did care. He would sometimes take you on trips away where it was just the two of you for a weekend in some romantic country, granted it was usually as an apology for some small error he had made within your relationship: another onstage kiss, too many missed phone calls, leaked paparazzi photos.

But the issue with Matty was he was barely ever alone. Constantly surrounded by people, namely his bandmates, and it was just never the same. It’s not as if he treated you badly when you were around others, he couldn’t have been nicer to you in truth, but something was always off, and you couldn’t quite place it. It felt like you always came second to everyone else that he associated himself with.

So now you were back in another club and things just couldn’t get any worse. You were completely out of your depth as Matty and the band celebrated their latest sold-out show with copious amounts of people that you had never even heard of. He didn’t bother to introduce you to them, didn’t even take your hand as he approached every individual person separately, he just left you stranded at the bar.

Which is perhaps the reason why you’d been sat there alone drinking your sorrows away all night instead of trying to start a conversation with someone. You never started conversations; that was Matty’s thing.

Nursing your vodka red bull in one hand as you hopelessly scrolled social media with your phone in the other, you felt a firm hand on your shoulder.

“You okay?” George asks, although its abundantly clear that you are not.

“Yeah, of course”, you stutter. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He looks at you quizzically, as if he can’t understand why you wouldn’t let him help you, wouldn’t let him be someone that you can talk to.

George had always been kind to you, the whole band had but he had taken a special liking to you and usually tried to include you in conversation more than the others.

“You know you can talk to me, right? We are friends after all.”

You scoff under your breath at this, not intending for him to hear it but he does anyway.

“What? You don’t think we’re friends?” He sounds genuinely hurt.

You look up from your glass at this, slightly shocked that the thought of the two of you not being friends would be something that upsets him. “You’re not my friend George. You’re Matty’s. You’re just forced to spend time with me by association.” You say all of it matter of factly, as if there’s no room for argument or any other possibilities.

Now it’s his turn to look shocked. “That’s what you actually think?”

As you stare back into your glass in favour of a reply, George’s face shifts to one of concern, worried that you’ve been thinking this the whole time you and Matty have been together. Your quietness starts to make more sense, as does the many times you’ve chosen to stay home rather than go out with them, and George feels truly awful that he’s let it go on for as long as it has.

Just as he’s about to speak, Matty’s boisterous laughter somehow manages to echo through the entire club and both you and George turn to stare. He’s clearly in his element, everyone around him is laughing along to his jokes, most of them people you usually hang out with on your rare nights out, and yet only George has even thought to come and check on you.

Reality hits you like a bus as you mumble an apology to George and rush to the outside smoking air, desperate for a cigarette, and yet as you reach into your pocket you realise that even the cigarettes are his.

You had everything you wanted: a loving boyfriend, a thriving career, a huge circle of friends. You finally had it all and yet none of it was truly yours.

You think that thought is the final breaking point, the last sign that you needed to call it quits on your relationship.

The door quietly opens behind you and despite the many people in the club, you already know that it’s Matty.

“What’s wrong?” he asks bluntly, simply.

You don’t say anything, just muffle your sobs behind the back of your hand and as much as you try to push the thought away, you feel like a child getting consoled by their teacher.

All you can do is shake your head, trying to convey that you’re fine without speaking, not trusting your voice to stay strong. He clearly doesn’t buy it though, placing a hand on your shaking thigh as a form of comfort.

“George told me what you said,” he states, once again getting straight to the point.

You sight, knowing it was coming because the two of them share everything, but you were really hoping you weren’t going to have to have this conversation tonight.

“I’m just drunk Matty, I didn’t know what I was saying,” you try to deter the conversation, blaming your words on your inebriation.

He just laughs at that. “You may be younger than me, but I know you can hold your drink just fine. What you said has nothing to do with how much you’ve drank.”

You visibly cringe at another mention of your age but attempt to brush it off. He knows you too well, he knows when you’re lying and when you’re hiding something from him, but you’d kept this going for so long that you’d thought it wouldn’t get to this point.

“I just feel like an outsider Matty,” you finally voice your thoughts to him after all these months. “Every single time we go anywhere I feel like you should be with anyone else.”

His hand of your thing squeezes a bit firmer, and he looks directly into your eyes as he tells you, “I don’t want anyone else.”

You shake your head in denial, not knowing what else to say because he just isn’t understanding, he’s never had to feel the way you feel.

“No,” he states. “You’re doing this to yourself. You’re getting it in your head that we don’t want you around, that I don’t want you around, but you know that couldn’t be more wrong. I love you. So, so much, and you’re pushing all the people that care about you away. You’re pushing me away.”

The emotions finally begin to take over his face and you think that you can detect fear, he’s scared of you leaving.

“Matty…” you draw sadly, breaths coming out shaky.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I see how quiet you get around everyone and I know it’s not because you don’t like them because you always look happy when you first see them but as time goes on you just crawl into yourself and stop letting people in. I can physically see when you start to have those doubting thoughts and it kills me because I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong Matty!” your voice has started to raise, along with his, as you struggle to communicate how you feel.

“Bullshit! If I’m not doing anything wrong, then how the fuck am I supposed to fix it?”

“You can’t fix it Matty,” you say, and he cuts you off quickly before you can continue.

“Don’t say that” he tells you, standing up and pointing at you. “Don’t say that because I don’t like where it’s going.”

“I don’t like who I am anymore Matty,” you mutter. “I don’t recognise myself, and it’s nothing you’ve done. I- I can’t explain it, I don’t even understand it myself but-“

He sits back down, grabbing onto both of your arms, not aggressively, almost trying to shake some sense into you.

“Look, why don’t we just go home, and we can talk about it there, okay?”

“But your party-“

“I don’t give a fuck about a sold-out show when you’re about to break up with me. I’ll call us a taxi.”

Before you know it, he’s walking you both through the club towards the exit but George stops you just as you’re about to leave.

“I don’t know what you two just spoke about, but whatever happens, me and the boys are all here for you, okay? Not just Matty, you too.”

You don’t know how to respond to that as Matty is still trying to pull you from the club, all you can do is smile and nod with watery eyes as you continue to get dragged through the sea of people.

The taxi ride back to Matty’s house is silent, he stares out the window, but he never once lets up his grip on your leg. You know he’s angry that you’ve held all of this in for so long without giving him chance to change anything but he’s still trying to provide you with the comfort that you need.

You truly do love him; your life just feels so out of control that everything is spiralling into something that you never imagined it would be.

“I love you,” he tells you as soon as you’re both in the house and the door is shut behind you. He says it with such conviction and yet you can’t help but feel that he doesn’t mean it.

You know that’s not true though. Deep down you know he loves you; he’s been saying it for so long now how could he not, but your mind seems to be determined to sabotage every good thing in your life right now for no reason whatsoever.

“I know,” you say truthfully, after some deliberation. “I love you too, I really do Matty-“

“Then why are you ruining it? Why are you trying so hard to get out of something that you know is good?”

All you can do is laugh quietly under your breath, not at what he’s said, but at yourself. You know he’s right, and as you sink into the sofa with your head in your hands quietly sobbing, you start to realise what is happening.

You’re self-destructing again, that much is clear, but you just don’t know how to stop it.

He sits down beside you, a hand gently rubbing your back to soothe you as you cry.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He speaks. “We can take some time, figure out where all of this has come from. I know you say I can’t fix it, but if you’ve really been feeling this way for so long then there’s definitely things that I can change.”

You hate how emotionally mature he has become since you started dating, another thing that makes you feel younger, however you can’t help but feel grateful for that maturity in this moment, knowing that it may have very well saved your relationship.

“I’m sorry,” you gasp through tears, truly feeling awful for what you’ve put him through tonight. “I ruined your celebrations for the show and-“

“I really don’t care about the show when you’re sat here crying on my sofa. Contrary to what your mind may have been telling you recently, you’re my top priority. Always.”

He leaves a kiss on your head as you curl up closer to his chest, desperate for the attention that you had felt was somewhat lacking over the last few weeks.

He carries you up to bed, both of you knowing that it’s no good to have this conversation when youre both still drunk and emotionally drained. He makes the bed for you as he lays you down, pulling the sheets over your body as he climbs in next to you, pulling your body closer to his until your head is resting on his chest.

In the warmth of the bedsheets, you can’t help but feel immense relief that you had listened to him, but also that he had listened to your concerns, and you were both going to try harder. You really did have everything you wanted, and it was everything you imagined, you just had to stop pushing him away.

#matty healy fic #the 1975 #matty healy x you #george daniel #matty healy

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