meanbossart · 23 hours ago
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I realize this is a weirdly specific question, but what was DU Drow’s experience like first waking up on the Nautiloid/on the beach?
Like, was he wearing Bhaalist stuff when he woke up then? If he was, did he ditch it right away or did he just leave it on until he found gear in better shape or maybe just didn’t want to associate with that symbolism/organization anymore? Like what was the thought process for him there, assuming that were the case??? If he was wearing something else, what might it have been?
I ask because I finally started my first Dark Urge playthrough yesterday (YIPPEE) and am plagued with thoughts about my guy, wondering if maybe he had some Bhaalist gear on when he first fell out of the Nautiloid that slowly was switched out for other things as the story progressed. Then I was like “oh hey what about Drow??? What was going through his head when he woke up that morning on the beach??????” Especially bc I can’t imagine he had much time to look at what he was wearing on the Nautiloid while it was still flying around.
ANYWAYS. Apologies for the ramble, my brain is plagued with thoughts now that I’m finally doing a Durge run so I might come at you with more random ass questions in the future >:)))
First of all AYYYY have fun with your first durge run!!! I'm always open to more questions if they happen to pop up throughout the experience.
Now to your question: An Interesting one! Though my answer might be disappointing LOL
In my personal lore, DU drow woke up from the tank with nothing but some scrappy underwear on - hell, It would probably make more sense if he was fully nude, even, but that would make many of the companion introductions a little too awkward - so, tattered underwear it is.
Considering what Kressa had been doing to him, I imagine that she would have either removed or destroyed his clothes at some point during the experimentation. DU drow was stuck with her for at least a few weeks - so, even if she didn't promptly undress him, his outfit would have been far too slashed, cut, and caked with old blood to keep, and likely torn off so it would stop getting in the way.
Her husband (I think he's the one who ships you away, if memory serves me right) would have had little reason to send him off with dignity - BUT perhaps he slipped some briefs back onto the drow's body because he felt ashamed of the implications of his wife keeping a battered, nude man around.
So, DU drow slides out of his pod, caked with old blood with only some ill-fitting linens covering his groin. He picks up whatever sharp object he finds lying around for self defense and proceeds through the ship, barefoot, hair matted, having no idea who he is, what he looks like, or how he got here. He's completely overtaken by his self-preservation instincts and being confused is second to getting out of his situation alive. He goes along with Lae'zel because she seems to have at least some idea of what's going on, and he frees Shadowheart from her pod because she seems more trustworthy than Lae'zel.
He probably stripped the trousers off of one of the corpses lying around the beach after the actual crash (they would have been a little tight, but it's better than nothing) and god-willing was able to snatch some fresher underwear at the grove or something. The only indicatives he had of a past life were his scars, and I guess his unusual features. The thing is - whenever he first caught sight of his reflection, he very much liked what he saw looking back. Someone else might have been shocked by their appearance, but what DU drow felt would have been more akin to a kind of relief - I'm strong. I'm big. I'm intimidating. Good. As it should be.
And well... There's not much reason to give it thought past that. His looks feel right, he thinks he looks attractive, even his scars are somewhat comforting. Tadpole and odd company aside, it actually feels nice to be himself right now, so why ruin it with questions and concerns.
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jawnjendes · 6 months ago
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wowwwwwweeeeeeee
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catboyieejeno · 1 year ago
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seventeen reaction ₊ ༊ ˚。⋆˚
➸ the seventeen members as boyfriends.
alt title: seventeen are boyfriend coded—that's all.
cw: mentions of food, sfw, cheol's & hao's are suggestive if you squint, they’re all a little long… i was very invested
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masterlist
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ seungcheol
talk about a dude who is boyfriend coded fr
if he wakes up at any point during the night and realizes you happened to roll away from him in your sleep, he'll reach out across the sheets in search of your warmth, pulling you tightly into his chest before falling back asleep
and he's pressed into you so, so snugly, trapping you in his hold and tickling your neck with his shallow breaths
if you even attempt to shift away, he'll scold you in a gravelly, slurred voice or hum in protest (even if he's half-asleep) until you stop moving and accept your fate
anything you want, just say the word and it's yours
you mention that you like a specific type of flower? he's getting you a bouquet every week so that your vases are never empty. he overhears you talking about an item you've been wanting? by the very next day, it's yours, in different versions/colors cause he wasn't sure which one you'd like
treats you to frequent date-nights at high-end restaurants because you deserve nothing but the best... and he uh, has a bit of a ulterior motive haha....
these dates are a necessary staple in your relationship because he can't ever get enough of you when you get all dressed up for him
thanks his lucky stars for the patience he's been granted because you look too good and he almost can't wait until after dinner to have his way with you
whenever he kisses your cheek, he practically smashes his lips into you until your cheek is smushed and pushing your eye closed and his nose is digging into your cheekbone
whenever he has an early practice the following day and can't sleep over, he still insists on passing by your place to take you on walk or something where the two of you can catch each other up on your day and spend some time together between his busy schedules
i cannot stress this enough: you will never have to touch a steering wheel ever again
prepare to be passenger prince/princess forever. you will not need to drive anywhere when he's with you bc he insists on taking you everywhere
'hand on your thigh with your hand over his' type of guy
it’s second nature for him to scoop your legs onto his lap when the two of sit together on the couch + he’ll subconsciously start massaging your calves, rubbing at them and squeezing them in his big hands after a long day
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ jeonghan
the type to randomly kiss any bit of your skin that's exposed to him, and his kisses are so light and soft and sweet
on the other hand, he's also the type to bite you
like he'd start by softly nibbling and then his impulsive thoughts will take over and he'll bite you a bit too hard
echoes your "ow!" as if he also got hurt
but he can't watch you scowl or be mad at him for too long so he'll coo at you and apologize while holding your face in his hands (i know you've seen a clip of him going "aigoo" (아이고) when someone falls/gets hurt... it's exactly what he would say —its one of the expressions he uses very often and i can't picture anything else no matter how hard i try)
oh, he's a cheek kisser for sure
that tiny little smile that he does (see here and here for reference)... he'd do it and proceed to smother you with kisses on your cheeks because he's so obsessed with how soft they are
and no, you cannot move until he's completely satisfied and has given you as many kisses as he deems necessary
similarly, get ready to lay around in the morning until he decides he's had a sufficient amount of cuddles from you and can get on with his day
but to be honest, he's insatiable so you very well may end up lying around for an hour or two
during these cuddle sessions, jeonghan clings to you in a hug, hands softly rubbing your arms and traveling over your waist and thighs—it's not even sexual, he's just soaking up the feeling of touching you because it's something he can never get enough of
and if you did the same with him, letting your hands wander, his cheeks might glow a soft pink. that combined with the sleepy look on his face makes him look that much more riveting
he's already so pretty, you didn't think he could get any prettier but he can and he does every single day
and now it's part of your daily routine to hold each other and enjoy the comfortable silence/very light conversation about what dreams you had or what errands you have to run later
it's his absolute favorite way to wake up he literally can never get enough because he's greedy
you'd brush your hands over his shoulders and chest or softly trace his facial features, laughing when you're at his lips and he catches your finger between his lips in a soft bite (that he pairs with a little "aang!" sound effect)
and no because he's literally crazy enough to get mad at you for spoiling him with affection
sends you texts complaining because now, whenever he has to sleep away from you (bc of tour/schedules and whatnot,) he wakes up in a sour mood, missing the smell of you on his sheets and the feeling of your skin on his
and somehow that's your fault
immediately takes it back when you threaten to stop
"fine, jeonghan. i'll just make sure i get up every morning before you and that way, you don't miss me when yo-"
"what, nooooo! how could you even say that to me!"
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ joshua
i'm a supporter and enthusiast of the joshua gentleman agenda
but let me go into detail on what that really means
opens the door for you, pays for your meals, walks on the outside of the side walk,
yeah yeah yeah he does all of that but those are just the basics
joshua is a romantic, okay? this man goes above and beyond make you swoon and to ensure you feel so overwhelmingly loved and cared for all the time
knew from the moment he met you that the best things are worth the wait, so he took his time, romancing you with thoroughly planned out dates where his effort shined through, so that you'd know how much you mean to him from the start
for example: on one date, he took you rollerblading first—he put your skates on for you and strapped up your laces before helping you onto the rink where he'd stroll behind you, patiently waiting for you to gain the confidence to let go of the wall so he can take your hands in his
next, he takes you to the cutest little place that serves your favorite food (he researched it extensively and reserved the table a week and a half in advance)
found that there's a record/vinyl shop next door so you go there, and he gladly listens intently as you rave about your favorite artists and genres and songs
oh, and he's not done.
because finally, you're seated on the hood of his car, star-gazing at the top of a hill with a great view below and the two of you talking just about anything for hours on end and just as you're starting to realize how easy it feels to be around him—he's dropping you off and walking you to your door, leaving a kiss on your hand and leaving you wanting more
be serious. you're telling me you wouldn't fall in love?
fast forward, and he's still the epitome of boyfriend material
brushing your teeth next to each other and looking at one another in the bathroom mirror
skin care nights where he's picking you up so you can sit on the sink
and he's standing in front of you, one hand on your hip, the other smearing some pink goo on your cheeks as he's telling you how pretty you look
and you're so close that he can't help but softly kiss you, so slowly and tenderly until you both pull away and laugh as you realize you look ridiculous with fluffy headbands and face masks on
he holds you so close to his chest at night and will remind you that he loves you during pillow talk
quietly hums a melody when he senses you're beginning to drift off, thumb soothingly swiping your cheek as your eyes flutter shut
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ junhui
definitely does that cheesy thing where he swings your hands between your bodies as you guys are walking
likes coming up to you whenever he hasn't seen you in a bit or you’ve been doing something for a while
and he'll just throw his arms over your shoulders, resting his chin on top of your head and muttering “what are you up to?” in the tiniest voice
pet names, pet names. pet. names.
he might as well have forgotten your real name because to him you are honey or bǎobèi (宝贝) or bǎobǎo (宝宝) or baby or some other nickname he’s come up with during the duration of your relationship
even when he’s mad he doesn’t call you by your name and... you already know his temper’s pretty short... so it’s endearing to see how adamant he is about referring to you strictly as one of the soft nicknames he's assigned to you
so adaptable and mirrors all your emotions, especially if you’re excited about something or feeling a little bouncier than usual, he’s right there with you
also he thinks it's so cute when you happen to get excited about things. he's a sucker for that happy look on your face, so expect a few random gifts or surprises from him just so he can watch your eyes light up
cooks his favorite meals/comfort foods that remind him of home so that you can try them, and would be so proud if you like them
will 100% be so willing and eager to try dishes that are comfort meals for you, too (might even learn to make them just how you like them for days where you're down/sick)
nose kisses!
when he wakes up in the morning all warm and tucked up into your side and he sees the way your tired eyes blink back at him, lashes curling and eyelids heavy with sleep, he’s instantly inching closer and leaving the lightest kisses on the tip of your nose, nuzzling his own nose into your cheek and croaking a very sleepy 'good morning' into your skin
constantly plays with your hair
like, he’s not usually fidgety but if he can’t find anything to do to busy his hands, they’ll find themselves twisting and braiding your locks and it makes chills go down your spine every time
i can very vividly see jun being the kind to want to lay around with you on rainy days/his days off
watching movies, napping, talking for hours— he just loves quality time and being lazy and comfortable in your presence
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ soonyoung
lives and breaths for seeing a smile on your face, and that's not an exaggeration
will drop everything he's doing if there's a pout on your face for even a split second, and he won't stop until he finds out what has upset you
constantly babies you and expects you to baby him, too
if you had a cut or scrape, soonyoung would mirror your pout as he carefully starts cleaning and bandaging your injury
when he's done, he's pressing his lips to it because he insists his kisses have magical healing properties
also insists that your kisses are the same when he's got a cold
so naturally, when you refuse to kiss him in his snotty and sneezy state he's soooo offended
will sass you for approximately 20 minutes and refuses his medicine until he realizes you can still cuddle him
and all of a sudden he's forgiven you and settling for having you hold him instead
but seriously, soonyoung will love you so purely
his kisses are always so eager, hands clinging to your hips to pull you closer to him
if you're apart, he really loves falling asleep on the phone; it makes him feel just a little bit closer to you even when he's so many miles away on tour
and you can bet that when he's away he'll be calling you about every tiny little thing
"hey, i found a new toothpaste that's really good i think we should get this one-"
"hi baby, i just wanted to let you know that i ate the best kimchi jjigae-oh, but it's not better than yours!"
"no, no! you still don't get it. basically, the joke is: i told seungkwan he can't have coffee before a show because-"
if he gets home and you're napping he'll get all giggly and jump in bed beside you
will cuddle up to you so noisily, apologizing profusely if he happens to when he inevitably does wake you up and making it all better by wrapping his limbs around you and nuzzling himself into your neck where he unironically shushes you
"shh! you're too loud! i'm trying to sleep!" and you're looking at him because there's no way he's serious (he is)
this boy is fast asleep before you even start to drift off again
likes laying his head on your stomach so that your nails can rake up and down his back and through his scalp
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ wonwoo
he's careful and thoughtful with just about everything, and that extends to you and how he treats you.
as a boyfriend, wonwoo is so caring and unbelievably considerate of you and your well-being
honestly, he would be able to go the longest without clinging to you, but that's only because he gets his fill of your affection at very specific times and moments throughout the day
the two of you would wake up and get out of bed on your own time, whether the other is awake or not (though you usually wake up around the same time, relatively)
in his case, he'll leave a kiss on your head before heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face and stuff
if you got up first, you'd would kiss his bare shoulder and go do the same and once both of you have made the bed, you're ready to start your day
and here, this moment, is one of the times of the day that wonwoo will so lovingly smile down at you, hooking a finger under your chin to tilt your face up
and he'd place, on your soft lips, a kiss so lingering and slow that by the time he pulls away to wish you a good morning, his voice is hoarse and it's not because that's the first thing he's said today
you'd settle on the couch for a quiet morning with tea or coffee and maybe some reading
and, in the evening, as soon as you get out of the shower, he's waiting for you with his arms open in a wordless invitation to finally join him
and so you crawl into his lap, holding his face and kissing him, swallowing every little breath and hushed sound he feeds you as your fingers disappear into his hairline to tug on the strands
would never admit it out loud but god, does he love kissing you
he could do it for hours on end and even then it might not be enough
his proclamations of love are quiet and mumbled against your lips after he's been kissing you for a few minutes straight, both of your lips plump and red and wet
any time you call him handsome or compliment him, you get one of two reactions: he's either shooting the smoothest compliments right back at you, or on the rare occasion that you catch him off guard, you get the pleasure of seeing the tips of his ears go red
a flustered wonwoo is delectable, and you're just about the only person that can elicit this reaction from him
even when the members provoke him or tease him about how infatuated he his with you, he can easily brush their comments off
if you rub his shoulders while he games, you've got him wrapped around your finger. will 100% stop what he's doing to spin around to tend to you, even if you weren't necessarily there to ask for attention
he's immediately smiling at you in that way that he does, ie: ˘ᵕ˘
and grabbing the back of your thighs so that you can't move away
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ jihoon
i just know jihoon would be so good at massages/back rubs
you probably don’t even have to ask for one, either. you’ll just be minding your own business and his warm hands will start tending to your neck and shoulders
would probably tilt your head back with his hands half way through just so he can give you kiss as you gaze up at him
at first, you were a little apprehensive about joining him at the studio, fearing you might distract him from work
and he’d ask you to accompany him on a few occasions, never insisting beyond his first request because he respects that you’ve said no, but if you happen to share your concerns, he's so quick to reassure you
"ah, you should have said something earlier! and here i thought you just weren't interested in my job. i've been wanting to show you what i've been working on for ages!"
when you finally give in... you realize what you’ve been missing out on
there’s just something about seeing him in his element, experimenting with different sounds and techniques
he's so focused and passionate and hard working and so good at what he does that your heart leaps in your chest when you see him !!!
and you’re not distracting him at all! he’s asking for your input and your thoughts and he’s just rambling on about different musical things. even if you’re not a musical person, this is the most you’ve ever seen him talk and it’s completely infatuating to hear him speak about something he loves
loves to fall asleep to your voice
he’ll be wearing the most infectious smile from ear to ear, shivering as your finger draws random shapes on his arm or chest and your honey-like voice lulls him to sleep
i think he’d have to have at least one meal with you every day
quality time is probably a love language that he never really knew he liked until he realized how important it is to him when you guys sit down for a meal together, chatting and appreciating each other's presence
it's really about the simple things with jihoon
would get home from the gym and give you a pop-kiss before hopping in the bathroom for a shower
his gym pump…. that’s all
so, so good at comforting you or just having difficult conversations in general
very good with his words so he knows exactly what you need to hear and how to say it
will forever be willing to talk out your doubts and problems—and although he's not vulnerable too often, he might open up and share his feelings with you because he values your perspective/point of view
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ seokmin
would die a happy man kissing your lips
such a tender, thoughtful kisser; his hands are holding you, drawing you closer to him with each passing second as he loses himself in your embrace
every kiss with him is so full of intention and emotion (cut to that one time he kissed jihoon’s cheek when he was crying, see link 1 and link 2)
and he will kiss you until both of you have to pull away for air, catching your breaths and giggling a bit amidst recovering
an absolute sucker for you playing with or tugging on his hair—not just during a kiss. at any point throughout the day, run your fingers through his locks and his knees will buckle
loves planning exciting dates and outings to take you on because his memories with you are so valuable (arcade games, sunsets at the beach, picnics, mini golf, bowling, etc.) and i don't doubt he'd like matching outfits...
it would be low-key though, like if you wore a blue top and white bottoms, he'd match you with sneakers in the same shade of blue and white t-shirt or something
i picture him wearing the stupidest little smile when he shows his outfit off to you, too
will be taking plenty of pictures to store in an album he has dedicated to you on his phone, and you already know it has some cheesy title
i think seokmin is such a sentimental guy that anything that involves you or reminds him of you in any way holds so much importance in his heart
the type to keep a post-it note you left for him when you stepped out of the house one time to do a grocery run
if you use hair ties he’ll always wear one on his wrist in case you ever need it, and the day you actually do because you forgot yours, he’s so proud that he had it at the ready!
constantly sends you songs/compiles playlists of songs that make him think of you or your relationship
similarly to jun... do not call this man by his name if you don't want to break his heart. he is baby, or babe, or love, or sweet angel, or darling, or pookie, or baby cakes, or literally whichever pet name you like the most—just don't call him seokmin
as a matter of fact, he will not answer to his name. can and will ignore you until you address him appropriately and even then he might still sulk for a bit
is one of the few members that i think would encourage you to build/develop a friendship with the other guys, and there would be no jealousy at all because he enjoys seeing his favorite people getting along
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ mingyu
has to have some form of skin ship with you at all times
he’s gotten so used to it at this point that it’s almost disorienting to not have a hand on your hip, lower back, thigh, knee, or hand
if you’re wearing jeans… mingyu will have his hand tucked into your back pocket
8/10 times he’ll insist on being little spoon or being the one who goes to sleep with his head on your chest and your arms wrapped snuggly around him instead of the other way around
i mean… what even is there to complain about other than the fact that he’d definitely press his cold feet onto yours and pout when you yell at him for it
gives the most addictive, warm hugs where he completely engulfs you, arms wrapped around your shoulders and yours around his middle (bc he’s so tall) and when your cheek presses against his chest you can literally hear how his heart starts beating faster before it ultimately calms down in your embrace
the first time you fell asleep curled up on his lap, mingyu swears his world stopped
he made sure to stay completely still for the entire duration of your nap
his arm fell asleep and his shoulder was slightly sore for like an hour after but that didn’t stop him from insisting this is how you should nap every time
will lay his entire body weight on you with no remorse
or will scoop you up and lay you completely on top of him so he can stare at your pretty face
needs a hello and goodbye kiss every time either of you are leaving/arriving somewhere
not a light sleeper but wakes up as soon as he feels you pull away from him or move to get up because he’s especially clingy when he’s tired
like, if you wake up in the middle of the night to pee, he’s the type to follow you to the bathroom and hold your hand from outside the door because he doesn’t wanna be away from you
and his eyes are still puffy and closed because he’s half asleep
probably stumbles the whole way there and back but he does it every time nonetheless
it takes him significantly longer to fall asleep when he’s away from you
likes sending you mid/post workout pics so please be proud of him bc he’s so eager to take them and send them to you
another man whose gym pump is insane….. brrrrr
loves showing you new songs he’s been listening to and singing the soft ones to you in a low voice, close to your ear where he can easily kiss your neck right after
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ minghao
oh he's so sneaky and slick
despite how many times you insist on him waking you up before he leaves for practice, he literally can't and won't
when he wakes up and sees you all curled up beside him with your eyes half open and your lips parted, his heart aches at the thought of interrupting your rest
so instead, he just slips out stealthily and gets ready without making any noise, constantly peeking over his shoulder if he hears you shuffle around under the covers
before he leaves, he'll plant a small kiss on your cheek and leave you a sweet note on his side of the bed instead of a text so it feels a little more personalized
but if you do stir awake and whine or call out or something because you've noticed he's gone! he's running over!
might even crawl back into bed to hold you until you're asleep again, even if that means he's running a few minutes late now
the type to handmake you things all the time, whether it's a painting or a scarf or a bracelet or a clay mug
and oh, the lazy kisses with this one. oh, my
they start at your lips and whether or not he intends to take it any further, it always escalates a bit because i truly think minghao would just love kissing in general and he may not be able to stop once he starts
he'd like sucking your bottom lip between his (specifically because he gets turned on by he loves how swollen and puffy it is after he pulls away) as his hands disappear into your hairline or under your shirt to bring you closer
he slowly trails down to drag his mouth along your jaw and neck
mind you, this is all while you're both laying in bed, and he's somewhere between hovering above you and cuddling into your side so his warmth and proximity is dizzying
and on days off where he has nothing he'd rather do than indulge himself in you this is favorite way to pass the time
he lets his warm tongue wander freely over your throat, teeth occasionally grazing the skin
long talks as you guys are readying for bed where he caresses your skin and kisses your fingers
always look so deeply into your eyes whenever you're talking
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ seungkwan
seungkwan is your boyfriend, best friend, and biggest headache all in one
conversations with him would be so, so undeniably entertaining
he absolutely loves telling you stories and they're so captivating because he's such a great conversationalist and everything he says is interesting
he'll talk your ear off. you guys would start talking at approximately 8pm, and suddenly the sun has come up and you're still talking ?????
something i think would be very common is bickering
it's always light hearted and never ends in a real argument, but it usually starts when one of you just feels bored and wants to get the other's attention
definitely ends with the victim sulking and pouting and the other having to make it up to them with plenty of kisses and apologies
probably fusses about needing his space to sleep and shoos you away
and by the morning he's completely wrapped around you, snoring softly and peacefully and all you wanna do is kiss his puffy lips because why does he have to be so stubborn all the time
complains if you wanna try his food but he’s always eyeing yours
will do the thing where he opens his mouth for you to feed him a bite and you just have to roll your eyes before giving in
only then will he willingly let you try his
seungkwan's face gets so, so red when you kiss his jaw or neck
he’s ticklish so he’ll gasp or form his lips into an ‘o’ when he feels your mouth there and maybe even start complaining even though he a, doesn't even mean it, and b, is tilting his head up to give you more space
isn’t too affectionate all the time but he does like leaning his head on your shoulder, especially on the couch as you watch a movie
his cheek is pressed into your shoulder blade as he's fidgeting with your fingers
kisses your arm repetitively !!! leaves a bunch of little smooches behind while he’s there
would also kiss your beauty marks/freckles
seungkwan memorizes your orders at restaurants and coffee shops so that he can surprise you with them when he comes over
would love going on walks with you during all the different seasons and talking to you about the changes in the trees and the weather
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ vernon
finds literally anything you say funny
will follow you around the store if you go shopping just carrying what you pick out/would carry your bag or purse for you most of the time
you may have to initiate a lot of the affection at the beginning of the relationship until he gets comfortable with it
it’s not that he gets flustered or anything, he just might not take the initiative at first
but once he does, his go-to is looping his pinky around yours and just holding it in a resting state, regardless of what you’re doing
in the morning, he wakes up before you and just goes on his phone until you wake up
and as soon as he notices you’re awake he’ll tilt the phone to you, showing you a tiktok he found funny
and i just KNOW his brightness is maxed out, too
you guys end up taking accidental naps all the time
he’s in bed on his phone when you come in and when he sees you, he lifts up his arm so that you’ll come and lay with him
and the two of you are just scrolling through videos on his phone until you both somehow fall asleep for the next three hours
your family and friends would absolutely love him :(
kisses with him start off as lazy pecks, lips smacking a few times before one of you gets the urge to deepen it and then his hands are slowly coming up to cup your face or hold your jaw
would also kiss the corner of your lips
favorite cuddling position is the generic ‘your head on his chest’ because when he feels you look up at him he’ll glance down to meet your eyes and pucker his lips to request a kiss
that, or just spooning because he likes curling up into your back for warmth
leaves a kiss on your hair while he’s there
i’m sorry but he WILL fall asleep while you’re talking
he doesn’t mean to but your voice is so soft and nice to listen to that he’ll try resting his eyes and end up up knocking out
vernon carries a picture of you in his wallet
it’s the first picture he remembers deeming as his favorite of you, and he printed a copy of it so he could carry it around when he was traveling or touring
and he doesn’t just have it there for show or for whenever he pulls out his wallet to pay for something
he will frequently pull it out so he can gawk at the picture of you when your time zones are different and he can’t call or text
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ chan
your hand might as well be permanently attached to his because he is always intertwining his fingers with yours
kisses on your knuckles and soft proclamations of love as he ogles you with the softest, most heartsick look on his face
will kiss your temple as his arms wrap around you, one hand coming up to gently caress your cheek
makes such an effort to learn about/show interest in the things that you like
even if he doesn't know anything about it, he will sit and watch you, pondering the techniques out loud as well as other questions he may have
could listen to you talk absolutely forever. literally anything you have to say is automatically the most interesting thing ever
he is 100% whipped for you and he doesn't even care if the other members poke fun at him for it. will never feel even a sliver of embarrassment because what is there to be embarrassed about? he bagged you... that's the biggest win in his book
even if they poke fun at him, they'd never poke fun at you. in fact, the members are so fond of you + they're so grateful that chan has someone like you who makes him so happy
and he knows they love you, which is why he tolerates their jokes
nibbles on your neck in the morning/before bed as he breathes in your scent
always making you laugh. at all times, in both unserious and serious situations, at the best and worst times... ever since you met this boy, you're always laughing
he's so quick witted that even when you guys are arguing about something, he'll end up cracking some wise ass joke and suddenly you're both doubling over, the topic at hand vanishing at once
any and i mean any act of service you do for him will not go unappreciated or unnoticed
you've cooked him a meal or folded his clothes? he's melting, pouting and whining at you because you didn't have to do all that :(
he's just constantly reminded how lucky he is to have you
the most supportive boyfriend ever
also your personal hype man
not only will you always feel so beautiful around him because he makes sure to tell you just how amazing you always look, but any and all doubts you have are gone
with chan, you feel like you can tackle absolutely anything because he gives you so much confidence and reassurance; always knows exactly what to say so that you feel loved and assured
and you figure, if he believes in you that much, there's no reason you shouldn't believe in yourself
⋆ ★
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beababoobies · 4 months ago
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hello i saw your request post and requesting is my full time job atp this is a basic one but size and breeding kink with toji, sukuna, + anyone else you wanna include :)
I always find breeding kink requests with Toji so funny bc his ass is NOT no baby daddy🙅🙅🙅🙅🙅 
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𝜗𝜚TOJI FUSHIGURO𝜗𝜚
Toji was not a man who was fit to be a dad. Well, that’s what he had told himself again and again, whenever he would have the urge to lose the condom, or not stopping when it broke. The way your body bounced with each harsh thrust of his made him a little delirious, and that’s all he chalked it up to. But then, you got the implant.
God, that fucking implant. He could’ve swore it messed with your pheromones or something - could’ve sworn you didn’t feel this fucking good around him before, the way your cheeks flushed and your eyes got all teary when you begged him to cum inside you had him feeing like a fucking nympho. Day or night, mornings before missions, Monday through Sunday, in the middle of the night when he had to wake up to get something to drink - it really didn’t matter. But then an idea even more delicious started to poke at the back of his mind.
It all started when you were curled up into him after one of your many, many sessions, snoring softly, with his cum leaking out of you, did the idea start to crawl onto him. The image of you, pregnant with his kid, all round and directly at his mercy to love, ready to be pumped full again, and again, and again. He played with the implant imprint in your upper arm, humming in agreement to whatever you were saying about it. He wasn’t listening. He didn’t care. He hated the thing. 
So, being the man he is, Toji had a new goal. To fuck you, fill you up so much that you physically couldn’t not get pregnant. He wanted to pump you up with so, so much of his cum, that you were wobbling trying to stand up after. He wanted to see it leak out of you, wanted to see you with that same, teary eyed, pathetic little look everyday. The way you whines about too much only fuelled him further, putting you in the position you were in now, thighs pressed right to your tummy. Mating press style.
“T-toji! Baby! Give yourself s-some time! Jesus F-fuck!” You whined, practically throwing a fit over how hard he was pumping himself into you. It had been three rounds for him - six for you, because he had eaten you out front to back, as a pre-apology, he supposed for how hard he was about to bruise up your guts. He just squeezed your thighs in the wide palms of his hands, letting out a groan when you scratched your nails down his back even more desperately.
“Mmm… I don’t think so. Think ‘m gonna fill you up until you burst… get you all round ‘nd full of me. You just have to lay there and take it baby.” He grunted out through harsh thrusts, face buried in your neck as he breathed heavily, giving you small nips of appreciation the more sensitive areas of your skin, and pressing kisses to your earlobe for every time you’d sweetly whine out his name. God, this was heaven. 
And you’d be his archangel. 
𝜗𝜚RYOMEN SUKUNA𝜗𝜚
Sukuna wanted an heir. This was his end goal when he saw you, this was his end goal when he married you, and this was end goal right now, only a couple months after your wedding night, to put an heir in you. His stomach did giddy flips one wouldn’t assume the king of curses could even feel thinking about an heir even half as divine as you were. He would kill anyone who said anything even slightly negative about you with a snap of his fingers, fuck, he wouldn’t even bother wasting his energy on killing such stupid scum, he’d get Uraume to do it. 
His mind drifted as he prepared you in his lap, fingers scissoring inside you as you whined and squirmed, trying to hide your face in his bare chest your slick dripping all down his hand, even his wrist. He made you cum three times already, shushing you whenever you tried to protest about being ‘ready’ to be pumped full of him. Your nails scratched against his back, the pain only egging him on as he pressed a kiss to your now sticky forehead, sweat dripping from the orgasms he pulled from you. To him, this was a ritual. 
A ritual of patience, a ritual of love, a ritual of procreation. Both his cocks strained heavy against the thin, soft silk of his sokutai, letting you grind helplessly and pathetically against them. His other hand was rubbing circles into your back, cooing you to calm down as he worked you up at the same time. 
Before you, sex, intimacy, whatever you’d call it - was a chore. He’d call in a concubine, already prepped for him, get it over with, and not have the cravings for another week or so. He didn’t do it for their pleasure, it was supposed to be a privilege on their part, to even be near him. But something primal in him snapped when he first saw you, something that made giving pleasure seem so… enticing, sweet. 
He was right, by any definition, you were sweet. Your taste was an ambrosia unlike any other, a gift from whatever gods above him - which he didn’t believe there were any, he was the god everyone prayed to, he was the top of the food chain, and you could go any higher - but you had him second guessing his own faiths when he tugged and kneaded at your thighs, giving you small spanks to keep you grinding your hips onto his face. 
It took nearly an hour of him letting his mind go in circles while the beautiful whines of yours for hoarser and hoarser, another four orgasms from you, for him to agree that you were ‘ready’ to be filled up, ready to carry his heir, ready to be soft and mouldable for him, and once he had you pressed into the silk sheets of your bed, he nearly burst to tears. The way you laid there, looking at him like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf, eyes wide and heart beating fast, littered with bite marks and spit, hands gripping the sheets, knowing things were only going to get more and more intense, he just had to ruin you. It would be selfish not to eat you whole. 
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lovexdeepspace · 8 months ago
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Hi ! Can you make a story where reader is not the mc and is in relationship with the boys who starts to act cold and indifferent bc of mc ? (i cant choose one i love all of them 😭)
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summary; what happens when the l&ds boys have a run-in with the MC that changes everything.
warnings; angst, hurt, strained relations
note; my first request!! thank you so much for the love on my works, i’m so happy i can entertain with my writings!!
!! divider by @cafekitsune !!
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༊*·˚ xavier
you were curled up on xavier’s couch, engrossed in some cable drama that you had originally put on for background noise while you tidied. you didn’t even blink when the front door open and shut, signaling xavier’s arrival.
"how was work, xav?" you called, glancing over at him as he tossed his jacket onto the loveseat. you subconsciously leaned over as he approached the couch, your lips pursed as you awaited the usual ‘i missed you’ kiss that became a routine thing. however, he walked right by you and headed to the kitchen, eyes on his phone.
"it was fine," he responded absentmindedly, pocketing his phone and rummaging through the fridge. "i’m real tired, though. think i’m gonna head to bed early tonight."
you turned off the tv and stood, coming up behind him. your arms wrapped around his waist and you pressed your cheek to his back, sliding your hands into the pocket of his hoodie.
"are you okay?" you murmured, giving him a comforting squeeze. "did something happen at work today?"
xavier shut the fridge and put his hands inside the pocket as well, over yours. "i’m okay. just tired is all."
he pulled your hands out of his pocket and turned to face you, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before shuffling off to the bedroom. you frowned and wrote it off as a tough day, thinking it was just a once in a while thing.
until it became an every day sort of thing.
over time it grew more and more obvious that there was something else going on with xavier outside of work — he would come home later, his already kind of spotty communication became worse, and then the affectionate gestures became a chore to him.
you would try to hold his hand? oh, he needs to hold his phone or it's in his pocket suddenly. want a hug? expect one of those brief side-hugs. expecting a kiss? quick peck on the cheek at most.
it was heart-wrenching, watching the man who had loved you like you had hung the moon in the sky for years suddenly stop. the thoughts of where things had gone sour commanded your mind day and night, searching for the answer tirelessly. then, one day, the answer presented itself to you out of the blue.
or, rather, she presented herself to you.
you and xavier were spending a quiet (not by choice) morning in the cafe when a woman approached, calling xavier's name. you noticed the way he straightened and the way his eyes lit up before he quickly covered it up. your heart shattered but you swallowed the hurt, smiling at the woman as she looked between the two of you and introduced herself to you. xavier invited her to sit with you two and she accepted, allowing you front row seats to watch the man who was supposed to love you fall in love with someone else.
༊*·˚ rafayel
work had finished early today, leaving you the afternoon to do as you pleased. seeing as your last mission was located just a couple blocks from rafayel’s studio, you took it upon yourself to pick up some snacks from the cafè to surprise him since he had been working hard for days on end now.
with pastries in hand you walked up the pathway to the mo art studio, a skip in your step as your excitement became palpable. as you go to open the door it swings open for you, revealing not rafayel but a woman you’d never seen before. you faltered for a second as she brushed by you with a muttered apology, heading the way you came.
probably just some fan of his work, you thought to yourself as you headed inside. kicking off your shoes at the entryway, you head for the main room and find rafayel lounging on his couch. he sat upright once he noticed you, squaring his shoulders and forcing a grin.
“you’re here,” is all he said to you, a stark contrast to his usual witty comments on how you just couldn’t seem to stay away for long.
“work ended early, so i thought i’d bring you some snacks,” you replied, placing the paper bag on the coffee table as you took a seat next to him. “how’s the painting coming out?”
“fine,” he replied, digging into the bag and pulling out a tart. you waited for him to continue, to whine and complain about thomas or some media outlet being on his ass about something but nothing followed his curt response.
“so,” you drawled, filling the silence, “another fan found your address?”
rafayel’s brow furrowed and he swallowed before asking, “what do you mean?”
“the woman who left when i came,” you pointed out, a heavy feeling settling in your chest. “a fan of your art?”
rafayel shook his head, leaning back against his couch with a wistful smile. “oh, her? don’t worry about it, just a deepspace hunter looking into some things about my paintings.”
you wanted to not worry — truly you did — but something about the whole thing just didn’t sit right with you. despite the nagging feeling in your mind, you went to place your hand over rafayel’s so you could focus on something else. just as your pinky finger was about to interlock with his, he quickly pulled his hand onto his lap.
with a small nod, you stood and mumbled, “i’m gonna head home.”
you hoped that rafayel would say something — better yet do something — to get you to stay but no, he was off in his own little world, staring out the window at the sea. fighting back tears, you take your leave, slipping on your shoes and heading back towards the streets.
the sunny day was no longer warm and welcoming but hot and suffocating with your heart drowning in pain at the idea of the man you loved with all your being and more having someone else.
༊*·˚ zayne
things between you and zayne had always been kind of like a scale — some days it would lean to one side, some days the other.
he was stoic yet sweet, soft and caring in just the right moments. the times you were together were some of the most blissful times you could ever have imagined. just the right amount of intimacy, domesticity, and partnership that a relationship needed to blossom.
this would be outweighed, however, by the days straight without communication but you always chalked it up to his profession and never really had too much of an issue with how things went. you couldn’t begin to imagine the amount of stress that a doctor took on, especially in the day and age of wanderers. so, like a good partner would, you did all you could to be as supportive as possible in every way he needed.
from homemade lunches to silently holding him in your arms after a rough day, there was nobody better for him than you.
one morning after you had stayed the night, you woke up to a text from him asking if you could deliver his lunch that he’d left on the table. after sending a quick reply to assure him you’d swing by in a bit, you got out of bed and found some clothes folded neatly on top of the dresser for you.
soon after getting yourself together, you grabbed zayne’s lunch and packed one for yourself, deciding that it’d be nice to have a meal together in his office again since it had been some time since the last one. you enjoyed the brisk walk to the hospital, soaking up the early spring sun.
yvonne gave you a polite wave as you walked past the receptionist’s desk and down the hall towards zayne’s office. you knocked once before opening the door, stopping short as you noticed a woman sitting on the couch beside him.
“my bad, i didn’t know you had a patient,” you said with an awkward chuckle before holding up his lunch bag. “brought your —”
“just leave it on the desk,” zayne interrupted, nodding toward the desk in the corner. “thank you.”
“yeah, no problem,” you replied, doing as asked. you stand there for a second longer and zayne cleared his throat, gesturing towards the door. “oh, sorry. i’ll, uh, see you later then?”
your statement switched to a question when zayne raised an eyebrow at you, quickly shutting down any confidence you had. with a curt nod you exited his office and left the hospital, mind clouded as you aimlessly wandered until you found yourself at the park. sitting on a bench you took out your lunch and began to eat until you couldn’t stomach anything anymore with the image of zayne and the woman on the couch burned into your mind.
the way they were shoulder to shoulder; her hand centimeters from his knee; his eyes, usually icy and reserved, looking at her with a sickening fondness that you only saw from time to time; the way he addressed you not as a partner, but as someone who had intruded on something so important to him.
the way he was smitten, fallen in a way you had never seen in the year and some change you’d been together.
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thebearer · 1 year ago
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omg the part in that one blurb where reader makes a joke about being able to skip a meal and then carmy’s just like tf did you just say is so important to me as someone that has a long (and uneasy) history with body image and healthy eating habits
i was wondering if you had blurb/general thoughts/ideas on how carmy would react to the reader having a harder than usual time with body image for whatever reason
maybe they make one too many jokes or little comments about feeling insecure and carmy’s just not having it lol
carmen, with every ounce of love i have in my heart for him, would not be good with handling that. simply because he understands not liking yourself (like the idea of it, he can't fathom why you don't) but he grew up where food was kind of an act of love. he'd never hear an "i'm sorry" ever in his life, but his mom would very much so be the type to say "i have dinner ready for you" and that was as much as an apology as he'd get.
the first time you're kinda not eating, carmen's like trying to joke with you. "the food not good? don't like it?"
and you assure him that's not it. "i just... i'm not really hungry."
carmen's confused bc you've been together all day and you only had an iced coffee in the morning. "no way." he shook his head. "you haven't eaten all day. if you don't like it, baby, it won't hurt my feelings, i promise. nothin' you can say that a chef in new york didn't say, they said worse too. just tell me what you want and-"
"-carmen, it's ok. it's really good, i'm just not really hungry." you smile. "i need to not eat today anyways. my jeans are so tight-"
"-what?" carmen thinks you're joking at first, brows creasing with a small grin. until he sees your face. "you're-you're being serious?"
"well, kinda..." you mutter.
"that's... don't say that." carmen shook his head. "please, don't-don't do that, that's insane."
your face falls at his tone, you know he doesn't mean to be so hard about it, but you can't help but feel worse, like carmen's mad at you. in a way he is, but not out of anger, out of love. out of not wanting you to hurt yourself like that.
"i just... i feel gross, and i'm starting to look it-"
"- i think you look beautiful." carmen mutters. he sounds hurt, genuinely hurt by what you're saying, like you said them to him. "i don't... i don't like that you do that to yourself." he admitted after a moment. he'd been going to therapy, working on channeling his emotions out when he felt them instead of bottling them in, leading him to an anxiety attack.
"i'm sorry." you whisper, unsure of what else to say.
"no, it's not... i don't want you to apologize or- or feel bad, i just... i felt like i should say it." carmen's eyes lifted to yours. "that you don't need to do that."
you can't help the way your chest rushes with heat, anxiously picking up the spoon in front of you. you're not sure what to say, most of the time, most guys kinda brush it off. act like it's nothing or ignore it- some agreeing. no one ever got... hurt by it like this. like you were hurting them too.
maybe it was the guilt. maybe it was the fact that carmen looked so sad. whatever it was, you weren't sure, but you were fucking hungry- and the pasta was good.
you hesitantly took a bite, ignoring carmen's eyes tracking you. "it is really good." you hum, trying to break the obvious tension in the room.
"you don't have to eat it, i-i don't want you to feel pressured to." carmen shook his head. "but i'll make you something else? could i make you something else? whatever you want."
you blushed, looking down. you knew what he meant. he was trying to help in the only way he knew how to, by cooking. "carmen-" you sigh.
"no, it's... it's not good to not eat, ya know?" carmen looked up at you. "you have to eat but-but if you don't want pasta, i get it. i'll make you whatever if that's what you want." he looked at you pointedly. "but don't ever think you need to do anything like that f'me. i think you're perfect no matter what. love you no matter what. you know that, told you i'd still love you even if you were a worm."
you snorted lightly, his reference to the tiktok trend you'd done on him a while ago. "thanks, bear." you mutter, grabbing his hand lightly. "i-i would like, if it's not too much and you have all the stuff, that greek goddess salad sydney was testing the other day? i've been craving it."
"heard." carmen nodded, standing towards the fridge.
"if it's not too much trouble-"
"-c'mon." carmen scoffed, looking at you sweetly. "it'll take me fifteen minutes max. sit down f'me, alright. i got it."
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nectardaddy · 4 months ago
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full throttle | sakusa kiyoomi
chapter eight | no faith | 🏎️
masterlist
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Neither party could find much to say in the morning, even after getting coffee. A thick, almost tangible, tension in the air that was hard to miss and neither could really work themselves around.
A tension to him that was suffocating, riddled with anxiety of the upcoming tandem mixed with never knowing exactly what to say. For her, completely deafening, determined to only look out the window. Both telling themselves, I'll talk if they do, being the complete collapse of conversation all together. Tension that remained for the entire trip, 30 minutes of dreadful silence completely overshadowing any meaningful conversation that was had the day before.
Shifting his car into neutral and pulling the parking break, he let out a breath before looking over to her. "Sorry," mumbling an apology before continuing, "I'm pretty nervous today, actually."
Even still she flashed him a small, nervous smile, "you'll do great, I know it."
"The whole reason I did well yesterday was because you said I was the best driver you'd ever seen and I couldn't get it out of my head." Blurting out the words before quickly closing his mouth, mind reeling as he didn't register what he wanted to say. The words just came out. "Fuck, I'm sorry, that was weird," desperately trying to back track the conversation. Cheeks flushing as he saw her eyes widen from his out burst.
"No," she corrected. "Not weird at all," letting a nervous chuckle pass her lips as a pause entered once again. "It's sweet, I didn't know it would mean that much to you."
Finally, the man felt as if he could breath again. Listening to, only part, of what Komori had suggested he say paid off. "Thanks for coming today, I'm happy you're here."
"Of course," the nerves leaving her smile as it turned pure. "I'm happy I came with you. Plus, I can't wait to see you kick everybody else's ass."
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jfc the first message from "baby got track" was atsumu saying if you think we wouldn't notice you blushing getting outta that car you're WRONG (technology actually hates my very existence today)
double feature again bc I didn't feel great about that last chapter
omi was thinking of telling yn that the entire way there but pawned it off as being nervous for tandems
as much as they get on his nerves, those 3 ARE his friends and it was only a matter of time before he told them how he felt
he just had to mentally prepare himself
suna just lives to annoy yn
but other than noya, he's probably the most ride or die friend
he's also the best at running from cops
if omi doesn't win now he will die of embarrassment, he's taking "kick everyone's ass" to heart
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taglist under cut
@wyrcan @hilichurl-lover @neuviloved @mayariviolet @wqnsho
@chosugarplum @dontmindtheevie @ilyless @phoenix-eclipses @kitnootkat
@azuremyst99 @wolffmaiden
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discokicks · 1 year ago
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BAD IDEAS (ON THE SAME PAGE) — JAMIE TARTT
a fic inspired by bad idea right by olivia rodrigo!
masterlist! song inspo! AO3!
pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader (no use of y/n!)
summary: football star jamie tartt is an asshole. he’s the one ex of yours that your friends always hated, one that you now all joke about, and one you haven’t spoken to in four years. however, after a chance encounter, the two of you reconnect, and he leaves you with his new number and a hundred questions about his reformed personality. but seeing him tonight would be a bad idea, right?
word count & rating: 11k (wowza), M! (18+! minors get away or i’ll narc on you to your guardians)
warnings: SMUUUUUUT, porn with plot, lots of suggestive language, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, sprinkling of a handjob, unprotected p in v (wrap it up kids), angst, mentions of alcohol, probable secondhand embarrassment, exes reuniting (it needs a warning sometimes), jamie tartt was an asshole and is now just a prick (in the best way possible), reader is a physio, major fluff, and swearing. also reader is american (bc the author is too. sorry </3)
authors note: well. i wrote it. olivia wrote this song for teenage girls in their twenties (me) only and i immediately thought of this fic the second i heard it. i'm calling this an exercise in smut writing before i embark on my aces (my roy kent series for my new friends) eventual-smut-adventure, so this evolved into something i wasn’t expecting but i had so much fucking fun writing it. god, i love jamie tartt. also! this is my first smut fic at this type of level, so go easy on me. hope you all enjoy. love you all tons! -mags
There are two universal truths in life. 
The first is that the coffee shop you frequent on your way to work will and will always have the best cold brew you’ve ever tasted. The second is that Jamie Tartt will and will always be a massive fucking prick, and you’ll never see him again for as long as you live.
These are two things you live by, and while they may seem rather mundane or petty in the grand scheme of things, they are the only truths you can count on these days. Especially when everything else is so up in the air.
However, the universe doesn’t seem to believe in these things as blindly as you do, and this becomes evident the moment that you step into the shop on a gloomy Wednesday morning. Because these two truths (well, they’re fucking bald-faced lies now aren’t they, huh?) are broken within approximately two minutes of each other with seven words.
It began when you greeted Natalia, the barista who was here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday before your shift at the clinic with a wide smile. As soon as she saw your face, her expression turned apologetic, albeit a bit dazed.
“You’re gonna hate me,” she says, putting her hands on either side of the register. Your brows shot up at her words. “We just ran out of cold brew.”
Your face falls. “You’re kidding.”
“We were low on it this morning,” she starts to explain, “our stupid night-shifters didn’t prep enough last night. And it’s been selling like crazy today.”
“Seriously?” you nearly whine. “I might cry.”
“I’m sorry, Doc,” she apologizes, but she doesn’t sound too apologetic. Natalia’s eyes keep shifting to your left, the dazed look in her eye never faltering. Then, she says the fated seven words. “But he took the last of it.”
You turn your head in the direction she’s been looking, and your blood runs completely cold. You think you could drop dead and go to hell at this very moment, and it’d be a better existence than what awaits you in the next five minutes. And while this all may sound dramatic, you don’t care. 
You don’t care because Jamie fucking Tartt is standing across from you, newly long hair peeking out from beneath his hood. He’s engrossed in whatever’s on his phone, fingers flying back and forth like he’s texting. 
You think you could run. You’re pretty sure you could successfully make a break for it and leave Natalia high and dry without him seeing you. It’d be an easy exit, and you’d never have to see him again.
But then, as if he can feel your eyes on him, he looks up. And the second he meets your gaze, his face falls in what you can imagine was a similar fashion to yours. 
Fuck.
Luckily, Natalia is none the wiser. She barely notices your expression, and with Jamie by the pick-up area, she can’t see the way he’s looking at you. So, instead of questioning you, she straight-up giggles.
“I know,” she practically squeals. “I was totally going to save you the last of it, but he asked for it. And I mean, c’mon. It’s Jamie Tartt. I couldn’t possibly say no to him.”
You tragically know that feeling all too well. Knowing you probably would have had a snappier, more cutting response to that if you weren’t in the most debilitating phase of shock, you settle for a quiet, “It’s okay.” You nod at her, brushing it off in an attempt to be casual. “I can settle for an espresso today.”
Natalia nods, tapping it into her register. “Same size as usual?”
“Yeah,” you say, not completely sure what you’re agreeing to. You glance over again at Jamie and find that he’s still standing there, staring at you, and you immediately blink away. “That’s fine.”
The rest of the transaction feels as though it takes a millennium and three seconds all at once. You’re still caught off guard by the time Natalia gives you your receipt with a dazed look in your eye that now matches hers. 
However, yours isn’t because you just saw your favorite Richmond player or your favorite reality show villain. It’s because you’ve just seen your ex-boyfriend and you’re about to walk over and stand next to him for a prolonged period of time.
Nothing about this scenario feels real. You hadn’t seen him in four years. Not since things ended as ugly as they had, with him leaving you sobbing outside of a club at three in the morning, letting you know that things were over between you two. And he hadn’t even given you a reason. It was just that he wasn’t ‘feeling’ it anymore.
You saw in a tabloid about three months later that he was now seeing Keeley Jones (yeah, having to compete with that did not sit well with you at all) and had drawn your assumptions from there. Whether or not he’d been seeing her behind your back or had broken up with you to be with her, you didn’t know. You didn’t care. You were in your anger stage of the break-up and only knew one thing.
Jamie Tartt was a massive fucking prick, and you’d sooner walk on a bed of nails before you saw him again.
But now here he was. And there were no nails to be found.
You avoid eye contact as you pass him to wait for your coffee. There’s a piece of you that wants to say hi and play it cool, just to put on a show for him about how unaffected you were by everything that had happened. The other piece of you hopes that not a word is said for your entire time here.
Unfortunately, neither of those happen.
Jamie slides over to be near you, awkwardly rocking back and forth on his heels. His hands are stuffed in his sweatshirt pocket, and you wait for him to say something. Anything. But he doesn’t.
Instead, you can feel the ‘play it cool’ part of you rise up to the surface. You could do this. You could feign indifference. Fuck him, you could be cool.
You glance over at him and see that he’s pressing his lips together, eyes shifting around the coffee shop. It’s crazy how familiar you still are with his tells to know he’s desperately looking for a way to say something. 
You say it for him. “Hi,” you say simply. Cool and unaffected.
It’s as if the one word alone makes him flinch. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to say anything. “Hi—” He clears his throat after his greeting comes out cracked, and he stuffs his hands further in his pockets. “Hey.”
The awkwardness of this moment is killing you, and it’s taking everything in you to pretend like it's not. As you search for something else to say, you land on, “You took my cold brew.”
You can see his brows shoot up out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, fuck, did I?” 
You nod slowly. “Yeah,” you tell him. “I come in here every morning. Friends with the barista. Said she was going to save me the last of it, but…” You trail off and finally look at him. “She couldn’t say no to Jamie Tartt, apparently.”
You want to jump up and down about how well you’re doing right now. Maybe you are over him. Maybe you’ve finally moved past this shit, and seeing him once more is all you needed to solidify that. Maybe—
The second he chuckles softly with an apologetic smile, your confidence in those things shoots down. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“Since when do you drink cold brew, anyway?” you ask, frustrated with the fact that he’s fucking laughing in front of you. “You were always a like, caramel macchiato or frappuccino asshole.”
The names make him laugh harder, shaking his head. “Don’t like those anymore,” he responds. “Sugar hurts me teeth. Tryin’ somethin’ new.”
“Yeah,” you mutter. “My fucking coffee.”
That chuckle continues with a shrug. “I’m sorry.” he says again. Then he pauses. “But it’s not like your name was on it, or anythin’.”
Your face draws blank, and immediately, Jamie can tell he’s made a misstep. And it’s not that you’re angry about the joke, it’s just the… everything. Him. The situation. Everything you can remember that you wonder if he bothers to remember too.
Before you can walk away, you feel his hand on your arm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats for a third time, turning you so that you’ll look at him. Your pissed-off expression meets his easy smile and it only fuels your anger more. “I was jokin’. I’m sorry I took your coffee. We can get ‘em to put your name on it if you want.”
“Whatever,” you mutter. It’s not the most mature thing you could have said, but frankly, you don’t care. You just want to get your consolation espresso and get the hell out of here. “What are you even doing over here anyway?”
You’re not sure why you ask it. You don’t know why you keep the conversation going. Jamie looks just as surprised as you are. “I moved over here a couple weeks ago,” he answers. “Got sick of the old place.”
“Can’t imagine why,” you reply. By the way that Jamie snorts, you know he recalls just how much you hated his apartment when you knew him. It screamed twenty-two-year-old AFC-money shithead and you would tease him about it constantly. “Was the empty beer bottle sculpture finally giving you mold poisoning?”
He chuckles again. “That came down shortly after we stopped talking.”
“Oh, so I was just lucky enough to see it in its final days?”
“Oi,” he says, pointing at you. “That thing was fuckin’ impressive and you know it.”
“Impressive in a dorm,” you shoot back. “Not a seven million pound flat.”
He bows his head in a guilty manner. “You remember that, huh?”
“Hard not to,” you answer. “You never stopped talking about it.”
He at least has the decency to wince at that one. “I know,” he says earnestly. It makes you look at him. He shrugs once more. “I wanted to impress ya.”
He did impress you. But not with things like that. He’d impress you when you watched him play, he’d impress you when he made you laugh, and he’d impress you on the rare occasion that he’d just be himself in front of you. Not some asshole footballer. Just him.
But you don’t say that. You say, “That wasn’t the way.”
“Yeah,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Got that now.” He rocks back on his heels again, like he’s not sure if he should say whatever he wants to. “I was a proper fucking dick to you, wasn’t I?”
That almost makes you fall over. Did he just say that? Did he actually just admit that? Out loud, here, for everyone to hear? Accountability? Unprompted? From Jamie Tartt? 
You want to glance around to see if Rod Sterling’s going to emerge from the bathroom to narrate the next couple of minutes of your life, but are too shocked to do so. 
Your surprise must show in your eyes, because Jamie laughs to himself. “Yeah. Wild, innit?” He shakes his head. “On a bit of an apology tour this year. Trying to build back some bridges, or whatever.”
The nod you give him is slow, still reeling from all of this. “Right,” you say lamely. “Building bridges.”
“I’m serious,” he tells you and for a brief moment, you think he may just mean it. The sincerity in his eyes is clear. “I was terrible to you. And I’m sorry.”
Whatever you were expecting when you stepped into this coffee shop on this rainy Wednesday, it certainly wasn’t this. And you certainly weren’t expecting your first time reuniting with him to go this way— with him apologizing to you. The actual words ‘I’m sorry’ just left his mouth. 
You genuinely don’t know who this is. Because it’s certainly not the Jamie you knew.
You saw flashes of this guy. Quiet moments during your short-lived relationship, typically when it was just the two of you. It’s the type of guy you always knew he could be if he tried. The type of guy you pushed him to be. 
(Your friends always taunted you about having the ever-horrendous I-can-fix-him gene, and they never quite let go of it. But it’s not like it wasn’t true.)
Those flashes are why you held out for as long as you did. If it were anyone else, any other asshole who treated you the way he did, you would have dropped them in a second. But he wasn’t like that. Not always, at least.
It was terrible to think like that. You’d been in a low spot when you’d met him and had taken even lower when he left you. You’d recovered tenfold from that and now knew your worth. 
But as he stands in front of you, apologizing, genuinely apologizing, and looking at you like that, you start to question it.
No! the logical part of your brain practically screams. Don’t you fucking dare.
You’re keen to listen to that for the time being. It hardens you. And all you can do is nod at him again. “Well, uh—” Your voice comes out hoarse. You cough awkwardly. “Yeah. You were. Terrible to me. And, uh… thank you. For saying that.”
So much for playing it cool. You want to slam your head up against the wall but hold yourself back from doing so.
He nods at you, opening his mouth to say something else before he’s interrupted by one of the baristas calling your name. His cold brew’s sitting on the counter too, something the two of you clearly missed in the middle of your conversation.
When you reach for your drink, he grabs his too. He’s still staring at you, biting the inside of his cheek like he wants to say something. When you go to move around him, he stops you.
“Look, I just—” You look up at him expectantly, and his shoulders deflate. “I know you probably want nothin' to do with me. But, I just… I want to talk to you.”
Your espresso is hot in your hands. “Well, that sounds like a you problem.”
That’s when he says your name. Your actual name. Not the nickname that everyone calls you, not a pet name that he used to use, he says your name. And it makes you stop in your tracks.
It’s so stupid. It’s so fucking dumb that your fucking name can send you back to the day you first met him and were completely taken with him. You hate it. And you hate the way it makes your walls come crumbling down.
“Please,” he begs. “Can we… Can I at least give you my number? It’s a new one, but I-I think I’ve still got yours. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. But just so you can… I don’t know? Think about it?”
You wouldn’t know if he still had your number. You blocked him ages ago. But you doubt it. 
However, the more you think about it, the more you consider it. It’s the product of your resolve falling and well, everything else about him now. You think about it.
If you allowed him to give you his number, the ball would be in your court. You could do what you wanted with it. You could text him, you could tell him to fuck off, you could ignore him. It was up to you. 
And you don’t know if that’s worse or better.
You decide on better. The second you sigh, Jamie knows he’s got you. A wide grin breaks out on his face as you hand him your phone. “I’ll think about it,” you mutter. 
That’s good enough for him. He gives your phone back to you, new number inserted and new contact created. You’re glad he didn’t search for his old one. That one just says ASSHOLE in big capital letters with about a million gun emojis. 
(That was done by your previous roommates in an effort to get you to move on from him. You thought it was a bit overdramatic. You were never one for emojis.)
He’s smiling when he holds his coffee out for you. You stare at him blankly, thinking he’s attempting to cheers you. Instead, he shakes his head and says, “Take it.”
You blink at him. “What?”
“Trade with me,” he clarifies and your expression turns to one of shock. “C’mon. You said it’s yours anyway, right?” When you don’t move he rolls his eyes. “Offer’s only good for another second. Me arm’s getting tired.”
At that, you sigh rather dramatically and grumble to yourself, trying not to act pleased by the gesture. You hand him your coffee and he gives you his. “Thanks,” you say. It was kind of him. 
His grin returns and he nods at you. “Alright,” he says. After a slightly awkward beat, he steps back from you. “It was good to see you, Doc. Really.” You’re taken back by how genuine his voice sounds and say nothing in return. “I’ll talk to you later?”
He says it as a question, hopeful and well-meaning. “Yeah,” you tell him noncommittally. “Maybe.”
That too, is good enough for him. Because he sends you one more smile, then walks out of the coffee shop with your espresso in hand. 
You’re still reeling from the interaction when you glance down at his your cold brew and see Natalia’s handwriting. She’s made it just as you like it, down to the milk and everything.
But below it is a small drawing. It’s a tiny shark fin with a #9 written inside, with little lettering circling around it.
Doo-doo-do-doo-do-do-doo.
You’re fucked.
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“Are you out of your fucking mind?” is the question that your best friend and former roommate Leah screams at you over drinks at a busy rooftop bar. So busy, in fact, that barely anyone looks over at the two of you.
You’d made the mistake of telling Leah that not only had you run into Jamie on Wednesday, but you’d let him give you his number. 
And you’d texted him after hours of deliberation.
It was something innocent, something you’d thought way too much about, but innocent still. You weren’t sure if you were ready to actually talk to him, but there was something about texting him that wasn’t so scary. Your guard was clearly still up, evident by how dry you were in your messages, and you were keeping your distance. You never texted back too quickly, didn’t ask many questions, and often left him on read. 
(Yeah, you’d turned your read receipts on for him. What about it?)
Your first text was a simple enough question, something that you’d been genuinely wondering about since you saw him. It was open enough for a conversation but not too forward. how’d you know my coffee order?
His response came in minutes later. Is that yours? Good taste. It was shortly followed up with, That espresso you drink was fucking disgusting though.
And that was that. That was how you started texting your ex again. That’s how you reconnected yourself with Jamie Tartt. That’s how you knew it was over for you.
And that’s how you’re pretty sure you’re about to kill your best friend.
Leah’s eyes were wild, somehow angry yet still disbelieving yet intrigued. But the intrigue was very minimal. Very minimal. It was hidden well by how pissed off she was at you.
She had every right to be pissed at you. She was the one who always warned you about him. She’d straight-up nursed you back to health when you broke up. She was the one who had to hear about him 24 hours a day until you were finally over him.
Leah had had a year of peace. And now you were killing her for good.
“You’re kidding, right?” she follows up with. Her grip on your arm is tight. “Please tell me your kidding.”
“Leah…” Your voice is weak.
It tells her everything she needs to know. “Oh, my God! Oh, my. God.” She puts her face in her hands. “You’re insane. You’re fucking losing it and we need to have you checked out right now.”
“I’m completely sentient and in control of my own body.”
“Are you sure?”
You sip at your cocktail. “I reset a knee today. I’m pretty sure.”
“I think you might need to reconsider,” she says. “Because you just told me that not only are you talking to Jamie Tartt again, but you were the one who instigated it!”
You deserve this verbal beatdown and you know it. But all you can do is shrug. “Technically, he gave me his number. He’s the one who instigated it.”
“I’m gonna throw my fucking drink in your face,” Leah threatens, gripping her glass in warning. 
You roll your eyes at her. “Nothing’s gonna happen,” you say, even though you know you’re probably lying. Leah knows this too. “We’ve just been texting a little. It’s nothing serious.”
“Yeah, sure,” she deadpans. “Right. And even if I did believe you, what happens if it does? What happens if you get back in your weird, scary Jamie phase and he kills you again? I can’t deal with that.”
“That’s not going to happen,” you assure her, and this time it’s more confident. Because you know you won’t. Not this time. Not if anything happens.
You’d met Jamie when you were twenty-two. You were in your first year of your Masters program, slightly lost as in your move to London to finish your journey to become a physical therapist. Or a physio, as they called it here. Whatever. You couldn’t keep up with the names. 
You were shadowing a physio at the clinic you now worked at, assisting him as a part of your internship at one of the football tournaments the clinic worked at. It was a ton of big-wig footballers, some names you recognized, others you didn’t. But it didn’t matter. They were precious fucking cargo and you were so paranoid about screwing up that you barely registered who they were when you worked on them.
That was, until a twenty-two-year-old Jamie Tartt sprained his ankle and plopped himself down on your doctor’s bench. He looked at you, you assisted him, and you were wrapped up in what you were doing that you didn’t even notice he was flirting with you. 
You didn’t realize until he asked you out. And the rest was history, for better or for worse.
You were surprised he went for you. You knew who Jamie was, what type of girls he liked to be seen with. They were singers and models and actresses. They weren’t you. 
(Perhaps that’s one of the reasons you liked him so much. Because he chose you. You didn’t like to think about that phase of your life.) 
But after six months of seeing him, he ended things out of nowhere. Right when you’d settled on the idea that despite it all, you might be in love with him. And that was that.
You hadn’t seen him since. Not until this week.
“Not gonna happen my ass,” Leah scoffs, bringing you back into the conversation at hand.
A sigh of frustration leaves your lips. “Listen, I know it’s a bad idea;” you tell her. “I know it is. But, I don’t know. There was something different about him, Leah. He was just… like not someone I recognized.”
“Maybe because his hair is fucking long and stupid now.” She brings her glass to her lips. “His highlights look horrendous.”
“I actually like his hair like this,” you admit, earning yet another eye roll. “Listen. I’m not saying he’s changed. He probably hasn’t. But I…” You trail off with a shrug. “I don’t know. What if he has?”
Leah’s looking at you like you’re the dumbest person she’s ever met in her life. “Are you hearing yourself right now?” she asks incredulously. “Babe, he was a prick to you. Like, category-five, prestige-level twat. Like, worst boyfriend you’ve ever had.”
“I know,” you repeat. “And I said nothing’s going to happen. But if it does, and it goes south, I give you full permission to say I-told-you-so for the rest of my life, alright?”
Leah bites the inside of her cheek, shaking her head. “Whatever,” she says. After a moment, she glances over at you. “I’m just looking out for you, y’know. I don’t want to see you hurt again. And I definitely don’t want him to be the reason for that hurt again.”
You grab her hand. “I know,” you say once more. “And I love you for it. But if I’m gonna be stupid, I’m fully aware of when I’m gonna do it. And it’s gonna be my own fault.”
There’s a moment of silence between the two of you before Leah nods. “Okay,” she finally says. “Okay. Fine. Your fucking funeral.”
“I’ll let you give the eulogy and allow you to call me a dumb bitch for ten minutes straight.”
“Sold,” Leah says, pointing at you. That slight intrigue you previously saw in her eye returns. “Okay, now that I’ve yelled at you, you need to tell me everything.”
And so you do. You tell her how he took your coffee, how you nearly threw up the second you saw him, how you played it cool until you didn’t. How he apologized to you. Joked around with you. Apologized some more. And then he gave you his coffee. 
You despise how excited you sound about it. Again, you’re trying to play it cool, but the people that know you the best can always see right through you. You’re excited about it. Excited about him.
It’s a bad idea to be excited about him.
It’s a bad idea to look down at your phone after you and Leah order another drink. Your heart stops when you see he’s texted you. 
It’s a bad idea to open the message when Leah excuses herself to go to the bathroom. What are you up to tonight? 
It’s past midnight on a Saturday and he’s texting you. It’s still preseason for him, so he might be drunk, he may not be. You’re three drinks deep and aren’t sure if you are.
It’s a bad idea to respond to him. getting drinks with a friend. You keep it dry.
It’s a bad idea to not look down at your phone until you finish the drinks you ordered. Because now, you’re definitely drunk and looking at it all with new eyes. 
Would you want to hang out tonight? No pressure.
It’s a bad idea to consider it. 
But it’s a worse idea to agree.
text me your new address. i can be there by 1:30.
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Before you know what you’re doing, you’re knocking on Jamie’s door, intertwining your fingers together when you realize you’re shaking.
The second you do it, you regret it. You’re no longer feeling the effects of your drinks. It wore off on the Uber ride over here. And everything seems like a terrible idea now.
God, what were you doing? He treated you like that and the second you see him again, you go running back? He was an asshole. He’d made you question everything about yourself, he’d made you cry, he’d made you experience every fucking emotion in the book and all it took is one text for you to be back on his doorstep?
Your roommate was right. This was a horrendous idea and you were an idiot.
However, none of that matters. It doesn’t matter because Jamie Tartt’s opening his door and he’s got a stupid fucking smile on his face. And the second you see it, you know there’s no turning back.
“Hey,” he says as he opens the door. “You alright, love?”
You clench your jaw at the name, at his smile, about how casual he’s being, about everything. “Hey,” you say, avoiding his eyes to look around his flat. 
It’s a complete 180 from what he had when he first joined Richmond and what he had when you knew him. It’s a bit less mojo-dojo-casa-house-looking and something more mature. While you can still tell that a twenty-something guy definitely lives here, it’s decorated well, it’s put together, and it’s clean. No beer bottle sculptures in sight. He’s even got a fucking candle burning on his counter. Who the fuck is this and what did he do with the guy you knew?
Jamie follows you as you enter, wiping his hands on his sweatpants. “You find the place okay?”
His question snaps you out of your flat-induced haze. “Yeah,” you reply. You clear your throat. “This is nice.”
That same, stupid smile returns, but it looks a bit nervous. “Yeah. I told you it was a bit different, huh?” he chuckles. He walks toward his island, rounding it as he speaks. “Needed a fresh start or whatever. The old one was gettin’... old.” He watches you as you nod, continuing to look around. “You still in the same place with the same people?”
“Uh, no. Different place. No people,” you answer. You’ve stayed on your side of the counter, actively keeping your distance. “Willa moved to New York last year and Leah moved with her boyfriend. We live in the same building, though, which is nice.”
The small talk is fucking killing you. You’re not even sure if he cared to remember your previous roommates' names, so this all could be pointless. You can’t believe you’re here. You can’t believe you’re actually standing here, talking to him about the past. 
But as you finish speaking, he nods like he’s listening. Maybe he is listening. Maybe he does remember. 
“I’ll have to see that sometime,” he ends up saying, and the implication of it makes your head spin. He wants to see you again. Or he just learned small talk common courtesy. Whatever it is, it’s driving you insane. You have so many questions for him, so many things to say, and as he wipes his hands on his pants again and nods over to his kitchen, he asks, “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got—”
“Why did you invite me here, Jamie?” The question comes spilling out of you, rushed as if it were waiting on the tip of your tongue and simply couldn’t stand to stay in any longer. Jamie stops in his tracks to blink at you. The look on his face encourages you to go on. “I mean, I know I texted you first. But why… why did you text me tonight? Why’d you—” You grimace, trying to find the right words. “Why’d you give me your number?”
He’s silent for a moment. Thinking. Evaluating. But his eyes haven’t left you. “Because I wanted you here,” he finally says. You cross your arms over your chest as he takes a step toward you. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you.”
You want to say that you’ve been driven crazy all week because you feel same, but decide against it. Instead, you look away from him and scoff. “Right.”
“I’m serious,” he tells you, and your heart stops with every step he takes. “I felt like I was goin’ insane. I didn’t…” For a flash of a second, he looks shy. “I didn’t think I’d see you again. And I didn’t think you’d actually text me. I mean, I hoped you would, but…”
He’s right in front of you, but you still refuse to look at him. Your gaze has shifted to the floor. “I shouldn’t have,” you mutter.
The asshole has the nerve to chuckle, but it’s nervous. Your stomach churns. You’re not sure if you’ve ever heard him nervous. “No, you probably shouldn’t have,” he agrees. “I don’t deserve it.” He pauses and your throat starts to tighten. “I didn’t deserve you.”
That makes you look at him. Either he’s actually apologetic about everything, or he’s gotten really good at knowing everything you want to hear. “No. You didn’t.”
His fingers tentatively brush your arm and you allow him to take your hand. “I know,” he says. “I was a fucking prick. I get that now. I should never have… done that shit to ya.” You’re close enough to him now that if you moved an inch, his forehead would be up against yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth, pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of it. The action makes your throat tighten. “And I can’t fix it. But I…” He trails off again and looks you dead in the eye once he has the words. “I want to make it up to you.”
Your resolve is getting weaker and you hate yourself for it. You lean back against the counter, like that will put space between you two. “Jamie…”
“Please,” he whispers. His forehead finally meets yours. You can feel his breath on your lips. You don’t pull away. “Let me make it up to you.”
The last front you have standing weakly presents itself. “If you think,” you begin, breath shuddering as his hand meets your neck, “that one 2 AM hookup is going to make up for what you did, I—”
“I know it won’t,” he says, and it sounds like he does know. “But I want it to be a start.” The fingers on your neck are now tracing your jaw. And they tighten when he says, “Let me show you just how sorry I am, yeah? Let me make it fucking good for you.”
Jesus fucking Christ. That last front dissolves the second he says that, and your logic flips on itself. You came over here for a reason. You knew what this was. At least you got an overdue apology. Whether or not he meant it, is still up in the air, but if he’s promising things like that, then you might as well get something out of it.
You struggle to get a word out, so you nod against his hand. “O-Okay,” you finally stammer out. The way he’s looking at you gives you enough confidence to say, “Fine. Make it up to me.”
Jamie’s lips curl into a smirk and say, “As you wish,” before they’re on yours.
He’s softer than you remember. His lips aren’t chapped, he isn’t as aggressive with it, and he isn’t as rushed. Everything about him feels more mature and you struggle to understand how fast he could have changed in four years. But you’re not complaining. Not when he’s kissing you like this, with more practice and passion than you can ever recall.
His hand unlocks from yours to slide it up your sweatshirt, and it’s surprisingly warm against your back. Still, you shiver from the contact and you can feel him smirk once more against your lips. 
The action alone prompts you to fork a hand in his hair and tug at it slightly, reveling in the soft sound that escapes him. Everything about him comes back to you at once, and you’ve never been happier to know that the same things still get him. If he wants to play it like that, you can keep up.
His hands drop to grab your thighs and lift you onto the counter, breaking the kiss momentarily. Your chest is heaving up and down, lips swollen and wet. Jamie appears to be in the same boat. “Fuck,” he whispers, sounding even more out of breath than you. He dips his head to press a kiss to your neck, nose rubbing against it as he makes his way down. “You look fucking gorgeous, by the way. Meant to tell you that at the shop.”
You’re too caught up in it all to play it cool, especially as he works at that one spot on your neck. “You look— fuck, you look good too. The long hair suits you.”
You feel him grin against your neck. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you agree breathily. “Looked like a prick with the old cut.”
You feel his teeth dig into your skin at that one, and you hiss. “You liked that prick,” he reminds you.
You were in love with that prick, but you ignore that thought. “I liked a lot of things about him,” you respond. While it’s honest, the accidental double meaning of it isn’t lost on you.
It’s certainly not lost on Jamie. “Yeah?” he asks again. He lifts his head to look at you, hand creeping up your leg. “What’d you like?” You grip his arm as it rises beneath your sweatshirt once more. “C’mon love. Tell me what you want.”
You hate the way your breath hitches the second his fingers meet your back. You know what you want. You want to see what he’s learned since you last had him. What he’s like four years later. What’s changed, what’s stayed the same. But you’re too embarrassed and much too proud to ask.
Instead, you decide to say, much too shyly for your liking, “You know what I want.”
He hums in agreement, other hand creeping dangerously close to the inside of your thigh. “I do, don’t I?” he murmurs. “Bet I know everything ya want. But I wanna hear you say it.”
“Oh my, God,” you say under your breath, frustration creeping into your voice. The asshole fucking laughs at you. “I want you to make good on your promise. This seems far from it.”
“Right, right, I’m sorry,” he tells you. He doesn’t sound sorry at all. “Just making sure we’re still, y’know. On the same page.” He glances at you. “Right?”
You blink at him. You’re not sure you could have been clearer about what page you’re on. But that’s not what surprises you. What surprises you is the seriousness in his eyes. How he’s searching for assurance in yours. And you know that if, for whatever godly reason, you wanted to stop, he’d pull away immediately, despite how worked up he clearly is. 
It's the bare fucking minimum, but it's more than you’re used to getting.
So, you nod. “Yeah,” you say. “Definitely on the same page.” 
The grin he breaks out to is nothing short of breathtaking. “Good.”
“But—” you suddenly say, stopping him from leaning in once more. He freezes beneath your touch, brows furrowing. “This is… This is a one-time thing. You’re…” You trail off to find the word. “You’re apologizing to me. That’s all this is.”
His smile falters, dropping momentarily before returning with a bit less radiance. It’s his turn to nod. “Okay,” he says, fingers now toying with the edge of your sweatshirt. “Gotta make it count, then.”
And with that, Jamie presses his lips back to yours, grabbing you securely and pulling you off the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist, grabbing the sides of his face, like that’ll stable you against him. 
This time, it’s more desperate. It’s more tongues and teeth, more force and intention behind each movement. He’s setting the pace, but you’re keeping up tenfold. While it’d been four years, you’re not sure if he’d ever kissed you like this. He’s passionate instead of aggressive. While he knows what he wants, he’s definitely not just going to take it. He may be leading but he’s listening to you. And that stirs something inside you that you haven’t felt in a long time.
That much is clear, because you unconsciously let out a quiet sound against his lips. You can feel him smiling once more as he walks you slowly to wherever the hell his bedroom is. You’re caught up in him. And by the way he’s gripping you, you can tell he’s just as caught up in you.
So much so, that he completely loses track of where he’s going and accidentally slams you into his doorframe. You yelp, more because of shock than pain, and pull away to glare at him.
Jamie’s already apologizing. “Sorry, sorry,” he says. “Still gettin’ used to this place.”
“Well, figure out how to navigate better,” you respond, verging on a pout as you rub the back of your head.
“I’m sorry!” he repeats. He’s still got you against the doorframe. “It’s hard to see with your big head in me face. And I can’t kiss ya with, like, my eyes open. It’d be freaky.”
“I’ll give you a pass for that one,” you reply dryly. “Be weird instead of giving me a concussion.”
He’s walking you toward the bed when he mutters, “I’ll give you something, alright.”
Your back meets the mattress and you try to ignore the way he held his hand behind your head when he laid you down. You have under a second to adjust before he’s on top of you. The desperation returns and it almost takes your breath away.
He’s essentially straddling you, tugging at the waist of your leggings before he leaves one last kiss on your lips. He finally gets to pull your sweatshirt off, something he’d clearly been dying to rid you of since he first kissed you. You lift your arms up to help him, finding that you quickly start to do the same to him. You hear him chuckle as you attempt to get it up his back.
“I got it, love, hold on,” he says softly, tossing your hoodie to the side to take off his own. Your eyes immediately go to his chest and stomach and you refrain from reaching out to touch him. When you look up at him, you expect him to be smirking. However, he’s doing the exact opposite.
Jamie’s looking down at you like he can’t fucking believe you’re real. It’s jarring, seeing him like this, but you figure he’s in the same headspace as you and is still struggling to process that this is happening. It doesn’t matter, because before you can question it, he’s moving to press a kiss to your collarbone.
Your hand falls into his hair as he works his way down, mouthing the area of your chest. He pauses before he gets to the bra you’re wearing. His eyes flick up to yours. “Can I—”
You’re nodding before he can even get the words out, shifting to make it easier for him. He discards it to the floor with the rest. When he looks back at you, he releases a shaky breath and just stares.
He stares so intently that you begin to get self-conscious. “What?” you ask.
The question takes Jamie out of his trance. He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. “I just— I… Fuck. I forgot how beautiful you were.”
That spreads a warmth through you, one that pulls at your core. As you feel your face heat, you realize you have nothing to say to that. Luckily, he’s already moving on.
Jamie’s different. Really different. And you don’t realize how different he is until you start looking at him like you are right now. You were trying to convince yourself when you told Leah that he’d changed, you’ll admit that. But right now, you think you may have been telling the truth.
He grabs the waist of your leggings once more, lifting your legs to pull them off. You can’t help the laugh that leaves your lips as he struggles to do so. He shakes his head with a soft smile. “Missed that.”
“What?” you ask again.
“Your laugh,” he replies. “Missed that more than you know.”
The sweet words hit you like a bullet. The vulnerability in his voice is what gets you. Goddammit, when did he get so fucking nice? It drives you insane. But it also makes you quietly admit, “I think I’ve got an idea.”
With your leggings now gone, Jamie’s smile turns fonder. Gentler. He presses a kiss to your leg but says nothing in response. He simply places your legs down, eyes flicking down. He lifts his hand to trace down your stomach, stopping at the edge of your panties. The feeling makes you flinch.
He hooks a finger in the band, and your hips buck up to encourage him. His other hand spreads across your hip in a poor effort to keep you still. “Easy,” he murmurs. 
You huff out a breath. “You can—” Your breath hitches as two of his fingers push into your underwear. “Fuck, you can take them off.”
His lips quirk up. “Well, thank you for the permission,” he says. “But not yet. I wanna take it slow with ya.”
Your mouth parts. “Why?”
“Because it’s been years since I’ve seen you,” he answers, moving up to kiss you softly. He speaks against your lips as he says, “And I’ve apparently only got one shot to do this right. So I’m gonna make this last.”
You roll your eyes at his terribly disguised jab. “You’re a dick,” you mutter against him.
“And you’re—” He cuts himself off and a gasp escapes your lips as he cups your core and rubs his palm against it. “Fuck, love. You’re really fucking wet.” He’s positioned on you so that you can feel him getting harder against you thigh. “This all for me, yeah?”
His voice is cocky, while still sounding awestruck. The remaining dignity you have left makes you roll your eyes, albeit a bit embarrassed. “It’s for whoever doesn’t take their fucking time to give me what I want,” you bite.
Jamie draws back from you with a full smirk on his face. “That so?” he asks. The hand against you starts creeping up to the band of your panties. “And what is it that you want? You still haven’t told me.”
You scoff. “I told you.”
He pulls your underwear down your legs and the air around you suddenly makes you realize just how exposed you are. You told yourself you’d never give him the satisfaction of seeing you like this again. But here you were.
His fingers brush against the inside of your thigh, and you shiver once more. “No,” he tells you gently. “You didn’t. You just said you wanted me to keep my promise. You didn’t tell me what you wanted.”
He’s moving closer and closer to the place you want him and you don’t know if you can take it anymore. You shift uncomfortably, as if that will cease the ache. But you know only one thing will.
So, you give him the answer he’s been waiting for this entire time. “You.” His gaze meets yours. “I want you, Jamie. Please.”
That breathtaking grin returns. “Just because you asked so nicely.”
And then he puts his mouth on you without warning.
You spasm at the contact, crying out as he uses both arms to hold you still. The second you calm down, one hand leaves your thigh and you feel him work two fingers into you. Fuck. He didn’t know that before.
And it’s not like he was ever bad in bed when you two were together. You’re not sure you would have stayed with him if that were the case. It’s just… he’s better now. He’s hitting everything nearly perfectly, not stumbling like he used to. He’s more confident. More assured. He knows what he’s doing.
And it’s fucking hot.
The sounds that fill his room are downright obscene. He’s gripping one side of you to keep you in place, splitting you open on his knuckles with the other. His mouth zeroes in on your clit, alternating between licking and sucking in a way that honestly has you close already.
“F-fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, Jamie. Don’t st— shit. Don’t stop. Please.”
Of course, the fucking shit he is, stops. He grins up at you, but continues to slowly pump his fingers in and out. “You sound so fucking pretty begging like that,” he tells you. He’s just as out of breath as you are. He feels you clench around his fingers at the praise and it only eggs him on further. “Look so pretty too. Fucking gorgeous.”
“Jamie,” you whine again. He’s going too slow. Teasing. It’s not fucking fair. He’s supposed to be the one apologizing to you. “I need— Ngh. I need—”
“What do you need?” he asks. “Tell me.”
You think you’d kill him if you weren’t completely incapacitated. “More,” you manage to get out, wincing as he continues at his slow pace. You’re close. Embarrassingly close. “Just fucking more. Please. I’m—” You interrupt yourself with a moan as he shoves his fingers deeper into you.
“I know,” he nearly coos. “I’ve got you.”
And got you he does. Because not only does he pick up the pace, he stretches you with a third finger. The sting of it is momentary, and it subsides as soon as he bends down and swipes your clit with his tongue.
Your back arches. “Jesus fucking— Jamie. Oh, my God.”
He’s good. Of course, he’s fucking good. He’s Jamie Tartt. You’re not sure he’s ever been bad at anything physical in his life. Emotionally was another story. But that story didn’t matter right now. Not when he’s got you like this, and you’re teetering over the edge.
He pulls away from you, breath tickling your core as he speaks. “C’mon,” he chides. “I can feel it. You’re right there, aren’t you, love?” He takes your breathy silence as confirmation and nods to himself. “Yeah. You just need—”
He removes one finger and crooks the rest a certain way, deeper than before. Your heart may stop beating. He’s done something he did to you time and time again, something that he was actually really fucking good at, something he knew you liked years ago. When he looks up at you, he searches your eyes. And by the way they roll back, he knows he’s struck gold.
The smirk returns and he continues to work his fingers into you, smirk growing each time he hears you say his name. “Yeah,” he whispers. “That’s it. That’s still it.”
You could finish at any moment. The telltale heat is rising in your stomach, and you’re just waiting for the cord to snap. And then, as if your muscle memory takes over, you reach out for his arm.
But instead of letting you do it like before, he does something completely different. He intertwines his free hand with the back of yours and guides it to your stomach. And then he presses on your hand.
The pressure builds. You’re barely able to make any noise. And then—
“C’mon,” Jamie repeats. “Come for me, angel. I wanna see it.”
The cord snaps, and you do as you’re told. You come. Hard.
Jamie talks you through it, fingers still moving to coax your climax out of you. You’re sure you look pathetic, crying out and thrashing around in his bed, but you don’t care. You can barely fucking see right now.
It’s been a while for you. Or at least been a while since you’ve had anything that good. And it completely strips away any sort of attitude or frustration you had before.
When you finally come back down, you laugh softly, shaking your head and throwing your arm over your face. “Fuck,” you say through a chuckle.
You feel him shift, moving up the bed to hover over you once more. When he removes your arm from your eyes, you see that he’s smiling. “Nobody’s ever laughed after I’ve done that,” he tells you, a faux pout pulling at his lips. He bends down to press them to yours and you can taste yourself. “It better be a good fuckin’ sign.”
You laugh again, reaching up to cup his cheek and pull him into another kiss. “Very good sign,” you assure him. It’s muffled against him, but you think he gets the point. 
It’s then that you catch him by surprise and flip the two of you over, straddling him in a way that makes him release a breathy sound that you’d missed dearly. But, something feels off.
Your glance down at him, expecting to feel or see fabric once you reach his leg. But there’s not much. Only what feels like boxer shorts. It catches you off guard. When did he take off his—
It doesn’t matter. It’s easier for you now. Especially as your fingers move across his abdomen, biting back a grin at the way he shudders. He looks up at you from his pillow.
“What are you doing?” he asks leadingly.
You shrug innocently, fingers toying with the band hanging low on his hips. “Returning the favor,” you reply. 
Jamie makes a noise of disapproval, placing a hand on your thigh like that’ll stop you. “I’m supposed to be the one making it up to you,” he states, but his voice gets less firm as you cup him through the fabric. “Fuck. Y-You don’t owe me anythin’. No favors.”
You shake your head, pulling at his boxers so that he springs free from inside. Your eyes travel back to his as you reach out and gently grab his cock, staring down at him with a smirk dancing on your lips. “You sure?”
He looks pained. You don’t know why. You’re offering a way to take him out of his misery. But still, he shakes his head and moves his arm from your leg to your back. 
He takes his turn to flip you over next. He swears under his breath as he does so, shaking his head when you land on your back.
“I told you,” he says, taking his boxers all the way off now. “It’s about you. Not me.” He shakes his head again, but this time it’s a bit more frustrated. When he speaks, it’s mostly to himself. “Can’t believe I just fuckin’ said no to that.”
A snort escapes you. “You’re a changed man, Jamie Tartt,” you joke.
He shrugs before placing his arms on either side of you. His voice teeters on teasing and earnest. “I’ve been trying to tell ya that.”
You’re not sure if it’s him, or the situation, or the sex, but you think you believe him. It makes your chest heavy. But you can’t admit that. You won’t let yourself. So, you keep that feeling tucked away, way in the back of your mind for safekeeping. You know it’s better like that. For your emotional sake, at least.
You allow yourself to prop yourself up on your elbow and kiss him instead of responding to that, bringing him in closer. You can feel the length of him press against your stomach, and his groan vibrates against your lips. 
He pulls away, grinding into you. The heat of your body is making him go wild. “Can I—”
You know what he wants. And you want it too. “Please,” you say. 
He nods, moving to angle himself against you. You glance down to watch him, heat flooding your face as he strokes himself before glancing up at you. You nod in return, giving him the confirmation he needs. Jamie grins.
He slides in you slowly. The stretch is mild but grows as he hovers over you once more. It’s easy to adjust, having been warmed up moments before. But for Jamie, it’s not as easy.
He bottoms out almost immediately, tensing over you. His head bows, chin falling to his chest. “Fuck,” he curses. It’s quiet but straight-up sinful. “God, fucking— you’re so—” You grip onto his bicep as he steadies himself. “I’m sorry. It’s just— i-it’s been a minute. And you’re f-fucking tight. Jesus.”
You don’t mind. He feels good like this, despite the fact he’s not moving. Your hand travels from his arm to his hair, tucking a piece of it behind his ear before settling on his jaw. “It’s alright,” you tell him. “We’ve got time.”
Jamie’s eyes snap open at that, but he’s not looking at you like you thought he would. You were expecting a cheeky sort of smile, a smirk, something in that realm. But he’s not. He’s looking at you like…
It’s something you can’t define. Something you’ve never seen before. It churns your stomach yet makes your heart race. Neither of you says a word.
He just dips down to kiss you again and slowly begins to move inside you. Your lips part in a gasp, and he slides his tongue in your mouth. Your back arches into him.
Before you know it, he's breaking from you and is breathing heavy against your neck. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re just— fuck. You…” He trails off, mouth hovering over your collarbone. “You drive me f-fucking mad. God, everything about you. Y-you don’t even know, do you?”
The pace picks up. He’s thrusting into you harder now and your nails dig into his back. You hear him hiss at the contact, but neither of you seem to care. “Fuck.” It’s all you can say. “Fuck, Jamie.”
He’s clearly not done talking. “How’d I-I fuck this up? Huh?” You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or himself. His mouth is on your chest now and the feeling runs through you like fire. “Fucking idiot. Didn’t know what I had. Can’t believe I let you go.”
You clench around him and it throws him off kilter. You watch his jaw clench, hand beside you gripping the pillow you’re on. “You w-were an idiot.” Your agreement is much less effective when it’s closed out by a high-pitched moan.
“I know. Fuck, I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. Deserved better.” He continues to slam into you. “I wanna gi—” A strangled sound erupts from his lips. “Give you better. You’re so—” When he shakes his head, he looks wrecked. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
Something about that sends a shock to your system. It makes you cry out and you can feel it. Your legs tremble around him. You’re close again. You’re really fucking close. 
He kisses you once more, deeper than before. It’s more frantic. Everything about him is more erratic. You can tell he’s getting there too. “Couldn’t stop,” he manages to get out, hot against your lips. “Couldn’t s-stop thinking about you. I missed you.” 
You clench around him again, the admission inching you closer. “Shit,” you say. “Fuck, Jamie, keep going.”
And keep going he does. His hand moves down your stomach, fingers finding your clit. He rubs circles into it and that sends you into a fucking tailspin. He swallows the sound you make. 
“Missed you,” he says again, but it’s more helpless. Jamie fucking whimpers. “God, I f-fucking missed you, angel. Missed you so fucking much, I—”
You don’t hear the rest of what he says because you come the second he makes that sound. It’s white-hot. Blinding. Your legs twitch around him and you claw at him as he continues to rub your clit. You’re loud, but you don’t give a shit. It seems to spur him on.
He’s not far behind you. He spills into you with a groan, stomach flexing as he heaves over you, twitching inside of you. You’re still recovering from your own high as you open your eyes to watch him. You catch his expression for a moment before he’s collapsing into you.
You release a soft ‘oof’ at the sudden weight of him. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and neither do you. You just breathe together. But after a moment you allow yourself to put a hand in his hair.
“You’re fucking heavy,” you tell him, but there’s not much bite in it.
You feel him chuckle. “Give me second,” he says. “Not as fuckin’ agile as I used to be. Took a lot out of me, alright?”
You roll your eyes but continue to run your fingers through his hair. “You’re twenty-six and like, the face of the AFC,” you tell him. “Richmond might have to shorten your contract if you’re dying after that.”
He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Take that up with me Chairwoman then.”
You can’t help but laugh as you push him off of you, wincing as you feel him slip out. He lands with the same noise you did. “If she heard you complaining like that, she’d be on my side.”
Jamie grins at you, joining in on your laughter. He shifts toward you, grabbing your hand to play with your fingers. “You’re probably right. Shouldn’t be complainin’,” he says. He lifts your hand to his lips. “Not when you’re here.”
They’re sweet words. The casualty of them makes your heart swell. But that anxiety about him returns. One time thing, you tell yourself. Apology. One time. That’s all.
You pull your hand back softly and he glances over at you. There’s a hint of worry in his eyes, like that one movement set off alarm bells in his head. You give him an uneasy smile.
Before you can move to get up or say anything or do something, he’s talking. And you have to refrain from wincing. 
“I know…” He looks away from you. Shy. “I know you said one time,” he says, as if he can read your fucking mind. “And that’s… That’s okay. I get that, yeah? But I—” Jamie wipes a hand down his face, staring at the ceiling. “I meant what I said. I missed ya. Really.”
You missed him too. But your walls have been rising back up since he started talking again. “I don’t know what you want me to do with that,” you tell him, only partially lying.
You feel like an asshole when he winces. Maybe you were being an asshole. Maybe it was finally your turn to do so. 
“Just…” He finally looks at you. “If you ever… don’t want this to be just a one-time thing.” He waves it off in an attempt to look casual. You know he’s anything but. “You’ve got my number. Or whatever.”
The timidness in his voice makes your resolve soften. Even if you don’t see him again, you suppose you can let him down easy. He’s been kind enough tonight to deserve that. You nod at him as you sit up. “Okay,” you say. “I’ll let you know.”
It’s only slightly awkward as you get out of his bed and search for your clothes. He asks if he can call you an Uber home and you reject it, letting him know that you’ve got one on the way.
You can feel his eyes on you as you dress, ignoring the way they burn into you. You can tell he’s searching for something to say, or something to talk to you about but doesn’t know what.
You’re half-dressed before he can shoot himself in the foot and say something stupid. “Hey,” he finally says. You glance over your shoulder at him after you slip your sweatshirt on. “I’m really glad you texted me.”
The nice streak you’re riding on continues and you offer a small but genuine smile in return. “Me too,” you admit, ignoring the way that his own soft smile pulls at your heartstrings. 
Before you leave his room, you offer one more admission. You stop in the doorframe he hit you against, lips curling further upward. “It was really good to see you, Jamie.”
He props himself up on his elbow, smile growing. “Good,” he says, nodding. Then, like a prick, he winks at you. “Glad we’re on the same page.”
You physically cannot stop yourself from rolling your eyes and you hear him laugh to himself as you walkdown his hall. “Goodbye, asshole.”
He shouts a tired-sounding ‘bye!’ when you slip your shoes on, shaking your head as you look around his apartment once more. The candle on his counter is still burning, smelling of amber moss and palo santo.
You blow it out before you leave, knowing he’ll forget.
And as you do so, you feel yourself regress. Or grow. You’re not quite sure which one.
But it makes you curse under your breath and leave his flat immediately.
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There is one more universal truth you forgot to mention. 
And that’s that the second you think you’re over Jamie Tartt, he comes back into your life and flips everything on its head. And it’s the only truth that’s been confirmed to you all week.
Because the second you arrive home and see that you have a text waiting for you, your heart picks up. You hate the way you get excited to see it.
I had a really good time tonight.
And the second he comes back into your life, you’re reminded that you’re not over him. Not even in the slightest. And it’s fucking debilitating. 
me too. 
And you know your friends are going to kill you the second you follow up with:
i’m free friday if you want to grab a drink.
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traumxrei-archive · 2 years ago
Text
【 (waking up) next to you 】
prompt #4: They slept in the same bed for reasons but now he was waking up and there’s something about their bleary eyes and mussed hair (ft. deuce spade, silver, azul ashengrotto)
gn! prefect (you/yours), drabbles, word count: 1.1k
a/n: i'm back with more short drabbles !! i had a grand time having trouble keeping these short— like could you tell i wanted to write more for most of these jsfjdfk (also the azul favoritism bc i like teasing him too much)
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Deuce Spade
( set during the events of book 5 )
Deuce Spade was fucked. He had woken up in a bed that isn't his. Normally that would be fine, since he probably just mistook one of roommate's beds for his own. But this...was very much not fine.
He had stumbled into "his" room last night after an exhaustive rehearsal. The closer they got to the SDC performance, the harder the training was. And he had collapsed into "his" bed. Thinking about it now, he was sure he heard a startled noise somewhere. But he barely had time to think before sleep claimed him.
"Shit," Deuce muttered, raking a hand down his face because he wasn't in "his" bed.
He was in your bed.
The evidence was clear as day, with the way your warmth was against his back, arms wrapped around his middle. At first he really thought he was dreaming, but then he felt your breath tickling his nape.
He probably would've had more of a crisis if you hadn't suddenly stirred. He held his breath as you seemed to wake, yawning somewhere near his ear.
"Deuce?" Your raspy morning voice made him shiver. "You awake?"
"Y-yeah," Deuce squeaked. (He didn't even know his voice could go that high.) You tugged at his shoulder and he could now see your sleep lined face. You looked...cute when you were sleepy.
"It's still early," You mumbled, using his shoulder as a cushion. "Let's sleep more."
"O-okay," He used his other hand to pat at your head and soon, your breathing had evened out. He pressed a hand against his chest, right over where his heart was thundering.
Well...Deuce Spade was definitely fucked.
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Silver
Silver wasn't a stranger to falling asleep. Really, he did it all the time. But this had to be one of the first times that someone had fallen asleep with him.
He blinked his eyes open, the sleepy haze promptly disappearing as he stretched. Only there was an unfamiliar weight on his shoulder. And when he looked down....
Oh. It was you. Lying on his shoulder. Fast asleep.
Silver rubbed at his eyes. Clearly, he was dreaming. That was the only explanation as to why you were so peacefully cuddled up to his shoulder, the sunlight shrouding your figure in morning glow. This was a dream, right? Or else why would he be so near to...
"An angel," He murmured under his breath. He immediately stiffened as he watched you shift, your eyes slowly fluttering open. Ah, he had woken you up with his voice.
"Sil...ver...?" You rubbed at your eyes, just as he did seconds before.
"My apologies," He said, carefully avoiding your eyes. "Your nap was disturbed because of me."
Your hand turned him to face you, "I slept well thanks to your protection, Sir Silver." And Silver felt his ears turn hot, no doubt flushing under your stare.
"You..." Silver couldn't finish his sentence, instead hiding his face above your head and praying that you couldn't see how easily your words affected him. You really did know what to do to make a knight lose his composure.
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Azul Ashengrotto
( set during the events of book 4 )
Azul Ashengrotto never thought a day would come where he would have to share a small rickety bed with anyone. But here he was, stuck in the Scarabia dorms, staring in disbelief at the ceiling and then to you, who was sleeping peacefully by his side.
He recounted the events of last night sourly, glancing over at the tweels and Grim, who were sharing a king-sized bed after winning a game of rock-paper-scissors. Azul mentally cursed the Scarabia students for not providing a big enough bed. Otherwise, he would've been able to avoid—
You shifted, your hold on his waist tightening as you sighed in content.
Azul cradled his face in his hands. This was impossible. He was never going to regain his status or composure in time for when you woke up. And worse than that, his heart was currently beating out of his chest.
And why was that? It was because—
"Azul-senpai." He stiffened. Maybe if he pretended to be asleep, he didn't have to answer to the soft call of your voice. But no, you moved once more, "Azul." This time your voice was so close to his ear that he had no choice but to flinch.
"A-Ah, Prefect," Azul's voice came out wobbly. "Have you finally awakened? I'm glad that you woke up, but—"
There was a hand tugging at his wrist, and his eyes finally met yours. Your appearance was definitely one of someone who was just asleep. He assumed that his was the same, so...why did he find the sleepy droop of your eyes adorable?
His heart leapt in his throat when you leaned in, "Good morning, Azul-senpai. You're up way too early."
"F-Force of habit," He bit his lip when his voice wavered. "Do we have to be so close?"
"Why?" You smiled at him, and your fingers intertwined with his own. "You like it, don't you?" He liked it? He...couldn't deny that. But he had to deny that, he couldn't just outwardly—
"Your thoughts are so noisy, I can see it written all over your face," You yawned again before flopping back onto the bed. "Let's just sleep a bit more." Azul made no move to comment as you made yourself comfortable, and he tried not to tremble when your arms wrapped around him once more.
"For the record," Azul mumbled. "I-I'm doing this because we lost rock-paper-scissors. Not because of any ulterior motives."
"Uhuh," You said, very obviously unconvinced. "For the record, I'm cuddling with you without any ulterior motives either." Sevens, what was Azul going to do with you? There was such blatant sarcasm in your tone, yet he couldn't help but melt into your embrace.
But he did have to ask himself...did his ulterior motives match up to yours? And if so, did that mean that he could...do this with you again? Azul buried his head into your shoulder. No, he shouldn't be thinking about that or getting greedy. He should just...forget this and go to sleep. That's right, he should just go to sleep.
As if Azul was going to be able to go to sleep in this type of situation. (Azul ended up staying awake the whole time while you slept. And when the Scarabia students came to whisk everyone away for training, Kalim had commented on the bags under his eyes. You had shot him a cheeky smile after that.)
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thank you so much for reading these drabblessss !!! if you'd like to see more drabbles or ficlets from the 600 followers event, check it out here ! and if you'd like to check out more writing, here's my masterlist >:DD
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m4rs-ex3 · 11 days ago
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s7 spoilers ✨✨
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ok
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"death alive" fucking snipe me the insane death motif that seems to be present here is killing me pun intended
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GRAAAHAHAHHGROWLS IM SO EXCITED I CAN TEVEN
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"i don't want to be separated again"
"i don't want to be separated again"
stop it right tf now bc this is literally what i have been wanting one of them to say so badly. also smooch. dear christ
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the fact that terry wants so badly for him and claudia to be free that he is pleading with fucking archmage aaravos himself. like ik they're partners in crime atp but still my guy has balls. the dedication. poor thing 😭
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aaravos fucking leading claudia on with even more hope of viren being saved - his own backstory making the way he's manipulating her grief 10x more twisted - and terry seeing right through his bullshit..... im foaming at the mouth
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fuckin.g- FOR ME?!?!?!?!?!?
CALLUM SOBBING OVER EZRAN??? (dreamer's nightmare was prepping us for this huh)
SOREN APOLOGIZING TO CALLUM?? (for what i do not know) EMOTIONAL CALLUM/SOREN HUG DEAR GOD ALL IVE EVER WANTED
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the making of a primal stone, more moon magic, a quest for an ingredient, insane biblical imagery... once again, FOR ME??!?!?!?!??!
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"AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!!!!"
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NECROMANCY!! just what this show needed omg
astrid my love. i was a little worried post-s6/pre-date announcement that we really wouldn't see that much, if any, of the celestial elves, but oh ho ho i can't believe i ever doubted you tdp. like you're telling me that astrid is tired of watching, of being the wise observers (especially now that her own brother has been so far removed from, well, being a non-all-seeing prophet), and that all she wants is to, for once, do something about all the tragedy she knows is coming and hasn't been able to do anything about? christmas fucking morning i tell you
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goddamn the true extent and emphasized tragedy of katolis has been brought up enough that you just know they're not messing around
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NO STOP SEEING SARAI AND HARROW NEXT TO GROWN AND CURRENTLY FCUKED UP EZRAN IS GOING TO FUCKING DEMOLISH ME
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obviously ez being angry is just wow omg teehee but just. immediately being so vengeful and wanting to "destroy him" with zero hang-ups is.......... yeah wow omg teehee
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"it's great!" i genuinely trust that with my life
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ok hello this will most certainly be the most incredible visual to ever exist holy shit. also this is making me realize that we've never actual seen ez on the throne in arc 2 and i mean that's insane enough
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this is incredible what can i say. i can see it now: rayla shoving worms in his face like "JUST EAT THE FUCKING WORMS ITS GOOD FOR YOU ASSHOLE" and runaan fighting her like a toddler refusing to eat his vegetables (except it's the opposite bc it's a vegetarian father refusing to eat his grubs)
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i love how out of touch aaravos is (makes sense after centuries underneath inside of a rock) bc in what world is this normal. i highly doubt they have snow white or the bible but still it's just human nature to be weirded tf out by that. also yes @zuppizup ur so right his affinity for fruit being played on is amazing
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also corvus: yeah yeah uh huh right and what exactly is your name, sir? aaravos: ah yes my name! it's uh uhh i mean it's uhhhhhhhhhhh. jofus
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TWO IN THE FIRST EPISODE (which worries me but anyhow) IN THE FORM OF A GOODBYE AND A REUNION AND IN FRONT OF EVERYONE TOO???? AS A TREAT??????????
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i'm all for ezran ripping runaan to shreds but i can't exactly say i see the correlation here. although that is kinda funny. it's like when i can't find my phone or smth so i just look at my dog and go "whiskey did you eat it" (she's been asleep this whole time and also she has never eaten/chewed on an object in her life)
also help inigo montoya ahh
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ok 1) i, much like everyone else, kinda presumed that the tension would mostly be between ezran and callum and he wouldn't really hold anything against rayla, but the act of straight up arresting him really makes me wonder how rayla's gonna react 2) i really need to see callum's reaction (mainly out of defending rayla, but also because i can see him kinda being like "HEY i JUST freed him bro fuck you") and 3) the way that it is emphasized that soren is the one to arrest him..... idk i just figured that between his love for rayla, his own daddy issues (+the fact that viren was the one to imprison him so it would kinda be like righting his wrong), and that harrow was in fact not his father so compared to ezran he'd have a lot less resentment (he was of course still his king and soren had to actually watch it so still some but like. comparatively) i didn't think he'd be this combative but i'm certainly not complaining. the more angst the merrier
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AW YEAH BOYS SHES COMING TO KATOLIS!!!!!
this has been your incoherent, feral mars commentary.* thank you
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wish-i-were-heather · 2 months ago
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GOOD CHEMISTRY ⤵ XANDER HAWTHORNE X READER
ABOUT: 1685 words, no use of y/n
STORY: xander is assigned to be your lab partner for an assignment that neither of you really understand
WARNINGS: none!!
A/N: this is actually inspired by a real lab i did in my chem class bc my friend reminded me of xander. a lot of the dialogue is actual real dialogue we had lmao. so yeah fair warning that this isn't very well written just something i threw together for fun :) also i dont understand chemistry at all so sorry if anything's incorrect
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“Alright, you may begin.”
You were standing alone in the corner of your science classroom. Your teacher said she was going to randomly assign partners for the lab. But there was an odd number of people, so you were left alone. 
You looked around a bit to make sure there wasn’t anyone else who didn’t have a lab partner before walking to the front of the class.
“Uh, Mrs. Watson?” You asked. She looked up from her computer with a raised eyebrow. 
“Yes?”
You cleared your throat. “I don’t have a partner.”
She frowned, standing up from her desk and looking over the classroom. “Oh, that’s my mistake. We’re missing a student today, I marked that in attendance. I didn’t realize that when giving partners. My apologies.” She pointed at a pair working at the table in the back corner. “Can I ask you to go join-”
“I’m here!”
The door slammed open and hit the wall with a loud bang! Everyone’s heads turned, and the class went silent. But they all went back to their work when they saw who it was.
“You’re late, Mr. Hawthorne,” Mrs. Watson sighed. “Again.”
Xander’s backpack was slung hastily over one shoulder. He closed the classroom door and nodded. “Yup! Third time this week. But, in my defense-”
“I don’t want to hear it.” She pointed at you. “Your partner will tell you what we’re doing. Get to work.”
He nodded again, turning to you and offering a wide smile. 
“So… that empty table in the back?”
~~~
Five minutes later, you had everything set up. There were strangely colored chemicals in different tubes, and you were both wearing the aprons and goggles that you were required to.
You looked down and frowned. The aprons themselves were ugly, plus the goggles. You weren’t wearing them, and you really didn’t want to. Part of you wondered if getting burned by a chemical was all that bad after all.
But you kept it on.
With a sigh, you slipped on the goggles and looked up at Xander. He was finishing tying the back of his apron too, and for a moment you just watched him.
His dark hair was tousled, like he hadn’t had time to brush it that morning. You could see just beneath the atrocious apron that he was wearing, that the tie of his school uniform was loosely askew. His tongue was poking slightly out of his mouth in focus as he finished tying the back.
When he finished, Xander’s eyes wandered from the supplies on the table before meeting hours. But at first, neither of you said anything.
You decided to break the silence.
“Nice eyebrow.”
“Thanks,” He grinned. “Grew it myself.”
“And the other?” You asked.
“I was left unattended.”
“Figures.”
Xander motioned towards all the stuff on the table. Tubes, flasks, off-looking liquids. You didn’t know what you were supposed to be doing with any of it. You’d stayed up late writing an entire essay, so you were running on little sleep
Apparently, there was a reason you were given three weeks to write it instead of two hours. 
“So what are we doing?” He asked. 
“Honestly, I have zero idea,” you told him. “I wasn’t paying any attention.”
“Oh, well, I wasn’t here, so I couldn’t have been paying attention. This is kinda all on you.”
You stepped up to the table and picked up the instructions Mrs. Watson passed out that you hadn’t bothered to read. But reading them over, you realized you didn’t understand any of it.
“This is all, like, fancy chemistry stuff,” you said.
Xander took the paper from you. “Let me see that.” He looked it over for a minute, reading fairly quickly for the amount of small text that was on the paper. 
You studied his expression. “Should we ask for help?”
“No-” Xander snapped immediately. “She doesn’t like me.”
“I mean, you are always late.”
“But I am an excellent student!” He insisted as he put down the paper. “She just doesn’t know how to appreciate my gifts.”
“Did you gift her your eyebrow or something?” 
He stuck out his tongue at you. “Do you want me to help you finish this lab or not?”
“Fine, fine,” you said, unable to stop the corner of your lips from turning up. “So what are we supposed to do?”
“It’s simple, really,” Xander said, finally letting his tone drop to more serious as he turned to the table. “We’ve gotta take the pH measurements of each of the four liquids, and then mix them together to see if it’ll raise or lower the pH levels.”
You stared at him. “Huh?”
He sighed. “Just open your notebook. We have to hypothesize.”
You did what he said and opened your notebook. Rereading the instruction paper, it said you had to guess what happened when you mix hydrochloric acid and sodium hydroxide.
“Is that gonna raise or lower the pH, Xander?” You asked without looking up from your paper.
“Raise,” he answered. “More of a base.”
Silence fell between the two of you again as you finished writing your hypotheses. You were pretty sure that yours was absolute nonsense, but at least you had something written. 
“Okay, thanks,” you said. Xander took both your and his papers and set them aside. “I’m not necessarily bad at chemistry. I’m just a bit… scientifically challenged.”
“Is that so? That just means I get to teach you. How exciting”
“That’s only half terrifying coming from you.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He shrugged. “So, let’s start before Mrs. Watson decides to get mad at me again.”
~~
You quickly learned that “scientifically challenged” was actually a lie. You were, in fact, very bad at chemistry. 
pH scales made no sense. Xander had to do all of the measuring, while you just wrote down whatever number and color he gave you. The first was red, the second was a blueish-purple, the third was yellow, and the last was a greenish-blue. You promptly forgot the names of all of them the moment after he’d read them to you, but it was fine. As long as you wrote down the data and got the work done.
Xander smiled at you again, the corners of his eyes wrinkling behind the big goggles. He put his hand up in the air. “High five?”
“We’re not done yet.”
“Okay, but we did the first part. HIgh five me.”
You gave in. 
“Alright,” Xander clapped his hands together. “Next step. Mix them together.”
You practically jumped up. “Oooh, can I pour it in?” 
“The erlenmeyer flask, yeah.”
“Who’s Meyer?”
He sighed and pointed at the empty flask in the middle of the table. “Pour them both in there.”
“Oh, okay, got it.” You reached for the first tube with a white liquid and poured it into the flask. You then did the same for the pink one next to it. “Can I drink this?” You joked as you poured it in.
“No, you may not.”
You poured them in quickly and waited. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on who you asked, there was no big explosion. Xander stepped forward again and measured the pH. 
“Eight,” he explained. “They almost neutralize each other. Key word almost.”
You nodded and the both of you returned to your papers. “So,” you asked. “What do I write in this box?”
He stared at you. “The box that asks for the color?”
“Mhm.”
“You put the color.”
“So… pink?”
Xander rolled his eyes, but he had a smile on his face. “Are you doing this on purpose?” 
“Perhaps.” You got to write the word pink in the box that asked for the final color of the liquid, and then number seven for the pH number.
“Perhaps,” He teased under his breath, putting on a very bad British accent.
You looked up from your work. “Are you bullying me?”
Xander gasped. “No, of course not. I love British people. My brother is half British.”
“What?” You exclaimed. “Who? Which one?”
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter, we need to finish the lab.”
“I’m trying, but I don’t understand,” you sighed, deciding to ask him about his family lineage later.
“Have you ever seen Breaking Bad?”
You frowned, that was the most random question. “No.”
“Hm. You learn a lot about chemistry from it. I did.”
“I probably wouldn’t retain any of it.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “You’re right.”
You nodded and turned back to both of your papers to work on writing the conclusion, whether or not your hypothesis was correct. Then you realized what he’d just said- that you wouldn’t retain anything. 
“Wait, what?”
~~
The bell rang just as Xander handed you his paper, and you went to turn both of yours into the basket at the front of the class. “Thanks,” he said when you returned, slipping his backpack over his shoulder.
“Thank you, actually. I probably would’ve failed if you weren’t my partner.” You laughed. 
“Maybe this is your sign to actually pay attention.”
“Maybe this is your sign to show up on time.”
He shrugged. “Why would I do that? I kinda liked working with you.”
“Only kinda?” You teased.
“Sorry, I meant to say I’m obsessed with you and we have to do every single lab together for the rest of time or I will pass away,” Xander said, putting his hands on his chest dramatically. 
You rolled your eyes at him, just like he had before. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late for next period.”
“I’m always late,” he shrugged. 
You grabbed his wrist and began to walk towards the door. You were the last ones in the class, even the teacher was in a different teacher’s room talking to them. “Yeah, I’m trying to fix that. Let’s go.”
“We don’t even have the same next period.”
“I don’t care, we’re leaving now,” you insisted. Xander sighed reluctantly.
“Yes ma’am,” he muttered sarcastically.
But that grin never left his face.
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the writing above belongs to me. please do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own. © 2024 wish-i-were-heather
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TAGS: (honestly im just gonna keep them down here because it makes the top part look more clean) @littlemissmentallyunstable @gretag13 @lanterns-and-daydreams @whatsamongus @alwaysthefangirl
@emelia07 @f4iry-bell @low-caloriesmonsterultra @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @maybxlle
@xoxo-vee @elysianwayy77 @midiosaamor @sheisntyou - lmk if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist!!
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kopivie · 1 year ago
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trick-or-treat.
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# — pairing: spidey!kazuha x gn!reader
# — characters: gender neutral reader, spider-man!kazuha
# — warnings: a little suggestive.
# — tags: fluff, kisses (bc who am i if not a madman for kisses), mild hurt/comfort, BANTER YIPPEE!!, this is zuzu's way of making up for the fact that he all but forgot kazuha's birthday, apology fic
# — notes: (PLEASE READ!!) this is... not at all what i intended to do. it's 1:30 am and i just came down from a much needed high. as my head cleared, i noticed that this fic was like, riddled with flaws, but i feel too good about this to second guess it and feel bad. anyways, this is heavily inspired by this fic that 🎻 anon sent in my asks, as well as a follow-up to this fic i wrote on @awlumii last year on kazuha's birthday. i hope you enjoy and please do let me know what you think! i could really use some feedback.
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✦ — 🎃 — ✦
There's a knock on your door. You stare at the entry to your apartment and think: "How mean would it be if I ignored them right now?"
In your defense, you've been giving out candy all day. All. Day. You figured that there would at least have been a lull in the early afternoon since children had school to attend, but no — you've been giving out candy to all ages from as early as 10:30 this morning. It's a good thing you stocked up on candy late last month, otherwise you would've had to ruin the days of some very enthusiastic trick-or-treaters. So after setting aside a bucket full of your favorites and giving out the leftovers until about 10 at night, you finally thought yourself ready to curl up on your bed with your softest blanket. You were halfway to dreamland when some monster started pounding on your door.
(So maybe you're exaggerating a little. But who could blame you? You're tired and you want to sleep.)
And so, here you sit, your legs half-tangled in your weighted fleece blanket as you glare at your door and hope that your unwanted visitor is telepathic and gets the message that you want them to leave. Scram! you think. You raise your voice in your head. Get out of here. Shoo! Begone!
…They knock again. (Kind of a dick move if they can read minds.)
The groan you let out is obnoxiously loud and is most definitely heard by whoever is on the other side of the door. You hoist yourself to your feet and trudge to the door, but you don't open it quite yet. Judging by the fact that this person has yet to say anything, you figure that they're old enough to know when their presence is not welcome and left.
Wrong. You're too optimistic. They knock again.
You sigh and once again, hope that the sound carries through the door. "Who is it?" You try to make yourself sound as unfriendly as possible. Considering how cranky you are, you don't have to try very hard.
"Trick-or-treat..?" The voice on the other side is muffled by the door, but also by something else. Fabric, probably. All you know is that their voice is deep enough to be an adult's.
You click your tongue. "Trick." You almost snicker. It's a little refreshing not doling out treats for once. "Go home."
"Can I at least give you a treat?" The person asks.
You blink. They didn't leave? "Pretty sure that's not how it works," you reply. "I give you treats and you… I dunno, TP my house or something."
"Yeah, well," the person at the door chuckles, "I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to say 'trick', either. Since you're breaking the rules, it's only fair that it's my turn, right?"
Well… Shit. They have a point.
Impressed by the stranger's reasoning, you hum. "Fine. Let me find my costume." You turn to gather your costume and notice that you can't find the full thing. You were so eager to get to bed that you didn't hesitate to drop the thing in the wash. Not wanting to make the stranger wait too long, you improvise. You blindly grab the mask and the blue throw blanket you have folded up on your couch and tie it around your shoulder like a cape. It's a shitty excuse for a costume, but you reason that your exhaustion is a good excuse. You swing open the door and cross your arms over your chest. "Alright, what do you got for-- Oh."
Standing on the other side of your door is none other than Spider-Man himself. The two of you stand in silence as you take in each other's appearances. Then, after what feels like forever, he speaks. "So… a cape, huh?"
You don't hesitate — you grab your door and swing the thing shut as fast as you can, but Spider-Man is faster, catching the door in his gloved hand. You turn your back to him. The mask is obscuring his face, but you already know what expression he has underneath. "Don't say a word." You warn him.
Spider-Man pays you no mind. You can feel him lifting your 'cape' as he inspects it. "Hmm… capes are kinda aerodynamic, but considering how dirty my enemies fight, I don't think that's a very good design choice." You can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice. "I'll give it a five out of ten."
"I said shut it!" You snatch your blanket out of his hands and march further into your apartment with Spider-Man's laughter following at your back. He walks inside and the door shuts behind the two of you. "Get the fuck out, webhead," you seethe. Your voice trembles with shame. "I didn't invite you in."
Spider-Man just walks around you to look you in the eye. "Come now, lovebug," he tilts your chin up with a finger, "you look cute wearing my mask."
You grumble and push his hand away as you struggle for words. You want to say something like, "this isn't what it looks like!" to try and save face, but there's no point in trying. This is exactly what it looks like.
Because the mask you'd been wearing for Halloween -- and the mask you haphazardly thrown on moments ago -- was none other than Spider-Man's mask.
To be fair, these things were a dime a dozen. The people of this city adore the vigilante. It was only natural that kids and adults alike would want to pretend to be him for a day, even if they had no powers like him. You're not exactly one of those people — you've seen firsthand just how brutal Spider-Man's job can be. You wouldn't trade your life for his even if you were offered money. But as you stared at the costume while shopping, you couldn't help yourself. There were obviously cooler, much more interesting costumes to choose from but this one just… called to you.
Hindsight is 20/20, after all. You should've ignored that calling.
Spider-Man takes your chin in his fingers and shakes your head side to side. "I never knew you liked me so much, lovebug. I'm touched."
You scoff. "Don't be."
"Y'know, if you wanted to wear my mask so badly, you could've just asked." Spider-Man leans in and presses a clothed kiss to your cheek. You consider yourself lucky; he can't possibly feel the burn of your cheeks through all that fabric.
You stammer. "Ha-ha. Very funny."
"What? I'm sure I have a back up somewhere." He eyes you for a moment. "You'd look good in it."
Against your will, you wonder if he's saying that he wants you to wear his clothes. Would he ever actually loan you clothes that he's worn? The thought makes your face burn hotter. "Why are you here?" You ask. Anything to change the topic.
Spider-Man chuckles, but plays along. "I haven't swung by in a few days," he says, "so I figured I'd try and surprise you as a trick-or-treater." He shrugs. "I wanted to do some reverse psychology thing where I could trick you into thinking I was just some guy in a costume so you would give me candy."
You process his words for a second. "Okay, first of all, you already are a guy in a costume."
He visibly deflates and places a hand over his chest. "Ouch, lovebug. What if you hurt my feelings?"
"Second of all," you continue, "do you have any idea how many Spider-Men I've seen today?"
"...Is that a serious question?"
"Don't be a smart ass."
"I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess twelve."
You pause. You actually aren't even sure if that's the right number or not. You lost count after three hours of giving out candy to cute kids.
"Am I right?" He asks.
"Who knows?"
Spider-Man huffs. "If there's that many of us around, then what am I even here for?" You giggle at his petulant behavior, and he makes another breathy sound, reminiscent of a stifled laugh. "Did you treat them the same way you treat me?"
"What?" His question takes you off-guard for a moment. You chortle. "Oh, definitely."
"You gave them band-aids and kicked them out, too?"
"Mhm." You cross your arms. "Just slapped a few on some pretend wounds and told them to get the fuck off my property."
The two of you laugh together for a moment. Once the laughter dies down, Spider-Man tugs at your cheek for a brief second. You let him get away with it for now. "You're so cute." He sighs and you can hear something somber enter his tone. "I was worried about you. It's been a week since I've seen you."
It has been a week, hasn't it? You may have been swamped with work at the hospital, but there was never a night that you didn't find yourself waiting on your balcony like an idiot in this chilly weather. You had faith that he was okay — the Daily Bugle printed something new about the "masked menace" every day this past week — but that didn't stop you from longing for his presence. Stories can't compare to the real thing, after all. You're far more taken with the masked vigilante than you'd care to admit to yourself.
You hum. "About time someone else did the worrying for once," you mumble jokingly. "It gets tiring worrying all by myself."
Spider-Man stays quiet. "I've been okay. A little worse for the wear for the past two days, but okay otherwise."
You reach for him instinctively. "Lingering pain isn't like you," you say, already in doctor-mode, "did something happen?"
"No, not like that. I've just been… sad. I guess." His confession is soft as he takes your outstretched hands in his own. He's been more vulnerable around you lately and you're not sure if that's good or bad. "It's been a rough couple of days, that's all."
You rack your brain. What could possibly be paining him that you don't know of? He's already told you that he tells you everything (within reason), so maybe it's something that you already know of? You furrow your brows as you dive deeper into your memory. Deeper, deeper… until you happen across a memory from just about a year ago.
The kiss you shared on your balcony close to midnight.
"Oh my God." You voice your incredulity aloud. "Oh my God! I missed your birthday!"
Spider-Man straightens his posture as he inhales sharply.
How could you have forgotten? He confessed to you on his birthday last year that you were the only person he had left in his life since he hated his birthday so much. October 29th was such a painful day for him — to think that you didn't stop for a second to wonder if he was okay that day. It's not like you would've been able to contact him of course, but what if he swung by after you'd fallen asleep? You should've at least left him a note or something.
"Don't beat yourself up over it, lovebug." The confidence is starting to bleed out of him, you notice. Spider-Man walks over to your couch and sits on the floor in front of it. "I'll be okay. It's not like I was going to celebrate or anything."
You move to the couch and adjust yourself so that the vigilante is between your legs. You two often assume this position when you're finished patching him up and too tired to goof around until he leaves. You would place your hands on his head and press your fingers into the fabric of his mask. Spider-Man told you once that the action was soothing, but you have yet to admit to him that it's your way of trying to conjure up an image of what his hair must look like underneath.
Like always, he gets himself into position, draping his arms across your legs. This time, however, he's looking up at you. You're not sure what expression he might be wearing.
"I wasn't saying that we should've celebrated," you say softly. "I'm just upset that you had to be alone. Are you sure you're okay?" You ask as you massage your fingers across the crown of his head.
He hums. "I am now. I promise."
"If you're ever feeling down, you know you can come and see me." Your words surprise the both of you, but you don't regret them at all. He always seems to be around when you need his company the most, so why shouldn't you do the same for him? Who else would? your mind unhelpfully supplies. "I may not be the best company in the world, but at least you won't be alone, right?"
Spider-Man moves so that he's on his knees facing you. He's so close to your face like this; you inch backwards to preserve your sanity. "You're the only company I need." He says it with so much conviction that you shiver. "But does this mean I'm getting special treatment?"
"What--? You mean from the other Spider-Men?" When he nods, you snort. "Yeah, I guess you do get V.I.P privileges. You get extra treats unlike everyone else."
"Extra?" He tilts his head. "But you haven't given me any candy at all."
You raise a brow. "All that's left is the candy I'm hoarding for myself. And before you ask, no, I'm not sharing any. Why don't you try actually trick-or-treating? People would probably give the city hero the best of the best."
He sinks a little lower, seeming defeated. "...Would you believe me if I said I tried that already?"
"Did it work?"
He's silent.
"...It didn't work, did it?"
"...No. They thought I was just some superfan."
Peals of laughter burst out of you at his admission. "So this is how they repay you, huh?" You say between giggles. "No faith and no candy? That's rough, buddy." You get the distinct impression that he's glaring at you, but that only makes you laugh harder.
Fed up with your insistence on laughing at his misfortune, Spider-Man taps your leg. "Since I get special treatment from you, can I ask for a few wishes?"
You wipe a stray tear from your eye. "I'm dressed as a superhero, not a magic genie."
"Please?"
"Fine, fine." You finally catch your breath. "You get two wishes.
"Not three?"
"I'm not a genie. Don't push it."
Spider-Man puts his hands up in defense. "Alright, two it is. The first is… let me stay with you for the rest of the night."
You shrug. Wouldn't be the first time. He's usually gone by the time you wake up, anyhow. "Granted. Next one's your last — make it count, bug boy."
Spider-Man doesn't react to your nickname. Instead, he just stares at you. A familiar sensation tickles up your spine. He's watching you; you know that stare all too well. "I think you know what I'm going to ask for next." His voice is deeper, smoother than it was mere moments ago.
You nod and he eases himself closer to you. You feel your heart pick up an unsteady rhythm and rather than kiss him normally, you lean in close and press your masked lips to his. He makes a surprised noise before he laughs and melts into the "kiss" all the same. When you pull away, he's still laughing. A very welcome change from the bitter smile you're sure he was wearing when talking about his birthday. "Consider that a freebie," you mutter.
"You're too kind," he chuckles.
Soon, your fingers come to the base of his mask to raise it just above his lips when he suddenly stops you. He reaches for your face and you feel something tug at the base of your neck. Somehow, you completely forgot you were wearing that stupid mask. "It's kinda funny," he half-laughs, "having to unmask you for once."
"You... You can't tell anyone about my identity, okay?" You tease.
Spider-Man rolls your mask up just enough to expose your lips and you do the same to him. Neither of you are sure who leaned in first, but you meet in the middle in a kiss that has fireworks bursting behind your lids. The two of you are greedy, pouring a week's worth of longing into the kiss. The mutual yearning is palpable, so much so that you can hear his breath hitch when you sigh. He rises to the couch slowly and without breaking the kiss, doing his best not to part from you for even a second.
You missed him. Oh, how you missed him — you missed how he would wrap a strong arm around your waist and pull you closer like it was nothing; how he would whisper his adoration for you between breaths; how he would chase after your lips whenever you would tease him with barely-there kisses. You missed the exhilaration, the thrill of knowing that you were the only one Spider-Man would ever treat this way. That you were his and he was yours.
He moves from your lips to your jaw, trailing kisses up to your ear and down to your neck. His pace is unhurried, though he seems eager to pull a reaction out of you. You give him what he wants whether you intend to or not. You press yourself closer to him in a silent request for more and he indulges you; his kisses become little nips, and the nips turn to bites as he starts to leave marks on your neck. He eases you back so that you're laying on your couch and he's hovering over you. The two of you stare at each other for a moment.
"Can I use my next wish?" His voice is rough. When you nod, he leans in once more. His uncovered lips brush against your ear as he whispers. "Let me give you a treat."
Something foreign yet familiar makes you shudder as you nod.
Spider-Man attacks your neck once again. Clearly he was holding himself back earlier, because every mark he leaves stings. He makes them dark and obvious, completely disregarding any warnings you may have given him on other days. You normally would tell him to ease up, to hide the marks that he so desperately wanted to leave on you. But now you let him do as he pleases. You gave him an inch and as expected, he took the mile. He soothes each one with a kiss and muffles your whimpers with his lips.
It takes a while before he's satisfied with his handiwork. Kazuha raises himself up with a shaky breath. Your wrists are in his hands and pinned against the couch. Looking down at you now, all flushed absolutely covered in his marks, he feels something uncontrollable stir within him. He has half a mind to tell you to close your eyes so he can take his mask off, but he refrains.
That's all he ever does when it comes to you. You, the greatest test of his endurance that he will ever encounter in his lifetime. No supervillain with any amount of underground connections or otherworldly technology will ever test his patience and restraint quite like you. For years, Kazuha has weighed the pros and cons of telling you who he is. He always wonders if you would still allow this, if you would still treat him like a lover if you knew who he was — if you knew that he's been lying to you. Though your reaction may not be guaranteed, it's a risk he's more than willing to take.
But he doesn't. Not tonight. Maybe another day when the time is right.
For now, Kazuha releases your wrists and sits himself up. He fixes his mask while you take yours off. You sit up and he watches as you ghost your fingers over each of your fresh hickies. You wince a little when you brush the one on the left side of your collarbone, above your heart. The silence that hangs in the air is evident, but not uncomfortable.
Then, you mutter. "I was supposed to give you a treat."
Kazuha reaches out and touches a hickey left on your pulse point. A sensitive spot for you – you shudder in response. He admires the lingering haze in your eyss. "You did. Thank you, lovebug."
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✧ my goodness. @perpetualcynicism look at what you've done. you've reawakened a monster in me.
✧ edit: btw, the dividers belong to @cafekitsune!! thanks so much for making such beautiful dividers!
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writingbyshiloh · 8 months ago
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Medical Drill
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Summary: Just more Team Germany stuff in the Toledo House
CW: smoking, FEM! Reader (referred to as “pretty lady”), general Berlin-ness, secret relationships, implied previous smut
AN: I ADORE Moscow so he’s featured in this. If it is disjointed it's bc I wrote half a month ago and another half while making bread. No beta. @soraya-daydreams <3.
WC: 1.65
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You rub your eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness of your room and what must have happened to wake you up so fast. The curtain you drew last night is firmly in place, all your belongings are where they should be. You start to lay your head back down. You bolt upright when you hear another knock on your door followed by the Professor stage whispering. 
“Vienna! We need you! Something happened to Moscow! He can’t breathe!” 
There is a high chance it’s a drill. You tell yourself. If something is wrong, he will be in your room shaking you awake. 
With a sigh, you heave yourself out of your bed and start rummaging through the “medical kits” scattered around your room. The real ones for the heist are still being assembled, so you have old books ranging from Care and Keeping of Farm Animals, to Don Quixote, labelled by which kit they are and the supposed contents. The order of them generally goes from the head down, no.1 being head injuries, no.2 and no.3 being neck and heart respectively. You pluck no.4 - lungs - off the floor and sprint out of your room. The hall is quiet, meaning Moscow must be at the checkpoint with the Professor. 
You wince slightly as the steps creek while you run down them. But if you can’t get any sleep, you don’t feel back about the others waking up. Stumbling out the house door you don't even register the temperature change and just keep running. 
Moscow and the Professor are sitting at the outside table quietly talking, while every few seconds the Professor looks at his stopwatch. The night is warm with a clear sky so they don’t seem to mind being awake. You run faster outside, trying to make up for lost time. Slaming the “medical kit” on the table you look up at the Professor (ignoring his wincing at how you treat the medical kit) to get your reaction time. 
“This says number 5 on it.” Moscow tells you. You almost break your neck with how fast you turn your head to look at the book. You see the clear Medical Kit 4 label and look back at Moscow to see if he actually is having a medical emergency. He lets out a small laugh and pats your arm as if to apologize for pranking you. You feel yourself smile despite the early hours of the morning. 
“I’m just messing with you. You did well.” He says. You don’t have it in you to be mad at him, and lightly push his shoulder to let him know you see the funny side. 
“Well, good yes. It’s faster than last week's drill. However, in a heist, every moment is crucial to treat the hostages.” The professor tells you moving his fist to articulate his point. Pulling out a seat you sit next to Moscow, who offers you a cigarette. You nod and he hands you one and his lighter. You force yourself to nod and pay attention to the impromptu lecture knowing you’ll never have to work again in a few months.  
The professor only has a few more comments, things you make mental notes about to try next time before he bids you a good (but quite early) morning and leaves to prepare for the class day. 
“Thanks for doing this,” you say quietly. 
“I used to wake up at 4 in the morning for the mines. This is nothing for me.” Moscow tells you. 
“Mind if I sit with you for a moment? I’m wide awake now, I don’t think I could sleep.” 
Moscow nods and you lapse into a comfortable silence. Moscow is kind to you and praises you in front of Denver for getting an education to gently tease his son. He has ended up being your partner for many heist-related team exercises. At first, it was because his son kept ditching him to team up with Nairobi or Tokyo, but now you prefer to work with him over anyone else. Berlin is a close second. 
“How are things going with your boyfriend?” He asks lighting up another cigarette. You frown thinking over his words while you watch the cherry of the cigarette burn. You don’t tell anyone about previous partners you’ve had before joining the heist, trying to keep going through with the future and ignoring your past. 
“My who?” 
Moscow turns his head to see if you’re joking with him. When he seems you’re not he continues “C'mon, you know. The other half of Team Germany.” He adds extra empathy to the team bit. 
You drop your gaze down to your cigarette in the ashtray. Moscow places his hand on your shoulder and gives it a small squeeze. You like Moscow, he’s like one of those uncles who aren’t blood-related but always there for you. He dances with you after three beers and tells you corny jokes. 
“I, um, we have been ‘seeing each other’ for a few months.” You say, using air quotes to describe the nature of your relation to the leader of the heist. Moscow shows no anger or judgement, just his kind eyes so you keep going. 
“It’s supposed to be causal. And I’m keeping it that way ‘cause who knows what will happen inside the mint. I can see why he was married five times. Part of me wants to go along with it, even after the heist. But I can't risk ruining the money.” 
“Are you going to tell him?” 
You sigh, watching the wind blow through the bushes. You tell yourself you will but there are so many what-ifs it's hard. 
“I’ll decide when we're all on the boat.”
Moscow looks like he has something to add, but isn't sure if he should say it. When he opens his mouth to speak, all that comes out is a bad cough. You rub your hand over his back as he hunches over, carefully watching and waiting before you offer him water or a cough suppressant. Much to your dismay, he resisted, trying to get back to the conversation between you. 
"What were you saying?" he asks. 
"I can't remember." you lie, and Moscow is kind enough to understand the topic of the conversation entirely. 
“Let me cheer you up. Have you heard the one about the doctor and the teacup?" 
You turn to look at him, excited for whatever it could be. 
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“Darling, you look exhausted,” Naririobi says joining you at the table for a lunch break. You nod slowly as if each movement is exhausting you, which isn't far from the truth. 
“There was a medical drill last night. I couldn’t sleep after.” You tell her. She nods sympathetically as you reach for another glass of water. 
“Go and nap. I’ll wake you before class starts,” she says. Thanking her you push your chair into the table and start to make your way to the stairs. 
You’re so close to your bed that you can almost feel the soft pillow under your head when a hand reaches for your wrist. Too tired to question or pull your hand back you just follow the hand to an arm clad in an expensive suit jacket, to a handsome face. 
You blink slowly, not to be seductive but to try and get some moisture back into your tired eyes. It helps but also puts you closer to an eye twitch.
“Hey pretty lady, where are you going?” he asks quietly. Everyone else is downstairs eating or outside to enjoy the summer but you appreciate his commitment to keeping it hidden. 
“To bed.” 
You watch his lips curve into a sharp smile, thinking you’re going to take him with you. 
“In the middle of the day? When is everyone awake? That’s risky for you.” He gently twists your wrist so he can kiss the back of your hand. “I like it.” 
“I’m going to my bed, alone, to nap,” you correct him, making no moves to pull your wrist back.
“How much time did the Professor say was an efficient nap? 20 minutes?” he twists his wrist to check his watch, shaking your arm in the process. “You can nap and we still have another 30 to spend together.” 
He chuckles as you shift your weight, seriously considering his proposal. 
The rapid heavy thumps of footsteps on the stairs make Berlin drop your hand and turn around. You bend at your side to peep over his shoulder to see who is coming. Denver comes into view first, with Moscow starting to loom behind him. 
You see Denver nudge Moscow to start speaking, some questions addressed to Berlin, something about the phone that will be wired to the Professor. 
“As you can see, I’m talking to Vienna right now,” Berlin says, turning back to you. He looks apologetic that your time together will have to be cut short. 
You wave a hand in front of your face. “I have to nap anyway. We'll continue this later?” 
Berlin smiles at your words, hearing the subtext in them and nodding in agreement. Turning back to the other men, you’re sure he’s still smiling. As he and Denver descend the stairs, Moscow catches your eye and gives you a friendly wink. One that just screams I was young once too. 
Face burning, you rush into your room, kick off your shoes and settle into bed. Even though you know you won’t be able to fall asleep now.  
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junipers-archive · 2 years ago
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Hiii, love your work. I'm asking if maybe there could be a Part 2 or something about this: https://www.tumblr.com/junipers-archive/715380966834782208/spencer-reid-x-baureader-pining-over-each-other?source=share
Maybe they confess and start secretly dating? I don't know just would really like to see more of it bc its really cute.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚✧ CONFESSIONS --> (word count: 1.1k)
❥ heyy thank you sm!! And yes ofc ofc❥ (It's not necessary to read part 1 but it adds to the story if you do!!)
❥ You and Spencer have been pining over each other for ages, everyone at the bau sees it and you finally get the nerve to bring it up!! Results in confession and hints towards secret dating :)
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It had only been week since the last case, when your co-workers not-so-subtly hinted towards Spencer returning your feelings. And despite yourself you couldn't get it out of your head. As of right now you were seated next to him in one of the black SUVs, picking your nails nervously and attempting to avoid eye contact.
You tried to look at your phone, but then it'd look like you were careless, then out the window but then you might look sad, and in the end you couldn't take your eyes off him.
He was driving so it gave you more wiggle room to glance every now and then, he was wearing a light purple dress shirt accompanied by one of his few but favorite ties, the light was hitting his hair so that his locks looked close to blonde.
You don't realize you've been 'glancing' too long until he speaks,
"Did I do something?"
Sputtering you try to answer, "I-What?"
He scrunches his eyebrows, puckering his lips like a genius who'd been stumped. And to be truthful he was, you'd been avoiding him non-stop all of this week, leaving him with only awkward greetings and little to no interactions. He missed you.
And when he'd gone to the other team members to ask about it they only gave him vague answers, Derek said you were just frustrated, Emily had only smiled knowingly, Penelope had giggled like she knew something and Rossi had told him to talk to you. Overall it'd seemed like everyone was in on a joke that he wasn't apart of.
He swallows before answering, only furthering your already distracted ogling as his adam's apple bops up and down.
"You've been distant, I just, when people are upset with me they tend to tell me what I've done! A-And I totally understand if I need to apologize for something, but can you at least tell me what for?"
You tilt your head giving him a view of the expanse of soft supple skin of your neck, which he tries his best not to stare at.
"I just...do you like anyone?" It seemed childish to ask but you were curious, at least the way you were asking could be interpreted as a friend-ly.
He freezes when you ask though, a million questions running through his mind. Did you know?Who had told you? Was he that obvious?
"I-no?" he wasn't lying, what he felt for you was beyond liking, it was something much deeper that he felt every time he set his eyes on you.
"No?" You shoulders slump, if he liked someone maybe you had hope, if he liked anyone it would've made your day.
"Do-Do you like someone?" His heart clenches at the thought of you even looking at someone else.
"Yea, yea I more than like someone alright." you grumble.
"oh." its all he can muster up, his brain in short-circuiting.
"I think he knows me better than I know myself to be honest." this was the closest you were ever going to get to a confession, might as well take advantage of his obliviousness.
"He's a gentleman, sweet, kind, he knows everything about me really and he's got these eyes, I swear I could get lost in them and I feel like myself around him..."
To your surprise as you're speaking he pulls over, his hands are clenched around the wheel and he looks...angry?
Once he's stops the car he begins to ramble just as you had, with the acception of a few more hand gestures.
"You can't like someone else. I'm the one that gets you your coffee every morning, I'm the one who knows you're allergic to specific flowers, knows that carry a book with you everywhere you go, that you can't go a day without dessert, that you'd rather stay in then go out, I know you Y/n. I know you better than anyone! Who could possibly know you better than I do?!"
Your eyes are wide, taking in everything he's said, because he's right, you were best friends before you were anything else. Nobody knows you better than him.
"You, I like you Spence." Its a quiet confession, one that you thought you would've said more confidently in retrospect and it takes a minute for him to process but he gets it eventually.
"Oh. But- but you said that- I thought- you-you like me?"
The grin on his face makes butterflies swarm in the pits of your stomach, "I was talking about you, genius. And I more thank like you."
"Yeah?" He questions, even though he's gotten his answer he likes to hear you say it, likes to hear the words leave your beautiful lips and enter his ears like music.
You role your eyes playfully, "Yeah...dummy." Your head is now ducked bashfully.
He feels like he's in a dream, a wonderful, amazing, and ethereal dream. "Would you- I mean you don't have to say yes- but- um-I was thinking maybe you- and I- together I mean-could-"
"Yes." When you get the jist of the question you answer immediately, you've known the answer to that question since the day you met him.
You're both grinning like idiots when he finally starts the car again, managing amazingly he notices not to swerve off course every time he glances at you too long. You talk about how the team wasn't a big help to either of you, swapping stories about the ways they would tease.
In a try to keep the conversation going he asks, "Should- we- um tell the team?" He still can't believe you more-than-like him, or that you agreed to a date, he feels energized, elated, and like he's won.
You're trying not to jump up and down or come off too happy, catching his gaze every now when you look at him and he's already looking at you, only worsening your growing cheerfulness.
"Nah, let them have a taste of their own medicine, lets just enjoy being together, we are together, right?"
He's turned red at your assumption, probably jumping far to quickly to answer, "Yes! I mean- yea, yea we're together."
"That's nice!" You also reply far too quickly, which ultimately gives you both hope, if the two of you were this whipped for one another then you must be meant for each other.
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clearheartsgreyflowerss · 5 months ago
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A doctor's touch- Baizhu x fem!reader
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this is so damn self indulgent and not really as much of a fic but more just my thoughts on Baizhu, so like slightly suggestive? That's like the only warning I have other than this is NOT proofread and will just be word vomit
Once again if you see grammar mistakes no you don't :)
I am 100% under the belief that Baizhu is a touchy person, like he will not get his hands off you. Before you two started dating he would leave little fleeting touches, to your shoulders, to your hands, to your thighs, etc. he just loves the feeling of your skin, even if for a few seconds.
When you two do start dating, good luck trying to get away from him. He will do everything holding your hand, with you in his lap, or just the two of you pressed close together, he just wants to always be near you!
Also he's a doctor, I know he's good with his hands. If he's not busy he will give you massages, and God I'm sure they're the best you'll ever have. He knows exactly where to put pressure and where not to, I'm sure he knows your body better than his own.
His favorite body part is definitely your thighs, he just loves how squishy and soft they are! If he has a break with you he will definitely lay his head on them, changsheng honestly is a little annoyed bc that means she actually has to move off his shoulders.
Speaking of Changsheng, she's totally a fan of you. even if she likes to complain, she does that about everyone, she does it significantly less about you dw :)
I mean this is a pretty obvious thing but he is the best person to be around when you're sick. I mean you literally live in a pharmacy with a doctor, he'll have you feeling better as fast as possible. Aside from the obvious though, I can see him actually being somewhat distraught while you're sick, not enough for anyone else to notice but changsheng, but still.
"Baizhu, you are well aware I don't like being around your neck if your hair is down." Changsheng started to slither up his arm, but stopped as she got closer to his neck. She hissed a little, before he raised his arm to meet her eyes.
"my apologies Changsheng, I've just been a little busy this morning." He walks over to the counter in the storage area of Bubu pharmacy, where he puts her down and then walks out of the room. She hisses once more, but curls up and waits for him to return.
He comes back into the room a few minutes later with his hair done, though changsheng can tell it wasn't done with his normal precision.
"You know [Name] just has a common fever, correct? I can tell that's what's bothering you."
"I am well aware, and it isn't bothering me, I don't know what you are talking about." Changsheng let out a grumble as she makes her way back up his arm and around his shoulders.
"you may be able to fool her, but you cannot fool me."
On the flip side, he is a NIGHTMARE to deal with if he is sick (well, more sick than he normally is). I mean he's literally dying, what's a little bit of extra coughing going to do to him? You are actually going to have to lock him in his room. Or lock yourself in there with him, at least you'll keep him occupied for longer till he tries to escape back to work.
He also will refuse to admit he's sick, like changsheng is at a point where shes begging you to make him lie down for a day or two. Yet he continues to brush off both of you, he always insists there is more work to be done. Even if you get him out right to admit that he's sick, he's still gonna try and take care of himself. He'll try to find all the medicine himself, make his own food etc., just because he doesn't want you to get sick too.
Back to him being touchy (sorry I was talking to my friend while I was writing they brought the being sick thing up) anyway, I think even if he's touchy, he's not a big fan of PDA. Like if you two are just around bubu pharmacy he will always be at the very least holding your hand, but when you two are out and about that's like the most he will do. It's not that he's embarrassed, he just doesn't find it necessary. If you two are out you're probably doing stuff, there's no need to be slowed down by constant touch (though if that's something you want he definitely isn't against it >:3)
THIS IS FOR ALL MY POLY PEOPLE IF YOU DONT LIKE THAT JUST SKIP THIS PARAGRAPH
I believe Baizhu would be open to being in a polyamorous relationship, whether that means both of you are just in an open relationship or you both have a third partner, he definitely doesn't care. I don't think he gets jealous easily, so if you bring another partner around he will welcome them very easily. He does tend to get defensive though, if he believes that one of your other relationships is hurting you, he will tell you what he thinks.
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Anyway yeah I thought this was gonna be longer but guess who fucking forgot Tumblr existed! My finals were so stressful and honestly writing even after I was done with them also felt stressful, so I took another break. Hopefully I can get back into writing this summer, (may write some kind of birthday fic bc my birthday was a week ago). I hope y'all are enjoying the shit that I post, I know it's so inconsistent and random, but we're almost at 60 followers which is crazy to me, like the fact that 60 of you like my shitty thoughts enough to follow me is so crazy I love all of you sm :3
Also I'm so sorry if this is unreadable I finished it without looking back at anything that I wrote last so uhhh sorry if I repeated any thoughts.
Daily click to help those in Palestine
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ifitmeanslosingyouthenno · 1 month ago
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au in which nathaniel is married to riko part 2 (part 1)
(like 2 people asked for this but lmao thats good enough for me)
i had to think hard about this ngl, i kinda just like leaving my thoughts open ended like that, and i had a choice, to like, be nice to neil
here is the opposite of that <3
tw for domestic abuse, manipulation, suicide attempt
neil doesn't truly remember what happens next, he just knows he's in a hotel room and he's in pain and he can barely open his eyes and he can see riko is right there in the room and neil just wants to cry and scream and go back and he doesn't want to be here
and riko is right fucking there and he's threatening neil and he's just going on and on about how much trouble he's been, and how much trouble he's going to be when they get back to new york and how riko wont ever let him slip away like that again
and then riko just fucking... stops, stops shouting, stops pacing, stops spitting things at neil, and he just cries and tells neil how much he has missed him all these years and he apologizes and he holds neil close despite the pain, despite the wounds, and he promises to be better, he promises he will take care of neil
no, not of neil
of nathaniel
and nathaniel, exhausted and terrified and hopeless and in agony, can do nothing but whisper to riko to take him home, even if the words taste like venom, even if there's nothing he wants to do more than throw up, even if there are tears rolling down his cheeks and blood covering his skin
because this is all there is for him right? neil josten wasn't real, his hopes and his friends and his family and his- no, andrew is not his anymore, none of the foxes are
neil josten's life isn't nathaniels
it never was
bc neil josten didn't exist in the first place and he never should have existed
meanwhile back in seattle (and what neil doesn't know), andrew felt guilt of all things, at seeing the look of heartbreak in neils face, of hope and despair and loss, so he forces himself to stop off the road not even a kilometer later (don't ask me about miles i have no idea how those work) and he kinda just hits his steering wheel in a sprout of anger but he cant make himself to go back just yet, so he calls aaron
aaron kinda just yells at him lol, bc he's been worried about neil himself all morning and him and kate are dying bc they are scared and they just want to know how neil is doing, and like aaron just makes andrew go back for neil while aaron gets there
except neil is gone
obviously, bc wtf andrew its been like half an hour where you expecting him to be waiting for you?
and when he asks around well, the cashier just knows, ah yes the fidgety redhead kid? oh yeah some rich asian guy in a mercedes picked him up, yeah they looked close, the asian guy even hugged him and basically left clinging off the readhead, yeah sorry buddy, they left like half an hour ago, why tho? is he in some kind of trouble?
and andrew just, loses it
the next few days are a blur for andrew, he knows wymack pulls some strings and with the help of the foxes and his own money they manage to get the recorded tapes from the security camera at the gas station and its grainy as shit and
and why the fuck is riko moriyama hugging neil?
how does riko even know him?
it doesn't make any sense, why is riko kissing neil, andrew’s neil, like there's no tomorrow??
why is neil leaving with him??
and why the fuck is riko posting a picture on instagram, ready to fucking come out and announce that he has a husband??
and why is that husband neil??
except its not neil, except riko says his husband is nathaniel, and well would you look at that?? nathaniel is nothing but a fucking liar, who didnt tell him that he's with someone else, who didn't even tell him his fucking name
andrew loses himself a little after that, even if he convinces himself that he's fine, that he even ended things with him, that neil is living the happy rich life with the richest and most popular man in exy, good riddance
(but andrew can never forget, not only the good things about the relationship, no, what he can never forget is neil- nathaniel's flinches, the way he would curl up into himself when someone spoke too loud, the fear in his eyes whenever he messed up at something, the quiet sadness when they- when they started being something, andrew and neil, and he confessed that he was scared of things changing, and he confessed that it was scary to open up to someone, the again implicit in his shaky voice)
(andrew can never forget the rage when neil confessed he wasn't in the mood for sex most times, and the confusion when andrew said they didn't have to have sex when it was a no, the rage at neil's soft whispered "i can say no?")
andrew can never shake off the feeling that something is so fucking wrong, but he convinces himself to stay the fuck out of it, that its none of his fucking business, that nathaniel can live his life however he fucking wants to, andrew doesn't need him, he never has (he's always been a good liar)
months go by, in which riko posts pictures of his perfect life with his perfect husband, who doesn't have social media accounts of his own bc he likes his privacy (then why is riko sharing his pictures-)
months go by where andrew gets drunk beyond relief, but he needs to keep his pro career to pay aarons tuition so he sucks it up and does the bare fucking minimum while making sure he doesn't get fired
aaron can never truly shake off the worry, he and katelyn were the ones who saw him when he arrived, beat up and terrified and so dangerously hurt, and how hard it was for him to open up and start to accept good things, kind things
so he keeps up with them, with rikos pictures and videos and stories, trying to find proof that there's nothing wrong there, trying to find a way to convince himself that no, he's making it all up bc he himself was abused by somone he loved and trusted, and he's just proyecting
but neil is too quiet, all respectful smiles and wrapping arms around himself, always wearing baggy clothing and turtleneck shirts
the smile never reaches his eye
aaron just cant help but worry for him, bc he cant worry for andrew anymore, not he doesn't want to worry about himself, not when he's ready to pretend nothing happened and wants to keep going like neil didn't even exist
its aarons day off, and it's been 8 months since he's seen neil when he gets a call from an unknown number and he answers expecting to hear from a colleague or a resident or a med student on shift at the hospital
what he doesn't expect is ragged breathing from the other line
"hello? who is this?" he almost hangs up when all he gets is silence and that faint sound of breathing for a full minute, but before he can he hears a sob
"im so sorry, i didn't- i didn't know who to call"
aarons heart stops, bc its neil, holy shit its neil and he asks if neil is okay, he asks if neil is safe, he asks what's going on
neil remains silent again for too long, and his voice is barely a whisper "i will be soon"
his heart drops to his stomach, fear, no, absolute terror, engulfing him, "neil what did you do"
silence and then "he got me prescribed valium"
his heart is beating too fast too fast he's going to have a heart attack, "neil, neil i need you to tell me how many pills you took"
that for some reason brings out a small giggle, "i dont, i didn't count, i just, I just swallowed them all"
"neil i need you to call 911"
"i dont want to do that"
"neil, please please call 911"
"i just, im sorry i called you, i just didn't want to be alone, i- andrew didn't pick up the phone"
aaron can feel the tears on his face, "neil please, just call 911, I'll, tell me where you are and i can come get you okay? you dont, you dont have to do this"
he takes a beat too long to answer, and he does with a sob "i cant take this anymore aaron, i can't- i can't stand living with him anymore, he won't let me go any other way"
"neil i promise I can get you help, legal help, we can get you away from him, you would never have to see him again, you would be safe"
neil is still crying, "it didn't work before, it, nothing works, nothing- this will make it better"
aaron is starting to hyperventilate, "neil, please just..."
"can you, can you tell andrew i didn't mean to fuck it up? i couldn't- i couldn't marry him without getting a divorce and I couldn't- i didn't want himto find me"
"neil you can tell him yourself, lets just call 911"
his words are slurring, he sounds so tired, "thank you for being such a, such a good friend aaron"
he's too quiet on the other line, aaron is fucking terrified, god he's crying and panicking, god what does he do what does he do
he puts the phone on speaker and texts kate who's just out getting takeout and god he really needs her right fucking now
thankfully, he hears the car come in the driveway and he runs down the stairs to meet her
the call is still going, but neil hasn't said anything
"neil?? are you still there?? NEIL??"
by the time kate opens the door, he's telling her to call 911, they're able to locate calls right?? even if neil hasn't answered, the call is active, thats enough right??
"i have someone on the line who i think is attempting suicide, i- i dont know where he is, and he isn't answering, but the call is still going"
its enough
"an ambulance is on its way, do you have any idea of what happened?"
"i think he overdosed on diazepam"
"you did great by calling us"
they can do nothing but sit in silence, call ongoing in aaron's phone, holding each other as they both cry and pray to a god aaron barely believes in that the ambulance gets there in time
he can't even read how much time has passed on the phone, when he's suddenly aware of noise on the other end of the line, what sounds like a door breaking, and then chaos
he can't distinguish what's happening, he doesn't know if they got there in time or not
"hello?? is someone there??"
"YES, yes is he alive? is he...?"
"he's alive, just barely, we gave him an antidote to reverse the effects and he's breathing, you did a great job sir"
"can you tell me where you're taking him? im in seattle but i will book a flight as soon as i can"
they tell him the name of the hospital, they tell him he will probably be there for a few days under suicide watch
before the paramedic ends the call he makes himself say, "can you make sure his husband doesn't see him? he's, he abuses my friend, he's the reason he took those pills"
the paramedic takes a deep breath, "can you tell me his name? the husband's?"
his voice trembles, "riko moriyama"
"i will personally make sure he doesn't have access to him"
"thank you"
the phone disconnects at last and through the tears, the first thing aaron does is book two flights for new york
one for him and one for katelyn
he hesitates, before rubbing his eyes free of tears and realizing andrew is in a game
he books a third ticket leaving a few hours later than his and kate's, grabs a bag and they're out the door in less than 5 minutes
he can do nothing to leave a voicemail for Andrew's phone, that he knows will destroy him and give kevin a headsup too, bc he might not be much, but he's all the support andrew is gonna have at the time
he prays to the god he's believing in a little bit more than he did an hour ago, and asks nothing more than for neil to be okay when they get to new york
did not mean for this to become longer than 2 parts oop
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