#so its a good way to get acquainted with things

[moonsaver]

I READ YOUR POST (and also anon!) ABOUT REBELLIOUS! VERITAS/RATIO, GOOD LORD..

Your writing is very good! And I like it! I'm having it for breakfast, lunch, dinner, everytime

BUT LIKE, LISTEN TO ME, WHAT IF S/O WAS REBELLIOUS LIKE HIM TOO. But not like actually him, just typical rebellious student back then. Like, breaking the rules, pissing off the teachers, etc

AND, HIS S/O IS LIKE NOW, NORMAL. A PROFESIONAL, and probably embarrassed of their phase back then. I do see them being Friendly and chilled with Ratio?? Or like "Oh crap, it's the old rebellious dude that tries to teach me random smart stuffs"

But in my opinion, I do see S/O just being like "Oh, what's up Ratio" and just being neutral. Greeting him whenever they passed by or see each other again, while also slightly joking about the things Ratio tried to teach them back then. As they told him that they actually listened to his teaching.. Even though it's.. Well, it's used by unsuccessful methods

BUT ALSO, YOU KNOW HOW XINYAN WOULD TELL EMBARRASSING STORIES ABOUT SHEHNE AND GANYU?

S/O WOULD DO THAT, telling Ratio old rebellious phase embarrassing stories to his students whenever they feel afraid of him. Like

"Oh, did you know that your professor (Veritas Ratio), used to talk so much about our teacher that just give the slightest wrong formula, to the point he keeps getting send to the office? Hah! I was there!"

As Ratio stood there with hidden embarrassed look, as he tries to hold the urge to not shut S/O up.

I'M SORRY IF I'M BOTHERING YOU, THE VOICES ARE COMMANDING ME... THE VOICES OF MY SIMPING FOR RATIO.

QNON ANON QNON!!!!YOU ARE FEEDING ME TOO I PROMISE YOU CAN BOTHER ME (its not even bothering me i love these asks),,, THE TENSION THAT IUST DISSIPATWS HAHAHA WAIT WAIT

Under the cut,might be long!

Soso, you're the rebellious kid who's butting heads with the other jerkwad, the only difference between you two is that he's just a nerd on top of being a rebellious kid. He's the "worst" of both worlds.

It's a very cliche enemies to strangers to acquaintances who respect each other to tension between possible lovers. Its kind of funny.

In your student days, I imagine the moment both of you see each other in the hall, you scowl at each other. Or make fun of something the other has. Maybe he's lugging a bulky art project and you make fun of him saying he looks like a turtle dragging his own shell. Maybe you left your bag's zip open and Veritas comments on how "devoid of knowledge" it is, "like your head" (you forgot all your books somewhere, your bag is completely empty). God forbid either of you tried something experimental and the other catches a glimpse of it. If they're not within talking distance, they'll shout on the top of their lungs. To both of you, the louder it is the more humiliation is involved. You'll find this method is often used by Veritas, as he openly quizzes you and chides LOUDLY that you're a BUFFOON and an IDIOT for not knowing a SIMPLE FORMULA. You decide to retaliate by stealing more than half his stationary, so now he has to scramble to gather extras and literally no one helps him cause he's a jerk lol.

Everyone on campus absolutely either hates it or loves it. Theres fanpages of you two with cringe edits,or those really well-made shitpost ones. Sometimes your classmates just bait the other to go a certain place just so you two cross paths and stir up a lot of trouble. The teachers are all done with both of you.

Cut to the future (or present?), reader's a professor too now. Let's assume either of them is unaware when they join the job (as implied by the request).

I imagine professor reader, if they manage to stay calm and just.. talk normally, it does give Dr. Ratio some whiplash. His pride demands he straightens himself out though, so it's not too soon before he himself drones on about some or the other tedious topic. You mention the past and how often you used to butt heads, and Veritas' first instinct is to immediately retaliate the way his past self would have done; but he stops himself in time, and sighs at it. You've painstakingly ingrained that response into him. But he's still slightly embarrassed nonetheless. It's not too soon before the conversation becomes more relaxed (I mean.. considering Veritas,as relaxed as he lets it be), and as a form of "nostalgia" he brings up all the questions he used to ask you back then, only to be pleasantly surprised when you give him detailed but professional answers. It's not too soon before he learns that you've become a professor aswell. Dr. Ratio congratulates you – with reservations of course, which is completely thrown out the window when you tell him you knew all of this because.. you listened to him.

Ugh. Don't make him feel so sappy. A part of him detests it; warming up and being all chummy with a hopeless classmate of all people. But a part of him is.. kind of happy about it.

Which is promptly changed the moment you also realize he's a professor now.

And that his students aren't spared from the nostalgia either.

He's bursting through the door, jaw dropped, angry and shocked face as you prattle on about how much of an asshole he was back in the day to his students. For a moment, he contemplates whether he should just throw chalk at you and make an example of you to his students, or drag you out. After a few seconds of paralyzed contemplation, he immediately grabs you by the back of your collar and drags you out before something else comes out of your mouth.

It's almost the same all over again – both of you bickering back and forth as he's all pissy about you spilling everything to his students! You've positively tarnished his reputation! Perhaps he shall tell your students how you used to walk around wearing a lanyard and a shirt with the institution name written on it in big, bold letters on the first day? Or that time you tripped and faceplanted right into the trashcan while you complained about his (axe bodyspray) deodorant?

Ugh.. he'll just deal with you later. Although he won't admit this even to himself.. it's nice seeing you again. He didn't think of that, it must be the headache you gave him that's making him think all weird.

--

[sunxstreaker]

Your honour, you're gonna be the reason I get into Transformers. Please spare me. I can only handle so many brainrots. PLEASE STOP POSTING COOL THINGS I'M BEGGING YOU PLE

Look at my robots boy

[ria-starstruck]

nymeve! based on fire ants!

she actually knew halesia when they were both younger, but both parted ways and haven't seen each other for many years. nym has since integrated herself into noble society under a pseudonym and a carefully constructed backstory that is always just a breath away from going up in flames. She'd thought that her noble lady con would allow her greater resources to find her sister with, but no such luck....(yet!)

[be-good-to-bugs]

maybe i am cool and fun to be around. i feel like people dont like me but ive hardly been around anyone in so long so i have no proof of that.

[inkskinned]

there are a lot of posts out there that are positive and healthy coping mechanisms for handling the holidays. this is not one of them :)

i think there's like. going to be times in your life you will be stuck in a social situation that you cannot escape from gracefully. i do not know why the internet doesn't believe these times exist. it's not always just that your physical safety is at risk - sometimes it's legit like "i just don't currently have the energy or time to put in the effort of responding to this." sometimes it's a coworker you hate so much. sometimes it's just like, fine, you know? like you know you can handle your aunt when she's cheerily horrible, but if you actually set a boundary around her, it's going to be weeks of fallout with your father.

i don't know why people think the answer is always just "cut them out!" or "don't let them get away with that!" because ... the real world is tricky and complicated. i think kind of a lot of us have an internal "radiation poisoning" meter for certain people. like - i'm talking about the ones who are absolutely giving you gradual ick damage. like, you can handle them, but you'll be exhausted.

and yes. you absolutely should listen to your therapist and the good posts about handling others and set good boundaries and take care of yourself. prioritize peace.

HOWEVER :) ...... since im often in a situation with a Gradual Sense of Ick person i cannot just "cut out" of my life (without losing someone else precious to me) - i have sort of developed the most. maladaptive form of mischief possible. because like, if i'm going to have to listen to this shit again, i like to have a little bit of private fun with it.

now! again, i am physically safe, just mentally drained by this man. you should only do this with people you are not in danger with. which leads me to my suggestions for when your Unfortunate Acquaintance shows up and says oh everyone pay attention to me.

my favorite word is "maybe!" said as brightly and happily as possible. whenever the Horrible Person starts in on a topic you do not want to go further with, particularly if they make a claim that you know to be inaccurate, do not respond to it. you and i have both tried to actually argue with this person, and it hasn't gone well, because this person just wants the drama of an argument. however, "maybe!" gives them literally nothing to go on. it is incredibly disarming. they are used to people having some response. they know they can't prove what they're saying, and maybe! treats them like the child they are. it dismisses them in the politest way possible.

i like to say maybe! and then, in their stunned silence, immediately change the subject. this is because i have adhd and i will have something unrelated to talk about, but if you can't think of topics fast enough, i recommend just pointing to something and saying, "isn't that lovely?" because fuck you let's bring in some positivity.

by the way. that second trick - of pointing to something and stating an opinion about it? - that just works on its own, like, 70% of the time. i picked it up from teaching preschoolers. it's an intentional "redirect". it stops children crying and it also stops grown adults from finishing their explanation on why women belong in kitchens. dual wielding!

keep it silly for yourself. i absolutely do not care if people think i'm fucking stupid (it's more fun if they do) and as a result i will purposefully misunderstand things just to see how long it takes them to realize i've completely removed them from the subject at hand. when they say "women aren't funny" i get to be like. "which women." "all women." "all women in america?" "no in the world." "like the mole people? the people in the world?" "what? no. like, alive." "oh are we not counting the mole people?" "what the fuck are you talking about." "you don't believe in the mole people?"

similarly, i play a personal game called "one up me." my Evil Acquaintance literally knows this game exists (my family & friends caught onto it and now also play it) and it always fucking gets him. i don't know why. you have to be willing to be a little free-spirited on this one, though. the trick is that when they make one of those horrible little bigoted or annoying comments they are always making, you need to go one unit weirder. not more intense, mind you - just more weird. "you don't look good in that dress." "yeah, actually, my other dress was covered in squid ink due to a mishap at the soup store." "you shouldn't wear such revealing clothes." "wait, what? oh shit. sorry, your son tears off strips when no one is looking and eats them. i swear it was longer before we left the building."

the point of "one up me" is to completely upend this person's narrative. we both know this person likes setting up situations where you cannot "win" and then they really like telling other people how badly you handled it. in a usual situation, if you respond "please don't say something that rude", you're a bitch. but if you let it happen, you're letting yourself be debased. they are not usually expecting door number three: unflappably odd. because what are they going to say when they're telling everyone how badly you behaved? "she said my son eats her dresses" ".... okay?"

if you can, form an allyship with someone whomst you can tagteam with. where they can pick up on your weird "soup store" story and run with it.

the following phrase is amazing and can be deployed for any situation: "oh, be nice :) it's the holidays!" i do not know why this works as often as it does. i'll say it for the most random shit. i think this is bc most of the time these people know they're being impolite, they just like to fight.

godbless. when in doubt, remember that you could always start stealing their pens.

the whole point of this is - if you can't escape. maybe see how long you can just be. like. a horrible little menace.

[satoruoo]

ok but satoru would actually know you were pregnant before you did. he wakes up one morning and sees the new cursed energy flowing off you 🥺👉👈

✦°. THERE IS NO WAY. - gojo satoru

there are a lot of things satoru sees with his six eyes.

he sees the soul in all its glory, pure and raw; a kaleidoscope of emotions and thoughts all interlaced to make up a person's nature. he sees, documents, the energy of all the people he holds dear to better keep them safe, to recognize them at a glance.

satoru knows you arguably better than he knows himself. he's well acquainted with every crevice of your body and knows your cursed energy like the back of his hand. you're the other half of his soul and he'd be damned if he didn't treat you that way.

he's confident that he knows everything about you, but when he wakes on a sunday morning and he picks up on something that is neither you or him, he can't believe his eyes.

there's a slight tremor in his hands as he sweeps the hair out of your face, watching in silent awe as you snuggle deeper into his embrace.

there's a new kind of energy radiating from you, akin to a gentle brush stroke capable of painting a million colours onto a blank canvas. it's smooth and slow like the waves, somehow a perfect mix of you and him.

the recognition kicks any remaining tiredness out of his system with ease. he sits up, jaw slackening. he's looking over you meticulously, double and triple checking that he's seeing this correctly.

fuck sleeping, honestly, because satoru is already wide awake, cerulean coloured irises already as round as dinner plates as he stares down at you.

his six eyes are not seeing things wrong. there are not one but two sources of cursed energy coming from you, who is only a single person.

the cogs turn at impressive speed inside his head, a beaming smile etching onto his porcelain-like face as the pieces begin to fit together.

pregnant.

the word makes him feel all giddy inside. the mere thought of becoming a father gets his heart pumping at laughable speeds.

you, him, and now a baby. a real, breathing, living child who is sure to be the perfect balance of you and him.

(he hopes the baby has your face and eyes. he doesn't want the burden of his god-like ability to interfere with the lives of any of his children.)

satoru shakes you from your slumber with vigour he shouldn't have in the early hours of the morning, half trembling with badly restrained excitement.

you're awake within seconds, a plethora of curses spilling from your lips as your slumber is rudely interrupted.

"satoru," you say threatningly, but it does nothing to dent your boyfriend's ridiculously large smile, "you better have a good reason for waking me up," you turn to look at the clock. "it's seven in the fucking morning."

little do you know, satoru can't even hear you. he's tuning everything out, focusing on nothing but how beautiful you look with the white sheets draped elegantly over your form, golden rays of light seeping into your already glowing figure as you press your face into the pillow with a groan.

"you're pregnant." satoru blurts, unable to keep it to himself for any longer. (it had been approximately 2 minutes).

he snorts at the way you look up at him, eyebrow raised skeptically. you hold his gaze for what feels like forever, searching for any truth in his statement. the statement that you, of course, did not believe.

"oh yeah?" satoru's heart thumps widely in his chest as the sound of your laughter infiltrates his ears. "how do you know?"

he can tell from your tone of voice that you don't buy it. typical.

satoru grins lazily, throwing his form on top of you and affectionately nosing your cheek. you make no move to stop him, you're far too tired.

(you subconsciously take note of the way his weight doesn't crush you as much as it usually does. he seems to be holding back for some reason.)

"i can see it!" he exclaims gleefully. there's so much sincerity in his manner that you almost think he's not fucking with you.

"righhhhhtttt." you say as you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "because you have x-ray vision or something, huh?"

in a way, he did actually have x-ray vision. when it came to cursed energy at least.

"nah, i can just see our kids cursed energy on you, babe," he speaks, hand coming to rest on your stomach.

there's something in the way that his smile softens and his shoulders relax as he gently massages your stomach that leads you to believe him.

"are you for real?" you ask breathlessly. it still isn't sinking in.

"yes ma'am." satoru confirms with a blinding grin.

he cackles at your awestruck face. his arms encircle your waist, pulling you ever closer so he can feel the comforting beat of your heart.

"i'm really happy, baby- ow!" satoru yelps as you kick him in the shin, leaping up from the bed with the widest grin he's ever seen.

"what the fuck are we here for, then? let's go ask shoko to do a scan or whatever and check everything's okay!"

he's not sure it's because you're his lover or something else entirely, but your enthusiasm rubs off on him and he springs to his feet, following you to the bathroom.

satoru doesn't even need to ask if you're happy, he can tell from the kiss full of passion, love and silent thanks you give him in the bathroom that you're as overjoyed as he is.

BONUS:

"what kind of devil spawn did you birth, babe?" satoru whines, mushed carrot smeared across his face.

you laugh, picking your son up from his highchair. the baby babbles happily, nuzzling his messy white hair into the crook of your neck.

"i think he's adorable," you retort sweetly as you carefully stroke your son's back.

"well you would, ‘cause he likes you more!” your husband complains, "all i get is a slap in the face and baby food down my shirt!"

"that's the way he shows love, honey."

"no one sane shows love like that!"

taggin: @sad-darksoul

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part two)

(part one)

Steve doesn’t know how long they sit there in silence, waiting. It’s making him insane. The seconds pass too slow; the seconds pass too fast. His mind is a storm; his mind is empty. He’s feeling too much; he’s not feeling at all. He paces the room; he sits catatonically against a wall. He needs to get out of here; he needs to stay. 

He’s been here before, just barely over a week ago, tense and anxious and despairing and waiting for news. But waiting to hear if Eddie will ever remember him again really should not feel this much worse than waiting to hear if Eddie will ever fucking breathe again. Steve thinks there must be something wrong with him. He’s being selfish and stupid. His pathological fucking need to be loved is not what’s important right now. Eddie is alive and awake and okay and that’s the only thing that really matters. That’s the only thing he should really care about.

Steve’s pacing again now, yanking his hands through his hair as he does laps around the room until Eddie finally appears in the doorway. 

Eddie must’ve just cracked a joke or something because the nurse is laughing as she pushes his bed into the room and he’s got this adorable grin on his face. Steve’s heart twists in his chest and he nearly bursts into tears all over again because god does he want nothing more than to press a kiss to those dimpled cheeks. 

“Good news, boys,” Eddie announces. “My brain is fully intact.”

“There’s no physical permanent damage to his brain,” the nurse elaborates. “His amnesia is likely a result of psychological trauma and the temporary disruption of brain function from blood loss and lack of oxygen that occurred at the time of his injury. But there is no obvious reason why he shouldn’t regain his full memory, given time.” 

So there’s hope. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. 

“That is good news,” Wayne agrees. 

Steve asks, “How much time?” 

The nurse gives an unhelpful shrug. “Impossible to say. It could be anywhere from days to months, or even years. I’m sorry, there’s no way for us to know.” 

Years. “Okay.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He can keep it together. He can. “Thanks,” he tells the nurse. “I, uh-” He makes the mistake of looking at Eddie who looks right through him, and Steve can’t keep it together anymore actually. “I gotta update the kids,” he mutters, backing his way towards the door. Wayne nods in acknowledgment; no protests this time at Steve’s excuse to leave.

“See ya, Harrington,” Eddie calls after him, casual, impersonal, like they're nothing more than acquaintances passing by each other in a high school hallway.  

Steve can’t get out of that hospital fast enough. 

He makes it to his car in record time, slamming the door shut and sinking heavily into the driver’s seat. A ragged sob tries to claw its way up his throat now that he’s finally alone, but he forces it back, staving off his breakdown for just a little bit longer. As much as it was an excuse, he really does have to update the kids. 

Steve fishes his walkie out of the glove box. “Code - whatever, I don’t know. Code Eddie,” he says. He doesn’t remember the kids’ system of codes, nor would he be sure which one this news falls under even if he did. 

“Is he okay? Is he awake?” comes an immediate, eager response from Dustin. “Over.” 

“Yeah, he’s awake, and he’s fine, except he’s got pretty bad amnesia. The doctors say it should be temporary, but right now he doesn’t remember anything since May of ‘85,” Steve explains, trying his best to keep his voice even.

“Steve, come pick me up and take me to see him,” Dustin demands, “right now. Over.” 

“Me too. Over,” Mike chimes in before Steve can respond. 

“And us,” Erica adds as well. 

Steve pauses for a second, both to steady his own breath and to make sure no one else wants to jump in on this too, before he reminds them, “He won’t know you, any of you.” 

“I don’t care,” Dustin says, bossy as ever. “Just come get me. Over.” 

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Steve mutters to himself. He sucks in another breath; it wobbles dangerously. He’s just about reached his limit on how long he can keep himself from falling apart. “I- I need a minute, alright?” he manages through the walkie. “Can you just give me, like, an hour? And then I’ll take you guys to visit Eddie.” 

Steve doesn’t wait for a response before he slams the antenna closed, tosses the walkie aside, and finally, finally lets himself shatter. That sob rips free from his throat, followed by another and another and another. Tears flood from his eyes; his nose runs. It’s an ugly, gross, visceral cry that leaves him exhausted and raw and aching to be held by the time the last sob shudders out of him. Drained and hollow, he craves the embrace of someone who knows him, someone who loves him. 

He sweeps up his broken pieces, wipes the mess of tears and snot off his face, and drives to Robin’s house.

“Steve, oh my god.” Robin pulls him into a hug the second she opens the door and sees the look on his face. Steve clings to her. “What happened?” 

“Eddie’s awake,” he mutters dismally. 

“Oh! Not the tone I’d expect you to deliver that news in, but okay.” Robin pulls back, looking at him with narrow-eyed concern and confusion as she analyzes his puffy eyes and red nose and swollen lips. “And you look like you’ve just been crying because…?”

“Because he doesn’t remember me, Rob,” Steve sighs. “He doesn’t remember anything from the past 11 months.” 

Robin’s eyes go wide now. “Shit,” she says, so plainly it startles a short laugh out of Steve. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shit.” 

She asks him more questions as she walks down the hallway so they can talk in her room. Steve once again reiterates what was said at the hospital. 

“So you didn’t tell him you two were a thing?” Robin asks, closing her door behind them. 

“Of course I didn’t.” Steve flops back onto her bed. “I didn’t want to spook him.” 

She sits beside him. “You didn’t want to spook him,” she repeats, looking down at him with raised eyebrows, “but you told him about Vecna.” 

“Well, yeah. I just-” He lifts his arms to gesture vaguely into the air as he tries to explain himself. “I mean, imagine how you would feel if you woke up in a hospital and some random guy you’ve spoken to maybe twice was by your bedside telling you you’ve been in a relationship with him for the past 9 months.” 

“Uh, I don’t know, dingus, probably about the same as I’d feel if said guy told me I’d nearly died fighting some evil twisted creature from a hell dimension,” Robin retorts.

Steve drops his hands onto his chest with a huff, shaking his head. “No, trust me. He seemed far less surprised by that than he did to hear that we were even just friends,” he says, a bit bitterly. Tears are pricking at his eyes again as he looks up at his best friend. “You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Robin. All he saw was King Steve.”

Robin softens, snark replaced with sympathy. “That sucks, Steve. I’m so sorry.” 

Steve sighs in agreement that yes this really fucking sucks. He sits up and scoots back so that he’s slumped against the wall, hitting the back of his head against it. “I think I’m a horrible person,” he admits, just venting now, “because of course I’m glad Eddie’s alive and all I really want is for him to be okay, and I know the nurse said he should remember eventually, but there’s still some sick part of me that thinks maybe it would’ve hurt less if he had just died.”

“I don’t think that makes you a horrible person,” Robin assures him as she settles next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “I think you’re just grieving, and grief is weird sometimes.”

“It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt,” he mutters, “when he looked at me without recognition. To see it on his face, just the- the absence of everything that we’d built. I’ve never felt so- so- I don’t know, it was like I couldn’t breathe. He just- he doesn’t know that I love him. He…he doesn’t know that he loved me...” 

Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s not that he’s lost someone that he loves, it’s that he’s lost someone who loves him. Because Eddie’s not gone, just his love for Steve is, and that’s what’s tearing him apart. It’s the fact that there’s one less person in the world who loves him. It’s the fact that Steve’s got this big gaping hole inside of him that’s always made him so desperate to be loved, liked, wanted, needed; and his biggest fucking fear is becoming obsolete. He could probably trace it back to his parents, the first to forget him, the first to stop loving him, but the fact remains that now Eddie has fulfilled that fear too. Now Eddie has carved that pit a little deeper, a little darker, validating the voice that whispers within it and tells Steve that he is forgettable, unlovable, so easy to abandon and erase. 

“Well, I love you,” Robin tells him, like she can read his mind (which, at this point, she probably can). She slides an arm around his shoulders, hugs him close. “And I’m not going anywhere.” 

Fragile as he is right now, Steve falls apart again in her arms, and she holds him together. Because she knows him, because she loves him.

It’s a quieter cry this time, soft and sniffly. Whereas the last one wracked through his body and left him fatigued, this one flows from him almost gently, and when his tears finally subside and he lifts his head from where it had been buried in his friend’s shoulder, Steve actually feels a little bit better, a little bit stronger. Which is good, because he’s gonna have to face Eddie again soon. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly as he pulls away from Robin, wiping at his eyes and glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It’s definitely been an hour by now, probably more. He stands. “I have to go, I promised the kids I’d take them to see Eddie.” 

“Then I’m coming too.” Robin stands with him. “For moral support.” 

Steve gives her a grateful smile. “I love you so fucking much, you know that?” 

“Yeah.” She grins at him. “I know.” 

~ 

The nurses have changed his bandages and upped his morphine, so Eddie’s considerably hazy now but at least he can raise his headrest and prop himself up a bit without nearly blacking out from pain. He’s boredly flicking through channels on the shitty TV in front of him, alone since Wayne had to leave for work, when Harrington returns followed by a very unexpected group consisting of Robin Buckley and four strange children. 

“Sorry,” Harrington announces their presence with an apologetic shrug, “I know you don’t know them anymore, but they insisted.” 

“Eddie!” a pudgy, curly-haired kid shouts before Eddie can even react, coming barrelling towards him and trying to hug him. 

“Ow!” Eddie yelps, pain flaring even through the extra morphine. “Fucking Christ, kid! Be careful!” 

The kid jumps back immediately, eyes wide. “Shit. Sorry.” 

“S’fine,” Eddie grumbles.

The kid looks at him expectantly for a moment before seeming to realize, “Oh, right, you don’t remember me. I’m Dustin.” 

“Ah, so you’re the guy I sacrificed myself for,” Eddie mutters, and Dustin looks a little sheepish. That means these must be ‘the kids’ Harrington had been talking about earlier. He surveys the group for a second. “Actually, I think we have met before,” he tells Dustin. “And you too.” He glances at a pale, dark-haired kid. The other two - a Black boy with a flat-top and a younger Black girl - look less familiar, though. “There was this, uh, open day thing at the high school for next year’s incoming freshmen; I talked to you about Hellfire.”

“Yeah!” Dustin’s whole face lights up, so bright and infectious it makes Eddie grin too. “Yeah, you did!” 

“So you guys joined the club, then?” 

This sparks a very animated conversation about D&D, the rest of the kids (Mike, Lucas, and Erica, as they soon reintroduce themselves) gathering around his bed now too to join in. It makes him feel a bit more like himself again, familiar, normal. Except, of course, for the fact that they’re not only talking about how they defeated Vecna in Eddie’s “totally epic” and “sadistic” campaign (adjectives courtesy of Dustin and Mike respectively), but also filling in more pieces of the story of how they defeated him in real life too. Still, it’s nice, fun. He totally understands how he could’ve gotten attached to these kids.

At some point, Eddie glances over to find Harrington hanging back and just watching them talk, fondly, wistfully. Robin whispers something to him and he sort of smiles, just a trace, and whispers something back. They seem close, intimate. Eddie wonders if they’re dating, and then he wonders why that thought makes him feel a bit sick. He waves them over. Harrington looks like he’s about to protest, but Robin gives him a Look and he allows her to grab his hand and drag him to join the crowd around Eddie’s bed. 

“So, what’s your deal, Buckley?” Eddie asks her. He doesn’t know her very well, they’ve only crossed paths a few times in the bandroom, but right now that makes her the most familiar person in the room to him. “Are you and Harrington a thing now? Is that how you’re involved in all this?” 

Robin wrinkles her nose and drops Harrington’s hand. “Ew, no. Definitely not.” 

“She’s my best friend,” Harrington says. 

Eddie snorts, doesn’t know why he finds that so comical. (He’s starting to get tired and it’s making him loopy. Or maybe it’s just the morphine.) “You've got a funny choice of friends nowadays, don’t you? Me and band geek Buckley and a bunch of nerdy freshmen.” He looks at Harrington with incredulous amusement. “Who would've thought, huh? Steve Harrington, collector of geeks and freaks.” 

Harrington doesn’t seem to find it as funny. He shrugs. “Yeah, well, it’s better than King Steve, collector of asshole bullies and shallow one-night stands.” 

“Yeah, ‘course it is,” Eddie agrees through another huff of laughter that breaks off into a yawn. “Didn’t mean it as a bad thing, Stevie. Was a compliment.” 

“Alright.” The barest hint of a smile flickers across Harrington’s face now, but then he’s looking away and corralling the kids and saying, “We should head out, let you get some rest.” 

And Eddie kind of wishes he’d stay.

(part three!)

taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy (only tagged people who explicitly asked to be tagged; if you would like to be added or removed from this list please lmk!)

[chococolte]

Your sagau zhongli is my fave! Devotion is soooo good he's so good!! If he were offered a reward, what would he ask for? He definitely deserves good things for being such a dedicated worshipper

word count. 1.6k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, sagau + cult au shit, religious themes, g/n reader.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. hi guys......... sorry i took so long to write this, and im so happy you like my characterization of him!!!! it means so much to me!!!

Your praise.

Zhongli has rarely ever wanted. 

When he was young, still arrogant and born of war, Zhongli didn't want— he took. He had no need of envy or desire. What he could not have, he would get in time. Immortality comes with an infinite patience. 

If he was still that god, flippant and self-important, maybe he would demand some sort of compensation. Some sort of recompense for past agony.

For as long as Zhongli's lived, he has never wanted; not in the way a mortal yearns for their lover, or the way a dog longs for its owner until it whines. Never in any way that mattered, never before he met you.

Zhongli has had eons to become used to the loneliness that so often encompasses him. And now, knowing that you breathe the same air as him, he's become rather acquainted with the ever consuming desire to nestle close to you, like ink caressing every pore of canvas. 

His desire runs through him— barking and loud, rapid and frantic— but when faced with you, a whisper, whimpering in the dark crevices of his ribs. At times, he comes close to asking you to hold him, but decorum and propriety keep him in place, tight and tense.

Liyue was built knowing your gaze followed him. Its foundations set, earth molded, and its rivers bent, hoping they would be fit to your liking. His every breath spent chasing after your favor, desiring to be remade in your image, to be exactly what you want him to be. Afraid that, when finally met with you, you will not like what you see.

Zhongli has rarely ever wanted, and rarer still, has he ever feared.

It's a mortal's fear. The fear of their lord displeased with their harvest. A boyish fear, made up of desperation and the fear of disapproval; one he shouldn't feel, one he should feel no familiarity with. One he suspects many have felt when within his own presence.

When you ask him what he would like in return for all of his efforts— a reward, you say— Zhongli feels his breath seized from him.

Zhongli lived much of his early life against you. At every opportunity, he rebelled at what he thought was a cruel god. Imperious and charged with Guizhong’s death, he would have demanded answers. 

For him to have lived while those he cared for perished without a moment's repose, for him to have survived every moment of cruel war when each breath was like a whip against his lungs— he deserved to know, if you were as real as Guizhong so staunchly believed, why he had lived in her place.

Yet, despite centuries of tempered rage, Zhongli has become content to live as nothing more than your servant. 

He tells you he wants for nothing. That all he desires now is the simplicity of being beside you; the escape of your laughter, where there's no need to concern himself with anything other than you. He tells you he only wishes to know how to take care of you better, how to align himself with your tastes and desires.

"I insist," you say, and Zhongli realizes it's a command. His mouth turns dry, and every word settles on his tongue like heavy weights, dead and still.

You stare, and his breath hitches, his heart a swell in his chest. Zhongli thinks of every answer, how your reaction to any could either breathe life into him, or leave him broken. How, for a moment, he amuses himself with the idea of asking for your touch— the cusp of your palm on his cheek, your fingers against his spine; how he could ask, and how you might favor him enough to do so. 

He then thinks of asking you for reassurance. For affirmation of forgiveness for the actions in his youth. To finally have the certainty that he hasn’t failed you, and maybe, the confirmation that you may care for him.

“Forgive me for my impropriety, Your Grace,” Zhongli begins, voice light and breathy. His hand rests on his chest, fighting the urge to dig into his skin, hoping to calm the pounding of his heart. “But… if I may, I was wondering if I had done right by you?”

You sit inertly in silence for a moment, and Zhongli wonders if it’s on purpose, some sort of punishment for daring to ask such a thing. You had no reason to reward him, and he had been blessed enough to hold your attention for longer than a moment. He had no right to ask for your thoughts, not so directly.

He thought he knew that. It was why he followed you, why he made sure your every request was completed to the highest standard. If you mentioned the taste of your tea being too bitter, or sweet, or that you’d rather he prepare something else for you entirely, he would rush to follow your word. Even if he had been the one to brew it, even if it was him who cultivated the leaves, even if he thought it would be to your liking.

All he needed was to be helpful. All he needed was you. Within you, was his salvation— within you, was love itself. Without you, the once great Lord of Geo was but a fragmented elemental wisp of energy, only ever calling your name.

A spike of adrenaline rushes through him, fear and anxiety denying any sense of hope. All he hears is the solitary sound of his heart in his ears. 

“You have only ever done good by me.”

Zhongli’s heart lurches, heat rippling through his body. You say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and his mind feels dizzy at the implication. The ground sways, and his feet feel light. 

“You deserve more than that, I think.” You step forward, and Zhongli is so lost within his own thoughts, he takes no notice of your sudden increase in proximity— but his breath still quickens, and red still coats the apples of his cheeks. 

“Kneel,” you whisper, and though you say it so softly, it's as though the sky had been torn asunder with the speed he responds. Zhongli’s mind still feels far away, but he hears your orders as if spoken directly into his ear.

He drops to his knees, no care for whether he does so elegantly enough. All he can focus on is the weight of your gaze, and the way he's the only thing under it.

“Do you want me to praise you?” You trace his jawline with your finger, still speaking in a soft, unhurried tone. “Do you want me to tell you how much of a good boy you are?”

Zhongli inhales sharply, fighting every thought that screams at him to eagerly lean into your hand. He stares up at you, russet lashes fluttering and amber eyes swallowed by adoration and worship. 

“Yes, Your Grace,” he whispers hoarsely. 

Your thumb swipes over his lower lip, and a whine rises to the back of his throat. 

“My good boy.” Zhongli’s entire body shudders, his chest heaving. A shaky breath escapes him. “You've been waiting to hear that for so long, haven't you?”

He whimpers, then nods in a way he hopes doesn’t come across as overeager— quickly bereft of any sense of propriety, or care for whether or not he’s making a fool of himself. All he can concern himself with is how close you are, how easily your scent renders him still, how quickly he borders on senseless. 

You smile at that, and he bites his tongue to stop himself from whimpering. 

“Do you want me to tell you how grateful I am?” Your fingers move across his neck, brushing against his Adam’s Apple, watching it bob as he gulps, trying to keep himself steady and not fall against you. “How you're my favorite?”

An ugly sound rips from Zhongli’s throat, and it's one he's instantly ashamed of. Every part of him feels bare in front of you, laid out messy and without decorum. The mask he’s worn for eons steadily breaks, and every one of his veins and bones scream out for your warmth. 

The Lord of Geo wouldn’t have ever allowed himself to be so vulnerable. He never would have amused himself with the thought of pleading for anything, or kneeling and falling apart because he was treated softly— least of all, of being so desperate to know that you love him; that you favor him. 

Zhongli, now without his Gnosis, is as mortal as the men he used to lord over. And perhaps it’s his newfound mortality that moves him to lean into your hand, frantically trying to meld your fingers against his skin until his flesh is like clay inlaid with your fingertips; hoping that you’ll rebuild him until he fits your desires, and tell him again that he’s proven to have done good by you. 

Every thought is a prayer, another hymn, another psalm.

“Am I? Your favorite?” 

His voice trembles, and breathes into a soft whisper. Zhongli doesn’t mean to sound so desperate— he doesn’t mean to be so greedy— but his soul has never felt so full before. His mind is so mired by your touch and voice that he doesn’t realize his lack of formality, or how he might come across as arrogant. 

He wants only to think of you, and so he does. Nothing else matters.

“Yes.” You chuckle, and his heart speeds up at the sound, fervent. “Why would I want anyone else?”

Zhongli whines, and faintly, through the blur of fanaticism and worship, thinks that no matter what you asked of him, he would do it without hesitation. 

[shewroteaworld]

Unsub Bait

Premise: For the fourth time, brilliant sunshine!reader is asked to bait the unsub. For the first time, Spencer has a problem with this.

Word count: approx. 2,000

Tw: canon-typical discussions of violence

Author's Note: Welcome to the second installment of brilliant sunshine!reader (meaning highly intelligent sunshine!reader) x Spencer Reid! While you don't have to read my first brilliant sunshine! reader fic to understand this one, I would highly recommend reading it. It's titled "I'll Hold Your Weight When You Can't." Hope you enjoy! :) <3

“Here’s an overview of the first phase of the operation: (Y/N) will go undercover as a college student at Yale. She’ll get acquainted with the unsub at Speakeasy, the New Haven bar where he assesses potential victims. We’ll apprehend him in the act of attempted kidnapping.” Hotchner listed for the team.

You’d played unsub lure almost a comical number of times. Once? That’s a once in a million task required to capture a once in a million unsub. Twice? You’d only have two nickels, but it’s weird that it happened twice, right? But four times? 

You’d already joked to Hotch that you should add “professional unsub bait” to your resume. 

It would’ve been more comical if it wasn’t so scary. 

You took a deep breath as you stared at the photos of the victims on the mahogany conference room table. Melissa Grey. Audrey Bernstein. Alivia Johnson. You could see your 21-year-old self in their eyes. You remember being so young and full of anxiety; you were near graduating from MIT. You couldn’t sleep at night from worrying if you had already lived up to your potential and would spend the rest of your years a washed up gifted kid– an academic has–been. After graduation, you proved to yourself your worth.

The college juniors in the photographs had their lives cut short by the unsub before they had the opportunity to find out what amazing places their brilliant minds could take them. You were about to allow said unsub to nearly kidnap you. 

That is, if you didn’t blow your cover. Then, he would hold you hostage or attempt to kill you as soon as possible by skipping his usual "kidnap and torture" routine.

Rationally, you knew your field experience more than prepared you for this task. Also, you knew your team had your back. They always kept you safe and healthy. The one time you were put at serious risk, you had to fight to be left alone after the case closed. But, you’re not sure if all the facts in the world could adequately calm your adrenal glands.

“Is this necessary?” Spencer suddenly interjected.

You turned to Spencer in surprise. “It’s the quickest way. We have twenty-four hours,” You said.

The unsub had a pattern; a girl was dying once every two weeks, and, when the the local and Connecticut police force combined failed to contain the situation, the BAU was brought into the case 36 hours before the next killing. With his eidetic memory, you were certain Spencer couldn't forget the time restraints if he tried, hence why you were stunned by his sudden brazenness. However, given Spencer's traumatic relationship history and your budding romance, Spencer's behavior was a lot more likely.

You and Spencer had been dating for a couple weeks. Despite being certain the team had their suspicions, you kept your relationship on the downlow. Strong boundaries were a good thing to keep when your relationship was in its fragile, formative era. Plus, you both agreed it was best to keep a high level of professionalism. 

This was the first time Spencer broke protocol.

“I think there’s another way.” Spencer continued. “It’s unsafe and illogical to put anyone’s life into considerable risk if there’s another viable option.”

“Are you implying I’m being rash, Reid?” Hotchner asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Usually, Spence would look away and take a breath. He’d at least have the decency to act timid, especially given the fact the entire team pulled multiple all-nighters in an effort to catch this serial killer. Instead, he leveled with Hotchner’s glare and asserted himself further. “I just think we’ve gotten a little too comfy using (Y/N) as an unsub lure. The more we do, the more probable a disaster will occur with her in the line of fire.”

“Spencer,” Morgan cut in gently. There was sympathy in his eyes. “We’ve done this with (Y/N) before. We’re good at reading her. And she knows the drill. We’ll keep her safe.”

“Yes, because that’s something we can certainly guarantee when she’s 3 inches from a serial killer.” Spencer deadpanned. 

“Reid. A word.” Without waiting for Spencer’s reaction, Hotch left the meeting room. With a hard look in his eye, Spencer filed after Hotch. You were relieved he was still obedient despite being ornery.

For a few moments, the team sat in silence. 

Rossi broke the spell with the scrape of his chair. “Well, I for one, am going to take this impromptu intermission as an opportunity to grab coffee. Any requests?” Rossi asked. 

“I’ll take a barbajada.” You joked half-heartedly. 

“Very funny, (L/N). Any requests the office Keurig can complete in less than five minutes?” 

The team rattled off their go-to office drink orders, but it faded to white noise. During your friendship, Spencer would always care for you when you had to lure the unsub. He’d be more attentive on the jet ride in and out. He’d check in on your mental state directly after the unsub was arrested and always called you once you got home. Once, after the particularly stressful unsub encounter, he sent you links to PTSD articles and even offered to help you schedule an appointment with a specialized therapist through the FBI’s mental health services.

But he’d never once intervened with a plan for you to go undercover. You knew Spencer Reid was nothing if not rational. He knew Hotch valued every member of his team. He knew Hotch would never send you undercover if it wasn’t necessary to stop a killing spree before more young women became statistics. 

Therefore, you knew Spencer was thinking about Maeve. 

You stood. 

“Where you going, Beauty Queen?” Morgan asked.

“Just heading to the restroom.” You lied. 

You walked down the hall and crept up the stairs. You tiptoed down the east wing of the second floor to avoid clicking your heels against the concrete. 

You crept to the side of Hotch’s office. You pressed your back to the wall.

Hotch said something indecipherable. An angry Reid answered.

“And all I’m saying is, she is not a cat with nine lives! She has one life. One precious life, that I think we’ve been a little too careless with.”

“Reid, you know I would never risk putting (Y/N) in harm’s way if it wasn’t the best course of action. She’s experienced with this. The team is experienced with this.” 

A beat of silence passed.

“Promise me that if you have so much as an inkling her life is in danger–”

“We’ll do everything in our power to get her out of there.”

“That’s the thing! ‘Everything in our power…’ It’s not enough. How many times have we told families we did everything we could when all they have left is a body bag?” 

Your heart froze. Both of the voices lowered. You could only catch bits and pieces of Hotch’s speech. You were never an eavesdropper, but despite your better nature, you crept around the corner towards the door.

“I know what it’s like to lose someone to an unsub, Spencer. I know how it sticks with you. I know how it changes the job. But you have to trust us– the team. We’re going to protect her. And we’re going to be there for you,” Hotch said. 

Spencer sighed. "How did you do it?" Spencer's voice cracked. "After Haley, Hotch? I’m not sure if I can survive this.” He sounded seconds away from tears. 

At that moment, you knew you would not sleep comfortably at night if you continued to be a fly on the wall.  You tiptoed back down the east wing and waited for Spencer at the bottom of the stairs.

Ten minutes passed before Spencer appeared at the top of the staircase.

“Spencer?” You called. 

His hazel eyes were tinged pink. He walked down the stairs nonchalantly. “Hey, um, would you mind if we discussed part of the case file real quick? Privately? It could help, um…” He cleared his throat. “Develop your persona.”

“Yes, of course.” 

Spencer didn’t look at you as he power walked down the hall towards the janitorial closets. For the first time since you started dating, he didn’t adjust to your walking pace. 

He flung a door open and yanked you inside. 

Carelessly, Spencer slammed the door behind you. Before you could get a word in, he pulled you into a bear hug.

“Spencer.” You whispered. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

He nuzzled his nose into your hair. 

You stood in the statue of a hug for two minutes.

“I can’t lose you.” Spencer whispered.

“You won’t.”

Spencer pulled away from you. He bent down to look you in the eye. He squeezed your shoulders. His eyes danced with emotion. There was a deep ache, a whirlpool of sadness that you knew a lifetime may never heal. What perplexed you was the hardness that you could only read as anger. 

“I…” He sighed. He hung his head. He dragged his palms down the slope of your shoulders to your forearms. It was like he was taking a cast of you with his hands. 

“I’m not dead on arrival. I’m still here. I’m coming back on that jet ride home with you. I’m going to be okay.” You reciprocated his shoulder squeeze. “You’re going to be okay.”

Spencer shook his head. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I care about you. It’s a part of the girlfriend package.” Spencer pulled you into another constricting hug. 

 “I can’t fathom how difficult this must be for you.” You whispered.

Spencer pressed his forehead to yours. “Promise me when you go out there, you won’t worry about me. I want you to only focus on you, your surroundings, and making sure you get out of there.”

“I promise, Spencer.” You said, though you weren’t sure if that would be the truth.

“And one more thing,” He said. His irises were so close to yours you could pick apart the layer of green and brown. “As soon as you feel unsafe, you call someone. If you have any inclination he’s going to overtake you–”

“I call the team.”

He took a step back and ran his hands through his hair. “I know you’re strong. I’m not trying to insult your field work.”

Your heart cracked. “Spencer, love, I know that. I’m so happy you care about me. I just wish this situation hurt you less.”

He dropped his hands to his sides. His brows furrowed. He stared at a random point to the left of your face.

“Can you do something for me? Before we leave?” He asked, still not meeting your gaze.

“What is it, Spence?”

He took a deep breath. He met your eyes again. “Dance with me.” 

“What?”

“Dance with me. I…” He inhaled deeply. “I never got to dance with Maeve before she…I barely even got to hold her. I won’t make the same mistake twice.” 

You closed the distance between you and Spencer. You cupped his face in your hands, and he instinctively leaned into your touch. His eyes shone with tears. “I’ll dance with you for the rest of my days, Spence.” 

He whipped out his phone. He turned on a slow jazz song you played for him last winter on an impromptu hot chocolate date. 

Your heart skipped a beat. You could go on that same date again, but it would have a whole new color to it. 

He slid his phone onto a cleaning supply shelf. He pulled you to his chest. Your head nestled right beneath his collarbone. You wrapped your arms around his mid back.

You danced, bodies pressed together like puzzle pieces, in silence until the song ended. The symphony of emotions didn’t cease with the final brush of the snare. 

Spencer continued swaying with you.

“I’m going to be okay.” You whispered.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You can’t promise me that.” He held you even tighter. “But I can promise you I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you come home to me.” 

Author's Note: Hello to all my new followers! I'm so glad you're here! I'm so grateful for the overwhelmingly positive reception to "I'll Hold Your Weight When You Can't." Hope you enjoyed this piece as well!

I hope you have a great day or night wherever you are in this crazy world.

xoxo,

shewroteaworld

[cordeliawhohung]

pet!au part 2 | ghoap x fem!reader

simon brings you home

cw: stalking, panty/clothing stealing, drugging, kidnapping, non-con touching, nsfw, simon is a freak and johnny is pathetic

Things began to go missing in your apartment around July. 

They were simple things at first. Items that could easily be lost in some hidden crevice you wouldn’t find until you moved out of the place. At first, it started out with clothing, and they were usually items you wouldn’t pay much mind to. When you lost your favorite pair of underwear, you treated it just like you did with your mismatched socks. What a shame. You’ll just have to buy more later. 

Then a pair of underwear became a pair of shorts, which then became a bra, and then a shirt, and then your favorite sweater. It was the one you always wore when it was cold out, and though you hadn’t worn it for months, you noticed its distinct disappearance from your closet. Strange. You swore it was hanging up with the rest of your jumpers earlier that week. Perhaps you had put it in storage and forgot? You’d have to check some other time, you were going to be late to work. 

While you had been plenty attentive when it came to your missing clothing, there were many other things you didn’t notice. Like a shampoo bottle slightly out of place in your shower. Strands of hair untangled from your brush. New scratches on your deadbolt. The masked man who watched you exit your apartment. 

Simon had learned that when it came to obtaining pets, he needed to do the process slowly. Snatching you right off of the streets wasn’t going to accomplish anything if things were too unfamiliar to you. No, he needed to make sure you were comfortable. So he tracked down the brand of toiletries you used, your style of clothing, your sizing, everything. He found those exact brands and bought copies that would greet you when he would finally bring you home. 

Meanwhile, he had an impatient animal at home to satiate, so taking a few personal items couldn’t hurt. What better way to get Johnny acquainted with your presence than having him sleep with the pair of panties he had snatched from your laundry? He was certain he had caught the mutt jerking off with the fabric wrapped around his cock the other night, but he was just happy to not be pestered into fucking the pathetic thing, so he let it slide. 

There were more important things for Simon to do than fuck Johnny every time his cock got hard, which was often. That was going to be your job, as it seemed like you needed a new one based on the rejection email he saw on your laptop. Looks like that interview you had been dressed up for a few weeks back hadn’t gone all that great, and judging by the dead look in your eyes as you worked the late shift at the bar, you were desperate. 

Good. Desperate pets always made the best listeners. 

At least your top was nice that night. Something Johnny would certainly enjoy seeing you in. Some low cut tank top that attempted to fight off the sweltering heat that lingered in the small confines of the bar. Even Simon had to admit that he felt sweaty and claustrophobic in that place, yet he still refused to remove that thick balaclava. The perspiration caused the skin on your chest to become illuminated under the dull glow of the light fixtures above you, and you were too busy serving drink after drink to pay any mind to the strange bloke hidden in the corner. For such a perceptive pet, you couldn’t manage to see the forest through the trees. Always paid perfect attention to the head on the beers you served, and how clean your station was, but couldn’t taste the pill Simon had slipped into the soda you had sipped on that night. 

Of course, he was patient with it. Didn’t want to slip you anything too early into your shift. Your co-workers were bound to get annoyed with your absence and go looking for you. No, he waited until the patrons dwindled to just a small handful before approaching you to pay for the drink he hadn’t taken a sip of all night. Simon was well aware of the effect he had on people. He was a large man with unkind eyes and a bitter attitude, yet you still put on a brave face and smiled at him as you took the cash from his hand. Didn’t bother to check your drink for tampering before downing the rest like it was a shot when you returned. 

By the time the world started to spin and you felt your dinner from that night wanting to come back up to say hello, Simon was ready. With pupils blown so wide and dilated, it was impossible for you to think straight. Your body didn’t know right from wrong, and so when his arm wrapped around your waist, it didn’t fight against him. Everything you were had been rendered into nothing but a perfect, pliant mess for him. 

It wasn’t until Simon pulled in front of the house that he realized he might have given you too strong of a dose. You hadn’t stirred the entire car ride, and he had to check your pulse to see if you were still breathing, and he was slightly relieved when he felt the gentle rise and fall of your chest. He didn’t even want to imagine the whining he would have to hear from Johnny if he had accidentally killed you. Not to worry. It was best if you were asleep anyway. Johnny would certainly pounce on you otherwise. Cradling you in his arms, your limp body was brought into the house, and Johnny bounded out of the living room the moment the door slammed shut behind him. His eyes were as wide as saucers the moment they landed on your body. You looked so soft. He wanted to dive right into you. 

“Down,” Simon warned.

Johnny’s impatience was drowned out by the static that jolted through his body. This new excitement had his blood coursing through his veins with resurrected vigor. Refusing to give Simon any reason to deny him his new treat, Johnny trailed behind him like a good pup as he brought you into the bedroom. You were placed on the mattress with such care one could have confused you for some prized possession. If he wasn’t afraid you’d shatter, Johnny would have thrown himself on top of you. 

“She’s so fuckin’ beautiful, Si. A goddamn angel, she is. Please, can I? Let me touch her, I wanna touch her,” Johnny asked, eyes begging for approval. 

Before giving him a reply, Simon’s hand reached for his throat. The thick leather collar that adorned his neck always got twisted around one way or another, and he quickly straightened it out. Silver glinted in the dim lighting of the bedroom as Simon’s thumb swiped across his dog tag. Soap was the name Johnny proudly wore on his collar; one he never even dreamed of taking off. 

“Play nice, yeah?” Simon ordered. 

Johnny nodded, and once he had gotten his confirmation, Simon let go of the leather around his throat. Wasting no time appearing by your side, Johnny laid down next to your motionless body on the mattress where he enveloped you in his embrace. Had you been awake, you certainly would have cried out at his crushing grip, but your unconscious body didn’t know any better. It gave him no reaction as his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck where he inhaled long and deep against your skin. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, hips grinding against your thigh, “smells like heaven too. Christ…” 

Wandering hands pawed at your body, taking things from you in your unaware state that you were sure to miss come morning. But how was he supposed to stop when your supple flesh felt like a divine comfort in the palm of his hand? Simon had gotten you for him. This was his right. This was what he had earned. 

“When will she wake up?” Johnny asked, not bothering to remove his face from your neck. 

“Dunno,” Simon replied, bored. “Have your fun, just don’t fuck her. You hear me, mutt? Keep that fuckin’ cock dry ‘til I tell you, yeah?” 

“Yes sir,” he answered, though it was impossible to fully hide the whine in his tone. 

As Simon’s feet meandered out of the room, Johnny only buried himself further into you. Hands under your shirt, hardened bulge against your thighs — he couldn’t get enough of you. Your scent was intoxicating, and he couldn’t hold back the groans that escaped his mouth while his lips pressed against your jaw. 

“Welcome home, Bonnie.”

[jello-chennie]

✧ tough guy iwaizumi hajime who ends up falling for his best friend’s cute little sister

✧ genre/tw fluff ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ (nsfw at the end ⚠︎)

✧ word count 857

all three of you grow up together, with you being two years younger than tooru. oikawa is always doting on you, treating you like a doll. despite the very little age gap, no matter how old you get, he’s always referring to you as his baby sister. oikawa spoils you rotten. one look from those big brown eyes you both share, but look a lot cuter on you for some reason, and oikawa can’t help but to give you whatever you ask for.

in the beginning, iwaizumi is almost like your other, more responsible big brother when things go wrong. you’re always trying to tag along with your older brother and his friend, which is a recipe for disaster sometimes.

when you inevitably take a spill, and bump your knees, tooru is rolling on the ground, shouting out against the heavens for forsaking you. how could the higher powers let you just fall to the ground like that?? but iwaizumi is is silently wiping off the pebbles from your knee with his little hands, blowing cool air to help assuage your pain. without a word, he carries you back home.

eventually you learn to stop tagging along so much. you can only handle so much pain and embarrassment. other than those moments, iwaizumi and you never really spend that much time together. for the rest of your childhood, you’re more acquaintances than anything else.

but at some point, after oikawa desperately begs you to join the boys volleyball team as it’s manager (“its the only time we’ll be together in high school, you wouldn’t ruthlessly deny your precious and loving and dashing and charming big brother this chance, would you???”), iwaizumi begins to notice you again. but this time, you’re a lot more grown up than you were before. seems like good looks run in the family.

but he’s not the only one that notices. in the same sense that oikawa seems to have the student body under his spell, it seems you do as well, and without even trying.

you’ve had a sheltered childhood that you mostly spent in doors, so you’re shyer than most people. and your brother enables you with his doting behaviour.

iwaizumi finds himself frequently getting jealous at the basket of love letters and confectionery that you have to empty out of your locker and lug home every night. iwaizumi finds that his hands begin to ache after a while bc he clenches them so hard whenever he sees another person confessing to you. and he waits with baited breath to see their disappointed faces as they walk away—an indication that you turned them down again in the way that you always shyly do; an indication that he might still have a chance, yet.

in an effort to put the moves on you, iwaizumi is constantly performing little acts of service for you. he goes out with you to the fountains to refill the water bottles so that you have some company, and so that you won’t have to carry anything heavy—that should be his job, after all. in the most cliche move ever, when an errant ball goes flying right in your direction, iwaizumi coolly catches it with one hand before it can bounce off of your head, making sure to ask you if you’re okay after. he stays behind to help you sweep the floors after practice, striking up a conversation with you. when oikawa stays behind to practice his spikes, iwaizumi walks alone with you home, making sure to keep you away from the side of the sidewalk that’s closest to the road. iwa also makes sure to put your back against the wall of the train while standing in front of you, keeping you safe from any wandering hands.

eventually, he even starts buying your favourite milk drink from the vending machine, and brings it to you while he visits your classroom, the place where you normally eat your lunch. he sits, and eats with you (to which oikawa complains vehemently bc “why would you just sit in a different spot than we normally do without telling me?? you left me all alone!!")

iwaizumi’s actions don’t go unnoticed. you start to fall for it.

when you two eventually start to date, oikawa is whining and complaining that you two are both stealing each other away from him (there’s also relentless teasing on oikawa’s end bc “iwa-chan, isn’t funny that you fell in love with someone that looks just like me?? are you secretly gay and actually just in love with me :3 ??”)

but what’s really the kick in the back for oikawa is the moment he runs up to his precious little sister’s room to check and see what she wants for dinner. but upon opening the door, he finds both his best friend (who, of which, he didn’t even know was over their place at the moment) on top of his “adorable baby sister who can do absolutely no wrong”; the two of them are naked from the waist down, in the throes of passion.

he falls to his knees, asking god to strike him dead, right then and there.

[sttoru]

hmmm what if gym sex with gym owner/instructor toji fushiguro. you know, they be fucking by machines and stuff 🫨🫨🫨

𝐒𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 . . . !

⟣ sypnosis. you thought it’d be just another day of you at the gym with your gym instructor, toji—though things were quick to escalate into a different kind of ‘workout’.

⟣ tags. gym instructor!toji fushiguro x female reader. exhibitionism, public, p in v unprotected, standing doggy ig, spanking, hair pulling, teasing, sprinkle of objectification / degradation, creampie, no to little aftercare, kinda pervert!toji as well. reader gets called ‘doll’.

⟣ note. yummyyumyummm.. this made me think of this ask t sent me & this fanart i need him so bad t_t not proofread btw. !

you were a newbie to the gym—your usual workouts consisting of the most simple sets; jumping jacks, burpees, crunches, squats, planks and push ups. an acquaintance of yours attends the same sports club and recommended you a certain gym instructor who works there most of the time.

his name was toji and apparently was good enough at his job for many other gym attendees to hire him in. you did the same and had started a few sessions with him earlier that week. toji was patient and quick to give you the needed feedback and advice on your workouts — a nice guy.

though, he did seem a bit intimidating, especially due to the fact that he was extremely bulky. your stomach did a flip once you first saw that dark-haired man.

the black tank top he wore almost every other day, his muscles that flex with each movement, the scent of his cologne you could smell whenever he got close and nonchalantly adjusted or corrected your form; that guy was more than simply attractive.

as your mind wandered and daydreamt about your gym instructor, your body was doing its needed squats. up and then down, inhale and exhale, tense and relax—you were on autopilot.

what you didn’t notice, due to the music blasting in your ears, was that toji had been wandering around the area. it was almost time for your own session with him where he’d do some cardio with you.

toji sipped on his water bottle, lazily approaching you from behind, your backside towards him. he looked around for a bit—this specific section of the gym was nearly empty at this hour of the day. except for you, him and. . . a random guy who was lifting weights in a far away corner.

toji’s eyes couldn’t help but flicker from your exposed shoulder blades to the curve of your ass whenever you squatted. it was very much intentional; not for the sake of checking on your squatting form, but more for the sake of his own needs.

it was like that almost every time he’s training with you—the gym instructor cannot resist the urges of subtly checking out that body of yours. more specifically, the curves of it. he could get a bit handsy when teaching you how to get the gist of a certain exercise.

you were a bit oblivious to this, because you thought that it was simply just toji doing his job. gym instructors were meant to help you along the way—instructing somebody and helping them get into the desired position by appropriately touching their body was part of that process. . . right?

you don’t know, but you also didn’t care. his touch on your thighs when he was correcting your form that other day, the way his big and veiny hands were gently holding your flesh; it was just way too appealing. even if he was doing his job, there was an undeniable attraction hanging between the two of you.

you couldn’t even count the many times where you ‘accidentally’ bumped into him at the gym just to hold a short conversation. toji’s eyes were everywhere—the sight of you out of breath, sweating whilst trying your best to look pretty when talking to him stirred his loins.

the dark-haired man knew you purposefully come and talk to him after each session. he knew that you always try to look confused in the gym when experimenting with a new machine just to catch his attention. toji knew all about your ‘innocent’ acts and yet he was falling for them. hard.

you were too good at that game of seduction and if it wasn’t for him risking the loss of his job, he’d have fucked you long ago. he’d have satisfied both your desires right at the gym with everyone seeing—he craved for a taste of you. he needed it. sooner or later.

so, toji took his chance. ‘it was now or never,’ he told himself as he approached you from behind. his presence was only sensed by you when his hands came in touch with your body.

one hand pressed onto your lower back slightly, the other on your upper thigh, fingertips digging onto the fat to help it slightly backwards, pushing your hips towards him—

“how many times do i have to tell ya, hm?” toji’s raspy voice whispers in your ear, his figure looming over yours making you feel caged between him and the treadmill you were facing whilst squatting, “arch your lower back just a tad bit more, push y’r hips back properly—mhm, jus’ like that. good, very good.”

you surprisingly do as told even whilst you were caught off guard by toji’s sudden appearance. your heart was beating out of your chest by the proximity of your bodies like this; your palms were getting sweaty. and not from your workout.

“y’re definitely gettin’ the hang of it.” your gym instructor comments, a faint hint of pride in his tone. he retracts his hands from your body, however not before teasingly letting his fingertips brush against the bottom of your ass, feeling up its shape in that single second of contact— “how’s your workout been today?”

you knew that touch was intentional. there’s no other explanation to the lingering stare on your ass as well. his eyes shamelessly took in your thighs and hips as if he wanted to be all over them, to touch them like he’d longed for so long.

“good. was about to take a break.” you reply. truth was, you weren’t. you only said so since toji was chatting with you at the moment.

there was an evident tension between you two—the way you took a sip from your water bottle whilst your pretty eyes were focused on toji’s ripped physique, your gaze that darted from his eyes to his lips, chest, lower body and back up. . . that game of seduction had gone on for way too long. toji had to have you. right here, right now.

that’s how you ended up clinging for dear life onto the treadmill in the corner of the building, your leggings and panties pushed down to your knees and toji behind you with his hands using your hips as leverage—his cock finally having a taste of your warm insides after all this time of fantasising about it during your lessons with him.

“fuck. . knew this pussy’d be fuckin’ tight—almost can’t move due to how much y’re squeezing me, doll.” the man’s rough voice spoke out whilst your wet folds were spread apart to fit his cock all the way in, his size massive to the point it almost hurt, “there you go, takin’ it so well.”

your walls clamped around his dick like you didn’t want him to ever move out of you—like this moment was all you had wanted from your encounters up until now. toji curses under his breath at the sight he’s finally seeing;

you trembling whilst he was balls deep inside of your greedy cunt that swallowed every single inch, even if it stung. what made it even better of an achievement was the fact that your ass was properly in his view now, fat jiggling with each press of his hips against it.

“hnngh—fuck me.. ah, please!” your stifled moans almost make toji’s eyes roll back. he loved those sounds of pure pleasure that escaped your lips—the ones which you couldn’t contain behind that hand clamped around your mouth.

it was risky after all; fucking in an open gym. you didn’t know if that one guy on the other side of the area had already left or not. you couldn’t see through all those machines and pillars obstructing your view. you just went with the logic that if you couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see you.

toji—being the absolute tease that he is—had seen your eyes wander across the section of the gym you were in. oh, he didn’t like it one bit that your attention was on anything other than him and his dick slamming into your sloppy pussy;

he stopped his movements and torturously slid his cock out of you until the head was all what was left inside, prodding into you every now and then like he was going to slam it back fully, only for nothing to occur. toji bit the inside of his cheek; rough hand landing hard on the left side of your ass, the other side getting its turn a second after you whimper.

the process repeats which makes your back arch deeply, hips instinctively moving back and then forwards—basically fucking yourself on his cock. toji liked that desperation in you. that’s what he wanted to gain out of his actions.

“hah—ya can push those hips back properly now, ay?” your gym instructor exhales through his nose, hand traveling from your ass to your hair, yanking that low ponytail of yours back. his sharp eyes scanned your backside as if you were a piece of meat, his hips grinding against your ass, kneading the flesh with his pelvis, “remember this when y’re squatting again—the position of your back like this, the slight arch—fuck.”

even in a predicament like this, toji used it to teach you about your form during your squats. not that you knew what that man was saying. you were too focused on the way he was slowly stroking his dick in your pussy, wanting the tip to reach the deepest parts.

“shiitt,” toji sighs before a noise—almost a low whistle—forms in the back of his throat. the pleasure kept building up inside of him and he knew that he could cum just by a bit of grinding against that plump flesh of your ass, his balls rubbing against the curves of it, “this body of yours ‘s gonna make me lose my mind, doll.”

but, toji didn’t want to end it with that. he was here to give you the pounding of your life—teach you another lesson which was unrelated to your workouts; the lesson of what happens if you try to seduce a man like him.

toji wastes no time and grabs your hips again, angling his own to hit your g-spot with each rough thrust once he resumes the movements. each press to that sweet area makes your legs shake, lips moving frantically, though only incoherent and slurred words leave your lips in quiet moans;

“nghh! toji, ‘s too good!” you whine, your own hand still clamped around your mouth to keep yourself quiet. you were always vocal during sex, but it was a bit risky to let yourself go in a public space like this, “mmph!”

though, with the fact that you were getting the pounding of your life right now, there was no denying the fact that it was impossible to stay fully quiet. a few lewd moans escape—toji tugging at your hair each time as a warning,

“sshh, don’t w’nna get me fired, do ya?” the man behind you grins. he isn’t even worrying in the slightest that this moment was probably getting caught on the cctv camera footage in the gym.

toji could easily get rid of those himself since he works at the gym and has some internal connections, but it’d make it all so difficult if somebody were to catch you in the act, “if ya keep quiet, we’ll do this more often, yeah?”

you shiver at that promise. you could already imagine all the times you can have toji to yourself in the future; how he’ll press you to a bench and fuck you—or maybe he’ll even take you in bathrooms. it was such a turn on. that’s all what was needed to shut you up in an instant;

“good girl.” that gruff voice murmurs once more, the pressure in your stomach builds, the coils forming threatening to snap any minute now for both of you. toji’s self control was hanging by a thread.

that same thread snapped in half the moment you let out a whiny and vulnerable whimper in the form of his name. with one hard thrust, toji presses his hips firmly against your ass, grunting as he makes sure to dump his load the furthest he could—the warmth of the sticky liquid filling your senses eventually stimulated you enough to reach your own climax.

“easy there, doll.” your gym instructor thrusts once, twice before pulling himself out of you, leaving the mixture of fluids leaking down by your legs. he huffs at the sight, taking it in for a couple seconds whilst kneading your ass between his fingers.

toji grabs a tissue he had somewhere in the pocket of his sweatpants and wipes his tip before tucking himself back in his boxers—pulling his pants up and readjusting his appearance like nothing ever happened.

toji puts the used napkin in your shivering hand and nods at you. you were a pretty thing whilst fucked out of your mind, that he could indeed confirm in a singular moment of eye contact.

he sighs and leaves you to fend for yourself as he starts to walk towards the stairs that lead to the third floor, probably to take care of something. you never know what he’s up to when he’s not in the gym—a mysterious man.

before the gym instructor vanishes, he does leave you a hushed message on his way to the staircase, head cocked to the side to look at you from his peripherals whilst he walks;

“clean y’rself up and continue with your work out. will be back in a few to check in on ya.”

[scribs-dibs]

Japanese Denim

spoilers for 2.1 (aventurine's real name), gn reader, soft aventurine hours <33

wc; 944

You don't miss the breath that blows over your face, relief lifting the weight off of his chest. It's you. He's safe. He can slumber for just a moment longer.

Sunlight is unfamiliar with the planes of his face. It dances across it; gold tracing the curves of his jaw, running playfully in and out of the dip and curve of his nose, contrasting the shadows of his bottom lip. It highlights his lashes, blonde and long and casting dainty streaks on top of his cheek bones. Aventurine —no, Kakavasha— is beautiful even in sleep. He feels ethereal beside you, blurred along the edges, you are just barely able to believe him to be tangible, with the way the morning clouds part to shine down upon him. But he's real, and the both of you no longer reside in the opalescent bubbles of Penacony. You're home. He’s home.

There's a strand of hair that coils over the dip of his cheek. Slowly, like approaching a stray, your hand moves to tuck it behind his ear.

His eyes flicker open before you're halfway there.

Kakavasha is a light sleeper. There isn't time for long rests, what with danger shadowing his every step, coiling around his lungs in the form of fear, deadly memories taking the form of nightmares every time he dares to drift off. You mourn the loss of his comfortable sleep, an apology hot on the tip of your tongue, searing it the longer it stays tucked behind your lips, but his eyes flutter shut again before you get the chance. The embers disperse.

You don't miss the breath that blows over your face, relief lifting the weight off of his chest. It's you. He's safe. He can slumber for just a moment longer.

You cross the remainder of the distance between you, fingers brushing over the fullness of his cheek. There is magic in his returned affections, his bare palms holding you there against him, honeyed skin nuzzling into you. He kisses the heel of your palm, sweet and simple, like it's the easiest thing in the world.

“...Good morning,” his voice is weighed down by his drowsiness, nearly gravely from disuse. You realize that this is the latest he's slept in months, without the buzz of his phone interrupting what little time he lends himself to the vulnerability of rest. His words slur together, a change to the steady, calculated speech he uses normally— at the poker table, at the IPC Headquarters, at all times. Like this, though, exposed and sleepy, he's a bit more upfront. A bit less guarded.

“...‘S so earlyyyy…”

And a lot more whiny.

You've become acquainted with Kakavasha’s greed by now. It is his twin, his shadow, mimicking his every movement and curling around him like smoke ; all-consuming and burning through his flesh. So you aren't surprised when the beast bares its fangs, arms entangling around your middle and holding. It's fair— the pair of you are accustomed to loss, to the feeling of holding someone for the last time before the feeling of them fades away like a faraway memory, your own hands move down to hold him, too. For a sweet, blissful moment it is just the two of you. Your breathing rises and falls in tandem with his, blonde locks tickling the crook of your neck and greedy, greedy hands shifting at your back to tug you even closer. There is a void in Kakavasha’s chest, one that yearned for so long —an open wound— for someone to hold onto, completely and freely, only to have its wants go unanswered. But you are here now, wrapped up tight in his arms, peacefully. He'll be damned if he lets go now.

You sigh, and it blows past his ear, “Clingy today, huh?”

How could he not be? When the gods spited him, when everyone in sight turned his back on him, you still stood firmly at his side, unrelenting. You are more than he will ever deserve, but selfishly he still holds you.

Kakavasha stretches, cat-like, and you can see an expanse of pale skin when the silk of his nightshirt shifts with the movement. He settles right back against you, your legs entangled thoroughly.

“You're comfortable. It's nowhere near my fault.”

To make a point, Kakavasha pulls you impossibly closer. He even makes a point to huff, as if offended you even asked.

“Right, right,” your hand is absentmindedly twirling the ends of his hair with your pointer finger— you don't remember when it got there, but doing it feels so natural you don't question it for another second.

“Unfortunately, I’ll have to cut this time short. I need to get up—”

“Why?”

He says it so quickly you can see he even surprises himself —eyes wide and mouth agape— but he recovers, clearing his throat:

“What's the rush? We have a day off for once, remember?”

He’s pouting. He tries to hide it under the weight of his glare, but his bottom lip, chapped from a deep slumber, betrays him. Kakavasha does not beg, and you are the last person to ever get him to try, after all he’s been through, but his bright eyes seem to plead with you.

“Right,” you agree, nodding simply, “But one of us needs to make breakfast,” you see it, the way his brows furrow further and he opens his mouth to protest immediately, “No, it cannot wait. I’m hungry.”

At that, he scoffs.

“Fine.”

Kakavasha swings his legs over the plush of your mattress, getting up in one smooth motion. You don’t have time to ponder what he’s doing– his hand latches onto your arm and pulls you up with him. Your face breaks into a smile– he cannot bear to part with you for even a moment.

“If you insist, we’ll do it together.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

rbs w/ comments appreciated !!! ty for reading <33

[01zfan]

hii could u write about eunseok and reader secretly dating in college ; like hes the cool boy who’s always helping us and when we do a joke he says its not funny just to see the reader smile ! and the reader is literally the sweetest girl + shes funny BUT one day reader go to college with a hickey from eunseok and their friend group (who doesn’t know about them dating) make suppositions about who she’s fucking behind her back (not in a mean way ofc !!!) and eunseok just happened to be with them at this moment ! soo he could get jealous and hint that she’s dating him etcetc till reader join her friends and sits right next to eunseok or wtvvv you can make wtv you want for the endung haha

hi anon! i hope you like what i did with your request, thanks for sending one in heh

hot girl semester | s. es

secret!bf!eunseok x reader | 2.6k words

mainly fluff and a little suggestive. basically the reader is supposed to be in her hot girl era but that is impossible when she’s immediately locked down by eunseok (she’s just like me). not proofread.

contains: making out. a lil bit of jealousy. random idols mentioned for worldbuilding

eunseok met you through a mutual friend. he had you in introduction to psychology but could never bring himself to say a word to you. you on the other hand, said hello to eunseok every time you passed by him on campus. whether it was in the quad or in a testing hall, whether you were alone or with your friends you never hesitated to wave your hand at him and say “hi eunseok!��. your chipper voice and cute smile had become engrained in his head. eunseok just couldn’t figure out why you wanted to say hello to him so badly. 

he was eating with his friends at the dining hall when he saw you before you saw him. you were browsing the different food they had available for the day.

“that’s the girl i was talking about earlier.” eunseok points to you. the whole table turned their head in unison.

“don’t all look at once!” eunseok wastes his breath, because they all stay staring at you across the dining hall.

“oh, that’s who you were talking about?” sohee finished his food a long time ago. he pauses whatever he’s watching on his phone to look at you. 

slowly, everyone at the table figures out it’s you who eunseok is talking about.

“she’s like the sweetest person ever.” sungchan says in between a bite of food.

“she’s always like…hi shotaro.” shotaro says copying the infliction in your voice.

sungchan laughs and points at shotaro. 

“that’s exactly what she sounds like. she’s adorable.” seunghan says.

“me and her are pretty close.” anton looks up from his assignment just for a moment to add to the conversation.

everyone else at the table was indifferent to what anton said. eunseok found himself taking an interest, turning to anton.

“how so?” eunseok tried not to pry. one thing his friends were good at was giving him a hard time.

“well we were in the same orientation group and we just stayed in contact. she’s probably the sweetest person i’ve ever met. she’s really smart too.” anton said casually.

“outta your league.” sohee says, not looking up from his phone.

“womp womp.” seunghan gave eunseok a thumbs down.

“i can’t ask questions?” eunseok said.

“she’s coming over here.” sungchan’s teasing voice was about five octaves higher than his normal one.

when you made eye contact with eunseok, sungchan elbowed him playfully. you came towards his table with a group of your own, girls eunseok did not recognize.

“hey guys!” you waved at everyone at the table individually. eunseok watched as all his friends smiled and waved back at you. your kindness had that effect of people. eunseok tries to recall seeing wonbin smile as big as he did when you playfully pulled at his beanie.

“you know it’s summer right?” everyone at the table laughed. eunseok felt himself holding back a smile.

eunseok watched as you intermingled friend groups. you introduced your girls to his friends, some of them already knowing eachother.

“now we are all acquainted, can we sit here?” giselle, one of your friends asked.

“yeah the dining hall is packed and you guys are taking up alot of the seating.” you said.

everyone at the table looked towards eunseok. eunseok was too busy looking at you looking at him to notice all eyes on him.

“eunseok is thinking.” shotaro laughed looking up at you from the table.

“of course you can sit here.” eunseok started moving everyones things to the side “move over guys.”

“wahh.” sungchan moved to the other side of the table to sit next to wonbin.

“our cool guy eunseok.” anton smiled. anton didn’t move, giving you space to squeeze in next to eunseok. 

your friends quickly chose seats. giselle and winter sat inbetween to shotaro and sungchan, bahiyyih sat next to anton, and sullyoon went by seunghan.

you squeezed in by anton, sitting next to eunseok. everyone went into chatting amongst themselves, many of them sharing the same classes. you watched bahiyyih and anton talk about their sociology class, helping eachother sign into the classes groupchat for study groups. you and eunseok were the only ones completely silent at the table.

“hey eunseok.” you couldn’t stop smiling. eunseok’s ear started becoming red. were you teasing him? he didn’t know anything except for the fact that he was smiling hard for no reason.

you and eunseok eventually started a conversation, but eunseok couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. he couldn’t wipe it away when you touched his arm, or when you snuck him your number underneath the table. you and your girls left eventually to get to class, while the boys stayed a little longer. eunseok had to remain neutral, trying to not bring any attention to himself. he kept your number safely in his pocket until he made it back to his dorm room.

eunseok texted you first. he was the one who took the leap to ask you to come over and hang out while shotaro was gone. of course, you knew what this hangout was going to be. within ten minutes of walking through the door, eunseok’s lips were on yours. before you knew it, you were waking up the next morning in eunseok’s bed. he had his arm wrapped around you and pulled you in close. you unwrapped his arm from yours, successfully not waking him up. you left just in time, turning the corner to see shotaro knock on the door before going in. you cursed yourself for leaving behind your bra. you made the trek back to your apartment, thinking about the night before.

giselle eyed you when you came through the door of your shared apartment. 

“i thought you’d be at class by now?” you said. you didn’t look too disheveled, but still it was obvious you had a night of fun.

“i don’t have class on tuesdays.” giselle laughed. she was sitting on the couch and pointed at your shared calendar “did someone fuck your memory away?”

“giselle!” you grumble.

“i’m not the one to judge. hot girl semester, right?” giselle said looking at you from the couch. 

“right.”

you forgot about the goal you and giselle set for this semester. focusing on school, not making time for men besides the occasional booty call. 

“no catching feelings.” giselle pointed at you mockingly. 

“it was a one time thing, giselle.” 

you went into your room and shut the door. you made a promise to yourself to not see eunseok again. this lasted only a few minutes after eunseok texted you saying how badly he wants to see you again. and that you left your bra, that shotaro almost found. it’s no surprise you were at his house the next night. and the night after that. anytime shotaro would be gone you were there. giselle never questioned it, but you believed she was bringing people over as well.

casual hookup turned to dates, and friends turned into dating. you had your reservations though, dating someone so close to the school year starting. so eunseok also ended up being the one to make the compromise.

“we don’t have to tell anyone we are seeing eachother.” eunseok had his hands in yours, gripping them tight.

“i’m not ashamed of us. i want you to know that.” you said, rubbing his hand. 

“i know. i get it.” eunseok hated the secrecy. he understood the privacy, but secrecy was too much.

“lets just keep this between us, for now.” you patted his head, making eunseok smile.

that was three months ago.

eunseok now sat next to you on the couch, breath hot on your neck. your book was long forgotten, the notes you were taking on it probably being wrinkled underneath your bodies. his laptop with his twelve paged paper (that was due tonight) sat open on the coffee table in front of him. all that mattered was trying to pull little whimpers from you, and to get as close to you as possible.

eunseok sat on the couch and pulled you to straddle his lap. you let out a little sound, probably surprised by how fast he grabbed you. 

eunseok wasted no time bringing you closer with one hand on your ass and his other pressing on the small of your back. you kissed him like you were in a rush or distracted.

“we have all day baby.” eunseok pulling away from you. you brushed hair away from his face, looking him in the eyes. eunseok smiled when you brought him in for a slow kiss.

it was yearning kiss. not only did sneaking around take a toll on you, but the course load was tiring as well. you often found yourself sleeping on eunseok’s couch sitting up, him moving you to the bed. you were losing time, always thinking about how badly you wanted to be with him.

eunseok must have felt the same, because he never let you out of his hands when he got a hold of you. at parties he would always stick close to you, keeping an eye on you at all times. he respected that you wanted to be with your girls, and that no one knew you were dating, so he kept to his group. he would be lying if he said he wasn’t watching you the whole night. 

you were both interrupted by a phone call. instantly your eyes shot wide open and eunseok almost laughed at the cartoonish expression you had. you reached for your phone on the coffee table behind you and eunseok kept his hands on you to give you balance.

you grabbed your phone and looked at eunseok in panic. you showed him the caller ID before answering it.

“hey giselle! what’s up?”

eunseok looked at you as you gave giselle all of your attention. you mindlessly grabbed on one of eunseok’s hands, tracing patterns on his hand.

“i completely forgot about the study group with everyone. i’m at the library right now, so i’m pretty close.”

giselle says something eunseok can’t hear, but he sees your eyes get wide.

“i don’t know where eunseok is, you’d have to call and ask him.” you try so hard to not sound suspicious, but a nervous twinge to your voice makes it go up an octave.

almost immediately, eunseok feels his phone ringing in his back pocket. he moves forward, still holding you in place to grab his phone. eunseok giggles before showing you the caller ID.

eunseok declines the call and puts the phone back in his pocket. eunseok goes back to kissing any part of your body he can get to, light and feathery.

“he declined? maybe he’s busy i’m not sure. but i’m coming. i’ll be there in like fifteen minutes.”

eunseok’s lips find his favorite part of your neck. he starts sucking lightly, careful not to leave a mark.

“giselle, no i’m alone right now.”

“no i’m not with jake!”

eunseok considered himself to be very level headed. he approached everything with an attitude that helped him shed negative emotions. but he couldn’t stop that jealousy from bubbling in his chest at the mentioning of jake, someone who had been doting on you since the start of the semester. so eunseok started to suck a little harder than usual. a hand also creeped its way up your shirt, squeezing your breast.

“i’m serious! okay bye i’ll see you soon.”

you hang up the phone and lean into eunseok’s lips. his hand grips you a little tighter.

“eunseok i have to go.” you say without moving. eunseok murmurs “mhm” into your skin.

you snap out of your reverie when eunseok lightly bites your neck. you break apart from him quickly and look down at eunseok. his hair is pushed back, his lips slightly parted in a pout.

“did you leave a mark?” you say bewildered. eunseok wordlessly nods his head.

“eunseok! all of my makeup is at my apartment across campus.” you punch him in the shoulder lightly, but he dramatically rubs his arm for effect.

“wanna leave one on me too?” eunseok bent his neck. you were tempted, but you were the one who wanted to have study group, you had to go.

you gathered all your stuff, putting your things in a backpack. you quickly walk over to his door. eunseok follows behind you, pulling at your clothes a little. before you open the door you turn around to face him. 

“show up ten minutes before me. say you were sleeping.” 

you take a detour before going to the study group. you make it to the bathroom to inspect your hickey. it’s unsalvageable. you take out a sweatshirt, from you bag. too warm for the weather. you pull it up all the way, covering up a majority of your hickey. you realize looking in the mirror you have eunseoks’ sweater on.

eunseok beats you to the study room. he walks in to see his friend group have a heated discussion. they are not talking about work, instead they have bahiyyih and sullyoon on each side of the whiteboard. on the board there’s “WHO IS SHE FUCKING?” im big bold letters. the entire room is laughing writing random names of every man you have interacted with this semester. eunseok sees jake, sunghoon, mark, jaehyun. with each name eunseok feels himself get more and more jealous. he remembers seeing some of these men approach you at parties, trying to get you to go home with them. eunseok had no reason to be jealous, each time you went home with him. sometimes you would even slip in declarations of your devotion to him while you were together.

but when eunseok sat down at the table, there was a silence that settled in the room. 

eunseok pointed at the name that pissed him off the most. sunghoon was the one you spent the most time with, especially because you two were in the same group for a project.

“he’s not really her type.” eunseok says simply.

“oh here he goes.” sungchan laughs.

“what’s her type then eunseok?” shotaro looks to giselle. giselle looks at shotaro.

when you enter the private study group room, instantly everyone is digging into you. you try not to look at eunseok, even though he’s staring at you intensely.

“what the hell is that on your neck?” sungchan points at the blooming bruise peeking underneath your collar.

“i thought you were in the library, you little minx.” giselle elbows shotaro next to her. you see those two are sitting pretty close together. 

“she was not reading books.” anton emphases the not causing the table to laugh.

“y’all need to mind your business.” you can’t stop smiling though. you know the teasing is lighthearted and comes from a good place. knowing that they don’t know it’s eunseok who left those marks made you want to laugh as well.

“we are trying to figure out who you’re fucking and you’re laughing?” wonbin looks over to you from the other side of the table. 

“i thought we came here to study?” you say pulling out your books.

eventually, you see sullyoon write an “e” everyone in the room goes dead silent. shotaro rips through the silence with a loud laugh. now your face is really hot, looking at eunseok’s name slowly be spelled out by sullyoon. 

you stare at eunseok’s name being written on the whiteboard. 

“if you guys bring that type of energy into exams you will ace them.” you smile looking to eunseok.

the study room erupts into cheers and laughs. you hear several “i knew it’s” and “i told you’s” as you take out your books and papers.

“now that’s out of the way can we study now?”

[iicarused]

##my dove

alastor x angel!reader // prt 1 / prt 2

synopsis: the main from your wings rotting is excruciating

beware: your wings rotted // use of “my girl” and alastor panicking because you’re in pain lol might be ooc

the day you fell happened to be one of your greatest moments in life, and one of your worst. you recall how alastor held you and the way he uttered your name like a prayer he was scared to preach — the claws of his fingers gentle against your head — the familiar security that only he gave you. alastor was never one for physical touch, nor love, but he will allow this day to slide. this week, perhaps a month of your hands pressed against his cheeks.

you remember the bliss you felt and the warmth that welcomed you with open arms. the next? pain, agony, the bittersweet reminder that your wings has rotted during your fall. your back hurts and your skin burned, it etched into your skin until it gnawed at your bones. cries of joy was quick to turn into wails of pain, begging alastor to take it away.

only then, alastor would whisk you away into the chambers of his room. he’s not good at this, what is he supposed to do? it has been decades since caring for you, nevertheless for another person. he raked a hand through his hair, his eyes having panic written all over them.

“stay right here, my girl.” he chastised, not in tune with any other sweet tone he used once before.

you laid on top of a comfortable patch of moss and flowers, a soft wind passing by. your sobs filled the forest of his room and only echoed through the halls of the hotel. his “acquaintances” tried to question him but he left just as fast, perhaps to an old friend that resided in cannibal town.

no less than an hour had passed when alastor returned, and he was just as quick to be by your side the moment he came into the hotel. your cries had quieted and became heaved breaths, your throat feeling starched and dry. he came to your side, sitting himself next to you before lifting your upper body to rest against his chest.

“it hurts.” you whispered, nearly inaudible to what alastor could understand. “alastor, it hurts.”

he missed the way you said his name. “i know, darling, i know.” he hushed. he pulled out a napkin from his coat, wrapping his arms around you so he could get out the thing he needed. “i need you to take this for me, darling. it’ll make it better.”

a pill was brought to your hand, blue and swirly. no matter how long it has been since you were by alastor’s side, you still trusted him and took the medicine. your arms came to wrap around his waist, your face burying again the crook of his neck.

“i missed you.” you said against his skin.

“i missed you most.” while alastor wanted to scold you, get angry, beg heaven to take you back to its golden gates. but at this moment of time, he would rather be selfish and keep you between his arms.

taglist: @laundrybear413

[abyssruler]

flowers and unplanned proposals

xiao x gn!reader

if someone gifts an adeptus with flowers, it means you are proposing to them, and if they take it, it means they accept the proposal. unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on who you ask), you weren’t aware of such a custom. or — xiao thinks you’re married, but you just thought flowers would look nice on him.

fluff. comedy-ish. accidental malewife acquisition. featuring reader being clueless, xiao being hopeless, and lumine and hu tao being your biggest supporters

It started with a walk on the road as an acquaintance accompanied you.

There’d been a wild flower by the side, with white and lilac petals that you’d thought, rather presumptuously, would suit the dour faced adeptus beside you. So, you plucked it and impulsively handed it to him, a smile on your face and a shocked one on his.

His fingers closed around the flower’s stem, the stern lines of his face softening as he gazed at the tiny petals that glittered in the sun.

You’ve never been rid of him since.

Your friend Xiao could be described as protective at best and possessive at worst. It’s not a bad thing, of course! Caring for a friend is always a good thing in your books, but sometimes, you think he takes the word ‘caring’ to an almost extreme degree.

Take, for instance, now.

“Xiao?”

He hums from his spot on the sill of your window, not even sitting, no, he’s crouched on it, balanced on the thin ledge at the tips of his toes and keeping his eyes (which oddly glowed like a cat’s) peeled for any danger. Like this, he almost looks like a bird perched on a branch.

You let out an awkward laugh. “You know, I appreciate you doing this for me, keeping me safe and all, but I think I can spend the night on my own safely.”

His head whips to you so fast you almost feared he’d get neck cramps, an expression of surprise and… hurt? on his face.

“You… don’t want me here?”

You’ve never backtracked so fast in your life. “No! I mean, yes—but not in the way you’re thinking!”

He looks forlorn now, stepping down the windowsill and shoulders hunched in a similar manner to that of a cat pulling its ears down its head. “Is this what the Traveler meant by sleeping on the couch?”

You’re not sure what to do, but it seems like he wants to sleep on the couch? Puzzled, you smile encouragingly even though you don’t quite understand his words. “Er, if you want to sleep on the couch, you’re welcome to do so?”

His face falls.

✧

“And, I don’t know, he just became all—sad? Just, I felt so bad for basically kicking him out of my room, and now that I’m thinking more on it, I should’ve just offered to let him sleep beside me. Like a, um, a sleepover!”

There’s a distinctly bashful look on your face and, oh god, you’re drawing little circles on the table with your finger, an almost dreamy glint in your eyes.

Sweet Jesus that doesn’t exist in this world, Lumine is going to barf.

She slams her hands on the table, startling you in the process as she leans down and says with an exasperated face, “Have you considered that maybe you actually like him and he—”

“What?!” you squawk, mouth open in disbelief and a mortified look contorting your features. “That’s—don’t say such things, Lumi!”

She drops back down her chair, leveling you with a look that basically said, are you for real right now?

“It’s written all over your face—”

You quickly slap both hands on your cheeks, turning your head away. “I don’t like him! How could I ever… he’s an adeptus and I…”

“And you made an adeptus sleep on your couch,” Lumine deadpans.

She can feel the way your face burned at the reminder. You slump over the table, burying your head in your arms and bemoaning your decision. “I didn’t mean to disrespect him…”

“Oh, I’m sure disrespect was the farthest thing you did to him,” she mutters beneath her breath. Broke his heart, shattered his hopes and dreams, devastated him—Lumine can name a few more.

But then, you suddenly straighten up, determination lining your face. There’s a look in your eyes that tells Lumine she should probably stop you from doing whatever idiotic thing—however in good faith it might be—that you’re about to do.

“I should give him some flowers as an apology. He always gets so… not exactly happy but—warm, that’s it. He feels warmer whenever I give him flowers.” You smile, reminiscing on whatever moments you had with him. You stand up, looking down at the empty plates all over the table before looking at her apologetically. “I’m sorry, could you foot the bill this time?”

Lumine sighs. She’s still got money from the last commission Ningguang made her do, so she supposes she can do it. Just this once. “Fine, but you’re paying for our next outing!”

You beam, thanking her before running to the nearest flower shop or wherever it is you’re going to be getting those flowers from.

“Make sure to let him sleep on your bed next time!” Lumine yells to your retreating back, ignoring the strange, almost scandalized, looks from nearby patrons.

✧

You find him at your house, completely ignoring how strange it is that a friend has complete access to your house including a spare key and extra clothes on the closet just for him. It’s simply become the norm, is all. And he’s a good—you don’t quite know what to call him, roommate? you’ll settle for friend—friend, helping you with the chores and often accompanying you to the market when you need new groceries—but only during the early mornings, of course. You know how much he dislikes crowds.

“I’m home!”

The response comes immediate and, judging by the direction, it came from the kitchen, “Welcome home.”

The large bouquet of glaze lilies interspersed with roses and qingxin flowers is heavy on your arms as you walked to the kitchen. Xiao is there, a broom in hand which he sets aside once he sees you and what you’re carrying.

“Here!” You grin, extending the bouquet forward and into his arms.

He accepts it, a flush to his cheeks and looking distinctly flustered by the gift. “I… thank you.”

“It’s an apology.”

His eyes snap to yours, iridescent gold piercing through you. There’s something almost vulnerable in the way he’s gazing at you, hands tightening around the flowers.

You fiddle with your fingers. “Well, I wanted to say sorry for making you sleep on the couch. If you’d like, you can sleep beside me tonight.”

Something in him relaxes, tension bleeding out of his posture as he smiles, small and near unnoticeable to anyone who didn’t know him so well.

For some reason, the sight of it makes your heart leap.

Lumine’s words repeat in your mind.

Have you considered that maybe you actually like him?

No, you think with dread, absolutely not.

✧

“Yes,” Hu Tao crows in delight, “You’re absolutely in love!”

“See, that’s what I tried to say yesterday, but nooo. Oh, Lumi, Xiao is just a friend,” Lumine grouches, imitating your voice and utterly failing because while she may be strong enough to fight monsters and gods, that girl has absolutely no talent when it comes to mimicking.

Your palms cover your face that feels warm to touch. “I do not sound like that. And it’s true, we really are just friends!”

“Of course, because friends do things like living together and sleeping on the same bed and holding hands—” You open your mouth to protest, but Hu Tao doesn’t let you interrupt, “—don’t deny it! I saw you last week near Liuli Pavilion, and he was holding your hand and carrying a bag of food!”

“He’s just really helpful! He’s an adeptus,” you argue, though it sounds weak even to your own ears.

“And do all adepti live with a human, do they sleep with them—”

“You make it sound so lewd, Lumi!”

“—do they hold their hands and go grocery shopping at five in the morning with them?” Lumine pierces you with those honey gold eyes of hers. “Did you know I barely have anything to do in the Adventurer’s Guild here in Liyue besides babysitting and errands because someone—namely, an adeptus who coincidentally goes by the name Xiao—keeps killing all the monsters within the area?”

Hu Tao cackles. “He always asks about you whenever I encounter him at Wuwang Hill.”

You level her with an incredulous look. “What were you even doing there?”

“Hiding bodies, duh!” At your horrified look, she winks. “Just kidding!”

You shake off Hu Tao’s laughter and pinch your lips together. “Look, it’s—we’re just friends. That’s all there is to it.”

Lumine huffs, “Yeah, sure, because friends like you two give each other flowers everyday. How does your house still have space in it for more?”

You would’ve refuted her words, would’ve argued that no, you don’t give each other flowers everyday, just on a regular basis—but Hu Tao’s sudden silence concerned you more than what Lumine said. The funeral director turns her head to you with wide eyes.

“You gave him flowers?” she asks, an odd tone to her voice.

Your brows furrow at her uncharacteristic seriousness. “Um, yes? I do it all the time.”

She leapt forward, grabbing your shoulders and lips twitching into something you could almost call glee. “And he accepted it?”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

Hu Tao lets go of your shoulders to tilt her head back and laugh. Not the nice little giggles she does after a successful prank, no, this is more manic. The kind that wouldn’t make you think, oh how sweet, but instead makes you think, oh this girl belongs in a facility.

Even Lumine seems confused by her reaction, joining you in watching her like she’s just grown two heads. Hu Tao takes one look at both of your expressions and dissolves into another fit of laughter.

“Oh, dear. And you don’t even know what it means!” she says in between laughs.

Lumine, having had enough of being in the dark, grabs Hu Tao’s face with both hands and forces her to look at her in the eye. “What does it mean?”

Hu Tao grins, gaze darting to you. “When you give an adeptus flowers, it means you’re proposing to them.”

You and Lumine gape, understanding dawning on your heads, though there’s horror on your part at what it could mean.

But Hu Tao doesn’t stop there, “And if they take it…”

You await her next words with bated breath, Lumine seemingly on the edge of her seat as well.

“…It means they accept your proposal.”

Lumine’s screech of delight at this newfound information drowns out the metaphorical sound of your world falling apart and being built anew.

✧

You come home in a daze, eyes blankly staring ahead and unaware of your surroundings until you blink, and suddenly, you’re sitting at the dining table, a plate of steaming shrimp balls being placed in front of you.

Xiao crouches by your chair, examining your face with worried eyes. “Are you well?”

Your throat shrivels up. All the words and arguments you’d been planning to say earlier dying on your tongue. So, instead, you nod. He doesn’t outwardly look relieved, but the softness in his touch belies his care as he places a single stemmed qingxin flower on your palm.

It’s still fresh, you notice, dew gathering on the petals and the scent still present.

Xiao sits on the chair opposite yours, looking at anything and anywhere but your eyes. “I plucked it from the highest mountains of Jueyun Karst, blessed by Cloud Retainer and said to ward away unwanted dreams.”

You stare down at it, at the white petals that feel soft against the pads of your fingers, heart beating out of your chest and hands clammy and breaths labored, a pleasant twist to your gut as you realized that he’d gone out of his way to climb a mountain and have it blessed by an adeptus just to give it to you. There’s being friends, handing each other flowers they saw on the road or bought at a shop, and then, there’s this.

Your mouth feels dry, your chest feels full, and there’s something on the tip of your tongue begging to be let out.

“Xiao,” you start, finally gaining the courage to look up and meet his eyes. “What are we?”

His lips part, eyes widening the slightest amount that tells you he’s unsure what brought this question on and how to answer it.

You shake your head. “Never mind. Just tell me this—are we… engaged?”

At this, Xiao seems to relax. “No.”

You barely have the chance to feel a mix of relief and disappointment, though why you’d feel disappointment at having proof that you and Xiao really are just friends—

He smiles, a small one but no less brighter for it. “We are married, aren’t we?”

And oh.

Oh.

It’s not until now, with the confirmation of everything you dreaded (everything you’d hoped and wanted and yearned for desperately) that you realize how much you’ve longed for something more with him—how much you’ve longed for him.

“Xiao,” you say, eyes crinkling at the corners and cheeks aching with the intensity of your smile, “I love you.”

He startles, blinking up at you with wide eyes, red creeping up his cheeks, but before he can say anything you know he’s not quite prepared to say yet, you continue, still a little indignant at discovering you’d been married without a clue.

“But I demand a proper wedding ceremony!”

word count: 2.2k

edit: the semi part 2 y’all have been asking for