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soaps-hoe-141 · 2 years

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Back Together

Part 21

Pairing: Soap x Ghost

WC: 4.6k

Synopsis: I'm sorry

Warnings: I'm sorry

“Last one Lt, come on now,” he was standing to the right of the free weight station, watching his leg with a careful gaze as he squatted with the bar across his shoulders. The big man was trying to muscle the bar up, his expression tense with the pain Soap could see written in his eyes. Finally he shook his head and called it, “Drop it no, you’re gonna strain the muscle.” At first Ghost didn’t listen but when Soap gave him a warning look the bar dropped off his shoulders and he stepped forward, chest heaving as he braced himself against the wall. He was balancing on one foot as the tension in his thigh released. Soap walked around the station to give him a worried look, careful not to get too close in front of so many other people at the base’s gym. Blue eyes searched the masked face before he asked, “You good Ghost?”

The big man gave him a quiet nod as he lifted his foot behind him and held onto it for a second letting the muscle stretch. “Yeah, I’m fine Johnny.” He saw the smile through the mask, reassuring him that everything was fine before he added, “That’s all I’m doing today though.”

Soap nodded quickly “Ok sounds good.” He quickly pulled the weights off the bar, putting them back in their respective places before putting the bar back onto the rack. He glanced worriedly at the big man who was still stretching out his leg but he was quick to receive another smile of reassurance from the man. “Come on Ghost, let’s head out.” The Lieutenant let out an agreeing huff and they headed for the locker room. Soap glanced sideways as the man beside him threw a sweaty shirt into his gym bag. Tracing the lines of his tattoo slowly and then the swell of his ass beneath his gym clothes.

“Eyes up Sergeant,” the rough voice beside him said in quiet words, careful not to draw attention from anyone else that might have been in here. Soap turned back to the bench where his bag sat, a smirk on his face that both of the men ignored.

It wasn’t until a familiar tall German came in that Soap looked back up, examining the black mask that hid the lower part of his face. “Hey Konig,” Soap caught his eye, watching as he pulled a headphone out of his ear and the familiar smile lit up his face. “We still on for tonight, Konig?”

The Germ gave an enthusiastic nod at Soap’s question, answering with an equal amount of enthusiasm in his words, “Ja! The same bar as usual, yes?”

“Tha. I’m gonna go home and shower and then I’ll be there. The rugby game is supposed to start at 19:00 I think. Did you ask Gaz and Price?” Soap’s brow raised as he questioned.

Konig nodded, “Yes I did, Price said he can’t though, he has to be in early tomorrow. And Gaz apparently has tiktok requests to record, I am not sure what that means though.”

Soap gave a quick shrug, “Oh well, hopefully they can make the next one.” He turned to look up at Ghost then his smile still bright, “You’re coming though right, Lt?”

Ghost did not return the smile as Konig had, instead the man stated with a cold undertone, “I can’t Sergeant.” Soap’s smile faltered then and before he could ask why the Lieutenant said, “I have PT today. I can’t miss it, I’ve only got two more scheduled visits before I get cleared.”

The Sergeant looked down for a second before he apologized, “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s ok though, Ghost, we’ll make sure you get the next one.” Konig gave him a quick nod of agreement and Soap clapped the Germ on the back before saying, “I’ll see you in a few buddy.” The big man nodded as he put his headphone back in and grabbed his gym bag before leaving. Soap turned to see Ghost glaring hard at Konig’s back before the stoney glare shifted down to his face. “I really am sorry, Ghost. I thought your PT was tomorrow, not tonight.”

Ghost grumbled something low under his breath as he grabbed up his own gym bag and growled out, “You could have told me we had plans.”

He watched the big man as he stalked off, staring at the door even when it shut. Soap whispered to himself after a few seconds, “Fuckin hell, should have just asked.” He grabbed his bag muttering, “Fuck,” before he left the locker room and headed for his car in the parking lot. For the first time in a while he drove himself not back home but instead to the lonely apartment complex. Soap sighed as he dropped his gym bag on the ground by the door, stripping clothes off as he headed for the shower to wash the day’s workout off his skin, not to mention the day’s fuck ups. After he had gotten dressed again he took the time he still had to clean the apartment up, throwing away old groceries from the fridge and all the empty bottles laying around. He was cleaning up the clothes to throw them into his laundry bag when his phone buzzed on the counter.

Germ: Where are you?

Soap looked at the time before he let out a quiet curse leaving the laundry bag beside the counter and hurriedly answering, ‘On my way, big guy.’ He grabbed his keys and ran out the door running down the stairs and out to his car. He drove on two wheels almost the whole way there, it was a miracle he didn’t flip the car. Soap definitely could have passed as a Fast and Furious driver at that moment. He pulled into a parking space and half jogged inside, looking around at the tables, seeing Konig waving at him from the corner the team usually inhabited when they were here. Soap hurried over and gave the Germ a smile, “Hey Germ, sorry about that. Got distracted doing something.”

Konig slid him a beer and the Scot took it, lifting it to take a drink as the big man asked, “Was it Ghost?” Blue eyes went wide and he inhaled a gasp, the beer in his mouth going down with the air. Soap immediately sputtered, coughing wildly as he tried to expel the beer from his lungs. He saw the slight panic in the other man’s eyes as he stood from his stool before giving him a few pats on the back.

The Scotsman finally got his ability to breathe under control and Konig took his seat again, watching him with an innocent look. Finally he managed to choke out, “Wh-What is that-What do you mean by that?”

“You two are together, ja?” The big man’s head tilted and he saw the dark red eyebrows lift with his question. Konig really was just asking, it seemed, curious about the relationship between the two.

Soap shook his head, his face scrunching up in an obvious lie, “What? No we’re not together. Why would you even think that?”

Konig looked down at his beer before shrugging, “He’s always staring at your ass when you’re in the gym and he never lets you out of his sight when we’re training. He doesn’t do that with anyone else. And everytime you send me a snapchat it’s always from his house. I thought everyone knew Soap, I am sorry for making the assumption though.”

“He stares at my ass?” Soap asked with a small smile on his face, not even considering everything else Konig said.

The big man sitting across from him smirked beneath his mask before he pulled it down and took a sip. Finally he answered the zoned out Scotsman, “Ja, all the time. He’s really bad at hiding it honestly.”

Soap’s head shook slowly as he wiped a hand over his face and laughed out loud. It took him a second to get himself back under control before he said between little chuckles, “Germ, listen, you can’t tell anyone that. That stays between us ok? Both of us could get in trouble.”

“Oh ja I know. That’s why I’ve never brought it up before. I just thought it’d be funny to see your face when I asked you though.” The German laughed as he sat back in his chair.

The Scot shook his head, chuckling still at Konig before he said, “You know you’re an ass. Just wait until I get my hands on payback material,” Soap ordered them a couple rounds of shots, Konig buying the next couple rounds as they leaned back in their chairs watching the rugby game playing in the bar. By the time the match was over, Soap was feeling the effects of the alcohol hard enough that he didn’t even consider driving back, and Konig was about to tip over. “Hey big guy, come on. You need to sleep this shite off.”

Konig leaned hard into the shorter man as they exited the bar, throwing Soap’s balance off as they started walking down the sidewalk, both knowing they were far too gone to be driving anywhere. “You know I really don’t feel that drunk right now,” the big man slurred out as they walked. Soap slipped under his arm without a word, letting him walk a few steps watching as he smacked into the brick wall. The Scot let out a loud laugh at the sight of Konig just barely standing up against the wall before he muttered, “That was just rude.”

Soap giggled as he helped the big man back to standing up straight before letting him lean against his side again. “Yeah, but it was funny as shite Germ.” They headed up the stairs to Soap’s floor, Konig leaning head first against the wall as the Scot beside him struggled with his keys. Laughs slipped out of the Germ’s mouth as he watched Soap fail a couple times to get the key inside, “Shhh Konig.” He tried to push the key in again, laughing at himself as he failed for the second time and still trying to shush the big man again before he fell into a fit of drunken giggles himself. Finally, the door opened on the third try and they tumbled inside the small apartment.

Konig braced himself against the counter as he turned to lock the door back. He threw his keys and phone on the counter before letting Konig wrap an arm around his shoulders again, walking the big man down the hall. “Alright big guy, you’re sleeping in my room. Can’t have you breaking my couch.” He felt the chest next to his temple vibrate with a couple giggles that drew out his own again. Soap pulled himself out from under the big man’s arm as he went to turn on the light so they could see. Before he had even turned all the way around though he heard a thud and caught himself against the wall as he glanced back over his shoulder.

Konig was on his hands and knees as Soap watched from his spot against the wall, unable to stop the laugh as the big man crawled towards the bed and gave up halfway there before rolling to his back. His arms stretched out and he waved Soap off as the Scot tried to help him up, “Nein nein, leave me here. I sleep here now.” The smaller man nearly tripped over his own feet as he tried to step back, just barely catching himself on the door frame.

“Yeah Germ, you stay there. It’s better than the hardwood floors at least,” he slurred out before he disappeared out the door and down the hall. “Goodnight Konig, don’t puke on my floor!”

“Copy that!” He heard from the bedroom as he shed his clothes and collapsed over the back of the couch. Welcoming the comfort of sleep, even if he was wishing Ghost was there. He did always sleep better when the scent of pine and musk was there for him to bury his face in. One night though, he could make it one night.

A loud bang at the door had his tired eyes struggling open, looking around the dark room trying to figure out where he even was. It was unfamiliar at first until his mind came back around along with a pounding headache. He winced as he pushed himself up from the couch, wondering why the hell he was at his apartment. Oh yeah, he had gone drinking with Konig, he’d forgotten about that. Another loud bang had him rolling to the floor with a loud thud, and a muffled curse as he fought to get his limbs in working order. He struggled to his feet and unlocked the door before pulling it open.

Soap stumbled backwards as the door pushed open faster than he had expected. He saw a familiar balaclava looking down at him, and he could see the worry behind those hazel eyes. “Fuckin hell Johnny, I thought you were dead.” Strong arms trapped him in a hug, pressing him hard into the black hoodie he was wearing. Soap took in a deep breath and caught himself smiling warmly at the thing he had been missing. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

He turned his head to the side so his cheek was flush with the warm fabric and answered, “It’s on the counter. I was tired after getting back here so I just went to sleep.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I would have picked you up.” The arms slowly unwound from him and the gloved hands cupped his face on both sides, holding his eyes up at him forcing him to look into the worry that had been wrought on the man others feared but who in turn feared for him.

Soap shrugged and looked down, feeling heat rush to his cheeks when he muttered, “I don’t know. I was kind of drunk so it just didn’t come-”

A tired voice spoke from down the hall, “Soap?” He watched the hazel eyes lift over his head and lock on to the man at the end of the dark hallway who was holding onto the wall for balance as he walked towards the living room. “Oh, hey Ghost.”

The Lieutenant’s grip on his face loosened and his hands fell to his sides. Ghost looked back down at him and then back up, and Soap immediately saw the rage there, the tension in that barely controlled feral form. Konig stopped a couple feet away at their end of the hallway and Soap finally turned to see he had stripped at some point. He felt his stomach drop as Ghost shouldered past him too fast to be stopped. There was a quiet rage in the initial step towards him and a fist shot forward with blinding speed. It happened faster than Soap honestly thought possible, Ghost’s first punch knocked the German down in his still tipsy and very tired state and then he was leaning over him with one hand clamped over his throat and the other relentlessly striking at Konig’s unmasked face.

“Ghost! What the fuck!?” Soap jumped into action then, grabbing the Lieutenant by the arm and halting his next strike. “Are you fuckin crazy man!?” The rage-filled eyes turned on him then, attention turning on him without a second thought. The large hand holding Konig by the throat released and he heard the huge gasp in as he coughed and tried to catch his breath. Ghost’s hand was around his own throat then, not squeezing just pushing him back until his back hit the wall. His head smacked against the drywall and the big man towered over him, a statue of barely controlled rage. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing Lt?”

The man leaned forward a bit as he growled out, “I could ask you the same thing, Sergeant MacTavish.” Konig was the one who broke their tense stare as he shoved Ghost off of the smaller man finding the rage focused back on the German before he growled, “Stay the fuck out of this, git.”

Soap had to break them up next before they came to blows again, “Konig go to my room.” The German narrowed his eyes at Ghost before Soap gave him a firm push in the direction. He waited until he heard the door close before he looked up at the Lieutenant, “What the hell was that about?”

He could see Ghost’s jaw working underneath the black fabric before he answered in a strained voice, “You fuck the one man, the one fuckin man MacTavish.”

Dark brows furrowed before his head shook and he immediately shot back, “Fuck him? I never did anything with him, Ghost. He was sleeping in my room and I was on the bloody couch.”

“Oh really? Why’d it take you so long to answer the fuckin door then?” Ghost pressed a bit closer at the question.

Soap glared hard at the big man before answering, “I fell off the bloody couch and couldn’t get back up, that’s why. Wasn’t expecting a 6 '4 bastard to come beating my door down in the middle of the night.” Ghost’s rage was still barely controlled, even directed at the Scotsman who just shook his head, “You could have at least asked and waited for an answer before you decided to beat the shit out of a man who is our teammate by the way, in case you’ve forgotten that bit.” Ghost looked around at the floor then where Soap’s clothes were piled up at the foot of the couch.

Soap shoved by him to grab his phone off the counter then, ten missed calls and about twenty missed texts all asking if he was ok and whether he had made it home ok. He tossed the device back onto the counter and focused his glare back on the Brit, “You should leave. I can’t believe you would think I would cheat on you for a quickie with our fuckin teammate. Not to mention Ghost, us,” he pointed between the both of them, “We aren’t even anything. You have no right to me, I’m not a piece of property you get to fight over.”

The man turned to find Soap’s face, and even through the mask he could see the disbelief in his eyes. The big man shook his head slowly, “Are you serious?”

“Aye, get the fuck out. I think we need a bit of space, you obviously need to get your head on right, and I have some thinking to do.” The Scotsman’s arms were crossed over his chest now, his jaw set in a stern look. Both of them were blind to the other’s pain now, too wrapped up in their own thoughts at the sudden shock of Soap’s words.

Finally, Ghost looked down and growled out, “Fine.” He turned without another word and was gone in a moment, door slamming shut behind him.

Soap couldn’t move from his spot in the living room, not even when he felt Konig’s hand touch his shoulder as he rounded to his front. Green eyes slipped into his field of vision breaking his eye contact where the door had slammed shut, “Soap?”

Blue hues fixed on green then and he swallowed hard at the lump that had gathered in his throat. He noticed the swelling that had begun around the big man’s cheek and nose where Ghost had been landing blows. “Hold on, I have something for that,” he shrugged his hand off and moved to the cabinet, searching through them until he found the med kit Ghost left in his apartment months ago. Soap opened it up and nodded towards the couch, “Sit down.”

Konig didn’t move at first as he watched the Scotsman before he finally complied with a sigh and sat on the couch. Soap stood in front of him laying the med kit on the coffee table. He inspected the man’s nose carefully before he muttered, “It’s broke, you ready?” The man nodded and Soap braced his thumbs on the spot before he pushed it back where it was supposed to go. Konig winced and held his hand up as blood pooled out of it. Soap was ready with a cotton nose plug, an ointment smeared on the end, and shoved it as high as it would go. It took a second for him to find the cold packs but he finally did. He felt his hands shaking as he tried to fold it over and crack the contents inside but he couldn’t get his fingers to cooperate. Blue eyes closed for a moment and he took in a deep breath trying to settle himself.

He felt Konig’s hands grab his, opening them as he took the cold pack from him. “I’m ok Soap…Are you?” He saw the worry in the green eyes, the desire there to help him but not having any clue as to how.

Soap swallowed hard as he stepped back, tripping over the coffee table. His shoulder hit the hardwood hard and he let out a loud string of curses. Konig stood to try and help him but Soap merely shook his head shrugging his hands off, “I’m fine, I got it Germ. Just go back to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” The Sergeant pushed himself up and didn’t bother to wait for an answer as he disappeared down the hall. He shut the door quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

The time passed around him in a blur as he sat there staring at the floor while his mind replayed his angry words. Replayed the hatred he had felt in that moment and the pain he had wanted to cause. Why would he ever think he had cheated, how could he ever think that? When he saw the first hint of the sun he stood up, dressing without a thought. He headed down the hall, glancing at Konig’s passed out form on the couch. He scribbled a quick note telling the big man to lock up before he left and slapped it to the door as he shut it behind him.

Soap retrieved his car from the bar’s lot, heading to base with a quiet determination to distract himself. As far as self-destructive tendencies went Soap’s certainly ranked higher than most. He made his way down the hall towards the cages stopping only when a familiar voice yelled behind him. “Soap!” The Scot turned to find Price in the hall behind him. He got a beckoning nod and backtracked to his office, eyes narrowing as he looked between Laswell and the Captain. Price spoke first, “You’re next in the rotation Sergeant. Gaz had the last one, Laswell has you for the foreseeable future.”

Blue eyes turned to the woman and he gave a quick nod, “Yes ma’am.”

“I need you to confirm some intel for me on a base location. Strictly recon, that’s all. Is that clear?” Laswell waited for him to nod his understanding before she continued, “You leave in an hour. You will be briefed on the plane. Gear up and head for the tarmac.”

Soap hid his surprise at the lack of time he had before takeoff but merely nodded and said, “Yes ma’am.” He was out the door as fast as he had entered, continuing his trek to the cages. He packed his gear with quick hands, running through a mental checklist that had been burned into his memory after years of service. The Scot didn’t bother looking up when the door opened, busying himself with packing rather than worrying about whoever was now standing at the door to his cage and watching him. He didn’t need to look up though, there was only one person who watched him like that, who made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his skin prickle with the sensation of being watched. He threw his bag over his shoulder and stood up with a gun case in his hand, staring hard at the masked man in front of him.

Ghost just stood there, blocking his way with a hard stare. “Where are you going?”

He nearly faltered from the hard glare when he heard the hint of worry in the voice. The Scot didn’t though, saying with an even tone, “Solo recon, I leave in fifteen minutes.” He stepped forward but the big man stayed stubbornly in the way, “Move Ghost I have to go.”

The big man shook his head, “I need to talk to you.”

Soap shoved past him, refusing to look back up at him, “I don’t have time Ghost. Maybe you should have talked last night.” He opened the door leaving the cages behind but not the big man who was right behind him, keeping up easily with his long strides. Finally he caved in and grumbled out, “Talk then.”

“I’m sorry, Johnny,” that caught the Scotsman’s attention, blue eyes flicking up to him and nearly causing him to trip over his own two feet. Ghost continued with a strained voice, “I shouldn’t have hit Konig but…He just makes me so fuckin angry. I can’t help it.” They both went quiet as they passed someone else walking down the halls before Ghost added quickly, “I never should have put my hands on you either. I didn’t mean to.”

The Scotsman didn’t stop, staring hard at the path in front of them as they exited onto the tarmac, a jet taking off in front of them and his own ride waiting for him a hundred yards off. He had five minutes now, better make this quick, “You did mean to Ghost. You meant everything you said and did last night and that’s the worst part about all of this. Konig isn’t a part of whatever we are, you should have been able to trust me.” Hazel eyes were watching him with an emotion that not even he could read. “Do you think I’ve never been jealous? That I don’t want to beat someone whenever they look at you, whenever you lift that bloody mask up? Cause you’re wrong if you do. But the difference is that I trust you, and I respect you enough not to put some idiotic restriction on you and your life. I can be friends with whoever I choose to be friends with Ghost, I can make that decision for myself because I’m a human being and I have that right.” Soap turned to make for the plane before he stopped himself and looked back up at the man, “We’ve been moving too fast, Ghost. We need some space. This will be good for us, at least I hope so. Maybe while I’m gone you can find some of that respect I just mentioned.”

Soap turned and took a couple steps, eyes widening and freezing when he heard the deep voice yell over the plane’s engines with a desperate tone, “Please Johnny, I love you.” He turned so fast he nearly broke his own neck watching as the big man seemed to realize what he had said, surprise lighting up those hazel eyes.

He took a couple steps back towards Ghost, getting close enough he could hear the anger there and pressed a stiff index finger into his chest, “No, you don’t get to do that. Not to me, not right now. Christ Ghost,” he shook his head and looked up at the blue sky as if cursing whatever higher power sat up there laughing down at him. “We can talk when I get back, but you don’t do that to me, never again.” Soap turned back to his plane, booking it across the open space as he boarded, cursing the highest power above that the big bastard had said that now of all times.

#slow burn #soapxghost #ghost #soapghost #soap cod #soap #simon ghost riley #ghostxsoap #ghost cod #ghoap #captain john price #john price #john soap mactavish #kate laswell #konig cod #konig #modern warfare #call of duty #modern warfare ii

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awrldalone · 2 years

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14th December 2022, 9.31pm

iYesterday I broke two glasses while cleaning them. One fell from my hand and hit the sink. It shattered in big pieces, they must’ve been four or five. I carefully picked them up and threw them in the trash. The second one slid from the drying rack when I tried balancing a mug between two bowls. This time, the shards were so small, so many. I slowly piled them all up together, and they joined the other glass in the bin.

This morning I was so idle. I slept a lot. More than usual, at least. At 11pm V. and I went downstairs, it was freezing, and we smoked a cigarette. As soon as we got back to our flat, I brushed my teeth and my face, and I went to bed. My alarm was set for 8.30am, but I slept until nine. I dreamt about being in the Romanian apartment I slept in with M.

Then, when I woke up, I could not get up. I could move, I was not paralyzed. Physically, I was okay. I opened my eyes, the ceiling was grey and out of focus. I just stayed there, for an our.

Every second of our lives, we always have two options. It’s simple. We can either do something, or not do something. Not doing implies another kind of doing, which is the action that one was previously performing. Not doing is the choice to keep doing, whereas doing is the choice to change things, to break the infinite cycle of the instant by pursuing another action.

It takes a certain amount of willpower to do, to move, to change direction. There’s a threshold that needs to be reached, and overcome. One needs to muster enough will to move the body differently. It takes more effort to turn left than to keep walking straight.

Usually, this effort is still minimal, especially when it comes to doing the microactions that overall form a bigger action. When cooking, one does not need to find the will to cut the tomatoes and the zucchini and the chicken, and to turn on the stove, and to season the ingredients, and to put the ingredients in a pan. Once we decide to cook, the threshold for all of those smaller actions has been overcome already.

Some days, this is not the case. Today, it was not the case. I opened my eyes, some music was still playing from my phone because I forgot to turn it off before falling asleep. I just stayed there, barely able to breathe and feel my skin brush on the duvet every time my chest raised up. It was dark. The sun was up but I always close these grey heavy curtains before going to sleep, so the room was still coated in darkness. And I just stayed there.

When I finally managed to get up, I just sat on my chair, my legs crossed so that my feet would not touch the floor. At some point I made a coffee by microwaving some cold brew and milk, and I drank it without tasting it. Still, I did nothing. I opened my laptop to load my Contract Law book, but I just stayed there, my desktop looking at me. I wasn’t even looking at it.

At around one p.m., I finally managed to do something. Inertia can only take you so far. I showered, but showering was hard. Stepping into the shower was hard. Turning off the water once I was clean was hard. Drying my hair was hard. Dressing up was hard.

I left the house. My hands were so cold they hurt, as usual. The sun was still in the pale blue sky, yet I could already see the horizon tinting itself yellow. I went to the city center and sat at a café and studied, studied studied. If other people look at me, I can act like I am doing something, until I actually start doing that thing.

My father called on the way home, and again my hands felt like they were going to fall off. I had to switch the hand in which I was holding my phone a couple of times, to let the other one warm up in a pocket.

He has been doing this thing I hate, recently, Well, he does many things I hate, but lately he started completely ignoring what I say in a different way than when I was younger. As a child, I’d talk and talk and talk, and he would not listen, but he would act like he did, and I would realize he had been elsewhere with his mind only when I referenced something I had already said. I hated it, I still do. Once, I talked to him for an hour at the beach. It was after lunch, we went on a walk by the shore, I wore my t-shirt to cover my body up, I have been self-conscious since forever. I think we went on that walk because he wanted me to walk, to do physical exercise, to burn off calories, to lose weight – not because he wanted to go on a walk with his son. While the feet sunk into the wet sand, I talked about lots of things. I still remember telling him about the Pokemon game I was playing, and the book I was reading, and the things I would like to happen in both. I must’ve been seven, or eight, I still wore my hair so short, and it was still so light. That night, we went out with some family friends for dinner, and I still remember how my heartstrings snapped when I realized he had not listened to a word of what I had said.

But today it was not the same thing. He listened to me, he understood what I said, he just did not care. I told him I hate what I am studying, that I hate this city, that I am tired, and after everything he said that it’s all going well, then, because at least I have made some friends. I felt made fun of. I did not let it touch the tone of my voice and I ignored it while the call lasted, but the feeling is still here, bitter on my tongue and burning in my throat.

I should be studying, right now. I do not want to. I really do not. I might see S. this Saturday, I might go all the way to Brussels just to study and hang out with him; if that will be the case, I need to have summarized all of Government Law by then.

-c.

#diary

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chisatowo · 2 years

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Girl help the heat of the house has finally pushed me into taking cold showers

#rat rambles #if I dont shower before going to bed Ill die but also it Im even slightly sweaty while Im trying to sleep Ill die so rip hot showers 😔#usually back at home it balanced out by the shower going cold if I sat in there more than like 20 minutes but here it doesnt #also I have two fans constantly wirring in my room so that helped a lil bit at least #I think my grandparents are running the ac more now though so hopefully I wont have to open the window again tonight #its silent out there til the second I turn off the light and lay down #at which point every car goes ah yes midnight the best time to drive by this specific house #anyways Im probably gonna go to sleep soon gn gamers

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lacheri · 3 years

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Hello Cherry I have a request! Eren always teasing and being a little mean to the reader so she decides to give him a taste of his own medicine (so sorta like a sub! eren x brat tamer! reader) okay that is all ilysm bye bye

hi Kat!! you send me the best prompts 🤤 I hope you enjoy thank you for requesting ily!!!

too much

pairing: sub/brat!Eren x brat tamer!fem bodied reader

content: Eren’s an asshole, established relationship, ruined orgasms, oral (f and m receiving), humiliation/degradation kink, minors DNI.

wc: 3.5k

notes: this is unedited I literally just wrote this up as fast as I could bc this ask drove me WILD

Your fists were clenched at your sides, fingernails digging crescents on the inside of your palms, knuckles white. You were stomping through your shared living room with your boyfriend, curses and swears leaving your lips. Eren had managed to piss you completely off, feelings of humiliation and frustration fueling the fire coursing through your veins.

It all started earlier this morning, waking up next to your sleepy boyfriend, kissing his cheek sweetly. Your half naked bodies wrapped together in a cocoon of blankets, hair messy and eyelids heavy. Usually, Eren would stir awake and return your kisses with enthusiasm, but he had cracked a single eye open this morning, frowned and grumbled, and pushed you off of him. You had pouted, feeling rejected, and immediately flung yourself out of the bed to get ready for the day. When Eren had finally woken up, joining you in your shared bathroom as you brushed your teeth, he made no effort to console you. He saw the wrinkles on your forehead as your eyebrows furrowed together, a tell all sign for what you were feeling. He simply brushed past you, grabbing his own toothbrush and standing right beside you as if he hadn’t been so recklessly ignorant of you.

When the two of you had spit and gargled mouthwash, he cleared his throat, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips, “What’s your deal?”

Your eyes flickered to him for a brief second, and you rolled your eyes and stomped off back to your bedroom to get dressed. Fuck him, if he wanted to start the day off so sour, he was going to get the same attitude back.

Eren followed behind you, smirk still growing, “You’re mad I pushed you away this morning, aren’t you?”

“So you did it on purpose?” you couldn’t hide the hurt in your voice, back facing him as you searched through your closet. You really had intended to ignore Eren for a while, letting him stew in your cold shoulder treatment, but he always knew how to crawl under your skin and get a rise out of you.

“Just wanted to see how you’d react,” he teased, coming directly behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder, arms crossed on his bare chest. “I was right.”

Fury licked flames up your throat and you stepped forward, throwing your boyfriend off balance. You didn’t want to play whatever game he was trying to set up, you had things to do today besides bend to Eren’s will. Hearing his response, it drove motivation into the pits of your mind that Eren was not going to get a reaction out of you anymore today.

However, he had other plans.

Today has been your day off from work and school, as well as Eren’s day off. The plan was to straighten up the house, invite your friends over in the evening and order pizza. Nothing too crazy or over the top, just a nice relaxing day.

Things didn’t quite work out that way. After the two of you had gotten dressed and made breakfast, every single time you tried to clean an object, Eren would somehow get in the way. He pulled books of the bookcase and left them on the floor or any surface he could find, managed somehow to fill the sink with dirty dishes, not rinsing them off to put in the dishwasher, and found every article of clothing between the two of you to toss on the bedroom floor. The hour long cleaning session had turned into the entire day, long enough that you had to text your friends that tonight wasn’t going to work out.

Because every time you made progress in your small home, Eren would find another thing that got added to the list. As much as it infuriated you, mostly because Eren was supposed to be helping you, you couldn’t let it phase you. No, you knew he was trying to piss you off. You weren’t going to crack under his pressure, not give him the satisfaction of seeing you wound up and upset.

The last straw had snapped when he walked into the living room, seeing you pick up the last book he had thrown on the floor, and opened his stupid mouth.

“Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning?” Eren spat. “This house is a complete disaster.”

Your eyes flickered incredulously to the wall clock, six o’clock it had read, your entire day wasted away, “Are you fucking serious right now?”

You searched for a hint of playfulness in his expression, seeing nothing but his stone cold eyes piercing into you as he spoke without hesitation, “I’m entirely fucking serious. How are we supposed to have company over if you can’t clean a fucking house?”

“Already cancelled,” you fumed, standing up from your crouched position, leaving the book on the floor. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to like that?”

“You. What? Do you need me to use your name at every sentence whenever I talk to you?” Eren kept edging, a feel of gratification consuming him upon learning his friends weren’t coming over anymore. “How am I supposed to marry someone who can’t fucking clean?”

You felt sharp pangs of hurt in your chest, eyes losing their spark, “Eren, that’s mean. Why are you being so mean today?”

He had only smirked, reveling in your mood switch. In the silence shared then, he announced he was getting a bath, he had such a hard working day and wanted to relax. He had left you in the living room alone, and you felt the anger inside of you bubble up, threatening to go over. You snapped, heading straight to the bathroom where you could hear the flow of water into the tub stop.

The door slammed against the wall as you threw it opened, seeing Eren jump slightly at the impact. His hair flowed down to his shoulders, arms stretched out against the rim of the tub, and in any other situation you’d be crawling into the water with him. He’d be so sweet about it too, bringing you to his chest and giving you kisses while you giggled at the attention. Hell, he’d probably even shower you in compliments and appreciation. Not today though, his eyes hardened as you stopped right in front of him.

“Out, now,” you ordered through clenched teeth. You could hear Eren’s breath kick up, but he didn’t move. “Are you deaf? Get out, now, Eren.”

His body moved before his mouth could protest, standing stark naked in the shin deep water. You could see the steam rise off of his skin, your eyes trailed downwards. Although soft, his dick was still impressive, but the longer you stared at the fleshy member, it twitched and rose a bit. You quirked an eyebrow, realization dawning on you. Oh, so this was why Eren was acting like this today?

You made eye contact with him then, his legs shifting over the rim of the tub, before standing directly in front of you. Your hand whipped up to the back of Eren’s head, fisting his hair, and yanking his head back, exposing every line and vein and bulge in his throat.

“This what you wanted? Wanted to get me all angry so I could take it out on you?” Eren’s dick was rock solid, giving you a physical answer, but you still needed the verbal one, “Answer me.”

“Yes,” he choked out, and his Adam’s apple bobbed along his throat.

“Well it fucking worked. I have half a mind to leave you here, like this, to take care of yourself,” you pulled his hair further, a gasp leaving his parted lips.

“No, please, don’t,” Eren’s voice came out whiny as he begged. You smirked, although he wasn’t able to see it as his eyes faced directly up to the ceiling.

“You’re going to drain this tub,” you began to instruct, tilting his head so his eyes trailed to your hard set ones. “And then you’re going to dry off, and go lay flat on your back on the bed. Do you understand me?”

He nodded feverently, happy you released your grip as his neck had begun to ache. You smoothed that same hand over his jaw, feeling the stubble underneath your fingertips, “Good boy.”

Eren set to work quickly, giddy with excitement. This had been his plan all along, to get you riled up enough to take it out on him. Genuinely, Eren hadn’t meant to start this at all today. When you had kissed him awake, he was having a really good dream he didn’t want to wake up from quite then, and hadn’t meant to push you away. Upon seeing your sad pout, followed by a flicker of anger in your orbs, something stirred within Eren. He began to question, just how far could he push you until you caved in?

Eren didn’t stick around to watch the tub fully drain, he was dried off and on the bed just as you had requested. You leaned against the wall, clad only in your bra and panties, and you watched him with hungry eyes as he followed your every instruction. Your boyfriend was a beautiful man, every part of him intriguing and gorgeous to you. He looked like a Greek God, arms and legs spread out, the subtle light from your bedside lamps casting shadows across his abs and into the V of his pelvis. Eren had a beautiful cock as well, thick and long and veiny, it sat perched on his lower abdomen, twitching as you pushed yourself off the wall to loom over your man.

“Look at you,” you mused, letting a dark chuckle vibrate from your chest. “You’re already hard and I haven’t even touched you yet. You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you baby?”

“Yes,” he answered. The skin on his cock was so taut and tight, feeling somewhat light headed as all the blood was rushed to his member.

“You know I’m going to have to punish you, right? For being so mean to me today?” you batted your eyelashes, crawling on to the bed, sitting on your knees by his side, refusing to touch him just yet.

“I know,” Eren whined, trying to reach out to touch your thigh only to be met with the harsh slap of your palm. “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not,” you cooed in false security, brushing Eren’s hair out of his beautiful face. “But that’s okay, you’re gonna’ make it up to me, right now.”

You traced the outline of Eren’s plump lips, resting your forehead against his as you muttered in your darkest voice, “I’m taking away your right to touch me. Convince me you’re sorry, and maybe I’ll reconsider.”

Eren squirmed under the heat of your words, eyes darting across your face for a hint of a lie, of hesitation. He found nothing, only the glimmer of lust in your eyes as you gazed down at him. Your fingers pushed past his soft lips, and he needed no instruction to latch on and suck. If this was the only touch he would get of you, your fingers pumping into his mouth, scissoring his tongue, he’d take it all so greedily to make you regret putting these rules in place. He never broke eye contact, curling and circling his tongue between your pointer and middle fingers, imagining they were the divine petals between your thighs. You were doing the same, feeling the gush of arousal slicken you. You tapped his tongue, signaling a release. He parted his now swollen lips easily, eyes pleading.

“Can I kiss you at least?” Eren rasped, his hands twitching at his sides.

“No,” you placed a contrasting sweet kiss to his forehead in your dark tone. “That would be touching, sweetheart.”

Eren held back a whine, knowing it was futile. He was simply going to have to lay there, and take whatever punishment he had coming, unable to escape it or bring you pleasure amongst it all. If there was a glimmer of hope, it was crushed as he felt your face travel down to his neck. You were in complete control, just as Eren had wanted.

You sucked and licked at his throat, your dry hand coming up to squeeze what skin you weren’t kissing. You trailed your lips down, kissing his entire torso. As much as you wanted to spend the time working Eren up, you had ideas swirling in your head. Eren had no patience with you today, so you weren’t going to have patience with him. Besides, it was sort of cruel to not pay immediate attention to his swollen cock.

Your hand slicked in his saliva wrapped around the base of his length, a sharp intake of breath heard from Eren’s lips. It came out shaky as you began to pump, his precum oozing from his tip and meeting the warm wetness of your fingers. You twisted your hand up and down, beginning to feel the moisture rub away, his spit drying. This was no good, and you continued to kiss down his stomach until your lips met the head of his reddened cock. He hissed as you spat on it, hand spreading it all over. Your tongue slipped past your lips, kitten licking at his tip. Eren couldn’t think straight, and he settled his hands above him to try and keep his grip as far away from you as he could.

It was nearly impossible to not grab your hair and slam you down as your sweet lips parted and you began to suck his fat tip. Eren succeeded though, knuckles white gripping pillows, and he heaved out a groan. You swiped your tongue along his slit, tastebuds soaking up his salty precum. You prodded in just a little bit, sending a shiver up Eren’s spine. Your hand still doing most of the work, you thought you’d up the game by throwing your other hand in the mix. Eren let out a high pitched moan, throwing his head back at the onslaught of attention.

“It’s so fucking cruel I can’t touch you,” he whined yet again, craning his neck to meet your eyes.

You popped your mouth from his head, “I guess I’m going to be downright evil after what I’m about to do.”

Before Eren could respond, your hands moved to his thighs and his cock was swallowed into the back of your throat. He couldn’t stop the noises he was making as you bobbed your head unbelievably fast, sucking him more and more until your nose buried into the neatly kept curls above his shaft. You were trying your hardest not to gag, your throat entirely full, and Eren was trying his hardest not to cum on impact. You pulled back a bit, tears blinked back from your eyes, and returned a single hand to work what you couldn’t reach.

Eren’s thighs tightened, his breathing hitching, “Fuck, I’m getting so close.”

At this reveal, your pace only quickened, full intentions of bringing him to his utmost height. Your cheeks sucked harder, tongue lapping the underside of his length, and you were covered in your own spit. Sloppy and messy, just how Eren liked it. How you seemed to like it, as well.

“Right there, don’t stop, don’t stop,” Eren called out alongside your name, hips bucking into your mouth. Your other hand met the swell of his balls, feeling them tighten up as his release was right there. As Eren let out the first whine to signal his climax, you yanked your hands away and slipped your mouth off with a pop.

He spasmed, too far gone to stop. His dick stood tall, shooting his load onto his stomach, throbbing so hard and so uncomfortably that tears rolled down Eren’s cheeks. You had ruined his orgasm. His cock was leaking clear fluid, his body frustrated with the lack of contact, entirely unsatisfied. His jaw slacked open, eyebrows furrowed as he gazed at you in disbelief.

“That’s what you get for trying to piss me off all day,” you growled, wiping the spit from your mouth with the back of your hand. “Stay right there, Eren.”

You got off the bed, reaching into your bedside table to pull out two objects — a tiny vibrator and a suit tie. You yanked Eren’s hands up, tying them to your headboard. You undressed yourself quickly, revealing your naked body to Eren’s greedy eyes. His dick hadn’t softened, still painfully erect and needy as he subconsciously bucked into the air. You didn’t comment, knowing how bad Eren wanted you and your attention back to his pulsating member. You threw your thighs around his neck, straddling the lower half of his face.

“You want me to touch you?” Eren nodded, tears still pooling in the corners of his eyes. “Make me cum, and I’ll return the favor.”

Easy enough, Eren thought, lolling his tongue out for you to place your glistening folds on. You sat down fully, letting out a moan as your hips circled his mouth, your hands latched into his hair. Eren heard the soft click of the vibrator in your hands, and moved his south south, knowing exactly what it was you were searching for.

You gasped as his tongue penetrated your tight hole, walls fluttering around his wet muscle as you slid the vibrator right up to your clit. If Eren had only had his hands, you wouldn’t need that little toy to satisfy you. He’d be doing all the work, bringing you all your pleasure up to your climax. All Eren’s work, but you didn’t want him to have that satisfaction.

Because this was you, and you were in full control, there was absolutely no point in teasing yourself. You were rewarding yourself, Eren just happened to be a part of the ride, literally. You thought of all the mean words he had said to you today, all the teases and inconveniences. Your hand in his hard gripped harder, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood as you tried to level your moans.

“You pissed me off so fucking bad today,” your head was thrown back as Eren fucked you with his tongue, your hips pressing down harder. “You were so mean. Now look at you, pathetic. Letting me fuck your face like the little brat you are.”

Eren felt his cock twitch, feeling similar waves of humiliation you had felt today. He knew better than to speak, instead, thrusting his tongue even harder into your entrance to show his response. You were right, he had wanted to feel completely powerless under your wrath, wanted you to use him as if he was disposable, to punish him. When he felt your hand leave his hair, feeling the harsh sting of a slap on his chest behind your ass, he was grateful. This is all he wanted, tears brought to his eyes in pure joy.

Your nails dug into his peck, your orgasm fast approaching, “Oh my God, you’re such a good boy, keep going. Oh fuck, Eren I’m about to cum.”

Eren felt pure pride and love swell in his body, ruined by a cold chill of blinding pleasure. No, no, he was not going to cum with no contact, surely? His scrotum tightened, eyes slamming shut. You were going to be livid when you saw the mess he was creating.

Eren’s cock shot thick white ropes into your back, yes, from that far away. It was just all too much, the degradation, it was like your words had been stroking him up the entire time. His body vibrated, but he forced his eyes to open to watch you fall apart above him.

Your wrist flicked fast with the vibrator in hand, feeling your walls clench and tip over the edge. You screamed breathlessly, pushing your entire lower half into Eren’s mouth. Eren could feel the tingle of your toy against his nose, a small goofy smile on his lips as he thought of how funny it would be if he sneezed. You pulled it away quickly though, mind coming back together as you began to worry about how hard you had pushed into his face. Your orgasm slowed, walls contracting at a much lazier pace, and you lifted your hips.

“Good boy,” you praised, eyes full of love as you reached up to untie his hands. “You did such a good job, baby.”

You hadn’t noticed what Eren had done until you felt a cold brush against your lower back and ass. You hand circled around, feeling the wet sticky spots, and your jaw dropped.

“Eren, did you cum from just eating me out?”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it,” he was pleading, shying away from your widened eyes. “Was too much.”

Eren thought you would’ve been furious, instead, a soft laugh echoed in your chest. You moved off of him, laying on your stomach to place a sweet kiss to his lips. He eagerly returned it, happiness tickling throughout his entire body. When you pulled away, you rested your head on his shoulder while his arms circled your waist.

“That’s the hottest thing ever,” you admitted, curling a strand of his hair in your finger.

“I’m going to piss you off more often,” Eren joked lightly, kissing the tip of your nose. “I like this side of you.”

“Please, Eren, don’t. Next time you want me to top, just fucking ask me.”

#eren x reader #sub eren #attack on titan fanfiction #eren fanfiction #eren x you #eren jaeger #eren yeager #shingeki no kyojin eren #aot smut #aot x reader #tw: degradation #tw: humiliation #eren jeager x reader #eren smut

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mimicteruyo · 2 years

Text

Fixed Star

[Touhou Ship Week Day 3: Old Love. ReiMari, 700 words]

Marisa didn't actually need to hold onto her hat as she made the drop down to the Hakurei Shrine courtyard: there was no breeze to speak of, and her landing was so soft she could have safely balanced a basket of eggs on her head. Still, ingrained habits died hard.

As she sauntered over to where Reimu was waiting on the porch, she took the opportunity to look at the skies. They had been blessed with the perfect conditions for observing a meteor shower: no clouds, no wind, not even the thinnest rim of the moon to spoil the view. The shrine wasn't the very best spot in Gensokyo for watching the night sky, but it was the very best spot for watching the night sky together with Reimu, which tilted the scales inexorably in its favour.

Marisa leaned her broom against the steps and tossed her scarf back over her shoulder. "Where's everyone?"

Reimu's shrug was nigh imperceptible. "Out."

"So it's just the two of us?" Marisa grinned. "Throw in some tea and snacks and it's just like old times."

"You know where to find them."

"I'll be right back." As she stepped past Reimu, Marisa slowed down to press a quick kiss against the top of her head.

The kitchen was even more cluttered than usual — in other words, Marisa was right at home. She hummed a tune under her breath as she got everything together, and as the water began to boil, she nabbed an extra rice cracker for herself. Again, ingrained habits died hard.

Reimu hadn't budged an inch by the time Marisa returned to the porch with the tray of snacks. She did, however, hold out her hand as Marisa offered her a steaming cup of tea. "Thanks."

Marisa sat down next to her and helped herself to another cracker. "Seen any meteors yet?"

"Not one." Reimu sipped at her tea, then frowned at the dark sky. The previous January, there had been an ominous grey film clouding her gaze, but thanks to some helpful magic, the eyes were once again as sharp as they had ever been. "With our luck, they'll only show up on the other side of the barrier this year."

"If it's our luck, we should prepare for a real show." Marisa glanced at Reimu and saw that her breath was misting in the chill. "Aren't you cold?"

"Not really. I've barely felt the changes in temperature lately."

Marisa tried to smile. "Sometimes I worry the currents're just gonna carry you off one day."

"Who knows?"

Marisa wished it had all been a joke, but the truth was that Reimu seemed to become more and more one with the wind with each passing season. Still, worrying about it right now wasn't going to help. Instead, she focused on the cracker and did her best to live in the moment.

She hadn't paid much attention when the first strands of Reimu's hair had turned white. After all, hadn't her own hair sprouted rainbow hues before fading back to gold when she had become a magician? Hair was weird, even when you were human.

From there it had been a soft descent, so smooth Marisa had barely noticed it at first. Gradually, lines had filled Reimu's face and her movements had slowed down. It wasn't until all of Reimu's hair was the colour of driven snow that Marisa had stood by her side and felt her heart skip a beat as she realised she was now taller than Reimu.

She shook her head to shed the needless thoughts. Reimu was right there next to her, and that was what counted. "Y'know, it's gonna be our fiftieth anniversary soon."

"So it will."

"Wanna do something special for it?"

"Does flying across Gensokyo together count as special?"

"Works for me." Marisa reached for her cup when a living light shot across the night sky and she snapped her eyes towards it. "There's one!"

Without tearing her gaze from the sky, she inched closer to Reimu and wrapped half of her scarf around her shoulders.

Reimu's hand felt like it was composed mostly of air, but her grip was still surprisingly strong. Marisa squeezed her back as they huddled together to watch the dance of shooting stars just like they always did. Just as they would for years and years to come.

#thshipweek #mimic fics #reimari #they're watching the quadrantids #and the new moon should more or less coincide with it what luck

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dourpeep · 3 years

Text

The men of Genshin as romance types:

This just kind popped up in my head after thinking about Xiao's characterization! I might add to this in the future, but for now it's just a small list of headcanons + a short blurb :>

Contains: Lots of fluff, lightly suggestive

Features: Albedo, Venti, Kaeya, Xiao, Zhongli, Childe, and Diluc

Note: you can be soft and still top btw, this is only for how they'd be romantically

Sweet:

Albedo

Albedo is also shown canonically to do little gestures like give people the sketch he did of them to see them smile, this man might seem kinda standoffish at first, but he's not cold

From his voicelines and story, we also know that Albedo is the type of person to think pretty deeply about everything around him

His brain goes 100 miles an hour with all the possibilities and scenarios he can think of

So with his s/o, the best thing that could happen is that he'll take the time to really slow down and unwind

Being a busy, busy man in pursuit of knowledge beyond anyone's comprehension, Albedo rarely gets time off (his sketches are considered research, in a way, no?)

So once he's finally at home, there will be lots of little shows of affection

Passing behind you, perhaps a light touch on your back or shoulder to let you know he's there

On a particularly rough day, he'll sit facing you with his forehead resting on your chest and just--take your hands and put them in his hair

Not really the type to pamper, but there's no doubt of his love

Probably the type of guy to like sitting close in silence

Maybe on the nights you cook, he'll come and wrap his arms around your waist, head leaning on your shoulder as he watches you work

Quietly, you lay on the couch tangled up in his arms, the soft sound of breathing and the light warmth you feel lulling you to sleep. It seems that, even though Albedo is left half asleep from a long day of research, he still continues to trace mindless little patterns on the back of your hand with his thumb. You shift, and he hums, pulling you closer.

Venti

The man’s been through so much, honestly

He's lost his closest friend, helped a rebellion usurp a tyrant, been through a war that lasted centuries, watched as another friend he'd known since birth fall to corruption (but ultimately was saved)

Point being, he's tired and just wants to have his fun

True to his nature, he likes to tease and poke at his s/o, but nothing that can't be undone (after all, a prank isn't funny if it's permanent)

Hand holding, is a must! Venti is a very affectionate person who isn't afraid to express his feelings when it comes to his s/o

Lots of smooches too! (Please smooch him back)

Speaking of hands and smooches, he's the type to bring your hand to his lips and give each your fingertips a little kiss. They've done so much for you and allow him the joy of holding them, so it's the least he can do!

His type of love is free and sweeter than the scent of cecelias, soft as the wind that kisses your skin

Really, he wants to be able to treasure you as much as he can in the time you have together

Today was a picnic date kind of day. A basket filled with fresh, ripe sunsettias and a few dishes you both worked together to make (mostly you, after what happened with Venti's apple cake) sat on top of a sturdy blanket laid on the grass. Head laid in your lap, the wandering bard strummed idly on his lyre, adding a lovely backdrop to an already perfect day.

Romantic:

Kaeya

Of course, the suave Captain doesn't stop with honeyed words

Mysterious as he is, he takes what he does in stride

If he could spend all his life entwined with you, he'd die a happy man

Kaeya is the type of partner to romance with candlelight and nighttime strolls on the beach

A little cheesy, yes, but all the more to sweep you off your feet

Flirty, he likes to take his time with his love and while he similarly treasures his s/o, it's in the way the fairytales are written

Perhaps a little cliche at times

Nevertheless, he's the type of partner to sweep you into a dance despite there being no music and dip you low (whether you both lose balance and fall is up to gravity)

He'll show his affection physically, whether through a quick kiss when you stop by the Favonious Knight's HQ, or pulling you close when you walk through a crowd on a market day

Teasing is also a big thing, if he can make you blush, his mission is accomplished

In privacy, expect his treatment to be the same--it wouldn't do any good if he leaves his dear s/o confused about how he feels

Once again, you take his hand and he sweeps you into a lively waltz, sweeping across the living room floor. Not once do his eyes leave yours. All he ever needs is the feel of you close and the rush of his heart in his chest that bubbles into something fonder when your laugh reaches his ears.

Xiao

Not the best with words, Xiao shows his love through his actions

Little gifts, helping now and then with commissions and clearing the road, he'll do it all with no expectation of thanks (should you thank him, he'll be extremely grateful for the recognition but also perhaps unsure how to react)

He doesn't tend towards physically showing affection to his s/o, so when he does, expect them to show his utter devotion

Often, Xiao questions what it is that he did to deserve such a love, but as soon as you appear in his view, it no longer matters because as long as you believe him to be worthy, why wouldn't he be?

His love is based deeply in trust. The heart is a fragile thing and to someone who's suffered so much in his lifetime, he guards it fiercely to protect himself

When he finally does allow himself the comfort of a relationship, he'll soak it up entirely

Nights spent stargazing on the top of Wangshu Inn, pinkies intertwined, or bodies held together tightly with the sweet exchange of breath

Every touch that he offers is gentle, reverent, and serves to remind him that what he's experiencing is real

He tried, really, for the thing on the plate to turn out the way that you usually make it. It's a far cry from what he remembers, but you set it down and bring your hands to his face. The sight of your beaming smile warms him deeply and he pulls you in close for a kiss.

Zhongli

Be still, my beating heart-

Just as he's full of information from the flowers of Liyue to the deepest cracks in the soil, he loves fully and unapologetically

He's lived through many eras and seen so much that it's hard to not want to express how he feels as he feels it

Deeply appreciative of whatever his s/o does and does for him

He indulges in every word, touch, feeling, and look- He's not a greedy man, but when it comes to love? There's a deep desire to feel it all

There are many ways that Zhongli expresses that love, a few being through your daily strolls through Liyue Harbor and the daily and nightly rituals the two of you have settled down into

His favorite is probably the mornings

There's something about waking up wrapped up in your lover's arms, head resting on their chest as the sun's warm beams shine through the windows that's utterly satisfying

Zhongli indulges in these little moments, favoring them over all else

Once in a while, he'll take you back to where your first date was to reminisce, perhaps even (jokingly) mention little embarrassing things either of you did

Zhongli watches as you sip at your drink and admires the way the sun compliments your eyes. You're preoccupied by the falling leaves, it seems, mentioning how they're just as brilliant gold as his. Though the feeling he feels is far from the excitement of butterflies, it has settled into a comforting sort of warmth that hopes you feel as well.

Passionate:

Childe

This man's love is wild like his personality

Loud, fun, and never quite predictable, he loves like a whirlwind and with an enthusiasm to match no other

Lots of teasing going on here, to make you blush or to mess with you, you'll never know

But it's his unapologetic fire that drew you to him to begin with

When he's not occupied with work, he'll drag you to go sight seeing

Every experience is a new experience, no matter if it's something that seems so everyday or not

His affection is in the form of tightly held hands (he doesn't want to lose you with how quickly he weaves through the crowd), well-placed winks, and kisses to steal your breath away

He also loves in a way that's fiercely protective. His job is a dangerous one and, with the way he's open with your relationship, his affection serves to protect you

But don't forget that despite his passion, he's a man who deeply treasures those close to him and, as his s/o, you'll be showered with only the best he can give you

It was only a quick break in your day, he'd assured, but it quickly became another round of seeing Liyue through his eyes. In the span of only an hour, you've already spotted an untouched patch of glaze lilies, sampled rich Li-style cuisine and fresh Yue-style cuisine, helped a young girl fetch her kite from atop a tree, and now are working your way (or rather, Childe is working your way for you) to a little area behind the busy streets to show you a pack of dogs he'd befriended. Fondly, you smile and watch as he beckons them out of hiding.

Diluc

Diluc lives for the way that his s/o brings the best out of him and, in return, he does the same back

He exudes the air of a gentleman with the way he shows his affection, but, whether intentionally or not, in an utterly enticing way

Being busy during the day with running the tavern and the winery as well as at night as the Darknight Hero (he insists you stop calling him that as well, but you don't miss the light flush of pride each time), the time he dedicates to you is left in the early morning long before you leave for the day and the evening as he settles just before he sets off

During morning time, he's often fond of running his hands over you, feeling each dip and curve, memorizing the way your hair falls and the way your lips curve when you smile

It's a quiet sort of passion

His love is expressed in the fond murmurs against your shoulder and head, sharing those moments of deep intimacy both physical and not

In the evenings, you both settle in front of the fireplace, sharing a drink or two

There's sometimes a certain look in his eye that sets your heart aflame in the dimly lit room, and sometimes he sets off a little later that night in lieu of a few more stolen moments with you

Diluc slides into your shared bed in the early hours of the morning, a bit later than usual. The shift stirs you just enough to wake up to two arms pulling you to his chest and a deep breath with his nose buried in your hair. He's no doubt exhausted. Eyes bleary, you turn until you're facing him and loosely wrap an arm around his waist. In the moments you're still half-awake, you hear a low murmur of 'love you' and you smile against his skin.

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dirtyoatmeall · 4 years

Text

Saying I love you (Various x reader)

A/N: here are some cute little drabbles of some of the boys saying I love you. It was originally gonna be I love you for the first time but I started imaging domestic softness and couldn't help myself. If there's anyone else you want to see let me know!

Pairings: Bokuto, Kuroo, Tendo, Osamu, Sakusa, Tsukishima, Ukai, Iwaizumi x reader (separate) established relationships, gn!reader

Warnings: None :)

Bokuto

You were walking home together after practice like every day, swinging your joined hands as you chattered about the day while Bokuto listened intently, giving feedback when needed. You were telling him a stupid joke and when you looked at him, lips lifting into a smirk, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out,

“I love you.”

He stopped as soon as the words tumbled from his lips, he had no idea what overcame him, this isn’t how he wanted to tell you, what if you thought it was too soon? What if you didn’t want to say it back?

Your eyes had widened momentarily, playful smirk melting into a loving smile. You squeezed his hand, returning his attention to you. You stepped closer, placing a quick kiss on his cheek before tugging him along again.

“I love you too Kou.”

Tendo

It was your weekly date night, electing to stay in and escape the cold. You were lying in bed, on your back while Tendo was in between your legs, head resting on your stomach, reading the new Shonen Jump as you ran your hands through his hair absentmindedly, scrolling through TikTok on your phone. The two of you were silent, occasionally you’d show him a funny video, or he’d tell you his theories on the manga he was reading.

You sat up and scooched back slightly, resting more against the headboard and Tendo slid down to rest between your thighs. He looked up at you and you smiled, groaning softly as you stretched your arms above you.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes opened and you looked down mid-yawn at the red head, surprised. He wiggled his eyebrows in response, and you laughed, letting your arms drop, weaving your fingers back into his hair and tugging lightly as you leaned down to kiss him softly, pulling back slightly, goofy grin replacing your surprise.

“I’m in love with you too dork.”

Kuroo

Graduation ceremony had just finished. You were both still in your cap and gown, taking pictures with your families. He watched you fondly as you talked with his mom and sister, making him take a picture of the three of you, bright grins evident. He pulled you to the side after, kissing you gently, he was so happy you got along with his family, hopefully they’d be your family soon enough.

“I love you (Y/N).”

You smiled wide, eyes becoming a little glossy, and you hugged him tight, exhaling shakily. You pulled back just enough to look up at him, expression full of adoration, mirroring his.

“I love you too Tetsuro.”

You laughed when you heard coos from behind you, your families no doubt already taking pictures of the intimate moment.

Osamu

You finished closing the restaurant after a busy Saturday, Osamu was leaning against the counter, watching you as you took inventory, planning on placing a supply order tomorrow. He watched as you scanned the rows, chewing your bottom lip in concentration. Your brow furrowed, pencil tapping your chin as you contemplated something. When you decided on an answer you nodded once to yourself, small smile playing on your lips.

You turned to continue onto the next section, glancing at him for a movement before looking at him fully when you catch him staring. You rose an eyebrow, one hand on your hip. “What’cha thinkin’ ‘bout ‘Samu?”

He hummed before pushing away from the counter, waltzing toward you. “Oh nothin’, just thinkin’ ‘bout how much I love ya.” You hummed in response, watching bemused as he approached, snaking his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. “Yeah? Enough to finish inventory?” He seemed to think for a moment, “Hmm, I don’ know ‘bout that…” You laughed and playfully shoved him, though it did little to move him. You lightly tapped the clipboard on his head,

“Well lucky for you, I love you enough.”

He pinched your bottom, chuckling when you yelped, moving to wrap his arms around you again, this time pulling your back to his chest as he read over your shoulder.

Sakusa

You were making dinner when he came home from practice, sizzling of the pan audible from the doorway. He called out a greeting, you turned down the music before you popped your head out of the kitchen. “Hey babe! It’ll be a little bit before I’m done, why don’t you go ahead and shower? Dinner should be done by the time you’re out.” Kiyoomi smiled and nodded, heading towards your shared bedroom.

He stood in the doorway to the kitchen, hair still slightly damp, as he watched you cook. You were in your own little world, humming along to the music, hips swaying slightly as you stirred the contents of the pot in front of you. You caught sight of him when you turned to grab seasoning, jumping slightly in surprise before smiling,

“Gosh you scared me Kiyo! One sec, lemme me wash my hands.” You moved the pot off the heat, moving to the sink to wash up as Kiyoomi walked towards you. You finished drying your hands by the time he reached you, his hands finding their place on your hips. You mumbled a greeting again before reaching up to kiss him softly, fingertips resting on the side of his jaw for balance. He pulled back and kissed your forehead before smiling softly.

“I love you.”

You smiled brightly, “I love you too! C’mon lets dish up, I’m pretty sure I didn’t burn the meat this time.” Kiyoomi snorted, grabbing plates down for the two of you.

Tsukishima

The sunlight filtering in through the blinds slowly stirred you awake. You groaned, rubbing your face before stretching, yawn escaping your lips. You glanced at the clock on your nightstand, stiffening when you saw the time.

“ ‘ts Sunday, go back t’ sleep.” Kei yawned next to you, tugging you back into his chest, nuzzling into your hair. You relaxed, turning in his hold, rolling your eyes at his groan of protest. Droopy eyes and a pout greeted you when you turned to face him, you smiled and kissed his pout, snuggling into his chest. He huffed and resumed his position, arms tightening around your waist as your legs tangled together. He mumbled into your hair,

“ ‘m love you” you laughed softly, rubbing his back, Kei was always more needy in the morning. “I love you too baby.” He pinched your hip, and you laughed louder when he rolled the two of you to face to the other way, now facing away from the window. He grumbled and pulled the covers up more,

“If you really love me, you’ll stop bein' loud and g' back t’ sleep.” You muffled your giggle in his chest, kissing his shoulder in apology before shifting slightly to get more comfortable, letting his heartbeat lull you back to sleep.

Ukai

You settled into the chair behind the counter, sipping your coffee as you flipped through a magazine. You heard cursing and loud footsteps stumbling down the stairs leading to your apartment and you smiled into your mug. Your eyes flickered up to your husband, taking in his disheveled appearance and pout before turning back to your magazine. You raised your head when you heard him come up behind you.

Longs fingers pinched your cheek before grasping your chin to tilt your head back. You smirked at the grumpy frown on his face as he leaned down to kiss you in greeting. He pulled away grumbling. “Damned woman, lucky I love you, always letting me sleep late.” You hummed in agreement and held up his lighter, which he swiped before kissing your forehead, tugging a lock of your hair and stealing a swig of your coffee before he left.

“Love you!” You called after him, laughing loudly as he flipped you off as he walked out of the store.

Iwaizumi

You waved when the screen loaded, your boyfriend’s sleepy form on the other side of the screen, on the other side of the world. “Hey baby, it’s pretty late, you going to bed?” Iwaizumi nodded, rubbing his eyes. “Wanted t’ talk though.” You smiled softly. Even though there was a 16 hour time difference between the two of you, Iwaizumi never failed to skype you at least once a day, talking about your days or planning for when he’d come home next. Usually you’d talk when he woke up, which was right before you went to bed, but he had an early practice and wanted to move it later.

He was in bed already, and he listened as you talked about your day, humming every so often in response. Though after a few minutes of nothing from the other end, you looked up from your book and smiled warmly. Light from his bedside lamp illuminated his sleeping face, and you could hear the quiet snores escaping his lips. He must’ve been pretty tired. You said his name gently a few times, a little louder to try and wake him. He blinked blearily, furrowing his eyebrows. “Hey, you should go to bed.” He made a noise of protest, shaking his head slightly. “ ‘m awake, keep telling me ‘bout your day.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at his stubbornness. “Haiji, you literally were asleep a few minutes ago. As much as I’d love to watch you sleep, I bet your phone isn’t plugged in, and you should turn off your lamp.” He grumbled but complied, the phone shaking slightly as he fumbled to plug it in, before unplugging the lamp.

“Ok, ‘m gonna go t’ bed. I miss you baby. I’ll call in the mornin’. Love you.” You blinked away the tears forming in your eyes and nodded. “Alright, I’ll talk to you in a few hours, sleep well, I miss you too, love you so much Haji.” You ended the call, taking a deep breath, exhaling shakily. It was hard, living thousands of miles from your boyfriend, but it was worth it, he was worth any distance. You set an alarm for later tonight, grabbing an energy drink from the fridge to return to your studies.

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writingsbychlo · 3 years

Text

sun in the shadows (03)

word count; 12,706

summary; trying to make some headway on the study leads to an interesting revelation, and progress in your friendship with noah.

notes; if this part is a little sucky, I apologise. it was a last minute addition that I created because I realised I wanted to include some extras.

warnings; brief mentions of panic attacks/anxiety, but it’s very mild.

The weather was improving, the drizzle of the winter and the grey skies overhead were getting lighter, the showers of rain were getting less frequent and the winter was moving on. Spring was making itself known, bulbs of daffodils were finally taking root in the soil, and green was sprouting from the earth that had been frozen over and dead only a couple of weeks ago. The watery floors were drying up, limited ice was fading away, and graduation was sitting right on the horizon for you all.

Your fingers flexed around the strap of your bag, rooting through the contents to find a place to slip your file inside, all your notes for the class you’d be having were inside, and there was a blank page for your next session waiting to be filled out. Once it had its place, albeit getting a little bit crumbled against the other content, you removed your wallet, a few coins jingling in the bottom, and you hoped it was enough for two coffees.

There was a coffee stand not too far away, and you were hoping an extra shot of coffee before you went in might get your brain working a little faster. Only a couple of feet ahead of you was a face you recognised, a dark jumper to match dark denim jeans, a pair of boots for motorbike riding that were beginning to scuff along the edges and the toes. He was hanging over his money, a brown bag holding a pretzel and a tall cup, the tell-tale tag of a teabag hanging over the edge, and he walked away.

Joining the back of the line, you watched him go, sitting not far across the quarter with his headphones on, settling on one of the recently repainted memorial benches. He pulled the tab on eh coffee back, opening it up and a cloud of steam left the drink, curling up into the air that still held a slight chill, drifting away to disappear as he blew against the surface of the drink. In his other hand was his phone, scrolling aimlessly on it as a way to keep himself disconnected from everyone else around him and prompt nobody else to join him. His bag was out on the bench too, pushed a short distance from his body in an attempt to take up the rest of the space to deter company.

Ordering a simple set of black coffees, and finding you had just enough change for a muffin too, you waited patiently for your order, an assortment of condiments and the double-chocolate treat you’d paid for being handed to you first. There was a grinding, the slight screech of the machine as it crushed the beans to create two black coffees for you, plastic lids sealed on and two cardboard jackets fastened around them.

Balancing the load between them all, you headed over to him, using your knee to nudge the bag up the bench until it bumped his leg, and he jerked slightly, looking up to see you. Offering him a beam, his narrowed eyes lightened a little, and he sighed. Putting down his phone and moving his bag to the floor, he lifted the headphones away from his ears, and let them hang around his neck. Sitting yourself down, he slumped back into the wood, and you scooted up to sit closer to him, placing the spare coffee you’d bought for Stiles on the floor away from your feet.

“Hey, Noah!” He gave a short nod, still a little uncomfortable, and he turned to face you more. “So, what’s your schedule looking like this afternoon?”

“How did you know I was here?”

You shrugged, opening up the bag of extras and searching through for a couple of sweetener packets, and a wooden stirrer. “I didn’t. I was just gonna’ grab a coffee before class and head to my hall early, because, y’know, studying at home is distracting.” Your hand waved off the statement, finding the packets you wanted, and clutching your cup between your knees for stability. “So, anyway I was going to text you when I got there, but then I saw you, so I figured I’d come and say ‘hey’!”

“Right.”

“So, hey!” You waved a little before taking the top from your coffee, and leaving it on the bench beside yourself. “I ask once again, what’s your schedule looking like this afternoon?”

“Well, since I am the most popular guy at this college, I’m pretty busy.” He smiled a little at his own joke, particularly when you gave him a laugh, and your brow raised.

“Oh, he’s got jokes today, huh? I like it, I can roll with that.” Tipping the sugar into the cup, you added a couple of packets, before stirring it slowly. “I take it you’re free, then. I was hoping we could squeeze in some study stuff this afternoon. I have a class in a couple of minutes, but I wanted to see if you were free?”

“Well, I’m free all day. I had a six AM class.” His face screwed up at the idea, and you could feel his pain, having spent the entirety of your sophomore year with a teacher who held lectures at six AM so she could avoid her morning sickness before class, and rush home for it afterwards. Professor Anderson going off on her maternity leave was the best thing that had happened to your education that year.

“Great, I’ll sort it with Stiles, and we’ll text you the details.”

“Sounds like a thrill. I can hardly wait.” He smiles, the sarcasm just like his brothers as it came through, and you repaid him for the joke with a chuckle. While the two of you had made progress, you could tell he was still a little unsure around you. You were polar opposites and he didn’t take well to that, the atmosphere that you brought with you could be a little too much for him to handle sometimes, you couldn’t stop the guilt that was eating at you a little. “What’s wrong? You’ve got a look on your face like you want to talk about things. Just warning you, I’m not good at that heart-to-heart stuff.”

“Yeah, I’ve witnessed that.”

“Shut it.” He teased, sticking his tongue out at you childishly, and you grinned cheesily in reply to him. “You can tell me, though. Can’t promise I’ll help, but..”

“It’s nothing weighing me down. I just wanted to apologise. I clearly interrupted your free time. You got yourself a little pretzel to eat in silence, and everything.” He offers you a blank look at your slight dig, and you only winked, waving the muffin in a bag that you’d bought, and taking a sip of your coffee once the lid was sealed back on. “People usually like it when I stop by to see them, I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay, really.” His words were strained, the response bringing you no relief as he forced them out, and your frown remained. “I’m serious, okay? It’s alright.”

You were trying your best but learning the lines with Noah was different to you. Upon starting college you’d been thrown in at the deep end of socialisation and a whole world you’d never quite had access to before. Coming from a smaller town that had always limited your expectations was tough, and you’d taken it differently from the way Noah had. You’d had so many experiences, becoming legal to drink and venturing beyond your comfort zone, truly leaving home and facing the idea of having your life laid out before you, the first time truly having your heartbroken, and being too far to simply collapse into the arms of your mom or dad for support when things got messed up.

“When does your class start?” You jumped, lost in your thoughts as you slumped back into the bench, and you sat up straight again, turning to find that Noah was already looking at you, eyes scanning over you slowly. It was a good reminder, time had been slipping away from you and in the ease of his peaceful and quiet company, you could have sat there for hours.

Checking your watch, you sighed, lifting your bag strap back up onto your shoulder more securely, and packing everything you had with you inside, leaving you to hold a coffee cup in each hand. “In about ten minutes.”

“How about I walk you?” He picked up his bag, swinging it over his shoulder, and you nodded, a warmer feeling at his offer blooming where cold guilt had been. Standing up and making sure not to spill any of the scalding coffee onto your hand. Peering around the busy campus quarters that was more filled now than it had been for months, the lighter weather tempting groups to come out of their dormitories and the cafés to gather outside instead.

He fell into step beside you, toes scuffing occasionally on the slightly uneven stonework of the quad, before it fell away into smooth concrete pathways on the way to your lecture. The grass alongside each path was growing greener, dull colour fading away into something brighter. Paper crinkled beside you, the cup of tea in his hands being finished and the cardboard cup was crushed between string fingers, knuckles even paler than usual as he crumpled it up, and as you approach the closest bin, it was disposed of.

Your fingers flexed around your coffee cup, almost having forgotten that it was there as the heat from the two began to fade away a little. Taking a sip, the refreshing burst of sweetened caffeine was like a spark to your system, and you revelled in it. “How do you take your coffee?”

You lower the cup from your lips, swallowing your mouthful, and you couldn't stop the rise of your brows once you turned to look at him. “Creamer, usually. I like a caramel flavoured one. But, since I’m not big on creamer in packets or from street vendors, this one just has sweeteners.”

“Cool.” He nodded, and your lips pressed together tightly to try and contain the smile you wanted to let free, silence forming between you both for a moment, a further gathering of steps as the two of you went on, your building coming into sight again. “Did you watch the news last night?”

“Is this small talk?”

“It’s an attempt at small talk.” He winced, and you chuckled, a small smile on his features as the fear of judgement or humiliation washed away, and he gave a sigh.

“Okay, let's try this.” Your mind spun, searching for a track of something to talk about, and a thought clicked into space. “If you could watch one genre of movies for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Comedy. Like, comedy-action. You know, ones like ‘Jumanji’ or something?” He was quick with it, certain about his answer, and you nodded.

“Yeah? That was quick. How come you’re so sure?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, one hand coming up to hold his bag strap, swinging it to the side to be able to get inside, and fish out the paper bag with a pretzel inside. “I guess I just think they’re good for you. Good for the soul. They have action and it keeps you a little on the edge of your seat, but it’s funny. It's easy-going, when you’ve got anxiety, or you’re having a bad day, or you just want background noise, they’re perfect.”

“Alright. Fair enough. Okay, tricky one.” his eyes narrowed a little, but an amused look passed over his features while he waited. “If you had to choose specifically between comedy and action, which is it?”

“It’s got to be action. Because comedy usually means Adam Sandler or Seth Rogen, and some of their comedies are good, but some are jus-” He paused, jaw dropping a little, and his hand came out, pausing in front of your to bring you to a halt too. A smile curled on your lips, and he looked shocked. “Holy shit, you’re good!”

“Ask a basic question that people are passionate about, it always leads to more options, and everyone always wants to talk about something fun.” His head shook slowly, as though he was in disbelief, and you took a dramatic bow, trying not to spill the coffees in your hands as you giggled. “Give it a go, I bet you can do it.”

The paper in his hands crinkled, your footsteps taking up again, and the two of you were making your way towards the building once again. Taking a bite from his pretzel, a piece torn away with his teeth, he thought it over. “Does your family have any secret or ‘famous’ recipes?”

“Oh, that’s a good one. Kudos to you, Noah.”

“Thank you. I thought about it for, like, eight whole seconds.” He grinned, the joke moving away from you both as you left it behind, and you thought about his question.

“Maybe it’s not my family recipe, just a personal one, but I’m great at making lasagne.” He scoffed, and you nudged him with your elbow. “I’m serious! I make a great lasagne!”

“You don’t seem like a cook to me, is all! You seem like the sort of person who’d manage to burn a pit of water.”

“You can’t burn water, an.. oh, I just got it. You jerk.” It was a joke, your nose screwing up as you stuck your tongue out at him, thanking him a second later as he held the door open for him. The bright lights of the outside changed to artificial lights in the halls, not as much coming through the windows as trees outside managed to cast shade into the building. “Well, I can cook. I love to cook, and I’m good at it. Especially lasagne. My family are generally the only ones who have ever had it, and thanks to that insult, you’ll never have it.”

“Oh, woah, no! You have to let me try it now. Prove me wrong, or I’ll be forced to believe you’re bluffing.”

“You’re sneaky.” You scoffed, students filling the hall and filtering in from different sides of the building, lectures in different halls all waiting to take place, and you stepped to the side of the corridor once your doorway was within reach. “If you’re lucky.”

“I’m betting on that.”

Glancing back, Stiles was already inside, as expected. Stiles Stilinski had never once been on time, he was either twenty minutes early or twenty minutes late, and since he’d spent the night with Derek, who was an early bird, you’d figured which one today would be. His head was slumped on his hm half-asleep and on the verge of drooling as he sat there, and you chuckled, turning to Noah. “Thanks for walking me. Also, thanks for small-talking with me.”

“Thanks for the advice on small talk.”

“I’m gonna’ head inside, but, I’ll see you later, okay?” He nodded, confirming the times with you, and lingering a moment longer. It was quiet, but not so tense, and he rolled on the balls of his fete, the half-eaten pretzel in his hands was seemingly abandoned as one hand tucked into his jeans pockets, the other hanging limply while holding the delicacy by his side.

“Thanks for sitting with me. This wasn’t so bad. It was almost fun.”

“You know, one day, you’re gonna’ tell me you had fun with me. I look forward to that day.” He smirked, your head tipping to the side at the expression.

“If you’re lucky.” He was repeating your own words back to you, and you beamed at the chance. Backing away from him slightly, you fixed him with the cheekiest glance you could as you walked through the doorway.

“I’m betting on it.”

You could hear his laugh once you were gone, into the classroom and beginning to take the steps up to a seat beside Stiles that he’d reserved for you, his bag sitting on it. He’d already gotten his equipment out, notepads and pencil laid out in a somewhat organised mess on top of the desk.

Placing the two coffees down, you moved Stiles bag to the floor, tucking it behind his chair and a soft snore made itself known from him, the boy not doing well with early mornings but he never had, not once in your years of knowing him had he handled it very well, so it was no surprise.

“Opening up your bag, you dropped your notebook down onto the surface with a loud ‘slapping’ sound, and he jerked upwards, flailing as he did, and almost knocking the coffees over. Blinking quickly and shaking sleep away, he looked around, eyes wide as he finally focused on you.

“Jesus Christ, don’t do that.” He chastised you, leaning back in his seat and holding a hand over his heart. “I was dreaming about high school, I thought you were my lacrosse Coach waking me up for falling asleep in class again.”

“Maybe I am.” You winked, slamming a hand down on the counter. “Drop and give me twenty, Stilinski! Right now!”

“Don’t do that, it’s eerily accurate.” He cringed, shuddering a little, before a wide smile replaced the horrified expression that had morphed, and you pushed a coffee over to him. “You brought me a coffee?”

“Yes, I did. It’s bribery.”

“Oh? What am I being bribed for?” He was curious, rooting through the bag of condiments for it and taking the plastic lid from the cup, steam curling out into the air. Taking an ungodly and certainly unhealthy amount of sweetener and sugar packets to load into his coffee.

“Your free time this afternoon. I’m thinking about getting some of my study done, I can get all the work for the next couple of sessions sorted now, but how do you feel about being asked some later?” He tipped them in, a drop of coffee flying up over the edge and landing on the desk as he stirred his drink with vigour, that same hyper excitement that he always had.

“Can’t I just fill them out now?”

“It’d be better if I could get your responses with Noah.” He sighed, rolling his eyes and making a scene of it, but there was a smile that told you he already agreed.

“You should have brought me two coffees, but fine.”

You let out a victorious ‘aha!’, and shook the little brown paper bag that was still sitting on your half of the desk at him. “I also brought you half of a muffin!”

“Only half of a muffin?”

“Well, it was none, but since I didn’t eat it yet and I’d feel bad eating it in front of you, I decided to share it.” You tore it in half, pushing half across the scratched and vandalised wooden surface to him. Crumbs were left along the surface, and Stiles pressed the pad of his finger along them to gather them all up.

“Oh, right. Well, in that case, what I meant was; wow, a full half of a muffin!” He cheered, much more enthusiasm, and you nodded.

“Much better.” At the front of the classroom, your tutor entered, door slamming behind him as he kicked the wedge out from underneath, and his case was placed down on the desk. The room began a hushed quiet, save for the loud slurping of Stiles with his coffee beside you.

“You know,” Your best friend didn’t understand the concept of a whisper, everything he did was more like a dramatic stage whisper on a Broadway show, and a few dirty looks were sent his way. The professor was used to this, a year of experience and advice from previous tutors guiding him to ignore Stiles’ fidgeting and chatter. “You’re going to have to convince Noah to do this.”

Slumping down in your seat a little more, you turned your head to him, nibbling on your half of the muffin. “I already did.”

“What?” This time he was hushed, the man standing at the front near his desk, trying his best to give extra advice to everyone and answer any common questions that he’d been emailed. You’d have to catch the after-class notes in your emails. “When d’you do that?”

“This morning before class. I saw him while getting coffee for you and we walked over.”

Stiles huffed, his brows being pulled together slightly. “Okay. Damn, he was my last free shot at getting the afternoon off.” You grinned, pinching at your friend’s cheek, and he smacked your hand away. “Quit it, I’ve told you not to do that before.”

“In case I pinch your moles off?”

“That's where my power is. My funny is in my moles.” He hissed, only making you laugh more, and you covered your mouth with your hand over his silly superstitions.

“Whatever, freak.”

“Hoe.” He snarked back, and you grinned, punching at his shoulder as best you could from this angle, and he reached up a hand to rub at it. “So, if we’re doing this, I at least want to do it at my place. I’m going out this evening, I gotta’ be ready. Derek’s sisters are coming up to visit.”

“It won’t take long, don’t worry.” He hummed, pulling out his phone and keeping it ducked from view. He was texting his brother, letting him know to be ready, and at what time your class would be ending, giving him a little time to prepare. Opening your book up and flicking to the page you had marked, it was a journal written about the study of the ways that twins raised in different households could grow up similarly, and you were hoping to adopt some of the content for your study.

“So, what’ve you got done so far?”

Stile sighed, flicking open his notebook, and you were shocked by the fact that he was already at the end of it. There were pieces of paper stuck in, a list of book references on one of the tabs down the side of a page, and only a few blank pages left at the back.

“Oh, wow, okay.” You stared at your notebook, barely reaching a quarter of the way through with the notes you’d been making, and it looked like Stiles was ready to start making progress towards a conclusion for his hypothesis. “So, you’ve got a whole lot done, then.”

“Yeah, well, I want to spend as little time in a prison as I possibly can.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead, the pages crammed full of information as he flicked through to find a blank one. “Plus, I didn’t want to go and interview inmates on my own, so I wait until Derek has free time to go with me, and I get as much done in those sessions as I can.”

“You’re gonna’ be done weeks before I am.” You pouted, your pen twirling at the top corner of a page, drawing a collation of pretty flowers to form a border, and he chuckled.

“I have easier test subjects than you do. They’re already guilty and behind bars, they’re more than happy to open up. You’ve gotta’ deal with Noah.”

“That’s true.” You grinned, thinking back on the conversation you’d had with the other twin that morning. When he was alone, it wasn’t so bad, he talked more and he wasn’t so worried about judgements, but as soon as there was someone else who might hear, he completely closed down.

“Hey, seriously, we have ages left. You’re gonna’ be just fine.”

“I’m just freaking out a little bit, because this is the last hurdle, y’know?” He nodded, and you could see whatever it was he was thinking practically swirling in his eyes, because Stiles’ emotions were open to read like a book.

“It’s terrifying. It’s, like, what the hell are we supposed to do when we finish?”

“I don’t know.” Your head dropped to your hands, fingers soothingly rubbing at your temples. A large hand landed on your back, rubbing in comforting circles. “What I do know, though, is that if I don’t get on with coming up with some more content, I’m never gonna’ finish this study in time.”

“Well, put your headphones on and come up with some questions.”

You did as told, plugging your earbuds in and choosing some classical music that would make it easier to concentrate. Opening one of your survey works back up to the page you’d left off at, your eyes began to flicker over the pages, picking out the useful information. Once you had a list built, you had a foundation to work from, questions to create and organise into groups, different sessions being able to come together.

Beside you, Stiles’ hand never seemed to stop rising, a constant dialogue with your tutor as he checked his work and ironed out any kinks in his study. He was also full of chatter and laughter, getting along with everyone around him and asking about their works, making you turn your music up several times just to be able to concentrate. But, by the end of the session, when Stiles was tugging your earbud out and telling you your class was over, you had a solid three pages worth of questions that had been split up into sessions, and ready to be worked through.

“Pack up and get ready to go. I have plans to get ready for.”

Stiles already had his bag in his arms, notebook tucked inside and pens and pencils put away, two empty coffee cups and a muffin wrapper sitting out, which he quickly gathered up, once his bag was on his shoulder. He was gone, walking past you and down to the waste bin at the front of the hall to dispose of them, his fingers tapping idly on his thigh once he was done.

You gathered your belongings, packing them away and curling the wire of your headphones back up neatly, making sure everything had its correct place in your bag, before following him down and out of the steps.

The halls were filled once again, the two of you navigating through crowds to the outside of the building, and you followed him in his diversion across the pathway, all the way to his car. Some students had already left, spaces beginning to empty out as a bottleneck effect took place at the only entrance and exit to this carpark.

“Where’s your car?” The dirty blue jeep was one of the only ones left in the parking lot, Stiles looking around for your vehicle, and you sighed.

“Don’t get me started on that hunk of junk.” You growled, stomping a foot on the floor as Stiles laughed. Opening the driver’s side door, he hopped up inside of it, legs dangling from the chair. “I’m trying not to use it as much. It splutters when it starts up and I have to try it a whole bunch of times, so the less I use it, the closer to graduation we can get before it eventually taps out.”

“You ever think about just getting it fixed?”

“Oh, big words from the man whose engine is held together with duct tape.” Your hand rubbed over the hood of the car, a slightly dusty layer that made you cringe, and you wiped your hand off on your jacket to stop it.

“Touché.” Stiles only smirked. “C’mon, I’ll give you a ride to my place. I’ll be waiting for hours if you walk.”

He slammed his car door once his legs were inside, leaning over the centre console to pop open the passenger side door as you rounded the car, and he was sparking up the car before you were even fully inside. Slamming it shut, he was reversing from his spot as you clipped in your safety belt, swinging his car around, and you gripped onto the edge of the door. “Easy there, fast and furious.”

“Oh, relax. Nobody is around.”

“Except for me, and I’d like to live until graduation.” His eyes rolled, hitting the brakes and flicking on the indicators as he was leaving the parking lot, moving out onto the main roads. There weren’t so many other cars, the mid-afternoon meaning the other students were mostly in class, in bed, or eating their lunch. College was a weird time, and while you’d loved it, you couldn't wait to regain some kind of normality. “Can we swing by my place? I need to swap out my books. I don’t want to carry all these around.”

“Okay, but be quick! I have to be ready by six and out the door by six-thirty. Derek will kill me if I’m late for this.” His fingers were tapping on the steering wheel as he changed direction to head to your place instead of his own. The space between you both was filled with the radio, the simple tunes of classic 70s anthems, the songs Stiles had grown up with, his dad’s favourite records and he played them constantly. He knew all the words, mouthing along and banging his head, pausing occasionally to check the mirrors and the roads between dancing in his seat.

Rolling the window down as he slowed in his approach to the building, afresh air swept into the carbon of the car, the slightly musty smell of the older car was something you’d miss when it was gone. The shade of the concrete cover overhead was chillier than the sunny roads, and he swung himself haphazardly into a parking space.

“I’ll turn the car around and wait here, cool?”

“I won’t take long, promise!” Hopping from the car and closing the door, you leant on the open door frame, and Stiles slouched in his seat, as he usually did. “Lydia and Ally should both be out, so there’s nobody for me to even talk to.”

“Good, because you’re chatty.” He teased, and you flipped him off, a quick walk as you headed away from him to the stairs. Once you were there, you were taking a quick jog up the sets of stairs, headed for your floor, and balancing your books in your arms carefully. Rooting through your bag to find your keys, they were at the bottom, jingling tantalisingly for you to find.

Leaving your books on the countertop of the kitchen, you shifted through them, taking the notebook you needed and leaving the rest, piling them back up and taking them to your bedroom Abandoned on the desk, you rushed to change, throwing on a bigger and warmer jumper to get through the rest of the day, phone in your pocket and a bag on your arm. Passing back through the kitchen, you were ready to grab the notebook and bag you’d left there, keys hanging in the back of the door, and you eyed the freezer.

You’d made a bet, a point to prove, and you were certain that buried somewhere deep in the bottom, you had a frozen lasagne from the last time you’d made it for Allison and Lydia. You had a few spare moments, and so you moved over to the freezer, opening the door and crouching to scan over all the shelves.

Running your fingers over frozen plastic, you searched for the right one. Tinfoil crinkling in the back, behind a bag of dinosaur chicken nuggets and a tray of alcoholic ice cubes, was a tray of lasagne. Pulling it out, the cold chilled your arm, even through the layers of your hoodie, and you used your foot to close the freezer while wrapping the tray in the nearest tea towel for an extra layer.

Placing your notebook over it and holding it in both arms for security, you clicked the latch onto the door, keys in your pocket and bag on your shoulder to let it swing closed behind you.

Stiles saw you coming, his head snapping over to the metal door between the stairwell and the parking lot when it fell open, backing through it and his brows raised. Opening up the passenger side door, he took the lasagne from you when you handed it over, climbing back into the vehicle.

“This is cold. What is it?”

“Lasagne.” You settled it onto your lap once your safety belt was on, folding the towel underneath to keep your lap from getting chilled and painful, and he nodded. The engine was still running, and taking off the brakes, he was pulling out of the space again.

“So, not that I don’t love a home-cooked meal, but I’m going out for dinner. Why the traybake?”

“I have a point to prove to Noah.” You were looking out of the window, but you could feel his gaze on you, making you a little uncomfortable, and you turned to face him. His eyes were flicking between you and the road, brows furrowed, a stare like he was trying to figure you out, before he let it go. “He told me I looked like I couldn't cook, and it’s a battle I’m going to win.”

“Well, alright then. Save me leftovers?”

“We’ll see.” You winked, and he grinned, eyes flicking to the tray in your lap, before back to the road.

It was only a short journey, the distance between your place and Stiles’ building was short for a walk and even shorter in a car, on the edges of campus and conveniently placed, and it had been one of the building blocks of your friendship with him An easily accessible study partner, somewhere to hang out with, someone to walk home with you after a night out, someone to share a cab with, or simply knowing there was a friend so close to you.

“It’s going to be weird not living around the corner from you in just a few months.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He sighed, pulling into his one building sparking area and it didn’t have the luxury of being covered or underground, it was exposed each flat having allocated parking spaces, and Noah’s bike was parked underneath the shelter, you could see it from here, with a clamp around the wheel and covered from the impending and risky weather of the early months. “I have a feeling that you’ll end up living next door to me someday.”

“You do?”

He parked the car, arm behind your head as he reversed into it, ready to make a quick getaway on the next morning, or this evening, when he would invariably be late. In true Stiles Stilinski style. “Yeah. Especially after I rock whatever gown you want me to wear for being your maid of honour, someday.”

“Lydia is going to fight you for that role.”

“I will fistfight her for it.” He challenged, and you grinned, clambering down from the car as Stiles had parked a little too close to someone else on your side. With your bag on your shoulder and lasagne in one hand, you tried to squeeze around the door without scratching someone else’s paintwork.

Stiles’ arm was slung over your shoulder as you set off toward the building, the elevator being fully functional, and it was a refreshing change not need to take the stairs up to your place, or risk your life in a rickety elevator.

Throwing his keys down on the kitchen counter, they slid all the way across and to the other side, hitting the floor, and he grimaced when you turned to stare at him. “I’ll pick those up later.”

“Uh-huh.” The sounds of video games and music were coming from behind Noah’s door, though it wasn’t fully closed, only pushed halfway, and you hoped that was a sign that he was still in a good mood. Leaving your bag on the edge of the couch that was facing away from you, your hands rubbed together, glancing around at the environment you were still getting used to. “You should put this lasagne in now, so that it’s ready for after the study. Medium heat, leave the full-on tight.”

“Where are you going?”

“To say ‘hey’ to your brother.” Stiles’ face scrunched up, a mumble of ‘good luck’ as he picked up the tray, lifting it over his head to look in at it from underneath. Wandering toward the sounds coming from the hall, you knocked on the edge of the door, pushing it open a second later when you heard the game pause, and the music following it. Leaning on the doorframe, Noah turned to face you, brows raising slightly, and he shifted in his chair. “Hey.”

“Hi. It’s, uh, time for the study stuff, then?”

“Yeah. You okay?” He shrugged, turning back to his game and closing it off, leaning forwards from where he was sat on his bed enough to turn the console off.

“I didn’t realise we’d be doing it here. It feels more personal, somehow.” He had a large hoodie on, comfortable in his own clothes as he wore a baggy and warm outfit, the same way you often had when everything started to feel overwhelming.

“Well, this study is going to get pretty personal.”

“I know that. It’s just that right now, it feels a bit like I’m naked, y’know?” You chuckled, a momentary smile on his face flashing past, and you were glad to see it. “I just feel exposed.”

“This study is gonna’ do that, but I promise that I’ll try and make it as easy as I can. I’ll break it up, I’ll make it comfortable for you, and we’ll stop whenever you’re getting overwhelmed.”

“That’d be great, actually.” His hands rubbed together, sleeves hanging slightly down over his palms, and he looked a whole lot less terrifying right now than he did with the armour of a bike and a leather jacket. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Good, because I need you in high spirits. I brought a lasagne and I have a point to prove.”

You backed out of the room as he advanced toward you, the door closing and leaving you both standing in the hall, and he smirked down at you a little, a disbelieving expression. “You really brought that?”

“You bet I did. It’ll be ready by the time we finish.”

“Then I guess we’d better get started, huh?” He hopped over the back of the couch, settling in beside his brother, who scowled at him as his drink spilt down his shirt from the impact. Taking a seat on the other side of them both, your legs folded underneath yourself in the armchair, finding a glass of water laid out for yourself on the table, courtesy of Stiles.

They looked so different and yet so similar in this moment. You could understand how people may have confused the two of them before their styles became so radically different. In the beginning, before Noah turned to leather and a sleeve tattoo, when they both wore hoodies and band tees and had clean pale skin. With the sleeve of tattoos covered, and the pair both wearing hoodies, one with an etching across the front and the other with a faded logo from being washed one too many times,

Laying out your books, it was more of a note you’d keep to yourself, and following from that was your recorder, coated in the front pocket of your bag so as not to get crushed. Switching it on at the side, the red light flashed on to green blinking once to let you know it was active. “Can you guys do your confirmations for me while I get set up?”

“Surely can.” Stiles sat forwards, leaning down a little with his forearms braced across his knees, as opposed to Noah, who slumped back into the cushion. “Stiles Stilinski, happy to be recorded.”

“Noah Stilinski, aware of being recorded.” Stiles rolled his eyes at his brother’s dead tone, clearly not having as much fun as Stiles was, but you didn’t blame him.

“Okay, so, why don’t you guys tell me what it’s like to live together at college.” There was a beat of silence, and then a set of matching laughs from both of them, the two starting at one another. There was a look between them, one you didn’t quite understand, and it seemed like some kind of twin-telepathy communication.

“It’s, like, exactly the same as when we were in high school.”

“Uh, what?” Stiles interjected, and Noah turned to look at him. “It’s nothing like high school!”

“Yes, it is!” Noah insisted, and you smirked, picking up your water and taking a sip as the two stared in shock at one another. “We lived together in high school, we played video games, I did all the cooking and you did all the cleaning while dad was at work. The only thing that is different is that we can’t cheat from one another’s homework anymore.”

“We don’t drive to school together anymore, we’re on opposite sides of campus!”

“That so doesn’t count.” Noah scoffed, and Stiles twisted on the couch, his hand gestures much more emphasised than that of his brother’s and you watched the debate go down. “You can’t name any more than that.”

“I take that as a challenge.” Stiles’ head rolled side to side. “Our schedules don’t match up anymore, and we haven’t had our usual movie nights in almost six months now. I can’t bring Derek over because your room is right across from mine-”

“My room was across the hall from you at home. You just didn’t date in high school or have anyone to bring home.”

“Low-blow. Unlike some people, I didn’t want to traumatise my brother in high school by bringing someone home, for that.” Stiles reached out mid-sentence, swatting at his brother’s shoulder, before continuing; “Uh, let's see. Oh! We don’t talk anymore, you didn’t ride your motorbike so much at home, you used to ride in the jeep with me. It’s like a totally different world now.”

“I didn’t know you felt like that.” There was a palpable kind of feeling in the air, something between them that was sizzling with electricity, before Stiles sighed.

“It’s no big deal. The difference is just that we’re both so busy now.”

“That was really good, actually. Thanks.” The two seemed to have forgotten you were there, both flinching and turning to face you again, matching sets of honey-coloured eyes in varying shades were fixing on you again. “Speaking of what you said, though, does it ever make it hard for you guys when your class times are so different?”

“Hard to do what?” Stiles squinted at you, face set in a frown that his twin normally wore.

“Hard to hang out, talk, have that whole brotherly bond going on.” Your clarification did little for Stiles, his brows still pulled tight and frown never moving, but Noah’s face smoothed out.

“Oh.. well, I g-”

“Totally.” Noah pressed, and once again, Stiles’ head whipped around to look at his brother. “Don’t look at me like that. You basically said it, anyway. We don’t talk so much anymore. We barely know each other. You don’t even tell me about your podcast, anymore.”

“You never listened!”

“You used to tell me your problems, not broadcast them to the world with jokes and humour! I missed two episodes, and you just stopped keeping me updated on it.” The moodier twin crossed his arms over his chest, and you swallowed thickly at the environment you had unwittingly created. “I don’t know. Just feels like we used to talk a lot more.”

They both went silent, and Noah shot you a pleading look, but there was something darker behind it. It almost felt venomous, angry or defensive, as though to say ‘I told you so’ about it being more personal now that they were home. Stiles was occupying himself with pulling a loose thread on their couch cushion out and making it that much worse, distracting himself from it all. “Well, how about something a little bit lighter. Just some questions about hobbies. Stiles, what inspired you to first start a podcast?”

“Well, as you know, I never stop talking.” He smirked, Noah laughing beside him, and just like that, the awkward air between them both was completely evaporated. “I had a lot to say, I had a lot to get off of my mind. At first, it was just to get my thoughts out there. It was kind of like a recorded journey for myself, and to share with my friends from back home. But, then other people started listening. I thought it was going to be the end of my college social life, a social life that I was developing for the first time ever, and they liked it. I was just talking into a mic and getting things off of my chest, making no sense while telling stories and bitching about my homework and suddenly I had friends. It got a whole lot of followers and I made new friends,”

He paused, offering you a wink for the comment, and you beamed.

“-and I was going to parties, I met my boyfriend at a pep rally, and everything just kinda.. blossomed. The more I got out of it, the more inspired I was to keep going. I ended up making multiple videos a week, all differently themed. Sometimes movie reviews, sometimes songs, sometimes just talking. That’s how ‘Mischief Mic’ was born.”

“Alright. That was awesome.” Stiles bowed as best he could from sitting on the couch, and reached over to take a sip of his drink. “Okay, Noah, have you got any hobbies that you didn’t have in high school that you found when you came to college.”

“Not really.”

“Not even one?” You pushed, and the arms folded over his chest tightened, his gaze going to the floor, socked toes pushing into the twist cable rug. He took his glass, swigging all of it, the water draining from the glass in nervousness, and you could hear the crickets inside your mind chirping to fill the silence that had formed.

“No. Not really. I’m going to get more water, feel free to continue.”

“Uh, okay.” You pressed your pen down into your paper, drawing a line through the question on your paper as you realised you’d have no answer to that question when you listened back on the tape at a later time. “Stiles, back to you, then.”

Your next question came, and went, and Stiles was more than happy to answer them. Occasionally, Noah would answer a question, you’d be able to pin him down long enough to get a straight answer out of him, but there seemed to always be something that he needed to mess with, or fix. Almost half of your questions for him had a line drawn through, and you would have to ask them another time, and get a whole extra session in without Stiles, dragging the study out.

It was going to take you twice as long to get through it all if every time you had to ask them separately, and had to spend your time trying to force him to sit and answer. You were missing half of the information that you needed to be able to compare to Stiles’ answers, you couldn’t answer without them.

The clock ticked by, leaving you with all of your questions for Stiles answered. On a blank page, while Noah had once again been tinkering with something in the kitchen, you’d rewritten up all over the crossed out questions that would still need answers. You had doodled on the corner again, waiting for him to come and sit back down, a collection of hearts and flowers, the occasional bee or ladybug, even a couple of misshaped stars, forming a banner across the top of the page.

When he finally came to sit back down, he huffed, eyes moving to the clock as though he was waiting for this to end just as much as Stiles was, and you gave up.

“Okay, how about we just finish this up?” You had reached the end of your tether, not even bothering with the rest of the questions that were written down for him. “We got almost two hours in, that’s perfect.”

Noah sighed, something like an apology in his look as your eyes met his and he shrugged lightly. Stiles only nodded, eyes flicking up to the clock on the wall, and he was grinning when he came back. Tearing a page out of your notebook for each of them, you passed it over, blank paper sitting before them, and you searched for a pen or pencil in the bottom of your bag for each of them. Placing your pen down before Stiles and a pencil in front of Noah, they both leaned forwards, picking them up. Switching off your recorder and packing it away, you were left with the two staring at you expectantly.

“Okay, Stiles, come fill yours out in the kitchen. You can’t discuss these ones.”

“Oh, some mystery. I like that.” He picked up his paper and pencil, heading over to the kitchen counter, folding the sheet in half as he did, and you nodded. Standing from your place behind the coffee table, your bag slumped a little more from where it had been propped against your leg.

“Okay, I want you both to try self-diagnosing yourself.” Stiles gasped, a little excitement lacing it, and his pencil was already moving over the paper. Noah, however, looked a little lost, looking to you for guidance. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to use professional terms, just, describe what you think, I’ll be able to figure it out, and if I can’t, I’ll ask you about it at some point.”

He nodded, pausing, not quite as eager to get into the activity as Stiles was, before the pencil finally met the paper, and the slow scratching of graphite over paper filled the silence.

Moving away to the kitchen, you searched for plates, and a dish, laying them out on the counter before moving to the oven. A wave of hot air into your face once you pulled the door open, and when it cleared, you search for the kitchen towel you’d brought with you. Wrapping it carefully around the edges of the tray inside, you pulled it out, resting it atop the oven and closing the door back up.

Flicking off the handles, the light inside went dead, and Stiles loomed up behind you. “Smells good!” He presented a piece of paper to you, your eyes flicking over what he’d written once you’d taken it from him, and everything that he’d written about himself seemed completely accurate. It wasn’t a surprising self-evaluation, Stiles had spent almost four years studying this, just like you had, and so it was bound to be accurate and professional. Even if his handwriting looked a little bit like chicken-scratch.

Noah was still working on his, and Stiles was picking at the edges of the tinfoil, trying not to touch the glass of the casserole dish and burn himself, and as soon as he had some foil pinched between his fingers, he was pulling it back. “Wait, Stiles, watch out for the-”

“Fucking steam! Oh, my God, that’s so fucking hot!”

His hand snapped back, half unpeeled as all the steam from inside clouded in the air, and his hand was clutched to his chest. He was glaring at the pot, before moving away and running his hands underneath the cold tap at the sink, his thumb rubbing over wet skin to soothe it.

A second later, Noah was appearing, placing his paper face down on top of Stiles, which now lay on the kitchen counter. “Well, now that I’ve been scalded by pasta, I’m going to go shower and get ready.”

“M’kay.” He backed away, and Noah leaned on the counter beside you.

“Looks good, but does it taste any good, is the question.” The twin you were left with was teasing you, your eyes finding him, and you raised a brow.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get me something to serve it up with, alright?”

He smirked, pulling open the drawer behind him and searching for a serving spoon. Slicing it into pieces, you dished it up for him, a large slab on a plate, still steaming with cheese that had only just stopped bubbling. He grabbed a fork, and one for you too, waiting patiently as you served yourself, and put whatever was left into a dish for Stiles, covering it back up and leaving it to cool.

“Okay, prepare for the best lasagne of your life.”

Picking up the papers and your plate, the two of you moved back to the couch, sitting opposite one another, and you waited with excitement. Taking a piece off of his plate with the edge of his fork, he raised it, blowing cold air over it for a few moments, before taking the bite. There was a tense few moments, while he chewed, face unreadable, before he was swallowing the mouthful.

“Well?”

You couldn’t take the anticipation any longer, a smile on his face at the desperation you showed for his answer, and he gave in. “Alright, alright. This may actually be the best lasagne I have ever had.”

“Yes!” Your hands went up in the air, cheering excitedly and he laughed at your reaction, holding his hand up when you forced him to, palms slamming together in a high-five. He was tucking in again, and you reached for your plate, excited for the meal you had made, Taking a large piece on the tip of your fork, you tucked in.

The sound of Stiles’ shower was running in the background, and he was singing loudly, a song that you were certain was a TV show intro but you’d never seen the show, and there was a chance it was something from Disney Channel. Picking up the pieces of paper again, you turned Noah’s around to face you.

You’d had an expectation, you knew what you thought he was going to write down, and yet you were somehow surprised and entirely not surprised at the same time. It was what you expected but with a twist. He had confidence in what he’d written about himself he was sure of it, and while there were definitely elements that you’d disagree with, there was a lot of truth to it, and you frowned, reading it again.

Noah was watching you do so, the scrape of forks over plates as the lull in chatter came back, and you place the two pieces of paper into the front of your notebook, making sure that it was all sealed tightly away. “Is it alright?”

“It’s just not what I expected from you. But, it’s perfect.”

“That feels like a backhanded compliment.” He smiled softly, but he looked nervous, and you shook your head.

“Not at all, it just means that you have a better grasp on this whole thing than I thought you did.” It was the truth, and while you didn’t want to reveal so much to him about it all without compromising your work, but it made sense. “It just feels like with the way today went, like you weren’t really so interested in it, so I didn’t expect such an accurate self-diagnosis from you.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighed, pushing what was left of his food around the plate, and you copied him, appetite dwindling. “It’s just that when you’re here, in my apartment, and you’re asking questions about what changed and making me confront everything, it feels like real therapy. You said it was going to be casual, and this didn’t feel casual.”

“I get it. I really do, and it’s okay. I can just email you the questions you didn’t answer, and you can get around to them whenever you feel up to it, alright?” He nodded, shaking off the evening’s stress. He continued to eat, polishing off the meal that was laid out before him and settling his hands over his stomach once he was finished. There was a satisfied smile on his face, and your empty plate was soon stacking on top of his own. Leaning forwards a little, you caught Noah’s eye, and one of his brows arched up. “I can try to make it more informal, in the future.”

“That would be great, actually.”

You smiled, the consolidation made between the two of you, and your ears picked up on another sound. “Hold on, is Stiles blow-drying his hair?”

“Oh, yeah.” He laughed, head turning to the closed bathroom door where his brother resided. “He thinks it makes his hair fluffy.”

“He gels his hair, though! Why does it matter if it’s fluffy?”

“He’s insane. Don’t you know this, yet?” Noah scoffed, and your giggles carried you back into the rest of the chair as you settled back into it. The evening was still waiting to come in fully. Comfortable quiet fell between you both again, and Noah moved away to take the plates to the kitchen. He left them in the sink, water running to wash them up, before storing Stiles’ lasagne in the fridge.

The aforementioned boy moved from the bathroom to his bedroom, skidding on the floors a little and clutching the towel to his waist as he hurried, making himself late with the extra-long shower and the blowdrying of his hair. Noah was washing up the plates, leaving them to dry on the draining rack, and you took that as your cue. The night was over, that much was clear, and you’d be willing to bet that he was more than eager to get back to his alone time.

Taking your bag and double-checking that you had everything, you swung it up onto your shoulder, and made your way toward the door. Hearing the shuffling of your feet, Noah turned, drying his hands on the towel beside him. “Are you going?”

“Feels like I should. Stiles will be going soon, anyway. I’m sure you have things to do, too.”

“I don’t have anything to do, if I’m being honest.” He cringed at his own words, pulling down the rolled-up sleeves of his hoodie and making his way over to you. Undoing the catch on the door, he pulled it open, leaning against it and you linseed in the doorway.

“Since you’re not doing anything, do you wanna’ get a coffee with me?”

His eyes narrowed, just for a second, and his fingers tapped anxiously on the wood of the door. “As a study subject, or..?”

“As friends.” You confirmed, his lips a thin line for only a second, before pulling up at the sides in a smile.

“Then, yeah. I’d like that.” He looked down, sweatpants and mismatching socks on his lower half, and there was a tint on his cheeks when he looked up. “Just give me two seconds to go change, alright?”

He darted away before you had a chance to reply leaving you there with the words frozen in your throat. Stiles was clattering around behind his own door, and Noah’s door slammed shut, leaving you alone in the doorway. Your hands tapped against your thighs as you waited, bag swinging on your shoulder, and only a second later, one of the doors was opening.

To your surprise, it was Stiles, flapping the flannel on his body to shake out any creases, and he stood before you. Doing a little twirl from where he stood, he began to button it up down his front, looking somewhat smart. It was a nice black and white one, no rips or tears or stains like most of his other ones, and the black stood out prominently against the white, thick patterns with flecks of grey within it.

“How do I look, then?”

“You look great, Sti. I’ve never seen you wear anything so plain before. There’s no colour.”

“Yeah, well, this is a new flannel. It’s my best one, and the skinny jeans are Noah’s. All my skinny jeans are blue or red, it was this or khakis.” He was nervous, resisting the urge to mess with his freshly-styled hair. “The place we’re going to is kinda fancy, but I don’t feel fancy enough for it. I’m gonna’ do something stupid like drop my glass and smash it or make a joke about something dumb.”

“Haven’t you met his family before?” You teased, and he huffed, searching for his keys, and finding them under the counter where he’d never bothered to pick them up from.

“No, not really. I’ve met his mom because she comes to visit a lot, and of course, his little sister, because she’s a sophomore here. But, he has a lot of family. His extended family are coming to graduation, but this is his older sister and his dad, and his uncle, and I’ve never met them before.” His keys were tucked into his back pocket, and his phone followed, your gaze moving over him.

“You got a blazer, Stiles?”

“Uh, yeah. One that my dad made me promise to bring, I wore it to my senior prom.” He shrugged, hands smoothing over his front. “You think I should wear it?”

“Go get it, show me.” He nodded, moving back to his bedroom, and you were waiting for something with orange and blue stripes to come back out, which wouldn’t surprise you. In fact, you’d always imagined Stiles going to his senior prom in a Beetlejuice suit. Noah emerged from the other side of the hall, hangers scraping over their post in a wardrobe as Stiles searched for them. “Did Stiles go to prom in a Beetlejuice suit?”

Noah paused, rolling the edges of his hoodie up, charcoal grey skinny jeans that were only a few shades lighter than the ones Stiles had stolen from him on his legs, and a pair of his usual scuffled boots. “What?”

He was laughing, loudly, shaking his head to hide his grin. “It’s a legitimate question! I have this mental image of it!”

“Unfortunately, he did not. My dad made us both go in three-piece formal suits. He saved up to have them custom made. Said that every man should have a smart suit.” He shrugged, crouching to start tying the laces on his shoes and Stiles reappeared. Over his shoulders was a dark black suit, crisp collar and pressed edges, and it was a beautiful piece of tailoring.

“You look good, Sti. Very smart, but casual. Like a polished version of your usual self.”

“Yeah? Good enough to meet Derek’s family?” His voice shook, and you wished you could ease him more.

“Totally. You look great.” He thanked you both, and Noah grabbed his wallet from the side, and his house keys, letting them both hang in the front pocket of an oversized hoodie.

“You ready to go?” He offered, hand on the top of the door, and Stiles’ head snapped up again from where he’d been checking his phone, presumably looking for texts from Derek.

“Where are you two going?”

“We’re getting coffee!” You beamed, and Noah nodded, stepping a little further out of the door with you.

“Oh, well, have fun. I’ll text you updates about how it goes. I might need bathroom-break pep-talk during the night.” You waved to him as you went, wishing him ‘good luck’, before the two of you were wandering down the halls. Thumbing the button for the elevator, the doors popped open, and you were stepping inside along with Noah.

“So, you wanna’ show off those new small talk skills to me, then?”

“Okay, okay. Let me think of something.” He hummed under his breath, glancing up to the top of the elevator and looking around at the posters on the walls for inspiration, and he seemed to find one. Turning his attention quickly back to you, you prepared for what he’d found. “Have you listened to any of the student bands? There’s been a lot of them growing, lately.”

“I’ve noticed that, actually.” There were several posters up around the inside of the elevator, different coloured flyers, some on shiny paper and some on smooth matte, varying fonts and designs, it was dizzying. “I haven’t, I’ve never been to see a student band. I should do that before I graduate, though. Have you?”

“I’ve been to a couple.” The door clicked open, the two of you stepping through it. Out into the setting chill of the evening that was threatening to break its way in. He chose the direction you’d be going in, heading toward the coffee shop on the side of campus that had been the first the two of you had met at when beginning the study. “Some of them are good, some of them are kinda’ average. They usually play at the bars on the edges of campus or in the places in the city, the less well-known, kinda’ alternative places. They can be fun.”

“You going out optionally to a night on the town? I’m shocked.”

“Uh, no!” He protested, grinning at you. “I’ve never been for a ‘night on the town’, and I never will. However, going to one of the few small bars around here that aren’t practically a nightclub, to listen to covers of good songs and get a pint without worrying about anyone bothering me or mistaking me for my brother, that’s nice.”

“Okay, well, maybe I’ll go to one sometime.”

“You should, I think you’d have fun.” The two of you weaved between other students, the small talk keeping up between you both as he did his best, and while it was sometimes a little stuttered and stalled, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you had expected. It wasn’t until the two of you had entered the coffee shop that he fell into tight silence again. The crowds, the rush of chatter from other groups gathered around the tables, and the friendly greetings of baristas whose chit-chat diverted to him due to his allegiance with you.

“What are you drinking? My treat.”

“Uh, just a black coffee.” He choked out, eyes flicking over all the boards, so many options up there, and you chuckled.

“Really, just a black coffee?”

“I’ve never really experimented. I just ordered whatever was the quickest and the easiest.” He confessed, already glancing back over his shoulder at the queue that was forming behind you both. “What would you recommend?”

“Hm, well, do you have a sweet tooth?” He only nodded, scratching around his cuticles on one hand and staring down at the flesh growing red, and you took his hand. Lowering it back down to his side, the hand formed a fist, flexed nervously, and you let it go, squeezing comfortingly first. Turning to the barista, she was still waiting patiently, and your eyes moved over the boards overhead. “Two mint and dark chocolate hot cocoas.”

“That sounds really good, actually.” He leaned down, mumbling the words into your ear to make sure you heard the quiet tone over the talk in the small coffee house.

“And, two croissants, too.” She rang it up on the machine, and you leaned in a little closer to her. “Do you have any of the warm and fresh ones straight from the oven?”

“We made a fresh batch about twenty minutes ago, they’re cooling. I’ll get them from the back for you.” She finished it with a wink, passing the card machine over to you once you’d produced your card from your wallet. Swiping it across the reader, you moved to the end of the line, and she moved away to begin preparing your order as someone else took over at the counter.

She was working, creating two beautifully constructed hot chocolates for you both. Placing them down on the counter before you, once they were garnished with chocolate sauce and whipped cream, she disappeared into the back room. Taking one of the ceramic plates with her, you were happy to see her bypass the glass cabinet with the older ones in, and only a moment later, she was coming back. Two fresh croissants on a plate, still warm and soft to the touch, and she handed those over as well.

Noah had been scouting for a place to sit, choosing which was the best one, and he carried both of the drinks while you carried the pastries, guiding you to the seat he’d chosen. It was tucked away in the back, a small loveseat sofa with a low sitting coffee table in front of it, and as soon as the paper cups were down on the surface of the table, he was dropping down into the seat.

“It feels like rush hour on the highway, but with coffee.” He mumbled, and you settled onto the couch beside him passing him his drink over, and he stared at it curiously. “What about the whipped cream. Do I eat that first? Scrape it off? Mix it in?”

“Any of the above.” You grinned, taking a wooden stirrer from the condiments tray in the middle and beginning to stir the cream into your hot chocolate. He placed it down, copying your actions, stirring slowly and trying not to spill any over the edges, but it was an impossible feat to achieve. Sticky droplets left over the edges of your cups and his, creating rings on the table that you had to mop up with tissues. “Okay, try it. This is one of my favourite orders here. It’s bitter because of the dark chocolate, but also sweet. Reminds me of you.”

“Now, that one is a backhanded compliment.” He muttered, taking a sip of the drink, and your lips rubbed together.

“Not everything is a backhanded statement, you know. I didn’t intend for it to be mean, it’s just the truth. You’re all dark and moody, but I can already tell you’re sweet on the inside.” You sipped your drink to finish your statement, and he filled the time where he didn’t know what else to say by pulling a chunk off of his croissant. Chewing on it idly, he settled back into the cushions, and you lifted your legs up to fold underneath yourself as you turned to face him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You’ve already asked me a lot of questions today.”

“You didn’t answer many, though. You kinda’ have to give me this one.” He scowled falsely, but nodded, licking a flake of pastry from his lower lip. “Not that I think you need it, because personally, I think you’re just fine, but why are you so scared about therapy? The idea of it, anything to do with it, it makes you so closed off. Even more than usual.”

His eyes moved over the room, nervously, before scanning both you and the table, and you put your drink down, holding open palms up to him.

“No recorder, no study. I’m just curious.”

“Okay.” He sighed shakily, and slumped back. “Well, after my mom died, my dad made me and Stiles have therapy when we started acting out. We had a therapist who came to the house, and she was great, don’t get me wrong, but I hated it. I didn’t want her to tell me how to grieve or mourn, and I didn’t want her to tell me how to move on. Stiles needed all the advice he could get, but I didn’t want it. I wanted to do it my own way. Now, the idea of therapy, brings back all those feelings of sadness and pressure and stress.”

“I’m sorry, Noah.” You reached out, rubbing a hand over his shoulder, and his gaze fell to the contact. “Genuine sympathy and sorrow, not just that thing girls do that you hate.”

“Stop hanging things I’ve said over me, I don’t remember half of them. I blackout in social situations.” He grinned, moving past the moment, and you withdrew your touch.

“You know, if it makes you feel any better, I understand the nervousness of being in a study.”

“Yeah?” He picked up the rest of his croissant, a large chunk of it being eaten, as he waited for you.

“Yeah. When I moved here, I was so nervous. I was beginning to take my course and I didn’t really have any friends, and there was a senior who needed freshmen for her study.” Noah grinned, settling in for the story and sipping his drink. “She was doing a study about the difference between kids who travelled far from home for college alone as opposed to those who were still close to home, and whether it impacted social clubs, grades, all that. To be fair, it was an awesome study.”

“It sounds like it.”

You smiled, swirling the cup in your hands to gather any loose powder that may have begun to separate and gather at the bottom. “Well, I got drawn into it. She was a senior, and she was nice. I had no friends yet, I was in a flat-share with Allison and Lydia and three other girls who were all too busy getting adjusted to college themselves. So, this senior, she invited me to a party, and then another one, and suddenly people started wanting to be my friend because I was the freshman who hung out with seniors. I figured it would all drop away when her study ended and she didn’t need me anymore, but by then the whole social hierarchy had done its thing, and there I was.”

You shrugged, and Noah was hiding a shit-eating grin behind his mug. “So, you were just a little freshman lab rat, then?”

You scoffed, your laughter mixing with his, and the two of you were left in subtle amusement. His laughter was cut short, though, brought a rapid halt when a set of legs bumped against your table on the other side, followed by two more behind them.

“Hey, girl!” One of the girls on the cheer team, a lacrosse player behind her and a girl who you recognised from your psychology class texting on her phone. “Saw you over here, wanted to know what your plans for the evening were. We’re going to do some karaoke and get some food, you wanna’ come?”

Your eyes moved to Noah, whose attention was fixed on the floor again, as though the splintering wood was of utmost interest. “Maybe another time. I think we’re good here for now.”

“Oh, you sure? I think it could be super fun, you should both come.” The invitation was now extended to you both, and you shook your head at her despite it.

“Seriously, you should go, if you want to,” Noah whispered, and when you turned back to him now, he’d dared to look up, chewing on a lower lip that would go raw, but he met your gaze.

“No, I’m sure. I’m having fun here.” You held his gaze for a second longer, before turning to her, and confirming your denial, and she smiled, promising to make plans with you soon, before she was walking away. Noah was fidgeting beside you, shuffling in his seat, and you could practically feel the nerves rolling off of him in waves. “I’m serious, Noah. I’m having fun, and I’m perfectly happy here with you, right now.”

He was trying not to grin, a smile that was being bitten back on the inside of his cheek. “Well, for the record, I’m having fun too.”

“What was that?” You cupped your ear, challenging him to repeat it, even though you had heard it perfectly, and by the look on his face, he knew the game you were playing.

“I said I’m having fun. I won’t deny it.”

“Two victories in one day, for this gal. I’m breaking down all your walls, Noah Stilinski.” You poked at his cheek, and he swatted your hand away, taking a bite from your croissant as punishment, and you tried to snatch it back from him.

“Two victories, one loss. You’re not getting this croissant back, now.”

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ray-ray-writings · 4 years

Text

A Dedicated and Domesticated Pig-Technoblade

This is a Technoblade x gn!reader in the dreamsmp! For the sake of this story, we’re going to say that once new L’manberg was built and Tubbo became president no other war happened. They rebuilt and the nation was happy and prosperous.

This is the fourth and probably final part of the Dedicated Series! I honestly cannot believe how much you guys love this series! Thank you guys so much for all of your support! As I said, this is probably the final part because I don’t really know how this could go even further, but who knows. Maybe one of you will have a killer idea that I can’t turn down. But I just wanted to say thank you all again so so much for the overwhelming support that you guys continue to give me. I love you all so much… Anyway on with the story.

Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

Masterlist here

Everything comes full circle when Y/N and their family travel to L’Manberg for the annual festival.

Y/N’s POV

I let out a groan as the sunlight that peered through our window hit my closed eyes, arousing me from my slumber. I knew I should have sprung for those blackout curtains when I had the chance. I huffed and rolled over, my hand searching the other side of the bed for the lump that was my husband. My brow furrowed when no such lump was found, instead a cool spot laid where my husband usually rests. “Babe?” I croaked out, my eyes peeling open to confirm my thoughts. I slowly sat up and pushed the blankets off of me, looking around the room and still not seeing him there. I closely listened for a moment, thinking that maybe he had decided to take an early morning shower, no such sound.

Stretching my arms up, I swung my legs out of the blankets and onto the floor before standing up, my back cracking ever so slightly at the stretch. I slowly made my way out of the bedroom and throughout the house. I was about to check in the other room, when noise from the kitchen captured my attention.

Walking into the kitchen, I found the most adorable domestic sight I’ve seen in a while. There, in front of the stove, stood Technoblade with our 4 year old daughter Philippa on his hip. “You want to flip this pancake together?” I heard Techno muttered softly, his head turning to look at her. Her curly pink hair bobbed up and down as she agreed. “Okay. Grab here on my hand and we’ll flip on three.” Her tiny hand reached out and wrapped around Techno’s much larger one. “You ready? One, two, three!” Techno cheered before flipping the pancake. The breakfast food splatted down onto the pan causing Techno to let out a ‘whoo’ before leaning over and pressing a sweet kiss to our daughter’s forehead. “You did so well baby! You should help me make breakfast more often, I think you’re a better cook than your Baba,” He announced, throwing me under the bus. It was then I decided to make my presence known,

“You burn the potatoes one time,” I teased, causing Techno to slightly jump and turn around allowing me to see my beautiful family’s faces. “Baba!” Philippa cheered, reaching out and making grabby hands to me. I grinned and moved forward, taking our daughter from my husband’s arms. “Hey baby, sleep well?” I asked, pressing a kiss to her forehead before leaning up and kissing my husband. She matched my grin and nodded her head. “Yeah. I had a good dream and I went into your room to tell you about it. Daddy was already awake so he said we could make you breakfast while I told him my dream.” Pip rambled out, reaching out to play with my messy hair. I hummed and looked over to my pink headed husband for confirmation, “Is that so?”

Techno wasn’t looking at me, rather his pancake pan, but the smile on his face confirmed Philippa’s story. “Yeah, we were going to bring you breakfast in bed but you decided to get out of bed,” he teased, bumping his hip against mine. I simply rolled my eyes and bumped his hip back, “I got cold without you beside me. So in a way it’s kind of your fault,” I teased back, poking at his hip with the hand that wasn’t holding Pip. Techno only smiled and shook his head.

“You want to go sit at the table? This is the last pancake and I figured I can serve you and Pip at the table if you won’t let me serve you in bed.” My cheeks flushed at his sweetness. Even after all these years, he still knows how to make me shy. I gave Techno’s cheek a quick kiss before moving to the table. I set Philippa down in her normal seat before moving to my own. It didn’t take Techno too long to walk over to the table, balancing three plates in his arms. He set my plate down in front of me first before placing one in front of Pip and then in front of his own seat. Philippa wasted no time, she immediately began eating her breakfast, her small colorful fork shoving the pancake into her mouth.

Before he sat down, Techno leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to my lips. Once he pulled back, I sighed in contentment, “Thank you,” I stated with a grin before turning to my own plate. Techno chuckled as he sat next to me, “for the food or the kiss?” “Both.”

“What are we doing today Baba?” Philippa asked, her face somehow covered in sticky syrup. “Today’s L’Manberg’s Autumn Festival, remember sweetheart? We’re going to Papa Phil’s house and then we’re going to go to the festival,” I reminded her gently, reaching over and gently wiping the syrup from her cheeks. Philippa gasped in excitement as her eyes lit up at the reminder, “We’re going to see Papa Phil?” She questioned. I chuckled at her excitement, “Yes baby. And we’ll also see Uncle Will, Uncle Tommy, Uncle Tubbo. We’ll see everyone.” “Papa Phil!” She cheered aloud, completely ignoring my addition. But I couldn’t blame her. Those two have been obsessed with each other since they met. After all, we named her for him. Techno chuckle caused my attention to shift. His eyes met mine as we smiled at each other, “Papa Phil!” He cheered causing me to giggle. “Papa Phil!”

*Little Time Skip*

“Come on Tech! We’re going to be late!” I called into the house from the front door. “We’re coming! We’re coming!” Techno called from somewhere in the house causing me to giggle and roll my eyes. People always assume that it’s me that causes our family to be late, but it’s almost always Techno and Philippa.

After a few more minutes of waiting, Techno finally appeared with a bundled up Philippa on his hip. Once Techno and I got married and we started thinking about starting a family, we discussed the idea of building a new home. The one we had was very nice, but it was in the middle of a tundra with all of our family thousands of blocks away in L’Manberg. So we moved a lot closer to the country, but still far enough away to have our privacy. We found a cute snowy biome that was perfect. It had that comforting feel of the snow that Techno so desired in his ‘retirement’ but it wasn’t as cold as the tundra and of course, wasn’t as far. So we still had to bundle up everytime we left, but we didn’t have to stay in those clothes long.

The three of us walked out to our stables to get on our horses, Carl Jr. and Wendy. Techno helped me mount my horse before handing me Philippa and getting on his own. I made sure Pip was safe and secure in front of me before gathering my reins and getting Wendy to begin walking.

It only took about 20 minutes before we could see L’Manberg. We quickly made our way to Philza’s house, bringing Carl Jr. and Wendy to the open back yard to let them roam freely while we were here. Techno jumped off of Carl, walking over and taking Pip before helping me down as well. Techno let Philippa down and when he stood back up, I reached up and gave him a sweet ‘thank you’ kiss.

As soon as her legs touched the ground, Pip bolted for the back door entrance of her grandfather’s house. “Papa Phil! Papa Phil!” She cried as her little legs carried her to the house. Techno and I followed behind her as she grew nearer. “What is all this commotion out here?” Philza called teasingly as he swung the door open. “Papa Phil!” Philippa practically screamed, attaching herself to his calves as her arms wrapped around them tightly. “Woah!! Philippa! My sweet girl! It’s so good to see you!” He called, prying the little girl from his leg, raising her up in his arms before wrapping her in a tight hug.

I could feel my heart melting at the interaction happening in front of us. Philza was so happy when we announced Philippa, he was even more happy when we announced her name. That was the most tears I have ever seen Philza cry. He didn’t even cry that much at Techno and I’s wedding, and that day was full of crying. He’s the best grandfather to her. He adores her and she adores him. They’re the absolute cutest.

“Hey kids!” Philza finally greeted us after giving his full attention to his granddaughter. “Hey dadza,” we chimed in response. I carefully hugged Philza, careful not to crush Philippa before moving aside to let Techno do the same. The four of us moved further into the house, to the living room to be exact. “Are you excited for the festival today?” Philza questioned the little girl that remained in his arms. Philippa’s curls bounced once more as she nodded excitedly, “Yep, I get to see you Papa Phil!” She cheered. The smile on Phil’s face widened as he threw his head back and laughed, “Yes you do sweetheart, but you also get to see your Uncles and you get to play games and eat fun foods,” Philza explained, trying to get a different answer from her. Philippa nodded once more, “Yes. and I get to see you!” She cheered once more. I could tell the comment really made Philza’s heart warm. Small tears pricked in the corner of his eyes at well as her sweetness. “And I get to see you Pip!”

*Time Skip*

The four of us left Phil’s house to go to the festival at noon. The streets were decorated with brightly colored ribbons and many booths were set up with games, food, and merch type things. The sight really reminded me of the first L’Manberg festival that happened six years ago, the one where Techno asked me to be his partner.

We arrived at the main area to be greeted by everyone, and I mean everyone. Immediately Philippa was picked up from beside Philza and tossed in the air by her eldest uncle, Wilbur. “There’s my most adorable niece,” He cheered over her squeals and giggles. Due to Wilbur’s actions, all of the attention was on us. Instantly, we were swarmed by our friends, giving us, well mostly me, hugs and grins. Philippa was passed around from uncle to uncle to aunt, everyone cooing over just how much she’d grown since the last time we’d been here.

“You think we’ll get her back anytime soon?” Techno asked, his arm snaking around my waist, pulling me close to his side. I let out a laugh as I let my own arm wrap around him as well. “With this lot? Heck no.” Techno chuckled at my response but nodded, “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

Once we finally got our daughter back, we made our way to the game booths. First up, the dunk tank. It was the same dunk tank from 6 years ago, but it was still in great shape. Tubbo was first, he got dunked a few times. I mean who wouldn’t want to dunk their president? Following him was Tommy, Niki, Quackity, and many more. “Techno, you want in on this?” Someone called from beside the dunk tank. I turned to Techno with a bright grin and nudged his shoulder, “Yeah Techno, you want in on that?” Techno playfully glared at me at the teasing tone. Before he could respond though, Philippa spoke up, “Daddy going in the dunk tank? YAY!” Techno was never able to deny his daughter. He let out a sigh before handing me Pip and making his way to the tank. “You two are evil,” Philza chimed from beside me, grabbing one of Pip’s tiny hands and waving it back and forth. I shrugged and chuckled, “Maybe. But it’s pretty funny either way.”

Techno begrudgingly climbed into the dunk tank, glaring at me when he sat on the seat. I simply gave him a sweet smile and a wave. Everyone eagerly lined up to try and dunk my pink headed husband now that they weren’t terrified of him like they were many years ago. Unfortunately, everyone missed, literally not a single one hit, not even the one I threw after I set Pip down. I turned around in disappointment to find Phil leaning down and whispering something in Pip’s ear. Her little eyes were wide with excitement as she grinned and nodded at whatever her grandfather was telling her.

Once Philza stood back up, Philippa ran to the dunk tank. I was about to run after me, when Philza’s hand on my shoulder stopped me from moving. “Trust me. Just watch,” Philza whispered behind me. Philippa stopped beside the dunk tank, next to the button that would sink her father. “Hello Daddy!” Philippa exclaimed, waving frantically at Techno who was still sitting in the tank. “Hello Pip… What are you doing?” He asked, an eyebrow raised toward his daughter. “Dunking you!” She cheered before she reached up and pressed her small hand into the button causing the seat to collapse under my husband and dunk him into the cold water below him.

Philippa let out an excited squeal as her father was submerged and she ran back to Phil and I was a bright grin on her lips. “I did it Papa! I did what you told me!” Phil let out a loud laugh and picked up his granddaughter and pressed a big kiss to her cheek, “Yes you did. You did so well sweetheart.” Philippa giggled and cuddled herself closer to Phil. I reached over and ran my hand through her hair and kissed her cheek as well, “Baba is very proud of you lovely,” I announced causing her to giggle once more. “Is that so?” The monotone voice of my husband called from behind me. I whipped around and found a soaking wet Techno, his wet pink hair hanging in his face. I grinned as I scanned him up and down before meeting his eyes, “Yeah, it is,” I claimed, crossing my arms across my chest.

We stared at each other in silence for a moment before Techno’s face broke out in a grin as he took a small step forward, “You know what I have to do now babe.” The memory of what happened the last time this happened flashed into my mind. Oh god. I took a small step backwards toward Phil and Pip, “Hey now, you really don’t have to do this Techno,” I stated nervously. The grin on his lips curled even bigger, “Oh but I do,” Techno announced.

Before I even had time to think, Techno launched himself forward and wrapped his dripping wet arms around me, burying his soaked face into my neck causing me to get wet as well. “Technoooo!” I whined out, trying to push him off of me, but he didn’t budge. “Y/NNNNN” He mocked, squeezing his arms tighter around my waist. I let out a sigh before giving into the hug and wrapping my arms around him. “You’re lucky I love you,” I grumbled into his shoulder. Techno chuckled, “I know.”

We played games and ate junk food until the sun went down. Philippa was having a great time at the festival. Everyone had a soft spot for her and let her win every game she wanted to play. She got to eat all the sweets that she wanted. We never let her eat like this at home but because it was a special occasion, Techno and I agreed to let ourselves…. pig out for once… Pun sort of intended.

Soon it was dark and we all gathered together in the L’Manberg square. The air buzzed with excitement as we all waited with anticipation at what was to come. Techno and I stood side by side, with him holding Philippa up between us, one of my arms resting on her lower back the other wrapped around Techno’s waist. “Beloved Citizens and Friends of L’Manberg,” Tubbo called from the podium, drawing all of our attention to him, “I’d like to take this time to thank you all for gathering here for our 6th annual L’Manberg festival. We hope you’ve had a wonderful time. Here’s to more prosperous years to come. Let the show begin!” He finished, throwing his hands in the air.

Immediately fireworks flew up into the sky behind him and exploded into a beautiful array of shimmering colors. Philippa’s hands moved to cover her ears at the loud noise, but her eyes remained trained on the sky. We all watched in amazement as the fireworks exploded in the sky. I felt Techno’s arm pull me in closer to his side and his head tilt down to kiss the side of my head. I pulled my eyes from the sky and turned to look at him. A soft smile was planted on his face when our eyes met.

“Do you remember our first date?” He asked quietly as to not draw attention to us. I smiled and gave a small nod, “Of course. How could I forget, especially since it was six years ago today,” I teased giving him a small wink. Techno chuckled, “That’s true. Just, watching these fireworks really have me thinking about one of the best days of my life.” Blood rushed to my cheeks at his sweet words. “You’re too sweet. I think you’ve gone soft,” I teased my husband, knowing full well he had. Techno’s eyes left mine and slowly wandered and settled on Philippa that was still staring in wonder up in the sky.

“Yeah. I have. I’ve been shown love. I have two, three counting Phil, who love me unconditionally. This morning I was woken up by this sweet little girl who has my hair and your eyes. Before I met you, I would have never thought that days like this… No, a life like this would be possible. I was feared and hated before I met you, and you didn’t show any ounce of fear or hate… Well, maybe dislike because I got yoke all over you… That’s besides the point.

“The point is, if someone had told me seven years ago that one day I would be here, standing in an open field watching fireworks with my spouse and my daughter, I would have laughed in their face and then killed them without hesitation. I mean, you saw how I chased Wilbur around when he even brought it up when we first met. You’ve changed my life, Y/N. You’ve given me everything I’ve never thought possible. You’ve given me a real family of my own. People that I can take care of, protect, and be dedicated to until the day I die. But also people that I’m willing to drop everything to cook a meal for or clean the house for… You’ve made me a dedicated and domesticated pig. And I will be that, until my last breath.”

Nothing could stop the tears that had begun to flow down my cheeks. Techno’s beautiful speech had made me cry. That jerk. “You’re my everything Tech. You’ve given more that I could have ever hoped for in this life. I am so completely and utterly dedicated to you. All those years ago when I saw your name pop up on my right arm, I would have never in a million years guessed that this is where the two of us would end up. Together, side by side, with a beautiful daughter between us. Thank you, for everything.”

Our lips met in a passionate kiss. Everything felt so right in the world. The two of us, standing here in the spot of our first date, on the anniversary of our first date, with our daughter in our arms who’s currently enthralled in the firework show happening above. It was so right.

“Ewwww!” Philippa squealed, causing us to break apart, “Baba and Dada kissing!!” She squealed once more, making a face of disgust. Techno and I exchanged a quick glance. “Oh yeah, you think kisses are gross?” I teased, leaning me head forward toward her just a little bit. She frantically nodded, looking between both of us. “Well then you definitely won’t like this!” Techno called. The two of us immediately dove our faces into Philippa’s and began pressing short little peck’s all over her face and her neck making the ‘Mwah!’ sound as loud as we could. Pip began to giggle and squeal loudly as we kissed her. I could tell we had gathered the eyes of the crowd because I could hear people cooing as we loved up our daughter.

“Still think kisses are gross?” I questioned once we pulled our faces away from Pip’s. She quickly shook her head, before puckering her lips and giving each of our cheeks kisses. “Spread kisses?” She asked, pointing to her Papa Phil who stood just a few feet away from us. I glanced at Techno who just shrugged at me before leading us over to his father.

“Papa Phil!” Pip cheered, reaching out of our arms toward her grandfather. “Well hey there Pip! Did you enjoy the show?” He asked, accepting her into his arms. “Mhm!! Now kisses!” Before Phil could respond, Pip had begun placing tiny kisses all over the side of Phil’s face. “Spread kisses!” She exclaimed once she was done. “Thank you Pip, I appreciate that. Do you want to go spread kisses to your aunts and uncles?” Philippa’s pink hair bobbed up and down and so Philza walked away from the two of us to the next unsuspecting target.

As I watched, I felt Techno lean down and press a sweet kiss to the side of my head. “We did good huh?” My eyes left my daughter’s figure as I turned to look at him with a wide grin. “Yeah, we did my domesticated pig.” My eyes left his and found Philippa now in Wilbur’s arms, planting kisses all over his face. “We really did.”

There you go! I really really hope you enjoyed. I absolutely loved writing this piece and just this whole series in general. It’s like my little baby and I really really hope you guys love it even just half as much as I do. Thank you so much for coming on this journey with me! Please remember to like, reply, or even reblog if you did enjoy.

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mvrtaiswriting · 3 years

Text

We were 18. - Jotaro Kujo.

Me?? Posting something about Jotaro?? How strange. This piece of work is also dedicated to two of my comfort characters, Kakyoin and Joseph. This artwork is really important to me, it really holds a special place in my heart so.. enjoy!

Neutral reader x Jotaro Kujo

Jojo’s bizzare adventures: Stardust Crusaders (spoilers)

SFW | fluff

Trigger warning: usual jojo violence, reference to grief, insomnia.

Word count: 1760.

The ‘continue reading’ button is there for space purposes, to make the reader avoid any possible spoiler and/or sensible topics.

Hi! Are you a new reader? Check my masterlist for more content!

Please feel free to reblog or leave a comment :) help me support my art (it’s free!),

Since you returned from your tumultuous trip in Egypt, your life has never been the same. Once you came back to your hometown, not a moment passed by when you didn’t remember the terrible scenes you’ve witnessed during the fight with Dio. The memory of Kakyoin’s death was still so vivid in your mind and the more you tried to shake that thought out of your head, the more you kept reliving it – over and over again.

There were times when you swore you saw Kakyoin among a crowd of people; times when you could just hear his voice calling your name. Every time you closed your eyes Avdol, Kakyoin and Iggy were there. You barely slept anymore – most of the times you did so, you had nightmares about what happened in El Cairo. You lost count of how many nights you have spent crying in your bed, curled up in between your sheets in the silence of your lonely house. Living alone didn’t help; you were used to sneak into one of the crusaders’ room whenever you needed a shoulder to cry on or, simply, a place where you could feel safe. It wasn’t unusual for you to wake up squished between Kakyoin and Jotaro or trapped in one of Joseph bear-hugs. But now, you were thousands of kilometres away from the rest of the group, alone in your cold bedroom. There was no one to go to, and no one you could talk about how you felt. It was just you and your painful memories. No one would understand what you’ve been through – how could they? How could you ever explain how intense the 50 days you spent with the crusaders had been?

Another nightmare woke you up, as per usual. You gasped loudly as if you just started to breathe again after a long apnea and quickly sat down in the middle of your bed, holding onto your sheet. You started shaking as your chest moved up and down with rapid movements trying to catch your breath, tears streaming down your face. You were staring at the void in your pitch-dark room, trying to control your sobs and make yourself realise that you were back to reality. You stretched one of your arms to reach the lamp on your bedside table, curling yourself up while you slowly started to calm down. Wiping out the tears from your cheeks with your jumper’s sleeve, you finally dragged yourself out of bed and slowly went to the kitchen, making yourself some tea.

As you sat down to drink your hot beverage hoping it would bring you some comfort, you started to rehearse your dream - as if you could just replay it in your head as one would normally do with songs or movies. It wasn’t very different from any other dreams you had.

Kakyoin’s body was lying lifeless against the roof Dio had thrown him onto, his expression crippled by the excruciating pain he must have felt. An enormous wound had completely swept away part of his body, leaving a big opening in the middle of it. You were screaming at him at the top of your lungs, begging him to spare the last bit of energy he had left in his body. But the ending was the same every damn time; he would use his last breath to reveal to Joseph the secret of The world, Dio’s Stand, and launch his last attack with Emerald Splash. You woke up every time you tried to reach Kakyoin’s body. You were never able to say goodbye to him - not even in your dreams. The same thing happened with Avdol and Iggy too. You never got the chance to see them one last time, because you were busy fighting elsewhere.

You sighed loudly, stopping yourself from having another breakdown and sipping some tea from your cup. It was in that exact moment, that the phone rang. It was 3:00 AM where you lived, so you expected one of the boys to be on the other end of the telephone. You and the rest of the crusaders exchanged your numbers the last time you saw each other at the airport and had kept in contact ever since. To your surprise, the person you talked the most was Jotaro. You were about the same age and had created a strong bond during your trip, even if you would have never bet on it. Kakyoin used to always joke about your crush on Jotaro, always encouraging you to give it a shot. But things turned out to be too frenetic and dangerous to engage any sort of romantic relationship. Despite that, you would never miss a chance to sit next to each other or just spend most of the time together. The two of you even kissed at one point, but never talked about it again – not even during your strangely long phone calls.

Crawling your feet on the floor of your kitchen, you got up and finally answered the phone: “Hello?”

“Hey.” Jotaro’s deep voice replied. “How come you’re awake? It’s late where you are.” he added.

“You called. Is this a good excuse?” you said lightly laughing, trying to hide the sadness in your voice.

When the sun rose, you were still talking to Jotaro. He asked you about your dream – he knew about your insomnia and your recurring nightmares and just wanted to be there for you. He wasn’t the best at comforting, and most of the time he never dared to say a word; but you knew it was a sensible topic for him too, and the fact that he would let you confide in him was more than enough.

“It’s a big deal for me too.” he said. You just hummed, allowing him to talk freely about what was going on inside his head – and heart. “Sometimes I can barely breathe. I just wish everything was over.” he cut short, clearing his throat immediately after finishing his sentence. Hearing those words from him just broke your heart; he always showed himself as a cold, calm and collected person and never allowed his emotions to have the best of him. He could often come off as an emotionless brute, but you knew it was all a façade that hid a more sensible and soft side of him. A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, only broken by the sound of your breaths. “Don’t hang up.” you said ultimately, letting out a big sigh.

“I won’t. I’m here.” His voice replied, sounding velvet through the telephone.

The plane landed after what felt like an eternity, the flight from your country took countless hours to arrive in Japan. At the airport, a member of the Speedwagon foundation was waiting for you, Holly standing next to him. As soon as you got closer to them, Holly quickly fell into your arms, hugging you tightly. ‘I’m so glad you’re here!’ she squeaked, while cupping your cheeks in her hands and showering you with affection. You let out an embarrassed laugh, and after that warm welcome you finally reached the car. You seated in the backseat, tiredly resting your head against the window of your car’s door. You took a quick look at the clock and closed your eyes, trying to get some rest.

When you arrived, Holly gently woke you up. The car was parked in front of the Kujo’s residence, the place where it all started. A fast sequence of memories flashed in front of your eyes as you meticulously watched the house in front of you, remembering exactly how you felt when you arrived the first time, and how you felt when you left. Holly placed and hand on your shoulder and nodded, indicating to you Jotaro’s room. “He wasn’t in a great mood today, he hasn’t been in a while” she said hopelessly. “Just excuse him if he speaks to you rudely.” she added, feeling sorry for the harsh manners her son always displayed. You reassured her smiling, before walking to his room.

Once you stood in front of his door, your heart started beating so loud. A part of you was dying to see the boy you heart belonged to, the other was afraid to see him broken into pieces. But that was the reason why you went there in the first place. You didn’t want to leave him alone anymore. He needed a shoulder to cry on as much as you did – maybe more, if it was possible. You had to be there.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door. Heavy footsteps came your way before the door opened, revealing Jotaro’s figure towering over you.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing he-“ he tried to ask, before getting interrupted by your hug; you almost pushed yourself against his body, making him take a step back to not lose balance. You wrapped your arms around his strong torso, breathing in his perfume and holding him as close as humanly possible to you. Being in his arms felt like being at home – a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a while. It wasn’t long before Jotaro reciprocated your hug, hiding his face into your hair and leaving a soft kiss on your head. He closed the door behind you and just held you in his embrace, enjoying the wonderful feeling of being reunited with you. “You don’t know how much I missed you.” he said, not even trying to let you go. You hinted a small laugh, rubbing his muscled back with your right hand. “I can imagine.”, you replied. He slowly distanced himself from you, placing his hands over your cheeks, staring at you with his eyes full of tears. He was scanning every inch of your face and figure, almost as if he wanted to convince himself that you were real, that you were there. He rested his forehead on yours, locking his gaze on yours, making it impossible to break eye contact. “I don’t want to lose you anymore” you whispered. “You saved my life so many times, in so many ways. I always thought it was the wrong time, I always ran away from my feelings but..” you continued, but before you could finish your sentence, he quickly put his lips on yours – shutting you up with a kiss. You could feel tears running on his face. You grabbed the fabric of his shirt and pulled him closer to you, reciprocating the kiss.

“I have loved you since we were 18.” he whispered.

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jihyuncompass · 3 years

Text

This Year

Happy Birthday Jihyun! It’s hard to believe this is my second year in a row writing a birthday fic for you. But of course it’s deserved. Even as time passes and I don’t have the time to play Mysme much anymore that has never changed the fondness I feel for you dear Jihyun. Happy Birthday <3

Jihyun Kim (V) x MC

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: N/A

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V hiked up towards the top of the mountain. Looking up he could see the peak not too far into the distance. Not wanting to stop just yet he kept pushing ahead, he was so close to the top. Taking heavy breaths he quickened his pace, his heart beating heavy in his chest as he got closer.

Chest heaving he looked down and over the summit, he stood just above the low hanging clouds, still he could look down and take in the rolling green hills below, the trees that up close would be towering but from this height looked like toys. The scenery seemed to go on forever and ever. Around him was no noise beyond the sound of leaves in the breeze and birds flying nearby and his own heavy breaths. However, beyond that, there was no people, no cars, nothing but himself and nature.

He let his backpack fall to the ground beside him as he slipped the straps off of his shoulders. V remained standing for another minute to fully admire the scene in front of him catching his breath taken from him on the way up.

Finding a good spot V sat down on the ground. He stayed silent as he looked up towards the blue sky. Perfectly blue and warm even as the summer started to fade into autumn, for now though summer remained. As did the sun as it warmed his face.

Unzipping his hiking backpack he reached for the small bundle he’d packed away in there earlier, setting it down on the ground in front of him. Closing up his backpack he pushed it to the side just slightly then turned his attention to the bundle in front of him.

V separated the small containers from one another. He couldn’t pack much for this hike but he’d managed to include a small meal to eat at the summit of the mountain. V smiled only to himself as he took the lids off. He settled with his back against one of the trees, looking at the scenergy he dug into his lunch.

He took his time with his meal, wanting to savor every taste and every sight in front of him. Tomorrow he’d get on a plane to his next destination, last week he’d booked a ticket to a different place. Somewhere new for him to explore and enjoy, and for all he knew he wasn’t ever going to return to this place, so he would take in as much as he possibly could. Committing every part of this to his memory.

The final part of his meal was left in front of him, clearing the rest of the containers he took a moment before opening the last one. He sighed softly at the small slice of cake he’d gotten from a small bakery that morning. He’d spent almost ten minutes trying to decide which slice of cake he wanted to get. Eventually he’d settled on a slice of champagne flavored cake with vanilla frosting.

Sitting alone on the top of the mountain V quietly sang to himself, at the end pretending to blow out the invisible candle he’d imagined on top. Making his wish for this year, a much different wish than he’d asked for in the years before.

As a child birthdays always meant large lavish parties hosted by his father. Always lacking children V’s age. Usually the parties his father hosted for his birthday were attended by their extended family and his father’s friends. Some of them brought their own children along, but they either were much younger, or much older than him. So besides Jumin his birthdays were most often spent in a stuffy suit chatting with adults about school and his future plans.

He’d never enjoyed these parties, always so formal and more of a party for the adults than the child at the center of it, and every year he’d made the same wish. To be a son his father would be proud of.

Those parties stopped after the fire. Jihyun wasn’t interested in formal business birthdays. He wasn’t interested in his father’s friends or his world. Instead his birthdays were spent with Jumin or Rika. Going on vacations, drinking wine, enjoying peaceful quiet affairs to celebrate a new year of his life. Back then his birthday wishes had been much different, he’d wished for Rika’s happiness, or for his own success. He had been fine with that, enjoyed it even. However, that was the past now, a past that felt a million years old.

That year sitting on that mountain he made a brand new wish. This year, he wanted to be happy, and he wanted to be ready to go home.

Jihyun could recall that hike in great detail, the way the breeze ran through his hair, the sprawling trees on the way down the mountain, the formations of fluffy clouds, all of it stayed in his mind even after a year had passed.

Like that day a year ago Jihyun felt the warmth of the sun on his face. His eyes fluttered open to face his bedroom window. The sun was already high in the morning sky and bringing warmth throughout the whole room. Laying still he enjoyed the warmth of the blankets around him and the brightness of the sun on his face.

After laying like that for longer than he could count he sat up in bed. Stretching his arms over his head with a deep exhale. Next to him the other side of the bed was empty. The covers had been pushed aside but already cold.

Leaving the bedroom Jihyun glanced into the living room. They must have woken up a while ago, he couldn’t hear the shower running or cooking in the kitchen like he would have expected after waking up in the late morning.

He stood in the middle of the living room, looking for evidence of where his beloved had gone off too. The keys weren’t in the usual spot by the door, they must have gone out somewhere then.

Feeling the mystery solved Jihyun sat on the couch against the living room wall. His eyes landed on some of the framed photos on the wall. Some were prints from his former photography career, but most were photos from the last few months of his life. Photos with the members of the RFA, of his beloved, of him. Each one a snapshot of warm memories in his mind. Even the old ones from when he was V, those photos still managed to bring warmth to Jihyun’s heart.

The click of the lock on the front door brought Jihyun out of his thoughts. Not wasting a second Jihyun rose from his seat and walked through the apartment to meet them.

His heart swelled at the sight of his beloved, he smiled warmly as they met his eyes with a matching smile. They balanced a couple bags and box in their arms as they entered the apartment. Without a word Jihyun took the box and one of the bags from their arm to lighten the load.

“Good morning love.” Jihyun said, leaning forward to kiss his lover hello.

“Good morning Jihyun.” They whispered. “Happy birthday.” A larger smile grew on Jihyun’s lips.

“I woke up and you were already gone.” Jihyun said, stepping back to make his way to the kitchen. They followed behind him, shaking off their shoes in the process.

“I thought I could sneak out and get back before you woke up.” They said, “I figured since you and Jumin were up late together you’d sleep in longer.” They put the rest of the bags down next to the others. As they spoke they placed the items in the bags in their proper places in the fridge or cupboards.

Jihyun worked next to them doing the same process of putting the groceries away. “What are all of these for?” He asked.

“They’re for dinner tonight love.” They answered. “I figured since it’s just going to be the two of us tonight I should make a nice dinner for your birthday.” MC lifted the one box to put it next to the new groceries in the fridge. “And this is your birthday cake. Which you’re not allowed to look at yet.” They pointed at Jihyun with a teasing smile. “So no peeking okay?”

Jihyun nodded with a flair of drama. “I would never.”

“Oh really?”

“I wouldn’t!” Jihyun insisted.

“Sure.” MC laughed. “But I mean it, don’t peek until after dinner.” MC closed the fridge door.

“I promise.” Jihyun said with a sweet seriousness. “I’m looking forward to tonight.” Jihyun put an arm around their waist to bring them closer. Jihyun held them close. A year ago he could have only dreamed of getting to have this. Getting to hold them close, see them like this. Just be near them and able to say whatever it is that’s on his mind.

He must have been staring at them for a long time without saying anything because their expression changed. “Jihyun? What are you thinking about?”

Jihyun pulled them closer to kiss them, hardly able to contain the smile on his face as he did. Their hand travelled up to rest on his shoulder to keep him this close.

“I’m sorry.” Jihyun whispered when he eventually pulled away. “I just feel really happy.” He said. MC pulled him back in to kiss him again. They held each other close, both smiling in between kisses.

At that moment Jihyun knew what his birthday wish would be this year. For the first time in his life he wished for exactly what he had at this moment. He didn’t wish for anyone but himself, and he didn’t wish for some miracle. All he wanted was this. A million more moments just like this.

#mystic messenger #mysme #v #v mysme #jihyun kim #kim jihyun #v x reader #v x mc #no beta we die like [redacted]

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bitchassbucky · 4 years

Text

Ｂｏｔｈｅｒ

📎Word Count: 2.2k

📎Warning/s: smut! minors DNI. mean!fuckboy!bucky x f!reader. unprotected sex. little to no foreplay, because, well, he just wants to get his dick wet. denied orgasm :( no aftercare too lol he’s an asshole in this one. messy facial! some heckin’ words.

📎A/N: jesus fuckiNG CHRIST okay this is one of my longer fics, i’m trying to get back into writing long fics again so, bear with me. fuckboy!bucky playlist to accompany you while reading this <3

📎reblogs, likes, and comments are all welcomed! shower me with validation pls

📎Masterlist || Ask || AFTERDARK

The bass line and the drumbeat made your heart pump in sync. The room reeked of cheap drinks and expensive perfume—sweaty patrons swirling, mingling around, keeping their drinks cold, their hearts warm.

Chatter peaked when the band finished the song, a round of applause rising the frontman’s ego. The spotlight shone brightly on him, the stage lights hitting his back, lighting up his silhouette with pinks and purples.

He beams with adrenaline. All perfect smiles.

Slinging his stickered guitar to the side, he speaks into the mic, “thank you all for coming. We’ve been The Commandos. Goodnight!” The frontman flashes his million-dollar, megawatt smile and bows, earning another applause from the audience.

The rest of the band slinked out the back, bowing, giving out air-kisses and waves. Another band piles onto the stage, waving hello to the gathering crowd.

You sigh, the bottom of your shoes sticking to the dirty floor of the bar. The overhead lights of the bar a bright yellow contrast to the stage’s red hue. The beer in your hand condensing, the tips of your fingers damp in the process. The warmth of the place piling on your impatience.

Pushing yourself off the bar, you make your way to the back, one thing echoing in your mind. Familiar faces crowd your vision, sending a polite smile their way.

A door stands in front of you, the wood stained with stickers and posters and autographs. You knock twice before turning the knob.

“Where’s Bucky?” You say, leaning against the door frame. The door slowly swings open.

A blonde man, what’s-his-face, looks at you and puts down a pair of drumsticks, “‘Dunno what to tell ya, but he’s not here.”

Your roll your eyes, sending him a mirthless smile, “yeah, obviously. I was hoping if you could tell him to meet me tonight.”

Steve—you suddenly remembered his name—eyed you head to foot, a smirk plastered on his face, “Sounds important. Why don’t you hang out with us while waiting for him?”

A chuckle escapes your lips, “no, thanks. I’ll meet him outside.”

Steve makes a face, quirking a light brow to the rest of the group. All of them sharing the same look, “alright. Suit yourself.”

The clock ticks just ten minutes after 11, your patience growing thin as a needle. A gaggle of drunk patrons stumbles out the door when you spot him—leather jacket, distressed, ripped pants.

“Where’s my ring?” Without missing a beat.

Bucky’s lips quirk into a smirk, “whoa, baby, we fucked once,” he made you come thrice, “and you’re asking for a ring already?”

A shiver runs up your spine, whether it’s from disgust or something else, it wasn’t clear, “you know what I meant. I left my ring on your nightstand.”

“Deliberately, or…”

Your hands curl up in frustration, your left shin itching, “c’mon. Do you have it or not?”

His intentionally undone boots scuffed against the floor as he stalks closer to you, his perfume invading your olfactory senses. Oh, he smells good.

“D’you wanna find out?” His voice dropping a couple of octaves, whispering into the shell of your ear. His thick arms caging you against the bar and the wall. Fuck, he smells really good.

A feeble attempt to make room goes unnoticed, your breath hitching in your throat, “If you don’t have it on you, I’d gladly receive it through the mail.”

Bucky licks his tinged lips, a vein in his temple ticking—the lighting reflecting in his blue eyes, “why would I mail it to you when you can pick it up from my place?”

A rational voice in your head echoes, fighting with your impulse. The closeness of both of your bodies radiating warmth and electricity.

“Fine.” You relented, impulsivity is what got you there in the first place.

The drive to the place shouldn’t take too long, the little shit deliberately took the long way to his place.

While you sit on the passenger side of his car, he keeps sending you amused glances. As if he couldn’t believe you’d willingly go with him tonight. Well, technically, it really wasn’t part of your plan.

“You wanna get burgers first?” He offers, lowering the music coming from the car’s stereo.

“I wanna get my ring back, Bucky.” You say, reminding him—and yourself—of what your agenda for tonight is.

He dismisses you, as per usual. And pulls over a drive-through of a local burger place, ordering himself a meal.

Instead of getting back out on the highway, he parks the car, rolls down the window, and eats.

“Jesus- fuck, Bucky!” You exclaimed in frustration, “look, if you want to waste my time, then-”

“Then, what?”

“Then go fuck yourself.” You left in a huff, swinging your legs and slamming the car door shut. Hoping that he’d go deaf in one ear.

Making sure that you’re well visible and in a brightly-lit place, you pull out your phone to book an Uber. Only to find Bucky making his way to you for the second time tonight.

“Hey!” Didn’t even used your name to call you, great work!

“I do have it, it’s really back in my place. By the lamp on the bedside table.” The truth lingers out on the night air, waiting for you to acknowledge it.

You meet Bucky’s statement with a wary squint, he meets your rightful doubt with a smile.

“No more stopovers.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Bucky’s place is a liminal space for you.

The familiar shadows and corners welcome you, the surfaces on where your bare skin sat hissed at you. You stood by the doorway, not wanting to prolong the journey.

“Hey, c’mon, it’s just me. Sit down.” Exactly, it is him.

You shake your head, leaning by the wall like a stranger, “I’m good. You’re not gonna take long anyway.”

But instead of retrieving your jewelry, his form retreats to the kitchen. A few seconds pass and you hear the crack and hiss of a beer bottle being opened.

“Y’know, I think I’ll just get it myself.” You toe off your shoes, placing them by the door. Your jacket still hanging off your shoulders.

You passed by Bucky, walking towards a love seat, two beers on one hand, “hurry up, then. Got a drink for ya.”

Hazy images play by memory the last time you were here, his damn cologne seeping into your nostrils.

Your head hanging by the edge of the bed as he laps your cunt like a man starved.

The headboard supporting your balance as you bounce up and down his thick cock.

Carpeting that gave your knees burn as he fucked you from behind.

Like an etch-a-sketch, you shake your head to get rid of the scenes that made themselves known.

A shining glint from the bedside table catches your eye, you swipe the ring and stashed it down your jacket pocket.

Coming out of the room with your ring, your slight smile falters as you saw Bucky lounging shirtless. As rightfully so, this is his home anyway.

You steeled yourself despite the heat that’s making its way up to your neck, “uh, I already got it. Thanks, Bucky.”

He shoots you a look—a lingering one. Like a predator about to pounce on prey. His stare chasing the goosebumps under your clothes.

“You sure you wanna go? It’s–” he glances at his phone for the time, “–past midnight.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can.” The setup.

“How about I take care of you for a change?” The trap.

And then just as sudden as your arrival, you find yourself pressed up against the wall. The agenda of the night has already been forgotten.

Bucky’s mouth finds its temporary home on your jaw, moving down your neck. His large hands already clawing their way under your shirt, the suddenness of the moment stirring the heat in your belly.

Rushed hands and panted breaths meet feverish lips.

The moment his tongue slipped into your mouth was the moment where you lost all inhibitions. Your hands fly to his nape, tugging his hair, effectively making him moan into your mouth.

“You know me so well.” He purrs against your lips. Hitching your legs up his hips as he presses you harder against the drywall.

“Lots of people know you so well.” You bite back, knowing for a fact that he sees others behind your back.

“True,” he’s murmuring against your pulse point and you sigh, “you’re my favorite though.”

Your jacket clutters against the floor of his bedroom, along with his pants and your shirt. A yellow stream of light emits from the living room.

Bucky tosses you on the bed, sending the pillows crashing on the floor. Though the room is darkened with curtains, your eyes adjust enough to see him as he pulls your ankles towards him.

His abs are chiseled like a Greek god, his skin tanned, decorated with tattoos. His left nipple adorns a stainless steel piercing. Like the last time, he grabs your hand, trailing it along his torso, letting you feel his deep v-lines.

A lewd moan escapes your lips as you cup his hardening cock through his boxers. Thick and heavy, a perfect fit.

“You like it?” Bucky taunts, jutting his hips against your hand. You squeeze him lightly, earning you a deep groan from the man above you.

His hand suddenly tightens around your throat, pulling your head towards him, “I asked you a question.”

Giving him a small nod and a meek yeah seemed to have sufficed until he flips you on your stomach and forces your face down the bed.

Your skirt joins the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Your panties do too.

“You’re so wet for me, aren’t ya?” Bucky taunts, one thick finger swiping the wetness between your folds. Spreading it around as preparation. A muffled confirmation made him chuckle as he pinches your clit with intention.

Taking his leaking cock out of his boxers, he swipes the bead of precum from his angry-red tip. He takes his sweet, sweet time before even thinking about pushing into your pussy.

Bucky drags the head of his cock up and down your fold, earning a needy moan from you—coating his entire length with your wetness.

After seemingly an eternity on your side, the sheets already imprinted their impression on the side of your cheek. Bucky finally, fucking finally, pushes into you. A short, white-hot burn shoots through your nerves, making you whimper.

His hand stays on the back of your neck, pushing you further down the bed as he moves. Your pussy lips gripping his dick like a vice, “so fucking tight. God.”

Bucky’s chest swelled up with pride as he notices your fingers digging into his sheets, “no one can fuck you this good.”

The bed squeaks with both of your weight shifting as he reaches around you, his fingers working around your bud. The pressure of his upper body makes you gasp with every thrust of his hips.

He continues to work you—his fingers circling tightly on your throbbing clit, his cock nudging the soft, spongy spot in you. Your toes curl with red heat as your orgasm begins to burn up your legs.

“I’m gonna-- ‘m so close,” your pleas fell on deaf ears as Bucky chases his own high. His balls slapping against your skin, his hips stuttering as his cock pulsates inside your velvet walls.

He curses, grabbing your shoulder and flipping you upside, kneeling before you. His hand pumping his dick continuously as it twitches—the veins even more prominent.

“Open your mouth, I’m gonna cum in it.” Bucky orders and you obey. Your fingers finding their way to your abandoned bundle of nerves—your climax threatening to fade away.

Thick ropes of cum shoot over your mouth, painting your lips and chin white as he misses.

“God, fuck, look at your mess.” Bucky sighs, he’s already tucked back into his boxers and handing you a shirt—presumably to clean yourself up.

“You got your ring? Anything else?” The annoyance in his tone is evident. The clock ticks half past midnight.

You dangle your purse in front of him as a gesture, the wind picks up and your shoes are loose on your feet.

“Alright, well, you could wait for your ride here, I guess.” Bucky dropped the act the moment he got his dick in you.

“Yeah, he’s just around the corner. Thanks for the, uh, ring.”

He hums, looking at his phone. His thumbs dancing over the keyboard, “Try not to bother my friends again when you wanna reach me.”

You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or to smack the phone out of his hands, “yeah. Tried calling you but I’m pretty sure you blocked my number.”

A curt laugh echoes out from him, “‘m sorry. Out of habit. You know how it is.”

“Right.” And an awkward beat falls over the both of you.

A black car pulls up by the street and you silently thank the stars. By the time you turn around to at least do the right thing and bid Bucky goodnight, you find yourself facing a closed door.

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joonie-beanie · 4 years

Text

(Bonus) The Undateables + their reaction to you having a nightmare

Since some people were interested, I went ahead and wrote reactions for the rest of the characters too!

[The Demon Brothers’ Reactions]

Diavolo:

The Demon Prince may not act it, but he’s typically quite busy.

Even in the middle of hosting the humans, angels, and demon brothers in his home for the night, he’s forced to split his time between his duties, and being a proper host.

Unfortunately, balancing these tasks causes him to be awake until quite late--3am, to be exact.

By then, the castle has gone quiet. The voices of his guests have faded--indicating their slumber. However--

Diavolo pauses when he walks past one of many lounges, and spots you curled up at one end of a couch--the flames from the fireplace flickering in your glazed over eyes.

You look exhausted, and yet, you’re battling yourself to stay awake.

“Y/N,” he speaks softly, padding into the room. You jump--wide eyes flitting to him with worry.

“I-I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be roaming around this late--”

“No, no, I do not mind,” he says with a small chuckle, seating himself on the couch beside you. He flashes you a gentle smile. “I was simply surprised to see you here. Why are you up so late?”

“I...,” he sees your cheeks go pink, and your eyes move to stare at the fireplace once more. “I had a bad dream...”

Clearly, you’re a little embarrassed to be admitting to him that something like a scary dream is what’s keeping you from going back to bed, but Diavolo is nothing but understanding.

“Ahhh, I hate when nightmares get in the way of a good nights rest.” He frowns and crosses his arms--glancing up at the ceiling as he ponders what he can do to help.

“If you don’t mind, I’d be more than happy to stay the night with you. I know having the comfort of another person nearby can be helpful.”

You can tell from his kind demeanor that he has no motive aside from genuinely trying to help you, and you get all warm inside.

You’d never have imagined receiving an offer like this from a literal Demon Prince, but...”I think I would like that.”

Nodding, Diavolo is quick to swoop you into his arms. With barely a sliver of his power, he manages to teleport you back into your room, and you blink in surprise as he sets you in bed, and then seats himself beside you.

“Sleep, Y/N,” you feel his hand against your hair, and suddenly your eyelids feel quite heavy. Within seconds, you’re fast asleep (you’re not sure if he had used more of his power, or if it’s just because the Demon Prince is so damn comforting, but either way, you’re out like a light)

True to his word, Diavolo stays with you the whole night, and you wake up in the morning to find his arm loosely curled around your torso.

Barbatos:

The demon butler tends to get up early in order to prepare for the day.

He sees to it that things are prepared for his Lord, and any guests. Today, he’ll need to prepare breakfast for the exchange students as well.

His Lord had invited them to stay the night after a casual check-in on their experience in the Devildom had turned into a night of drinking and tale-telling.

It’s just past 5AM when Barbatos makes his way into the kitchen. However, he quickly realizes that he’s not alone.

You’re sat in a window nook in the corner of the room, a cup of coffee cradled between your hands as you stare out into the yard.

“Y/N,” he speaks your name whilst approaching, and Barbatos watches you blink out of your haze--your eyes shifting over to look at him.

“I’d say good morning, but I get the feeling you haven’t gotten much sleep,” he comments with good nature, smiling pleasantly. The corner of your lips twitch. “Do you have a hangover?”

It’s not like your group had been overly zealous the night before, but perhaps you’re easily affected by alcohol.

“No, just a nightmare,” you say with a sigh, taking another sip from your coffee. Barbatos eye’s lighten with sympathy.

“May I join you?”

You nod, scooting over to make room for him. He seats himself beside you, crossing his legs, and looking over to you pleasantly.

“At the very least, I can help you take your mind off of it. I have some time before I need to start preparing breakfast.”

“Thank you, Barbatos.”

The two of you chat for a while, talking about things that don’t really matter. Barbatos is careful to keep the questions and topics simple, and his efforts seem to pay off, because at some point, your words begin to slur.

Your body slumps, head landing onto his shoulder, and Barbatos pauses.

He was hoping to help you get back to sleep, but he hadn’t expected you to fall asleep on him.

Unfortunately, he’s grown to have a soft spot for you, and doesn’t have the heart to move.

Sighing, he leans himself against the window frame and closes his eyes.

Diavolo finds the two of you asleep together in the nook two hours later, and is sure to take many, many pictures before he decides to wake you up.

Simeon:

The angel is drawn out of his sleep by a small cry.

Rubbing at his eyes, he glances over to his DDD and sees that it’s just past 2AM. That’s strange. Usually he has no trouble sleeping soundly--

“Nnn!”

Eyes widening, Simeon suddenly remembers that he’s not alone tonight. You’re curled beneath a blanket on the couch in his dorm room. He and the other residents of Purgatory Hall had invited you over for a movie night, and you’d ended up opting to stay the night.

So, of course, Simeon had offered to let you room with him. (Like a proper gentleman).

However, now it unfortunately seems like you’re having a nightmare.

Flinging himself out of bed, Simeon hurriedly makes his way to your side. He cups your warm face with his hand, frowning as he he spots the tears blotting the corners of your eyes.

“Y/N,” he calls your name softly, but it’s enough to draw you from your dream.

Inhaling a deep breath, your eyes shoot open. You jolt to sit up, and immediately Simeon is holding you--drawing a hand between your shoulder blades as he attempts to comfort you.

“Shhh, you’re okay,” he coos, and your hands lift to grip against his shirt. Your heart is still racing, but him being there is a huge relief.

“Thank you,” you sigh after a few long minutes, and you feel Simeon shake his head. If it was in his power, he would have loved to protect you from bad dreams in the first place.

“Would you....would you mind joining me in the bed?” he asks, his cheeks feeling a little warm as he leans back to look at you. He places a hand against his neck, feeling a little foolish. “I would feel better if you were close. I don’t want you to have another bad dream.”

For a moment, you can only stare--processing everything he’s just said. Then, you smile, and nod your head. “Sure, Simeon. I would like that too.”

Relieved, Simeon beams at you, and you gasp quietly as he scoops you into his arms.

Moments later, you find yourself beneath his sheets, with the Angel tucked tightly against your back.

“Is this okay?” you nod at his question, relaxing against him. Simeon relaxes as well, allowing his eyes to close.

Knowing that the angel is nearby, you manage to get back to sleep. And in the morning, you wake up with Simeon’s arms hugged around your waist.

Solomon:

The sorcerer is on his way home from the House of Lamentation in the wee hours of the morning when he walks past your room, and notices that the door is ajar.

Pausing, he curiously glances inside. Your bed is messy--covers thrown to the side, and pillow on the floor beside the bed.

A little worried, Solomon double checks his DDD. It’s only 4am. Where would you be?

“Solomon?” your quiet voice rings out from behind him, and he turns to find you standing a short way up the hall. Your arms are hugged to your chest, cold sweat beading on your brow.

“Are you alright?” he asks, frowning. “I got worried when I saw your door open.”

“I...I had a nightmare, and...,” you motion behind you, still looking a little dazed. “Went for a short walk to try and ground myself...what are you doing here?”

“Asmo,” he says simply, not explaining further. After all, right now he’s more concerned about you.

Stepping forward, he reaches out and rests his palm on your hair. The contact makes you glance up at him, and he can see how tired you are. Your body needs more rest, but you’re too scared of falling asleep again.

“I know a spell that might help,” he says, a little mirth in his voice, and before you can ask, you feel his lips press against your forehead.

You freeze in surprise, and punch him lightly in the stomach when you hear his laughter.

“Asshole,” you push him aside and trudge back into your room. However, Solomon follows you--watching as you pick up your sheets and rearrange yourself back on your bed.

Once you’re settled, he joins you--sitting against the edge of the mattress.

“Would you like if I stayed?”

His voice is tender--understanding in his eyes as he regards you. As much as you hate him for that little move earlier, you can’t lie to yourself--you’d feel better if he stuck around.

“You can use my shower,” you mumble, rolling over and showing your back to him. “I don’t want you getting my sheets dirty.”

“Rude,” he comments, but nonetheless stands and moves to use your bathroom. You hear him turn the water on, and by the time Solomon reemerges into your bedroom, you’re fast asleep.

He ends up snuggling in beside you anyway.

The next morning, Asmo spots him sneaking through the front doors at 9am, and is very confused.

(Bonus!) Luke:

When Luke notices you tossing and turning, he’s quick to jump to his feet and move to check on you.

You’d fallen asleep in the Purgatory Hall common area after a study session, but he and the others had decided to let you be.

Eventually, Simeon and Solomon had gone to do their own thing, but Luke had stayed behind to greet you once you were through with your nap.

Unfortunately, it seems your nap has turned into a nightmare.

“Y/N!” he’s a little frantic with worry as he calls for you--his hands gripping your shoulders and attempting to shake you awake.

It works, and after a few seconds your eyes slide open--hand raising to press at your heart as you regain your sense of reality.

“Are you okay?” he hangs close to your side, his hands hovering near you. He’s never dealt with someone having a nightmare before, so he’s a little anxious. He wants to help you in any way that he can.

“I-I’m fine, Luke,” you flash him a half-hearted smile that makes his chest ache. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep...”

“It’s okay! We wanted you to rest!”

The angel presses to his feet, his hands fisting at his sides. He feels useless right now, and that bothers him.

“Ah! Simeon knows a celestial realm recipe for some calling tea! I’ll get him to teach me!”

He turns and starts to run from the room, but ends up pausing, and turning back to look at you. After a moment of internal debate, he darts back over to the couch and throws himself at you.

You grunt as his body weight lands against your chest--the tiny angel giving you a tight squeeze.

Then, he pulls back with pink cheeks, and scurries away.

You’re left sitting there in shock, but after a few moments, you laugh.

You feel a little better already.

[The Demon Brothers’ Reactions]

#obey me #om!#obey me shall we date #diavolo #barbatos #solomon #simeon #luke #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me reader insert

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1engele · 3 years

Text

daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 8. solo

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[warnings: underage drinking, smoking, weed, near death experience?, crying]

"never have i dealt with anything more difficult than my own soul." — You leave the roof late in the night. Sal had gotten up and retreated into his apartment a little while earlier—but you'd decided to stay and make sure he didn't come back there.

Three days pass. They all consist of fleeting glances and irresolute tension. Things remain the same with the group dynamic, except for between you and Sal. Neither of you seem to know how to continue from that conversation on the roof. No one else notices, though. They'd never suspected anything from the beginning, it seems.

The beginning of your involvement with Sal involved a little bit of buildup and then a snap which resulted in a sexual encounter (or two).

Now it was a bit different. Now things were a little less lighthearted.

It's a Saturday—you'd planned to spend it inside as usual. That's until your phone starts ringing.

You flip your phone open, read over the contact, and answer the call.

"Hi, Ash."

"Y/N," she starts. You hear the excitement to continue in her voice. "There's a party tonight."

"Oh?" You get up from your seat on your bed.

"Some stoner Larry has connections with invited him and said to bring friends. He wants to bring us—save for Todd. He doesn't do parties."

"Wait," your eyebrows furrow. "Me?"

"Yeah!" She says from the other end of the line. "It'll be fun. Cmon."

You bite your lip nervously, anxiety knotting in your stomach. "I don't know. I've never really.."

Ashley is momentarily silent on the other line. She must be contemplating what to say to convince you. "Sal's coming too. Parties aren't necessarily his thing, either—so maybe you guys could try it out together?"

You open your mouth and then promptly close it. Something inside of you suddenly really wanted to go to this party. "Um... alright. Okay."

"Cool! What're you gonna wear?"

You look toward the drawer that contained your clothes and bit your lip. "Not sure yet. I'll update you on that."

"Okay, don't forget to text me! See you at eight."

The call declined from the other line. The phone that held the phone to your ear slipped into your lap. You pressed your lips together and tried to ignore the familiar feeling of sickening nausea and anxiety.

You don't rush yourself on getting ready for the party, because the time you're due to be done won't be for a while.

You take your time with the hours you have. You shower, take your time on eyeliner, mascara, and lipgloss—and finally decide on what you'll wear.

You decide on a square neck white cropped tank with short sleeves and your nicest pair of light blue, slightly washed out jeans. You slid on your favorite, sort of chunky white sneakers over white socks.

It isn't long after you finish when Ashley calls and informs you she's arrived at the apartments and Larry and Sal have already joined her out in the car. You give yourself a once-over in the mirror and then leave the apartment.

Your mother was nowhere to be found. She's either at work or drinking with her coworkers.

Once you've opened the door and climbed into the Ford Fiesta, you immediately realize your predicament—Sal is the only person in the backseat with you.

The drive there is decently long and painfully tense. Neither you nor Sal know how to speak to each other, so no words are exchanged beneath the heavy metal music emitting from the radio.

When you finally arrive at the party, it's recognizably crowded, drunken teenagers are flowing from the front door, in and out, and there's a good amount on the lawn. The newest radio hit is playing on a considerably loud speaker, and the vibrations are notable even from a distance.

"Woah," Larry says, staring at the house as Ashley pulls onto the side of the road. "Didn't realize he was so popular."

You all exit the Ford Fiesta and cross the road. You cringe as you watch someone vomit onto the grass, and another person ripping from a bong in the wide open.

Smoke flies into your face and your eyes as you enter the home. You cough, waving a hand as you blindly follow after your friends.

Eventually, the four of you find yourself on two couches directly facing each other. You on one, Larry and Ashley on the other. Sal is stood to the side.

Larry materializes a bottle of Fireball that you guessed he stole from someone on the way in, opens the cap with his teeth, and takes several gulps.

"Where did you get that?" Ashley laughs over the music, pulling the sleeves of her lavender sweater over her hands.

"Stole it," he looks to Sal and directs the bottle toward him. "Want some?"

"Sure," Sal replies, to your surprise—taking it from Larry's grasp and walking away and in your direction.

"You're drinking that?" You ask him, testing the waters.

"No, actually," you watch Sal round to the other side of the couch to linger behind you. "I'm limiting him. He'll thank me later."

Once he's out of your field of vision, you tip your head back and gaze up at him—your perspective on him being upside down. Your gaze zeroes in on the bottle of Fireball he's clutching in his hand.

"Hey," you say, meeting his eyes. "Give me some."

It was time to give him that excuse—the excuse to break the ice.

He leans in a bit, gesturing toward you with the bottle. "You want it?"

A grin pulls at your glossed lips. Instead of reaching for the bottle, you open your mouth and tilt your chin up.

Sal looks on for a moment but laughs once he realizes what you want. Everyone else at the couches seem decently distracted with each other and the overall environment—so he doesn't seem to worry about it too much.

He reaches his hand around and towards your neck, gripping your jaw in his fingers and holding you firmly. You feel his cold rings press into your skin when he tips your head further back just a bit—and then steadily pours a shot-amount of Fireball into your mouth with his other hand.

Sal stops at the right time, looks on as you pull back and sit up, and cautiously watches the back of your head as you assumedly swallow the whisky. But when you turn a bit in your seat to peer at him over your shoulder, you're holding your mouth closed and pressing a closed fist to your lips while soundlessly giggling.

"What?" He laughs, a hand moving to the top of the couch. He leans in a bit. "Can you not swallow it?"

Your shoulders shake slightly as you continue to laugh. You shake your head up and down.

"Do you need to spit it out?" Sal asks, his tone warming into concern.

You shake your head from side to side. You meet his eyes and swallow, gasping as the liquid slides down your throat and burns all the way down. You cough, the flavor of cinnamon and what tasted like Big Red gum overloaded your senses.

"God," you breathe out, giggling all the while. The alcohol is gross but you're feeling good. "It's not great."

"Yeah, that's why I'm holding Larry off, so he won't be puking his guts out later."

You look up to the boy, who's sat on the arm of the couch opposite to you. He's busy talking to some equally stoned guy, so you can't manage to catch his eye—but you catch Ashley's.

She had this look of astonishment on her face.

Had she been watching what happened? When Sal poured Fireball in your mouth?

Your face grew hot thinking about it.

Sal wanders away from you again, and you find yourself drinking more than you should. Eventually, your rationality disappears.

It's been a few hours and Sal hasn't seen you for a while. So when he hears about a girl wearing a white crop top walking across the roof of the house, he feels like he's going to vomit.

It takes him a record time of 6 seconds to get out of the door and onto the lawn. Upon looking up at the roof, his suspicions are confirmed. He shoulders past multiple people to place himself near the front of the crowd and gazes up in horror.

"Sal!" You yell, gesturing toward him with something between a wave and a point. "I'd recognize that hair anywhere!"

Multiple heads within the crowd turn away from you and towards him. He puts aside his social anxiety and the wave of unease that washes over his body and tries to focus on you. "Please come down," he rushes out, raising his voice just enough for it to be audible over the crowd.

You laugh like he's told a hilarious joke and he quickly realizes his mistake. That's the worst thing he could've told your intoxicated self. You move toward the edge of the roof, shaky and uncoordinated. "You want me to jump?"

"No!" He exclaims, his hands flying up, fingers splayed. "No. Don't do that!"

"Holy shit!" He hears Larry shout from somewhere closer to the front door of the house. Sal guesses he's just now catching wind of the current situation. Moments after, both of his brunette friends are at his side.

"What the hell is going on?!" Ashley yells, verdant eyes glued to the sight before them.

You lost your balance once again, but this time a bit worse—your foot catching on a shingle on the roof and effectively knocking the red solo cup out of your hand. It dropped onto the downward slope of the roof and the liquor inside of it spilled down the side.

Whenever Sal witnessed the toe of your white sneaker catch onto that shingle, he felt as though his very soul had been ripped from his body. Immediately after he watched you regain your footing and stable yourself, though—his heartbeat calmed to a steadier pace.

"I'm going up there," he stated beneath the chatter.

Both Ashley and Larry's heads whipped toward him.

"You'll kill yourself!" Larry exclaims incredulously. Ashley opens her mouth to assumedly second Larry's statement, but Sal cuts her off by walking away.

"Not before she does," he mutters, pushing his way through the density of bodies and forcing his way through the front door. His senses are disoriented like he's been submerged beneath water as the volume of the music scratched at his eardrums and pulsed the innards of his skull. Adrenaline courses through his blood like a drug whilst he shoulders past both mindlessly drunk and carelessly high teenagers.

Sal doesn't spare them a second glance, but their unconcern does remain in his mind. The fact that they're continuing their lives while he feels as though something that's growing into something of importance in his is about to be taken from him... it's mind-numbing.

He's never been an optimistic person, he's always tried to view things in the way they're most likely to happen—and all that's beneath that two-story house is a long drop and concrete. If you fall, you'll break your head open and you'll die.

He finally makes it to the stairs. He makes a break for it then, tripping over his own feet multiple times. Anything could happen in this amount of time, and he knew no one else was going to help him.

Sal's thoughts grow more and more disordered as he navigates the dark halls of the house. The music seems to have only grown louder, the deafening mixture of guitar and drums taunting him.

He remembers the window on the outside of the house. Sal estimates which room it would be, locates it, and approaches the door. He turns the knob, but it doesn't fully rotate.

The door is locked from the inside. Of course. Who would have a party and leave the bedroom unlocked so people could fuck all over your comforter?

He bites out a curse only he hears and prepares himself to force the door open.

Sal grabs the doorknob tightly, prepares himself, and rams the side of his body into the wood. He doesn't even feel the pain, just does it again, and again.

He goes until that half of his body is numb.

The door finally budges, and he wastes no time entering the room. He doesn't hesitate when he reaches the double-hung window he'd been seeking. He grips it at the bottom and pulls it up and open, clenching his teeth together painfully.

Sal stares out at the vastness of the night, the golden streetlights, and how they shine down on the crowd of people below him. They all seem to be looking at the same place, up, but not at him—and he can only swallow thickly.

Carefully, Sal moves to sit on the windowsill, gripping what was above him tightly, his legs outside. He then ducks to leave the room and shivers as cool air hits the front of his neck.

He starts walking the roof, steadily—like his life depends on it. Because.. it does.

Or yours. Yours depends on it.

"Y/N!" Sal calls as he finally reaches a point where you're in his line of sight. Momentarily, he's worried he'd scared you. But you turn your head, meet his eyes, and smile. Despite that, your face spells fear all over it. Something must have sobered you up a bit while he'd been inside.

"I'm going to come to you. Do not walk towards me!"

You blink lazily, because you were drunk, and nodded. You shivered, hugging yourself. It didn't seem to do much, though. Your arms were bare.

"Fuck," he breathes, gazing down at the fall that could await him if he misstepped and immediately reverted his gaze. Blood rushes between his ears as he steadily makes his way towards you.

"Please don't fall!" You suddenly exclaim, your hair tussling in the breeze. A strand blows over your face, so you quickly raise a hand to move it back in place.

He looks up from his feet and stares you in the eyes. "I won't," he affirms, you and himself, continuing across the roof. "Just stay put, okay?"

It doesn't take long to get over to you. He's mostly sober, so it isn't hard on that part. What's difficult is calming his steady heart.

He's not scared of falling. Not necessarily scared of injury or death. But he is scared of not making it to you.

Once he's at an arms reach of your shaking form, he reaches out a hand, palm facing the darkness of the sky.

You seem to read his mind, slowly grabbing his hand. Sal maneuvers your joint hands to where your palms press together and your fingers are interlaced. He doesn't know if it's the blood rushing through his ears or the distance from the ground, but it's as if everything below becomes very quiet.

You meet his gaze, your pretty eyes glossy with tears. The eyeliner you were wearing had just begun to collect beneath your lower lash line.

He squeezes your hand and leads you to be in front of him.

It's not long after that that he's gotten you off of the roof. Sal watches you slip through the open window before turning toward the density of people beneath him on the ground. He breathes in as he catches both Larry and Ashley's eyes—he can't read their expressions, but he wouldn't be surprised if there was shock written all over it—and then ducks back into the window.

As soon as the window is shut and it meets the windowsill once more, Sal whips his head toward you. "Y/N-"

Before he'd saw your face, and the language of your body as you were sat on the edge of the bed, he was going to scold you, and then go downstairs and find you some water and sober you up—all of that falls down the drain when he sees the stream of tears falling down your face. Every time you blink, more drop—quickly staining your cheeks with black makeup.

"Oh," he breathes, suddenly speechless. "Y/N-"

You attempt at taking a breath in, it seems—but it's a failure because it hitches and turns into a shoulder-shaking sob.

"I'm sorry," you cry, roughly dragging the tips of your fingers beneath your eyes. This only smears the running mascara further. "I'm just drunk."

Sal momentarily feels like breaking down in tears himself, that's how much this entire ordeal stressed him out. He approaches your trembling body and crouches down in front of you.

"Hey," he says, softly. "It doesn't matter whether or not you're intoxicated. Your feelings still matter, okay?"

You sniffle, still attempting to wipe your tears away, and reluctantly nod. "I'm sorry," you try again.

He places his hands on your knees and squeezes them firmly. "It's okay."

You jerk into a sob, leaning forward and pressing the side of your face on his shoulder. You slowly tuck your arms beneath his and cross them over the expanse of his back, palms flat on each shoulder blade. The convulsive gasps were hard to stop, making it hard to breathe.

Sal breathed out softly against the prosthetic, raising his arms and encasing them around your torso.

He didn't wonder about the reason for your tears. Assuming things wouldn't help you anymore.

"I don't know why I did that," you whisper, quieting yourself to swallow your saliva. "Maybe I do. I think I was trying to prove something to myself."

He finds himself holding you tighter, your chest pressed to his, feeling your heartbeat through the fabric that separated you both—oddly enough, even at this moment, it reminds him of that night in the car. You had been even closer to him then, though.

"It was stupid," you murmured. "Why would I do that, after what we had talked about last night?"

"What if we jumped together?" he remembers saying.

"Some things can't be explained," he replies earnestly. "You don't need to know why you did what you did. It was stupid, though. I'd probably walk across the roof of a two-story house for you again, but.."

You pull back and meet his eyes, your face wet. The majority of your makeup had been cried off and your lipgloss had been smudged.

You must've sensed his examination, breaking the visual contact and sniffling. "I know I look ridiculous right now."

Sal smiles. He knows she can't see it, but maybe she'll hear it. "I don't think so," he murmurs, looking off to the side. "I think that's a bathroom. You can clean up in there if you want."

You follow his gaze and then return your eyes to his and laugh a bit. You still sound drunk, he notes. Obviously. He'd poured a good amount of Fireball into your mouth and watched you drink plenty of other things.

"Feels kinda weird using a stranger's bathroom," you laugh, your breath hitching from the earlier crying.

Sal rolls his eyes humorously, gripping your knees tighter as he pulls himself off of the floor. "The guy who lives here is Larry's friend—and a stoner. I doubt he'd mind. And if he does get mad, I'll take responsibility for it. I forced that door through, anyway.."

Your gaze swivels toward the door, which is not shut but mostly closed. When he glances to where you're looking, he notices it seems a bit.. crooked.

He inwardly cringes. "I'll pay for it. Come on."

Sal follows you into the bathroom. You seem reluctant to enter first, so he does, opening the door and reaching to the side to turn the lights on. They do what they're supposed to—eventually. They're momentarily unresponsive before becoming alive—the illumination brightening the room with a dull yellow hue.

You step onto the tile and began to search for whatever it was you needed. You kneeled at one of the cabinets below the sink, opened it, and ducked your head lower.

"Oh!" You exclaim quietly, reaching in and pulling out two things. A bottle of half-empty makeup remover and a bag of some cotton rounds.

"Maybe he has a girlfriend?" He hears you say to yourself, standing up, nudging the cabinet closed with your foot, and placing the things you found beside the sink.

Sal reaches over and closes the door. He'd rather not have to witness the sight of some drunkards wandering in and fooling around on the bed.

"Lock it," you say. "I'd rather no one- no one see me like this."

His hand was already on the doorknob, so he just reaches down a bit and locks the door.

He watches you struggle a bit with the bag of cotton rounds, trying but failing to open it, so he reaches forward and delicately plucks it out of your grasp.

Sal slides the makeup remover over and pats the place on the counter it was previously. "Sit."

You peer into his eyes inquisitively but waste no time hoisting yourself up and onto the cold surface.

After that, he plucks the bottle of makeup remover off of the counter and douses the cotton round in the liquid. He reaches forward from the distance that your knees created between the both of you, but you spread your thighs and press the heel of your shoe into his lower back, pulling him in so he's between your legs.

Sal doesn't see it suggestively, because you're drunk—but he's glad you asked him to lock the door because, with his luck, Larry or Ashley would find their way into the bathroom and get all of the wrong ideas.

The firmness just beneath his navel presses into the edge of the counter as he cups one side of your face and began wiping away at the eyeliner and mascara and everything it messed up.

"Thank you," you say sweetly, blinking at him with appreciation in your eyes. "Where'd you learn how to do that?"

He remembers a silhouette. Her back was turned to him, golden hair cascading just past her shoulder blades. He remembers blue eyes that looked a lot like his own staring into a mirror, a hand which adorned a wedding ring wiping away makeup from the day.

"Read it on the label of the bottle," he replies, meeting your eyes and looking away.

As he's finishing up, he hears a rapping of knuckles against the locked door. He tosses the used cotton rounds into a trash bin in the corner and then locks eyes with you curiously.

"Occupied," he calls out, still looking at you. The knocking only gets louder, which makes you laugh.

"He said it's occupied!" You yell over the unintelligible music downstairs, your words breaking into a giggle. You press your knees against his waist, and he doesn't even realize it when his hands meet your thighs.

The knocking ceases, fading into a voice. "Is that you guys in there?"

Fucking Larry. Speak of the goddamn devil—that's what he would've said if he'd come knocking sooner.

The both of you seem to be thinking the same thing, locking eyes in terror. You quickly get off of the counter, and Sal unlocks the door and swings it open.

Sure enough, he's standing there—in all of his glory and highness. Larry blinks, the whites of his glossy eyes tinted red. He looks between the both of you before speaking. "Why were.."

"I had to pee," You choose to deadpan.

Sal feels himself grow even paler than he already is. "I came in.. after.. that."

Larry intakes a mouthful of whatever is in the red solo cup he's holding in his tan, lanky fingers, and swallows thickly. "Okay," he croaks, instinctively cringing as the alcohol passed through his chest. He gestured the cup toward you. "Uh..crazy stunt you pulled up there, huh?"

Sal saw your face shift in his peripheral vision. "Huge lapse of judgment," you reply.

"Nobody could tell who you were, so don't worry about that," the brunette smiles a bit. He returns his attention to Sal. "They've started playing country," sure enough, Sal hears the sound of a banjo from the speakers downstairs, effectively punctuating Larry's statement.

"Yeah.." Larry mumbles, sipping his drink and looking up and through his eyebrows. "Ash said to come find you guys so we can leave."

It doesn't take much, after that.

As you're leaving, Larry pulls the door open and furrows his brow at the condition of the hinges. "Wow. How old is this thing?" He mumbles.

Sal hears you snort.

The three of you descend the stairs, skirting past countless teenagers standing on the steps drinking or smoking. Sal makes the mistake of letting you fall behind and feels you stumble and smack him in the back. It's easy to steady himself, quickly gripping the railing—but he's concerned about you, so he turns around.

A guy with a cigarette balancing in his teeth is eying you with frustration pulling at his features. His gaze pulls from your face and down your body absentmindedly.

"Watch it," he murmurs.

"Sorry," you breathe, jerking your head away and meeting Sal's eyes worriedly. Keep walking, you express in the hues of your eyes.

Sal reaches forward and interlaces your fingers with his as he'd done on the roof. He makes a show of it, too—so the guy with the cigarette sees the rings on both of his hands. Sal gives him a distinct look when they lock eyes, rolls his jaw, and lets you lead him down the stairs, instead of the other way around.

By the time you're all nearly shot from weaving through the multitude of sweaty bodies and navigating through plumes of smoke thicker than fog, the three of you find Ashley petting what he'd assume is the host's dog.

No one questions it.

"You good to drive?" Larry asks, placing his cup on a nearby surface.

"Oh, yeah," she rises from her crouch beside the dog. The animal walks away, his golden tail wagging excitedly at the next person who would give him pets. "A gross sip of something put me off of drinking tonight a while earlier. And, uh.. the whole roof thing dried me out."

You sigh. "I'm sorry about that. It sobered me up, too."

She shakes her head, a wispy strand of light brown hair falling over her face. "It was stupid, yes, and I hope you don't do it again, but all that matters now is that you're safe."

Ashley blinks kind green eyes at you and smiles, reaching forward, taking your hand, and leading you away. Sal hears you laugh and follow after her as both of you head for the front door.

He turns to look at Larry once he loses sight of both of you in the crowd. He examines Sal with bleary dark eyes and looks as though he's about to say something, but he doesn't get to.

Even over the blaring country music, Sal hears a yell and then some fearful shouting. He whips around toward the sounds, which were toward the front of the house.

Red and blue flashing lights shine through the windows.

"Shit!"

"Ah, fuck," Larry groaned, nimbly wrapping his fingers around Sal's wrist and dragging him into the density of the panicked crowd. "Did you see where they went?"

Sal shakes his head. "No," he knows you're intoxicated. Panic settles in. He chews his lip, his eyes desperately scamming for a girl wearing a white top squared at the neck—you. "Y/N's had a lot to drink, Larry. If the police-"

"Don't worry about the Five-O, let's worry about the girls," Larry replies absentmindedly, keeping his firm hold on Sal.

"They must've gone to the Ford," Sal shouts over the music, which, for some reason, is still playing. "We were leaving anyway. I'm sure they're in the car."

Larry releases Sal and motions toward the back of the house. "There's a back door. I'll text Ashley and tell her to drive down the block and we can meet them on foot."

It was an agreeable plan. Waltzing out of the house and walking straight up to the car wouldn't be wise.

Larry does what he'd said he'd do. Turns out, Sal was right, they had made it to the car moments before the police had rolled up. Ashley informed him it was two squad cars and four officers. Seemed like overkill for a house party—but he wouldn't know. He didn't do this often.

When Larry was on the phone, Sal was very tempted to ask about Y/N, but refrained.

On the way to the back door, they crossed through the kitchen. Larry snatched an unopened bottle of alcohol of a brand Sal didn't recognize and carried it along with him for the road.

As soon as they made it out of the house, they both made a break for it, running between houses and into multiple different backyards on their way.

They slowed down once they were at a measurable distance from the party, gasping for air. Sal panted against the prosthetic, placing his hands on his knees and slowing his gasps into slow breaths, attempting to calm his racing heart.

They stood on the side of the road, the music in the distance (albeit a lot quieter) still pounding into the night.

Sal lowered himself down onto the curb. Larry joined him, raising the bottle he'd chose to bring with him to his mouth, and opened the steel cap with his teeth. He spits it onto the road and gestures it toward Sal.

"Bottoms up," he said, bringing it to his lips and taking several gulps.

Sal rolled his eyes playfully, eyebrows rising as Ashley's Ford Fiesta cruised down the road and slowed to a stop in front of them. He stood up from the curb and pulled Larry off of it as well.

They entered the car, sliding into the backseat. Larry continued to down the beer he'd found as Ashley turned around in her seat.

"The night's still young," she says. "Any ideas of what we could do?"

It's really not. Sal's a bit disoriented so he doesn't know what time it is but he wouldn't be surprised if it was 3 AM.

You then turn around in the passenger seat and grin mischievously. "Let's go to the lake."

Oh, great.

#sally face #sally face x reader #sal fisher x reader

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