#what can you do though. middle schoolers are just like that

[shoechoe]

I forget how much of a little asshole Giorno is at the start of Vento Aureo. My friend watched the beginning and told me she didn't really like Giorno because he was "kind of a dick" and I see why. I guess it's like Josuke being a delinquent and Jotaro getting into fights and stuff

[poptartmochi]

however.. it's not just blorbo thoughts that haunt me with that song... it's teacher thoughts too! 🤯

[unpretty]

a fact about me is that i was an early bloomer who hit puberty in elementary school and was immediately, obnoxiously horny in ways that were uncomfortable for everyone because no one is prepared for an elementary schooler with b cups and a deep fascination with movies where people get tied up. another fact is that because i was considered smart for my age in the ways that mattered, i just accepted all this as a single package, the many ways that i was not really a child the way other children were children but was instead a miniature adult. i was technically a child, but not really, as far as i was concerned. it also did not occur to me until around high school that i was fat, because i instead considered myself to be sturdy, to be buff, to be built like a tank.

so somewhere around middle school i am noticing the ways in which i am Not Like Other Girls, the ways in which i am not what society says a girl is and the ways that things marketed to girls do not appeal to me. i don't know how other girls dealt with this, but i very rationally decided that i was only technically a girl, in the way that i was only technically a child. so i looked at the things that did appeal to me, and that i did enjoy, and reverse engineered my demographic to decide that on a practical and functional level i was a middle-aged man. i had also gotten really hornily into wolverine because of the first x-men movie, and ended up reading a lot of comics, so as you can imagine the comic book version of wolverine who is short and built like a tank and older than he looks despite being for all intents and purposes a middle aged man really had some appeal to me.

there are idiots who say shit about how tomboys would be considered trans these days or whatever, but i can assure you that was not what was happening here. by middle school i already had to special order bras and i was fine with that because of the many weird fetishes i was developing, none of which can be blamed on the internet because i hadn't found that shit yet and also to this day you would have a hard time finding anything similar to the things i wrote in my secret notebook and immediately destroyed. the fact that i was technically a girl was vital to all this. media where there was a big reveal that some cool dude had been a hot chick the whole time was my shit. weird feral beast people who turned out to be hot women once they took a bath? fuck yes. i would never have cut my hair because that would have ruined my chances to take off a helmet and reveal that i had girl hair. at no point did i think i was anything but a girl, it was just that i was functionally a middle-aged man, who was a girl.

what this means is that i still liked all the things i already liked, such as leather jackets and comic books and anime and old stand-up comedy, but i also did extensive research on the other things i felt i should like according to the demographic i had assigned myself. i watched vh1's 'i love the 70s' with the air of someone trying to hide their amnesia, even though my parents were children in the 70s. i got into the beatles. i tried to get into cars for a while before accepting that i only liked the vintage car aesthetic and couldn't be fucked to know actual car facts. i wore nothing but cargo shorts and aloha shirts for a while, which didn't really stand out that much because it was middle school. i bought a fedora and became a libertarian atheist. i made plans to buy a motorcycle (i could not ride a bike).

i gave up on it after a while because quite frankly my titty situation meant there was never really going to be a big reveal that i'd been a girl the whole time. it was pretty obvious even with the cargo shorts. also the older of a teen i was, the more likely it felt that i could maybe get laid, except i could tell that was never going to happen as long as i kept wearing cargo shorts. it took longer to give up the fedora because it was leather and i wore it with my leather jacket and fingerless gloves, which i convinced myself worked a lot better after i'd gone full high school goth. i lived in the desert so you can imagine how well that worked out for me, smell-wise.

anyway that's how my female socialization went, i don't think it was particularly successful tbqh

[stevenose]

rocks off (18+)

contains: steve x reader; reader with a vagina + breasts; no gendered language used for reader; idk what their dynamic is they be fucking tho; stressed out and in need of an epic handjob!steve; praise (steve receiving); perv!reader; cumming inside 😳

a/n: this is a lot longer than originally anticipated - i hope you enjoy!!

The air shifts the moment Steve’s car is thrown into park outside. You can feel irritation radiating off of him already - though maybe it’s just the knowledge that he worked a double, and he’s just getting home at ten in the evening.

You frown at the door, brows creasing when he finally gets inside. He doesn’t look at you at first - doesn’t seem to notice while he’s singing under his breath, kicking his Nikes off and ripping his vest from his chest.

“Bad day?”

Now he looks, glaring at you under thick brows. He sighs and runs a big, tired hand over his exhausted, pretty face. “The worst.”

“How come?”

“Because,” he starts, eyes diverting from you again to put his shoes in their place, “I had to kick middle schoolers out of the porn section, I totally got turned down by one of our hot regulars, and I had to work with Keith for the last three hours.”

You hum, watching him walk towards the couch, collapsing on it. He sighs and lets his head fall back, the pretty crown of hair cascading backwards. His pretty neck is ripe for the taking, unmarked by your lips.

“What can I do for you?”

He waves a hand, nostrils flaring with his exhale. “Just need to relax.”

You hum again, watching him intently, seeing if he’ll get the hint. His pretty brown eyes are half lidded as he watches whatever is on the television. You lick your lips.

Steve glances over at you. “What?”

“I can help with that,” you say softly.

He smiles lazily. “You gonna knock me out or somethin’ so I can sleep for once?”

For the horniest guy you know, he sure doesn’t get hints. “I was thinking more, like, making you feel good?”

Chestnut eyes widen. He licks his pink lips, tongue running over his stubble. “What would that entail?” he asks.

You bite your lip, eyes drifting downwards towards his jeans, and then back up. “Could help you cum if you want,” you whisper.

You watch his chest rise and fall. “And how would you do that?”

“Must be so tired. Bet jacking off would make you feel better, huh?“

You hear his breath hitch, watch his cheeks grow red. “Uh-huh,” he says softly.

“And you shouldn’t have to jerk off that heavy cock by yourself. Right?”

He takes a moment to find his words. “Right.”

You smile at him, crawling down the couch towards him. You prop your thighs on either side of his, straddling him. His hands come up delicately to hold your hips, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows anxiously.

“Let me take care of you,” you whisper.

Steve nods, looks at you like you’re the creator of the universe. Eyes sparkly, features tired. His thumbs rub over your hipbones, just barely obscured behind a pair of boxers.

“Can you take your cock out for me?”

He nods again, eager to please. His big hands leave your body to free himself. You sit up, giving him room to push his jeans and underwear down to his knees. Then you seat yourself back onto his hairy thighs, eyes fixating on his cock.

You’ve seen it before but it never fails to disappoint. So thick and long and you’re so sure it would be impossible to impale yourself on. Curves upwards, has a few pretty freckles on it, tip as pink as his lips. He’s only half hard and you’re still a little breathless over it.

You run your fingertips up the underside of Steve’s cock, along a vein that protrudes from his tanned skin. He sighs, hands finding their way back to your hips.

“So soft,” you moan quietly, wrapping your hand around his shaft and pumping a few times, watching him get harder. “Do you usually use spit or lube?”

Steve sort of chokes, eyes widening. “Uh - um - i-it depends.”

You wonder why he’s so anxious. You know he fucks. You can hear it through the thin walls of your apartment - you’ve touched yourself to the sound of it. It makes you feel important, him below you with flushed cheeks and golden eyes.

“Spit okay for now?”

He nods. Watches with wide-eyed wonder as you bring your hand up to your mouth, spitting into your palm, then bringing it back down towards his dick. The moment you wrap around him he gasps, a long moan finding its way out of his soft lips.

“Feels good?” you ask softly.

“Mhm.” He moans it out tightly, the muscles in his neck straining.

“Yeah? Good boy,” you coo.

Steve’s cock twitches in your hand. Your grip is firm, no teasing, as much as you’d like to wait until he’s begging and crying for something from you. His breath hitches again as his dark brows knit together.

“Have such a big cock, Steve,” you purr. “Probably why you get turned down, honey. Too big to take.”

Steve sighs, his eyes fluttering shut, his cock leaking significantly.

“Mhm,” you continue, “bet it’s got so much cum to give too, huh?”

“Oh my god,” he groans, his grip on your hips tightening. “Y-yeah, it does.”

You bite your tongue, but you say what you’re thinking anyway. “Where do you like to cum, Steve?”

“Inside,” he pants, face growing redder.

Your stomach flips. “Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.” He sounds so fucked out and it’s been two minutes.

“Anyone ever let you?”

He shakes his head. “Just - in a condom.”

You pout. “That’s not fair. Pretty cock like this shouldn’t be in a condom, Stevie.”

He’s panting, sweat glistening on his forehead. You watch him swallow hard. He’s speechless, doesn’t know how to react, but his cock certainly does. It pulses in your grip and you sigh dreamily, pulling away from him to stand.

“Where you goin’?” he asks, heartbroken.

You simply pull your boxers off before seating yourself back on him. Steve’s eyes drift downwards, and even if he can’t see much, he groans softly.

“Wanna see my tits?”

“Oh, please,” he whispers.

You throw your shirt off, too, naked on his lap now. Hand still stroking him in a steady rhythm. His hips rock into your palm as his eyes bore a hole into your chest.

“You can touch,” you goad.

His hands are so warm. You sigh as his fingers find your nipples, pinching them softly. And while he’s distracted, you move forward a bit, lift your hips, and bring the tip of his cock to your pussy.

Steve gasps just as you moan. His hands are back on your hips lightning fast, mouth hanging open. You rub his cock against your clit, your own mouth dropping with pleasure.

“H-holy sh-shit,” he breathes, hips bucking upwards involuntarily. His cock catches on your clit again and you sigh, arching your back, placing your free hand on the couch behind him for support.

“How long’s it been since you’ve touched a pussy raw?” you moan.

Steve whimpers. “I - I’ve never….”

“Should I stop?”

“No,” he whimpers, hips rocking. “Keep going, please?”

“Does it feel good?” His cock glides through your folds now, coating him in your cream. He doesn’t know where to look, but right now he’s fixated on where you both meet. “Bet it does. Feels so good for me.”

You spit on your palm again and take him back into your fist, jerking him off but letting the tip of him rub against your clit.

“And you’re good for me, Steve.” You lean forward, resting your forehead against his. He looks at you with adoration, eyes warm, honey-like. “Fuck, I want your cum. Can I have it?”

“Jesus Christ,” he moans, brows furrowing again. “Take it, need you to take it.”

“Want you to make a mess of my pussy, Stevie.” Your lips just barely brush against his. You ramp up the theatrics, moaning more, biting your lip and grinding your hips. “Wanna be the first person that feels your cum… want it so bad… wanna be a little stress toy for you.”

“Oh -!” He’s so turned on he can’t even finish his sentence. His face twists, panting, legs shaking under you.

And then - against your own better judgement - you bring the tip of his cock to your entrance. You’re entirely too tight for him but you still sink down just enough, enough to get half of the head of him inside. Steve nearly shouts, planting his feet and arching his back, his cock nestling a bit further inside. You hiss, but never stop jerking him off.

“Cum inside me,” you whine.

“Holy fuck,” he gasps. He has such a beautiful blush spreading down his broad chest. “Are - are you serious?”

You nod fervently. “‘s okay, ‘m on the pill, wanna feel you.”

Steve looks at you like you’re insane - because you are - but he never once attempts to stop you. In fact, his hips jut up a little further, burying the head of his cock inside of you deeper. The seal is almost certainly air-tight and your stomach flutters in delight.

“Be a good boy,” you purr. “Be such a good boy and cum for me, please Steve? Fuck, you’re so goddamn hot, honey. Don’t want anyone else having you like this.”

He nods, muscles tensing.

You clench around him and with one final stroke he cums. His hands grip the fat of your hips harshly - enough to bruise - and you have to follow his hips upwards to stop him from splitting you open.

“Good baby such a good boy Steve so fucking hot,” you babble, cunt pulsing. His cum spreads through you, hot and thick and it’s so goddamn much. Must’ve been backed up, hasn’t cum in a while. Really needed this.

You breathe against each other’s mouths as he comes down from his high, hands still clenching your sides. Steve doesn’t seem to want to let you go. Actually, it seems like he would love nothing more than to plant his feet and fuck his bad day right into your cunt. But he lets you lift off after a minute, watches with hooded eyes as his cum slowly drips out of you.

“That good for you?” you ask, pushing his hair back away from his sweaty face.

Steve swallows hard, nodding. “Really good.”

“Feeling better?”

He nods again. You can see his brain is trying to turn on again and you smile, kissing his forehead.

“Glad I could help.”

[chigirizzz]

❝𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲❞

synopsis: how your fist kiss with him is like

characters: gojo, yuji, megumi

tags: gn! reader, not proofread as always (it's 3am for crying out loud)

— GOJO SATORU

gojo is a tease and that’s no news for you, it’s not new to anyone. this man’s actions and words either make someone respect him or desire to kill him.

yet, it surprised you how much he could tease you before and during your first kiss.

gojo fucking satoru made sure to make your life hard as hell after finding out how you, even past your mid twenties, never had a kiss. 

“never?” 

“never,” you responded by repeating the word in a cold tone of voice, arms crossed and sending him a dead glare. however, he did not felt intimidated by you—

—instead, he just burst out laughing and looked at you like you were a middle schooler still finding out about life.

that’s how your memory can recall that day. god, you hate him!

and you hate how you never got to experience such a magical moment yet!

but patience is a virtue, right? that’s what people say. and that’s what you’re thinking right now as gojo’s big hand imprisons your head movement by holding your chin firmly. his hold isn’t too strong and neither too loose—perfect to give his lips the chance to dominate yours and perfect for you to free yourself and slap him if that’s what you wish to do. 

but you don’t do that, so his lips curve into a malicious smirk, which gives an electrical shock to a certain corner of your brain—which makes your mouth let it escape a satisfying sound to his ears.

he’s enjoying this. he’s enjoying this so much and so are you.

today was like any normal day, including the newest jokes and teases from gojo satoru about how no one ever felt attracted to you enough to kiss you. although you know the white haired male never wanted to hurt you and it was just teasing, the comment he told you today really hurt you, making you sad and defending yourself to gojo (and calling him stupid).

he listened quietly to your rant. his blindfold made it difficult for you to understand how sorry he was, though.

gojo moves his hand from your chin to the back of your neck, his body language now a bit more rough—his lips more angry for yours by the way he tilts his head slightly to side, guiding you on your make out session, occasionally leaving a chuckle when you desperately try to follow his movements.

you are so cute and he feels so superior in this exact moment.

one of your hands moves by itself to grab the cloth's fabric that covers his chest when you suddenly feel his teeth on your neck. he wasn’t doing anything special yet, just mouth slightly open with his teeth ready to give you a hickey.

“satoru…”

“hm.” despite him answering your call, gojo didn’t pay attention very much; instead, he chose to snuggle into the warm skin of your neck, searching for comfort. wanting to be close with you. 

the hand that was close to his chest is now on his back, patting awkwardly but softly. “i…” you cleared your throat. you’re pretty sure he could feel your nervousness. “i hate how you make me feel.”

— ITADORI YUJI

no words to describe how adorable he is.

this sweet boy took you on a date to the oceanarium with a full plan inside his pants’ pocket:

take a shower

after shower, use the best perfume/deodorant (not axe!!)

go to y/n’s house to take them to the oceanarium

look for the best train seat available for y/n (has to be next to the window!!)

pay for the tickets

tell y/n lots of fun facts

kiss y/n

kiss y/n… kiss you…

now that’s a hard task.

in the three months you and itadori yuji were dating, no one had any complaints. the two of you were going at their specific pace, but still able to get out of your comfort zones, just for each other.

kissing you is an example of yuji getting out of his comfort zone—that, and he just loves you very much; the boy just wants to express himself. he cringes at how he stepped away from you awkwardly when you tried to kiss him on the day he confessed to you.

“that’s so cool!” you hugged the jellyfish plushie you bought in the oceanarium gift store tighter, its scent bringing you a feeling of peace. the both of you are currently outside, sitting on a bench at a nearby park, just speaking about today and listening to yuji’s fun facts about the aquarium animals. “tell me more.”

“uh, well… just a second!,” he excuses himself before searching for a piece of paper inside his pants’ pockets… he took one out of the pocket, read it, and realized it wasn’t the one he wanted. “just…—just a second! sorry!

your boyfriend is acting strange today—you noticed, anyone can notice—, but you opted to not say anything. however, you’re starting to become extremely curious.

the wrong piece of paper is roughly and badly stuffed back into his pocket, only for the panic to torment him again when said paper falls from the pocket to the ground.

“what’s this?” you ask no one in particular when you caught the paper before your boyfriend could do it.

“shit, no! give me that!”

“calm down, yuji, i’m trying to read it.”

the boy watches in horror as you slowly read the paper—the paper with the list.

that’s it, his life is over. he feels the pain of the embarrassment crushing him, getting more painful each millisecond. he can imagine how you’re gonna make fun of him, destroying his heart—

“you could’ve just told me, itadori,” your voice soothes his thoughts as you stare at him lovingly. “i would never judge you or anything.”

“after how i denied your kiss the day i confessed to you? me? denying your kiss? on the day i confessed? i’m a moron—”

the palms of your hands hold his cheeks gently. “you’re not a moron, my love—well, you are, but not in this context.”

all yuji got to say was an offended ‘hey!’ before you pulled him towards you, making him able to cross ‘kiss y/n’ out of his silly and now crumpled list.

even if there isn’t much experience between you both, you manage to work it out. it’s a simple but long-lasting kiss—at least that’s what you assume when you start to feel the need to breathe some new fresh air. but you don’t want to worry about oxygen, not when the feeling of his lips in touch with yours makes the blood vessels on your face dilate, making your blood warmer, making your heart beat faster.

you let go of him and breathe heavily, however, you do not get a proper pause because yuji starts kissing all over your face, while tickling your body too. the both of you turn into a mess of laughter and tiny kisses, completely enjoying the moment.

and perhaps you get the privilege to live something that resembles a cinematic masterpiece, as you both stop laughing and rest your foreheads against each other.

— MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

the scenario is really simple: one minute you’re sitting side by side on the sofa while watching a terrible coming of age movie, pizza slice on your hand, all your worries forgotten thanks to the comfy blanket covering your laps, and the next minute you and the dark haired male are sitting in front of each other on the sofa, faces really close trying to mimic the stupid kissing scene at the end of the stupid movie.

“her hand was like this.”

“shut up, why do you want to make things so difficult.”

this was your idea, of course, a perfect excuse to kiss him. in months of dating, you never had the first kiss as a couple and you decided to tease him into doing it, saying how you wished to be kissed like in the ending scene of the movie and complaining how megumi could never do like the male protagonist did.

he knew you were just teasing him, but he felt the need to show you the opposite anyway.

first you were trying to position your heads and hands like the actors and sharing short kisses, until he got tired of the challenge and just pulled you for a kiss without you expecting it.

it was definitely way better than the one from the movie. it was rough at first but eventually it got softer and more romantic. he paid attention to your body language, to how you reacted to the kiss, and when his lips let go of yours so you both could breathe, he stared at you so lovingly you almost felt like melting, especially when his hand made contact with your cheek to caress it.

minutes passed and you were now cuddling each other, you laying on top of him and listening to his heartbeat and him giving you a small back massage, making sure that you felt loved (and that you didn’t say anything stupid again).

[hedgehog-moss]

(TW POLICE VIOLENCE)

France has been feeling like a police state this week, there were 5000 cops deployed in Paris yesterday (watch this video and tell me this is a normal amount of cops and they're behaving normally) and they keep acting like they have total immunity*, to beat up protesters, to arrest protesters, or just random people walking in the vicinity of a protest. My 70+-year-old dad tried to go to a peaceful protest and had to abandon the idea because of all the tear gas being used by police.

*Which they do—as Le Monde pointed out, the cops who are violent risk nothing because they can't be identified because almost none of them wear their identification number even though it's supposed to be mandatory. They're not being penalised for not wearing them, so why should they?

If you can stomach it, please have a look at the photos and videos on this Twitter account documenting French police brutality against protesters—as I write this, the most recent tweet is about a journalist who was beaten up by a BRAV-M cop* using his steel baton; he had his head cracked open and his hand broken.

(* BRAV-M is a motorised repression corps—cops on bikes—a unit that was dissolved in 1986 after some of them beat a student to death, who wasn't even attending a protest but walking near one. Macron changed the unit's name, from Voltigeurs to BRAV-M, and reestablished it to suppress the Yellow Vests protests. This week, a BRAV-M cop deliberately drove over a 19-year-old's leg at a protest after chasing him on his bike. The victim said he heard a cop say to others "Smash him." Another BRAV-M punched a protester unconscious on March 20. And today Le Monde published an article about BRAV-M cops being recorded bragging about "breaking elbows and faces.")

In Paris last week the CRS arrested a 14-year-old kid because they took him for a dangerous black bloc protester I guess?? A child spent a night in police custody without knowing why. They've also arrested several 15 / 16 year-olds. Let's teach the youth what happens when you exercise your right to protest!

On March 16th in Paris, within one evening, they arrested 292 people, and 283 were released without charges, which means they're mass-arresting people for peaceful protests as a strategy of intimidation. The student I mentioned in my post the other day, who spent 48 hours in custody and was eventually charged for refusing to have his DNA samples taken and filed, asked the cops why they were arresting him + 4 other people who were walking down the same street and they said "Because you look like fucking leftists."

The government tells us "We fully support our brave police forces" when the cops are arresting people for "looking like leftists." How are we still a democracy? The guy also mentioned that during the time he spent at the police station, the police was mostly arresting Maghrebis, though they made an exception for him, a Black guy. There are videos from the past week of cops beating up women, tear gassing protesters in the face from 20cm away, kicking protesters in the face when they're already on the ground, crushing their heads under their boot, brutalising a homeless man and old ladies, tear gassing crowds with young children in them. I'm having trouble finding links to these specific incidents I remember because there are so many videos circulating.

Look at this video, they're violently striking the back of people's heads with steel batons even when the protesters are already going in the direction they're told to. The little old lady shoved around and trying to protect her head from the strikes is breaking my heart.

Surely at the point when enforcers of state authority are arresting middle schoolers, beating up citizens for exercising their rights and gassing and pepper spraying elderly people, children and babies in strollers, the government might want to make some sort of statement condemning this state of affairs, but instead they have been telling us they're proud of & grateful for their police forces, which of course angers people and makes protests more violent. The Minister of the Interior, who supervises the police, praises them wholeheartedly and excuses all instances of deliberate brutality as 'isolated incidents' due to 'tiredness'.

Here's a thread in English describing a protester's experience—"Yesterday (March 23) the level of arbitrary police violence clearly leveled up. I was tear gassed three times without being able to move in a very dense crowd; policemen took advantage that people were unable to move more than 20cm to pounce on us and bludgeon us in a totally arbitrary manner." (you can see an example of this behaviour in this video from a different protest)

Yesterday, after a day of nationwide protests that brought a fresh new wave of video evidence of cops beating up protesters and making reckless use of tear gas—at the end of a day when a special ed teacher at a protest got her thumb torn off by a tear gas grenade—this is what the French Prime Minister said:

They're not even trying to play it off like "both sides made mistakes" they're telling us they condone everything the police is doing, that this is what they're deploying them for:

(screencap from this video)

(this is from this video, in which you can hear a woman screaming "Stop it! You're strangling him! You have no right! I'm filming you!" The cops don't seem to care about being filmed. They're beating up citizens with the government's full blessing after all.)

Macron's government is trying to intimidate people into giving up their right to protest, by deploying cops in huge numbers and publicly voicing complete support for their behaviour, by allowing them to beat and arrest hundreds of people and to use tear gas indiscriminately. Tear gas has been completely normalised as a means of state violence, it's very practical that it doesn't leave traces of blood or broken bones I guess, but it's still violence, it burns, it's a chemical whose effects on people's health we don't know a lot about.

^ Paris (from this vid; caption: "one tear gas grenade after the other")

Macron condescendingly told us there's no "magic money" which is why the pension reform is needed, but he did find the money to stockpile these apparently unlimited amounts of tear gas grenades to suppress protests against his reform to make poor people work longer.

^ Nantes (screencap from a vid in which the cops throw three or four grenades at once and you can hear people say "oh come on, seriously? this is crazy. Why? go fuck yourselves" in a tired tone)

We've also found out yesterday that three Corsican MPs were pressured not to support the Assembly's no-confidence vote against the government—by being told if they didn't vote it, a teaching hospital would be built in Corsica.

The island of Corsica is the only region of France that doesn't have a teaching hospital; due to lack of medical resources Corsicans often have to travel to mainland France for healthcare. Just last month the Minister of Health said sorry, still no teaching hospital for Corsica, it's just not possible right now. Then last week some "magic money" was apparently found to build it but only if the Corsican MPs didn't support the no-confidence vote. I know this kind of thing isn't exactly unique in politics but Macron has been slashing hospital budgets to the point that 20% of French hospital beds are closed due to lack of staff, and he used the health of 340,000 French citizens as a bribe to save his ass. The three Corsican MPs ended up voting in favour of the no-confidence vote despite of that, as it was what their constituents wanted (honour to them). Macron's government survived the no-confidence vote by only 9 votes.

Whatever legitimacy Macron has as a President right now is being clung to by MP corruption and police repression. How do we move forwards knowing that, I don't know. How does he have legitimacy to govern on any issues after the way he handled this reform and the following protests? His police forces are drowning city centres in tear gas, a chemical whose effect on birds and other fauna is not known, and we're supposed to listen to him talk about the environment? They're wasting thousands of litres of water using water cannons to disperse protesters, and we're supposed to listen to him talk about low groundwater levels and how we need to save water? I was going to say, what about his legitimacy abroad but other Western governments don't seem too bothered so far by his handling of the protests—though I'm grateful that Amnesty International did condemn it, and that a Belgian deputy made a speech in Parliament this week asking his government to condemn Macron's use of violent police repression.

[Wait, I just saw that as I was writing this post, the Council of Europe condemned the "excessive use of force" in France. Saying that 'sporadic acts of violence' of some protesters can't 'justify the excessive use of force by agents of the State' or 'deprive peaceful protesters of their right to freedom of assembly'. This is the opposite framing as the one our government is standing by—sporadic acts of violence by cops that are either justified or excusable—it's refreshing.]

Between that and Charles III cancelling his visit (and lots of tourists cancelling trips to Paris which is bound to piss off the tourism industry) and our own media waking up and starting to talk about the government's brutality, I hope Macron starts being held accountable. He has been fanning the flames of this crisis at every turn, by telling us that the crowds protesting in the street have 'no legitimacy', by sending cops to break strikes even though striking is a Constitutional right (but the only part of the Constitution he cares about is the one that starts with 49.3), by condemning the protesters when asked to condemn police violence—saying "When [protesters] use violence, unregulated, absolute, we're no longer in a Republic." I agree, but he's describing himself.

When you resort to using article 49.3 to bypass the National Assembly for the 11th time this term to impose a reform that 70% of the country is against (and 93% of working people) that will force the poorer classes of the population to work longer, and your only response to people's distress at being told to work until they die is to force them to accept it by allowing your police forces to beat up protesters, to arrest them and to gas them, you have failed as a democratic leader.

The next organised protest and strike is next Tuesday (if you want to give something to the strike solidarity fund, here it is); in the meantime spontaneous protests are still erupting pretty much every day and cops are getting burnt out (good! There are fun videos from yesterday's protests of cops accidentally tear gassing one another, or a police car accidentally running into another as people laugh and clap.) And yes some protesters are getting more extreme and destructive, but Macron is the one choosing to stand by his reform at all costs and let this country burn. And when I look at what we're being expected to tolerate and to normalise, I'm kind of proud that French people's gut reaction was "burn it all."

Some popular Twitter hashtags for the protests:

#ToutCramer - Burn everything #CensurePopulaire - People's no-confidence vote #MacronDémission - Macron resign #OnLâcheRien - We won't cede an inch.

[torasplanet]

being bruce wayne's controversially young gf is probably such a handful. with all the paparazzi, and new reporters and don't even get me started on that whole batman thing...you'll never forget the time you discovered the batcave in the middle of the night and neither will bruce. you were just sitting at the computers next to Barbara in your silky rope with a frown on your face just ready to yell at him for not telling you.

but that's not what we're here to talk about. we're here to talk about that little munchkin damian.

see at first, he didn't really like you. you were there before him but he still didn't like you very much in all honesty. the other batkids took a liking to you, some quicker than others (dickie) but they still liked you and told damian that you were cool and everything but damian found it disgusting how his father would date someone as young as you.

you were only in your twenties but considering bruce's age being early forties... he thought it was weird. damian was one of many who thought it was horrible until he didn't. you don't exactly know what made him switch but you weren't complaining well...sometimes you were because of his clinginess but you loved him too! damian was attached at your side the moment he started to like you and it was hard to get him away.

you always defended damian especially when he would go back and forth with bruce, which by the way he hated, but it didn't matter the topic because you'd still back him up. "father, school is a waste of time. training is far more important." "yeah! dami is too smart for that."

but don't get him wrong, he still found the age gap horrifying but it was more toward bruce than you now. as time went on, he stopped caring about it but he acted as though he did. damian is just a hater tbh.

anyways, back to him being the clingiest son ever! during galas, you are never seen without the middle schooler at your side either silent or talking to you about something he is passionate about. bruce thinks its cute and plus it makes the public not hate this relationship more but when damian actually needs to do things at the galas, it's pretty annoying for him...

"todd insisted that i play uno with him and the rest of the former robins and it was quite interesting. especially when todd jumped at grayson for cheating." damian ranted in your ear while standing at your side as you sipped at your wine glass carefully listening to him unaware of your boyfriend approaching.

damian noticed before you did and his silence made you confused "damian, you cannot stand next to her all night." bruce said with a sigh and his son only narrowed his eyes at him "why not? i don't find talking to these other wealthy families any sort of intriguing." damian argued while you only smiled brightly at the fact that he found you interesting!

"that doesn't matter, you still have duties."

"well ummi–[y/n]..." damian stuttered clearing his throat in embarrassment as the conversation seemed to go silent. bruce looked at you and you were close to dropping the wine glass because of how happy you seemed so he swiped it from your palm quickly. "...she doesn't seem to mind at all." the boy continued before looking up at you.

you barely registered him looking at you. you were just too happy about him referring to you as his mom!! even if it was just a slip-up. "oh yeah! i don't mind at all and you can call me whatever you want dami! i don't mind that either." you shrugged while rocking back and forth on your heels and damian seemed to be relieved with that but he quickly cleared his throat again and looked at his father with a careless expression.

"well, we'll be going now. grayson is better company than you anyway." damian said grabbing the glass from bruce's hand and grabbing yours with his other before beginning to walk away. you looked back at bruce and silently screamed to show your excitement. i guess he can let it slide this one time...because he was just as happy.

©torasplanet .ᐟ reblogs and likes are very appreciated! pls do not repost!!

[ozzgin]

Yandere! CoD Headcanons: König x Reader x Ghost (II)

“Sharing is caring” is likely familiar to most, though the nuances of it may sometimes differ beyond the classic expectations. You’re trapped between two jealous, possessive and feverishly infatuated men with no escape in your sight. That implies, of course, you’ve been looking for a way out of this bizarre partnership. Have you? Be honest…

TW: NSFW, obsessive behavior, size kink, violence

Tags: @223princess

[Part I]

Yet another classic rule that comes with your job is to always be ready to deal with the unexpected. Plan as well as you may, the battleground is not as generous as to stick to your schedule. Yet the same principle applies out of combat, too. It’s just…you had’t really imagined such an outcome to be possible. Your extensive training covered most scenarios, from raids, to ambushes, natural disasters, everything except, well, this. You wonder if the code of conduct might include a paragraph about work romance, specifically your teammates taking turns to fuck you shamelessly at any hour of the day.

You gaze at your reflection in the slightly fogged mirror and quickly look away, embarrassed. You can’t bear to see the markings that are peppered all over your body, betraying the depraved activities you’ve indulged in for the past weeks. How did it even come to this? You sit on the edge of the bed, drying your hair, and hesitantly replay the event in your head. Your helpless form crouched on the storage floor, looking up at the two large men gripping at each other’s throats. Behind their masks you could sense their ferocious intent to kill. How would you explain it to your superiors? You gathered up your remaining confidence and barked at them to stop at once. They were indeed taken aback by your sudden yell that could’ve put any drill sergeant to shame. You wanted to get to the bottom of the conflict and put all this bullshit behind as soon as possible. Until they offered you the honest cause of their hostile rivalry. You could only stare in disbelief.

Your first instinct was to wonder if this was some sort of elaborate prank. What the hell, were they a bunch of high schoolers learning to handle their first crush or fucking grown adults in the middle of a military operation? You were never oblivious to it: mixed gender missions always came with a lot of casual hookups to blow off steam. Not your thing, but there’s plenty of other people down to it. Your suggestion was met with angry, vehement refusal. Both Ghost and König were outraged at the insinuation they’d put their dicks in some rando, as if that’s all there was to it. As if anyone else would do. Ironically this is where they found their common ground. König had lifted you nonchalantly by the collar of your uniform and asked you if you’re playing dumb. You could only shrug, even more confused. Ghost joined him and explained, casually and matter-of-fact, that you can call it a hookup as long as you remember it’s a lifelong arrangement. You were to walk out that door with the knowledge you belong to them and they would take any necessary steps to ensure your compliance. The hunting knife that was meant to plunge into his rival was now propped under your chin, dangerously close to your throbbing artery.

Now this should’ve been your sign to nod obediently, pack your suitcase at the earliest convenience and get the hell out. And that was your honest intent, initially. You could almost visualize the documents granting your absence from duty. Then you felt your buttons pop from their seams, forcefully ripped apart by König’s large hand. It occurred to you that you were propped against the wall by two men twice your size. You could hear their now labored breaths, muffled by their masks. The Austrian man roughly readjusted your posture, having you rest against his hips and throwing your legs around his waist. You gasped quietly once you sensed a bulge pressing into you. He fumbled with his zipper, but Ghost interrupted him with an irritated scolding. “You can’t just ram it in, you fucking dumbass.” You didn’t take long to understand the meaning and shivered at the thought. Without a warning, Ghost slid his hand into your now unbuckled pants. Two fingers begun pressing circles over your underwear and an unconscious whine escaped your lips. Satisfied by your reaction, he brought himself closer and increased the pace until he felt the moisture pooling in the fabric, which was enough encouragement to gently slip his way inside of you. In an attempt to help, König lowered his head over your breasts, fondling your now sensitive nipples with his tongue. His mask draped over your skin, adding a mild tickle to the overwhelming buildup. You suddenly remembered the storage no longer had a door after König kicked it out of its hinges, so you tried to push the muscular man away. “W-what if someone comes in?” Against your will and to your surprise, the question rolled out like a prolonged moan and you blushed awkwardly. “They won’t, if you shut up.” Ghost responded curtly. He considered it for a moment, and added smugly: “Don’t worry, that pretty mouth of yours will be real busy soon.” You closed your eyes tightly and prayed you wouldn’t be caught.

And you weren’t. You got away with it. That time, and the other time, and all the other times. At this point you question whether your other teammates truly haven’t noticed or have since learned to look away. Another possibility is that the psychotic duo has threatened the others into silence. Given their cocky attitude whenever you protest about the openness or risky timing, it wouldn’t surprise you at all. Even worse, their libido seems to be increasing exponentially as a consequence to their incessant competition of owning you. They seem to be plagued by a delirious need to have you at all times, and you’re rather afraid to admit that your desire to flee is slowly being replaced by a similar addiction. Rabid dogs in heat. That’s the only analogy that comes to mind.

Last time you didn’t even get the chance to return to the base. The soldiers had exited the truck, cheering their success and marching towards the gate. König had been quiet the entire ride, not even bothering to hide his ardent stare, his eyes hooded with lust. You were about to hop off yourself when you felt his burning grip on your wrist, pulling you back in and onto his lap. Oh, how he loves fucking you like this. His toned legs are sprawled out dominantly and his calloused hands guide you over his erection. No matter how many times you do it, the start is always painful. He’s just that big. But that’s his favorite part. Seeing you wince and tear up, holding your stomach as if shielding it from the foreign object assaulting the walls of your frail body. Then the thrusts become smoother and your movements break into an erratic pleading for more. He wants to witness it all. God, you turn him into a wild animal. His fingers dig into your skin and towards the end you’re a whimpering mess, shamelessly drooling over his uniform in a daze. As you coat him with your slick cum, he grunts and barely manages to speak. “Fuck, I’m gonna lose my mind for good one of these days.” His voice is deep and reverberates against your heaving chest.

Scratch that. Last time you didn’t even make it to the truck. You were laying behind a boulder, wiping the sweat and dirt off your face. You’d just finished taking out your targets and announced your return in the headset. Ghost approaches you with a hidden smirk and squats before you, extending a hand towards you. “Need help?” You nod with gratitude and take off your helmet. You reach for his hand, hoping he’d pull you up, but instead his fingers claw around your throat and push you against the ground. “Good, I have the perfect thing for a little slut like you.” He climbs over you without letting go of your neck and undoes your jacket with ease. Hell, he’s been doing it so often he could manage even blindfolded. With the free hand he shoves one of your legs away to make space. Truth be told, he’s very much biased towards this particular arrangement. He can already feel the unbearable pressure of his member waiting to be freed. He adores being able to take all of you in. Your expression, your small body trapped under his massive frame. He can fuck you as he pleases, until you turn into a rag doll, and there’s no way out. You grit your teeth in anticipation and hold onto his arm that’s choking you once he goes in. You must’ve been molded just for him. There’s no other explanation for his feral clinginess, scratching and biting and pulling in desperate, agonizing pleasure. After the deed has been done he can admire his masterful work, gazing lovingly at your flustered, disheveled form, gasping for air and dripping with his seed.

Your shake your head and try to chase away these perverted memories. You’re still damp from the shower and continue massaging your scalp with the towel, when you hear a knock on your door. Oh, no. No. “Busy!” is all you manage to shout. The door opens nonetheless and Ghost and König waltz in, entirely indifferent to your refusal. “Can’t I have one moment to myself?” You groan, frustrated. König leans against the wall and Ghost kneels in front of you. There’s a hint of cheekiness in his voice. “Sure. Tell us to go away and we will.” You blink and ponder his words. Remembering all the past encounters has gotten you a little bit eager, that’s true, but… “Say it.” He repeats himself. You squirm and look away, a deep red spreading across your face. Your lips are pursed. König lets out a soft laugh and closes the door, then faces you. “Since you wanted to be a brat, you have to beg for it now.”

What have you gotten yourself into?

[rogueddie]

I'll Be Here T | 1,187 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is being willing to wait for them

Eddie has always known that, one day, Steve would move to the city with Robin so he can finally go to college. Eddie has grown too aware of Steve, his tells and how much he needs Robin.

When he first brought up college, he was venting about how horrible it would be to go so long without seeing Robin.

Eddie had struggled to hold back his laughter, painfully aware that he wasn't actually venting. He was trying to find an excuse to follow her. He was trying to convince himself that it would be worth putting the effort in to go to college too.

So, when Steve shuffled in one day, concerned but excited? Eddie wasn't surprised.

"I got in," he'd started. "To college, I mean. I applied with Robin and... I got in."

"That's amazing," Eddie said. "Baby, I'm so proud of you."

And he was. He was so extremely proud and excited.

But, when the day finally came for Steve to leave, he found it hard to bring those emotions back. He hated how clearly Steve could see through his forced grins.

"I'm fine," Eddie had insisted when Steve asked. "Really. I'm going to miss you, but this is so good for you. I'm so excited to hear about what you're going to do."

"I'll call," Steve promised, arms tight around him in a hug. He only pulled back to litter Eddie's face with kisses.

And, as promised, Steve called as soon as they arrived in their new dorm. Eddie could hear Robin babbling in the background, excited about their tiny little space, whilst Steve tried to hold in his laughter long enough to spew his usual romantics.

He'd called the next day too, to let Eddie know how they'd settled in and talk about all the different activities he was planning on checking out. There was even a D&D group that made him think of Eddie, that he didn't join simply because he wants his first game to be with him.

It wasn't until the next week that he called again. Steve spent the entire call gushing about a teacher who'd sat down with him and talked him through all his options.

"I'm going to be a teacher!" Steve had finished his speech off. "For, like, middle schoolers!"

"That's amazing!" Eddie replied. "That's- Stevie, that's perfect for you! You're gonna be amazing!"

"Yeah? You really think so?"

"I know so."

Steve had warned him that he would be busy, that he wouldn't be able to call as much.

It still made something deep in Eddies chest ache when another week would go by with no news from Steve.

Eddie wasn't worried though. Not really.

Especially when he came back with Robin for Christmas.

He hadn't been able to stay more than three days but, the entire time he was back in Hawkins, he was glued to Eddie. He grabbed and held on, as if he was finally able to breathe. As if he would die if he didn't get to touch Eddie for one second longer.

Robin constantly joked that she was going to need a crowbar to pry him off of Eddie.

She was almost right. It had taken him so long to say goodbye that they left more than an hour later than they had originally planned.

Eddie waved to them as they drove off. He was surprised at how excited he felt- it would only be a year until he got to see Steve again.

They'd been reluctant to admit their plans to stay in their dorms over summer break, but Eddie had encouraged them.

It was a good idea after all.

"But he could be doing anything," Mike had frowned, confused at how calm and content Eddie was. "With anyone. And he's not talking to you! Doesn't that make you... I don't know, worry?"

"No?" Eddie frowned back. He didn't understand why the kids were so confused. "Steve wouldn't do something like that. I know that, so what do I have to worry about?"

"You're just gonna wait around forever then?"

"Nope. He's just at college, kid. He's gonna come back and, when he does, I'll be right here."

When Steve went into his second year, he had settled enough that he started calling once a month.

It quickly became Eddies favorite time of the month and, if anyone tried to get him to do anything else on the day, he would blow them off. He couldn't be late home- not when Steve was going to call.

"I miss you," Steve would always say, in lieu of a greeting.

"I miss you too, baby," Eddie always mumbled back. He would cradle the phone close, with both hands, as he did.

"I keep thinking about you," Steve promised.

He would say it every call, repeating it as though worried that Eddie might forget. That Eddie might doubt that.

Eddie would always divert the conversation before Steve could spiral too much.

He always gave the same farewell when it came time for Steve to hang up so he could study or take part in whatever activity Robin has dragged him into that week.

"I'll be here," Eddie always said. "Don't worry about me. I could wait forever for you, big boy."

The third and fourth year went the same as the first.

Each Christmas was glorious. But, for the third Christmas, they'd managed to organise enough so they could spend a whole week in Hawkins.

Eddie insisted on taking polaroids of them. His favorite is the one he'd snapped of Steve, who was unaware, soft and sleepy in Eddie's kitchen.

"This is the last year," Steve told him, at the start of his fifth year. "Just this year, then I'm coming home."

One more year. It was the phrase that had been getting Eddie through the waiting, but it didn't help anymore. It only made it worse.

He couldn't stop thinking about how, when Steve does come back, he's staying.

Wayne helped him move out the trailer, and into his own. It wasn't any bigger than Wayne's, but it was enough for Eddie. He knew it would be enough for Steve.

The hideout didn't pay well, but Eddie was careful with his government hush money. He had plenty, more than enough to last a lifetime if budgeted right.

He made sure everything was ready for Steve. He made sure their home was ready.

And, when Steve does come home, all Eddie feels is love.

"Welcome home," Eddie says, leading him into their trailer.

"Oh, it's perfect," Steve whispers.

Eddie can hear the genuine awe in his voice. He grabs Steve, turning him around so he can finally see the expression too.

"You're so beautiful," Eddie says. "God, I missed you so much."

Steve practically throws himself at Eddie, their teeth clashing harshly with how hard Steve kisses him.

"Fuck," Steve groans, holding Eddie's face in both his hands. "You really waited for me all this time- Eds, God, I love you so much."

"I love you, too. I love you, more than anything, baby. You're worth the wait, you're so worth it."

[hoonven]

in another life, i would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you

genres! fluff?, angst, celebrity x celebrity, ex-lovers

word count! 1380

warnings! mention of breakup, heartbreak

synopsis! in another life, you and park sunghoon are lovers, just not in this one

mimi’s note! this fic was inspired by a quote from the movie ‘everything everywhere all at once’ also I'm not very good at writing angst because I hate it but I did my best

“Congrats, big shot,” a familiar voice says from behind you, and you can hear the teasing smile in his tone, “actress of the year award, you're in the big leagues now.”

You turn around to face Park Sunghoon, a renowned figure skater and your ex-boyfriend. You haven't seen each other in almost a year but the sight of him still has the same effect on you it did all those years ago.

He's hauntingly beautiful and you're a house of horrors.

You offer a polite smile, but it's bittersweet as if you were greeting death itself.

“Congratulations to you too, you're becoming a bit of an A-list yourself since you won the Olympics.” you quip, and you both know what kind of game you're going to play tonight.

It’s the same one you always play, the one where he pretends you didn’t break his heart and you pretend everything is fine.

Sunghoon smiles at you too, like you're everything he's ever had and everything he's ever lost.

“Maybe we should exchange autographs like middle schoolers trade Pokémon cards,” he says, and you both chuckle.

“Hmm, I have a feeling mines will be more valuable.”

He playfully puts a hand over his heart. “That’s hurtful, y/n, but I can’t deny that it’s also true.”

The gala was still roaring with life when you stepped out for some fresh air, you sat on concrete stairs, not caring if you got your 20,000-dollar dress dirty. You couldn't care about a lot of things lately.

You and Sunghoon had long parted ways, the conversation only lasted about five minutes before you were seated at your respective tables, you didn't see him again after that.

You’ve gotten everything you ever dreamed of at this point in your career, and you accomplished all your goals, in the beginning, it all seemed so impossible, but now that you're here and you've done it, you’re not so sure what's left anymore.

The sound of the door opening catches your attention, a tall, pale figure steps out, dressed in a purely black suit, and you recognize him instantly.

“Following me?” you prop your chin in your palm as your elbow rests on your knee, carrying the weight of your head as you tilt it playfully.

He’s not startled by the suddenness of your voice, which tells you, yes, he was looking for you.

He smiled. “Maybe.”

He sat next to you on the stairs, not caring if his 5,000-dollar suit got dirty, though it wasn't actually because he didn't care about the suit, but because he just wanted to be close to you.

You're both silent for a while, simply appreciating being in each other's presence after so long.

Or maybe it's because you don't know what to say and he has too much to say, so you settle for the piercing silence of unsaid words.

Sunghoon has been silent his whole life, but he promised himself tonight he wouldn't be.

“Was it worth it?”

Ah. There it is.

You think as the corners of your lips curl upward, you knew this question was coming, you sensed it the moment you saw him again.

If he had asked you that a year ago you would’ve said yes, no hesitation, no second thoughts, just a straight-up yes, and you would have meant it too.

Suddenly the silk fabric of your dress starts to itch your skin, your diamond embroidered heels start to hurt your feet, and your pearl jewelry feels too heavy.

In only a single minute, Park Sunghoon has stripped you of your persona, called you out for the fraud you are, and seen the real you.

And he accepted you.

You lie to save your pride, it's a habit of yours that he knows all too well.

He doesn't think you're perfect, but you would never have to be for him to love you.

“Sometimes,” you say.

You don't bother lying, he’ll know.

You had always been a good liar until Sunghoon came into your life.

He gently nods in understanding at your response, “Do you ever think about it? About us?”

With a chuckle, you reply, “Of course I do.”

It's true that sometimes leaving him is worth the life you're living now, but there are fragments of times when you imagine what your life could've been with him.

In another life, you never left Sunghoon, you got married, bought a home together, adopted a dog, and had a child.

On the surface that sounds nice, but in another life, you are a housewife with broken dreams, you bought a home together but it wasn't the one you always dreamed of because you had to compromise with Sunghoon, you adopted a dog but you were never really an animal person, and you had a child but motherhood was never for you.

In another life, you are happy to be a housewife, you and Sunghoon bought your dream home together, you adopted a dog that you both love, you had a child and you are the most loving mother.

In another life, you are not a housewife, you and Sunghoon bought a home even better than your dream home, you adopted a dog but you're more of a cat person, and you never had a child but you always wanted to be a mother.

In another life, you and Sunghoon work from home, you bought a decent home together, and although it's not your dream one, it's good enough, you adopted a cat, and you never had a child but because that's the way you liked things.

In another life, you and Sunghoon are divorced, the home you bought together is just walls and a roof with painful memories, you don't adopt any pets, and you never had a child.

In another life, Sunghoon is a househusband, you don't care about having a dream home because any place is home with him, you adopted a dog and a cat, and you had a child who has everything they could ever want.

In another life, you and Sunghoon are teenagers again falling in love for the very first time, and you have no idea what the future holds for you.

In another life, you and Sunghoon are just a little bit younger than you are now, in the kitchen of your shared apartment, and you are trying to figure out how to do laundry so all your clothes don’t turn blue again and how to properly calculate your taxes so you don’t go to prison for tax fraud.

In another life, you and Sunghoon have grown old together, and you are experts at doing laundry and taxes.

In another life, you are the bottles of salt and pepper on the table of a random diner and things are entirely less complicated.

In another life, you never meet Park Sunghoon.

The possibilities are endless, and the truth is, you never know what will happen in your life, and that's scary, but you hope in another life you learn to accept the bad just as easily as you accept the good.

“What does it look like?” he asks.

“Laundry and taxes,” you shrug.

You both laugh at that.

“What about you?” you ask.

“Taxes and laundry,” he smiles.

You both laugh again.

The party inside is completely forgotten about as you and Sunghoon spend what feels like hours just sitting and talking, until the realization that it’s time to go home dawns on you.

Sunghoon gets up first, holding his hand out for you to take, and you do, but when he helps you to your feet he doesn't let go just yet, instead, he looks into your eyes and you feel his thumb caress your knuckles.

“It was nice to see you again, y/n.”

“It was good to see you again too, Sunghoon.”

He finally lets you go and you already miss his warmth.

He almost walks away but turns to face you one last time.

With a hint of a smile on his lips, he says, “You know, in another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.”

And then Park Sunghoon walks out of your life forever, and you let him.

In another life, things didn't end that way.

© 2024 sjyluv, all rights reserved | do not repost, translate, or plagiarize

[petertingle-yipyip]

DONT BE A FOOL - MATT MURDOCK

Pairing: matt x wife!reader

Word Count: 2, 156

Summary: After a very tense argument about a misused name, your apologetic husband ends up getting looped in by your students.

//follow-up to three empty words but can probably be read on its own//

The next morning, you refused to dilly dally your morning routine. Your shower was quick, your hair and makeup remained simple. Even your outfit was more or less the first thing you grabbed from your closet. You gathered all of your papers - which you hadn’t gotten around to grading the night before - and your laptop before Matt’s alarm had even gone off.

You skipped making breakfast, deciding to stop at a coffee shop on the way to work instead, and hustled out the door. You ignored the still sleeping figure of Elektra on your couch even though your brain wanted to soak her with cold water and kick her out. You did slam the door on your way out but that was just to satisfy your own anger.

You walked into your classroom and let out a loud sigh as you dropped into your deskchair. You were thankful to be out of the house, in your own space for the time being. As you began grading the papers and piling them according to the hours, your mind wandered back to the night before. You wondered if Elektra would be out of your apartment when you got back. You wondered if Matt would tell Foggy and Karen that you two got into a fight last night. You then found yourself wondering if Matt was actually going to go to work that morning.

You realized you were staring blankly at the student’s worksheet in front of you so you shook the thoughts and focused on the daunting stacks before you.

Most of the hours were business as usual. Your normal rowdy students were a bit extra, but that might’ve been due to your already grated nerves more than their own behaviors. It wasn’t until the hour before lunch that you found some of your students more huddled and secretive than usual.

“What are you doing in the corner?” You called, peaking over your computer at the small group. “There’s, what, five minutes till the bell?”

“Mrs. Murdock, what’s your husband’s name?” One of the girls, Liv, asked with an innocent expression. The same one she gave you when she explained her lacking assignments.

“Matthew.” You titled down your screen to see them better. “Why?”

“What does he do again?”

“Lawyer. Why?”

“Is he handsome?” Another girl, Nicole, asked with wiggling eyebrows.

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes at your middle schoolers.

“Yes, very.” You smiled slightly. “I wouldn’t have married him if he wasn’t.”

“And if he’s a lawyer, he’s gotta be smart, right?”

“Again, very. He went to Columbia.”

“So like… Is he why you’re so sad today?” Blake, the only boy in the group, chimed in with a nonchalant shrug.

“Guys.” You frowned slightly. “I’m not sure what you’re doing, but I’m not sad. Me and Mr. Murdock are fine. We’re happily married. And you should be worried about your own relationship drama, not mine.”

“So you admit there’s drama?” Nicole countered quickly.

“Between Blake and Emmy? Yes.” You nodded and Emmy’s jaw dropped while her friends poked her teasingly. “Between me and Mr. Murdock, no.”

“Mhmm.. So why is the photo face down?”

“What?”

“The photo by your computer.” She came across the room and lifted the frame near your laptop that was in fact, face down. “You told us on the first day that this was one your favorite photos and you have it on it’s face… There’s drama, Mrs. Murdock.”

“You’re very observant, Nicole. Thank you.” You said flatly as you took the frame from her hands and set it in it’s rightful position. “I must’ve knocked it over when I was trying to find you and Liv’s missing portfolio project.” “You can’t deflect, Mrs. M.” Liv added from across the room. “It’s all over your face.”

“Y’know what.” You announced, standing from your desk. “The bell rings in less than two minutes. You guys can all go to lunch early.”

A chorus of questions arose while you heard the door being pushed open.

“They can’t write you all up.” You shrugged and dropped back in your chair while the meddling group made their way into the hall.

The girls continued to whisper to themselves and glanced back at you, to which you shooed them away. When you were finally alone in your classroom, you let out a heavy sigh and rubbed a hand over your eyes.

Usually, you adored having open communication with your students because that meant they trusted you. But at the same time, that meant they felt entitled to know your life story whether you like it or not. The bell echoed in your ears so you spun your chair to the small fridge under your desk that held your lunch.

You clicked play on a playlist from your laptop and began eating your lunch, typing away to enter in grades. You knew you should just do nothing, scroll mindlessly on your social medias instead or maybe even call Foggy to ensure Matt made it to work, but the busy work for your eyes, head, and hands felt better. Plus, you weren’t exactly sure what you would’ve said that could’ve gotten your question answered without being a dead giveaway. So you kept working instead.

“MRS. MURDOCK!” Liv nearly yelled as she burst through your door, maybe halfway through the lunch hour. “OHMYGODYOULLNEVERBELIEVE-”

“Liv!” You said in shock, nearly dropping your water bottle. “What is going on? Is everything okay?”

“Look at this!” She hurried across and showed you her phone screen. Oddly enough, it was a photo of the back of a man exiting a taxi. What stood out to you was the white cane in his hand.

“It’s a guy getting out a cab.” You tried to reason, gently pushing her phone away. “That’s what you ran in here to tell me?”

“But he’s blind!”

“So it seems.”

“Don’t you know what this means?” She insisted with a small stomp.

You simply shrugged and raised your brows.

“It’s Mr. Murdock! He came to apologize!”

“Liv, I appreciate your concern for my marriage but we’re fine, okay? It’s not like he and I are heading towards a divorce. We’re just in a bit of an argument. It’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? Because I’ve never seen you so…” She gestured vaguely to you.

“Yes, I’m sure. Now go back to your lunch, please. I have to finish these.”

“But-”

“No.”

“Mrs. M, just-”

“Liv, boundaries, please.”

“Just listen!”

“No.” You said firmly. “Go back to your lunch.”

She huffed slightly but retreated to the door. As she was heading out, she nearly ran into one of the monitors.

“Sorry to intrude, Y/N.” The monitor said as she popped her head in. “I have a visitor for you.”

“Another one of my kids being a problem?” You sighed and wheeled yourself a bit further from your desk. “Send ‘em in. They can sit in the corner till next class.”

“Actually, I think you’ll be glad to see this one.” She smiled knowingly and reached for something outside the doorframe.

Before you could voice another question, she ushered Matt through the door. He said his usual thanks for being guided and the monitor gave you an approving nod and thumbs up. She mouthed a very not subtle ‘He’s very handsome’. You smiled awkwardly in agreement but once the door closed, you rolled your eyes and went back to your gradebook.

“Could’ve called.” You said simply.

“I didn’t think you would answer.” Matt replied honestly.

“Probably wouldn’t have… Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“I couldn’t focus.”

You heard the clicks of him folding his cane as he wandered around your classroom. You peaked up to watch him manueaver the desks with such ease that for a split second, you forgot he was blind. You watched him run his fingers along the bulletin board you had on one wall, leading into the standards and other required signage you had up.

“Did she leave?” You asked and returned to your prior task. You knew if you watched him for too long, he’d know and he’d show you that stupid lopsided smirk that he did.

“She was still pretty weak when I left.” He said and there was a slight sadness in his voice. Though if someone asked if it was for Elektra or your argument, you wouldn’t have been able to say. “But I did ask Stick to find somewhere else to take her to recover if she can’t leave on her own by the time someone gets home.”

“Chivalrous.” You made a face behind your computer screen. “You didn’t have to come all the way here to tell me that.”

He sighed slightly and you mumbled a short complaint to yourself before scooting away from your desk and spinning in your chair to face him, just as he appeared at your side. You folded your hands over your stomach and leaned back in your chair, giving an exaggerated sigh and nod for him to talk.

“Y/N, last night, I said something I shouldn’t have.” He began carefully, as if he was following a carefully rehearsed speech. For all you knew, he had rehearsed it with Foggy that morning before he showed up. “I let Stick push me and I just said the first thing that came to mind.”

“But she shouldn’t be the first thing, right?” You said softly with a small shrug. “Stick shouldn’t be able to push you into saying that, whether you meant it or not.”

“You’re right.” He admitted and your brows went up slightly. “I shouldn’t have said that. You are the only woman that I want to be with. I married you, without any hesitation. I never had second thoughts or second thoughts or anything. You, Y/N Murdock, have my heart.”

You nodded slowly but said nothing as you stood. You crossed your arms and looked up at him, him offering a hopeful expression in return. You broke into a small smile and nudged him with your shoulder before moving past him. He followed you almost instantly and you took him to the wall on the other side of your desk near the window.

“The kids started calling this the Sweetheart’s Spotlight.” You said quietly with a small smile. “They keep a polaroid camera in one of the cubbies and every Friday, they rearrange the couples in order of their favorites… They made me put a photo of us on here, too.”

“Where do we rank?” He smiled slightly.

“We’ve been number one since it started.” You laughed. “They tell me that you’re the best by default since I’m their favorite teacher.”

“Lucky me.”

“You know I’m still upset, right?” You said carefully when the air was too light between you two.

“I know.” He nodded. “I can hear it in your voice.”

“But I also don’t want to hold onto this fight. So here’s an idea. Elektra’s out of the apartment today. You two finish whatever crusade you’re on. You make sure you don’t get yourself killed. She leaves New York and it’s all put to bed.”

“Consider it done.” He nodded. “And I know better than to get myself killed. I’ve got it too good to die.”

“Yeah because then I’m a widow and there’s not much life insurance to cash in on.” You joked as the lunch bell rang.

“I should get going.” He nodded before gently taking your hand. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too.” You said softly as your students started filing in.

“OHMYGOD.” One of your students yelled and you closed your eyes tightly, quietly groaning in embarrassment. “IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS?”

“Yes, Luna.” You said, feeling the blush across your cheeks. “This is Mr. Murdock and he’s leaving.”

You pulled Matt towards the door as he laughed. Your kids yelled questions that you tried to ignore until Matt stopped, pulling you to stop with him.

“It’s career week!” One of the boys yelled. More so a demand.

“I’m aware, Jack.” You nodded. “What does that have to do with this?”

“He’s not here to talk to us about lawyers?” The boy’s head cocked as he asked his question.

“That’s exactly why I’m here.” Matt grinned and you groaned again. “Let’s give Mrs. Murdock a break, right?”

“You’re so dead.” You threatened quietly with a laugh before heading back to your chair. 

“Okay, kids.” You announced. “He’s blind and can’t write. I’m not getting up. Take your own notes and keep your questions relevant to his career, okay?”

“Yes, Mrs. Murdock.” They all answered.

“All yours, Mr. Murdock.” You gestured before returning to grading and the personal questions started flying.

“How did you guys meet?!”

“What’s her favorite color?!”

“Did you see the wall?!” “He can’t see!”

“Are they always this rowdy?” He asked you with a slight laugh.

“You’re new and exciting.” You shrugged. “Take it as a compliment.”

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

hey so i finally wrote more witch au!

enjoy, friends!! though it's significantly shorter than the first part

pairing: steddie | word count: 2,004 | rated: T

Mama thinks that Steve’s had a love spell on him this whole time.

“Since when?” He’d asked.

“I don’t know, my dear, maybe since before you were even born.”

“What?! How?! I thought you said there was no such thing as love spells!” He knows that’s not true.

“There are none that are worth the pain.” she repeats, trying to placate him.

“Yeah, well.” Steve huffs, dropping his hands to his hips and heaving a sigh.

“But there are some that are rumored to be true love spells, soulmate spells.” She continues on when she sees the look on his face. “Rumored, Steven, only ever rumors.”

“Okay, so what do the rumors have to say about them?”

“Every spell like that I’ve ever heard of of this nature is specific to each caster.”

“So I’ve had this spell on me for possibly my whole life, and there’s no way to know anything about it or about the caster.”

“...I’m sorry, honey.”

“Maybe there are clues in the words you have.” Robin cuts in, reaching for the notepad and sliding it in front of her.

Steve huffs, “I need to know the whole thing; there’s definitely words missing.”

“Should you eat more bread?” Robin asks, already sliding the previously abandoned plate of bread towards him.

“You shouldn’t overwhelm yourself.” Mama says, pushing the plate back. “We don’t know if there’s a trigger to the spell, or if you and the caster’s paths will just cross one day, maybe they don’t even know they cast it.”

Steve blinks at her. “So I have a true love and they might not even want me?”

“No!” Robin belts out immediately.

“No, of course not,” Mama says, continuing on. “The one known thing about any spell like this is that they only work on those who are receptive to it.”

“So some weirdo can’t put you under their spell?”

“Yes, exactly Robin; Steve, whatever this is, whoever this was, they love you with all that they are. And you them.”

“I don’t even know who it is! How can I?”

Mama doesn’t have an answer besides saying “Your soul must know them already.”; Their conversation was over soon after that.

Steve spends the next couple days silent and brooding. He can’t stop thinking about how he’s what, marked to love someone he doesn’t even know? How’s that fair?

It could be any random person on the street that thought he was hot, some weird old guy or a lovesick middle schooler..He only just turned 25 the day before the bread incident, but he’s saddled with this huge unknown that isn’t going to get better any time soon?

Okay, apparently not just some weirdo according to Mama, but still. Un-fucking fair all the same.

He’s also pissed that he can’t give anyone all the baked goods he’s made within that time. Each and every one of them ending up with a sour aftertaste. 

“Damn witch bullshit…” he grumbles to himself, only half serious, as he scrapes another batch of sour sugar cookies into the trash.

He’s salty, okay? Pun intended. If he hadn’t ever learned the truth about the powers over food his grandmother (and now him too, apparently) has, he could’ve just excused the batch after batch being off on bad butter, or old flour.. Something other than his mood being what’s ruining his cookies.

That’s what he’d done every other time something he’s made tasted off, now he knows it was him the whole time.

Mama comes in then, he doesn’t have to look up to know the look she’s giving him.

Steve leaves the bowl of leftover dough on the counter, mumbles out a “I gotta go.”, then tromps out the back door and into the woods behind his grandparents’ home. 

He supposes it’s good that they live just outside the city, really, having the trees to escape under like this has helped him before, and he’s hoping will help him now.

Meandering through the underbrush, he strolls along until he reaches the small clearing he’d claimed for himself when he was what, 8? 9? Doesn’t matter. It’s his spot to get away from anything he needs to.

He sits down against the big oak at the edge of the clearing and tips his head back toward the sun filtering down on him through a gap in the canopy above him. He breathes in the fresh air, focuses on the warmth hitting his face, and just exists there for a while, slipping in and out of a soft snooze.

Suddenly, he’s shocked out of his dozing by the sound of twigs snapping underfoot.

If it were coming from behind him, he’d expect it’d be Robin coming to find him here, but it’s not. It’s coming from ahead of him across the clearing.

Steve stands and presses back into the trunk of the tree, wondering if there’s bears in these woods when a person stumbles through the tree line.

The man is thin, about Steve’s age if he were to guess, and covered in dirt, his light wash overalls and his boots are caked in it. His hair is long, pulled half-back away from his face and full of bracken from the forest.

He also seems to be in a daze, staring with dark eyes at Steve with an unfathomable expression. 

It shifts soon after, though, warming into a watery smile. “I’ve come home to you.” he says, clear as day, then collapses onto the grass.

“Oh, shit!” Steve rushes forward, kneeling down beside the man and quickly checking him over for injuries. 

Steve presses his fingers to the man's pulse confirm it's still there (it is) and there don’t seem to be any bruises or breaks in his limbs, so he goes to his head, feeling quickly under the tangles in his hair for any blood, any knots.

Nothing. There’s nothing apparently outwardly wrong with him.

“Hey, hey, wake up! You gotta stay with me, man.” he says, shaking him lightly. 

The other man’s head lolls to the side and his eyes open a crack, his lips quirking up into a smile. “M’love…”

“What is your name?” Steve insists in a slow, clear voice.

Instead of answering, the man raises his hand slowly to cup Steve’s cheek. “...v’wait’d so long..” he slurs, then goes limp again, his hand dropping to his chest.

“Oh no you don’t,” Steve gets his feet under him and gathers the man up into his arms in a bridal carry. His steps falter when he feels how light the man is in his arms, how much more thin he is than how he’d looked.

Steve adjusts his hold on him, making sure not to let his head hang backward over his forearm, and rushes back toward the house.

“Mama!” he shouts as soon as he clears the treeline into the yard.

She’s at the back sliding door as soon as he is. “Steve, honey, what—”

He pushes past her, hurrying to the spare room on the first floor with her on his heels. “I found him wandering the woods, I couldn’t just–I don’t know what’s wrong with him, Mama.”

She gestures him forward to the bed, “Put him there, on top the covers,”

He does, setting him down as if he’s made of glass.

As soon as the man is out of his arms, Mama takes his place. “Nothing seems broken, but he’s so light, he needs food, he needs water, should I call 911? I don’t even know his na—” he rambles on, not even realizing he’d started to pace until his grandma stops him in his tracks.

“Steve, listen to me.” she says, pulling at his wrists gently, removing his hands from his hair. “He will be fine. Now, go get a bowl of warm water and a washcloth and come straight back here.”

He nods dazedly, stumbling backward out the doorway and spinning to the kitchen.

Steve slides to a stop on the tile floor in front of the kitchen sink at the same time Robin gets home from her classes that day.

“I have a date!”

Wait, he needs the bowl first. He scrambles to the opposite counter for the large mixing bowl Mama uses for her damn bread and fishes it out with a clatter of everything that that had been in front of it on the shelf tumbling out to the floor.

“Steve?”

Should he put soap in it?

“Steve!”

No, Mama just said ‘warm water’, not ‘warm soapy water’. He nods to himself and turns on the tap, reaching under the sink next for a washcloth.

“Steven Otis Harrington.”

“Oh, hey Robin, you’re home.” The bowl’s almost full.

“Steve.” She spins him to face her, holding tightly to his shoulders.

He tries to twist back around futilely, “The bowl–”

“Steve. What. Is. Happening.”

He blinks at her a couple times. “Robin!” He pulls her to him in a tight hug. “Holy shit, you’re not gonna believe–”

“Steve, the bowl?”

“Shit,” It’s nearly full when he shuts off the tap, so he dumps a bit out and picks it up with both hands, “C’mon, he’s this way.”

“He? Who’s he?”

“Dunno, I found him in the woods.”

“Aw, Steve, you can’t just take in any ol’ stray dog you happen to find out in the wood—-” Robin cuts herself off as they get to the bedroom door. “Ohhkay…so..not a dog.”

“He looks to be dehydrated, but I don’t think he has any injuries.” Mama says in lieu of a greeting when they return. Steve sits down on the opposite edge of the bed that she is, and carefully passes over the bowl of water without looking at her.

The stranger immediately takes in his attention. His soft features, dark brows…Steve starts to pull the bits of brush out of the man’s hair, untangling twigs, leaves, and he can already see one of those pesky prickle things twisted into the hair next to his ear.

Mama sets the bowl on the sidetable, and gets to work immediately, wiping the dirt and grime from the man’s face and arms. “Robin dear, can you grab one of those sports drinks Pa loves so much outta the fridge? And a bottle of water.”

“Of course!” she says, darting back into the kitchen.

“We’ll need to get some food in him too,”

“We should make him scones.” Steve states apropos of nothing. “With chocolate chunks.”

“Maybe after he’s a bit better, sweetie.” Mama scoffs, wringing out the washcloth. “He needs healthy fats first, butter, oatmeal, avocado, things like that.”

“I can do that!” Steve says, jumping up excitedly. His former task forgotten, he rushes out of the bedroom and to the kitchen, nearly bowling Robin over in the process.

He gets to work on simple eggs and toast for their houseguest, avoiding Mama’s lucky bread in favor of his own store-bought stuff for now, he can make him his own later. 

As he scrambles the eggs, he focuses everything in him on the stranger, on getting him better, making him healthy again. He’s not exactly quite sure how to do what Mama does, but the sour cookie dough says he’ll do it without thinking about it…kinda.

Whatever. 

All he knows is that he’s telling the fuck outta these eggs to make his love better. Make him whole again.. Make him—

Wait..

Did he just refer to the random man laid up in the other room as his love?

Is…

The fugue state he’d been in since first laying eyes on the man crackles away just long enough for him to think.

What did he say before he collapsed? "I've come home to you."?

That..sounds right....why is that so famili—

Steve's eyes leave the pan of eggs in front of him and snap immediately to the scrap of paper he'd scrambled for a few nights ago.

Is he…?

And of course, as if the words weren't already plastered permanently onto his grey matter, there they are, plain as day.

tagging those that were interested on the last part!!! @mugloversonly @kittydeadbones @maybequizas @queenie-ofthe-void @newtstabber @angeldreamsoffanfic @eyesofshinigami @sunflower-trashbaby @perseus-notjackson @kaspurrcat @quinns-shadowy-arts

also, idk if this counts for it, but one of february's songs for @steddiesongfics is work song! which is what this fic is based on! 😊😊

[finntheehumaneater]

from the prompts lists for a lil steddie sickfic 👉👈 bonus points if you can get an uncle wayne cameo in there too lmao

“I’m gonna be sick.” & “Look at me - just breathe, okay?”

hallo, liebe!!! I had way too much fun with this. I want to make this universe its own thing. Everybody send me asks about this I want to talk about my domestic steddie AU please, I love them so much.

(All ask prompt lists are in my pinned posts, and sorry for any mistakes, most of this was copied and pasted from photos of notebook paper, and it does not like my handwriting lmao)

TW: throwing up

Ozzy only liked to eat if someone was watching him. Steve said it was because he wanted to feel safe and protected, but Eddie knew it was because he was an attention whore.

He was currently perched on top of the table, his black tail swiping impatiently as he meowed at Eddie—not pawing the open laptop closed yet, but it looked like he was thinking about it.

“M'doing work, babe,” Eddie muttered gently, reaching out to pet the cat but he ducked away. He rifled through his notes again, trying to remember what name he and Steve had decided for the elven lord. Steve didn’t normally help with Eddie's novel—said he didn't know enough about fantasy and the like, and he didn't want to ruin it—but he had sat down with Eddie on the couch and looked through lists of Welsh names until he found one he thought sounded fit for an elven lord.

And Eddie had agreed, it was a name fit for an elven lord, but he couldn't remember, and he just needed to find the stupid paper with the character names—

Meow!

Eddie's eyes moved back to the cat, and that added on top of the stress of writing made something inside of him snap. “Ozzy, babe. I’m working.”

The cat shied away, his ears flattening and his eyes widening. Eddie ran a hand down his face.This wasn't worth yelling at his cat over.

“Oz…” he closed the laptop and picked up the cat, carrying him to the laundry room. They kept his food on top of the dryer, because when he and Steve had moved in (what... three years ago?) Ozzy had decided that the laundry room was his room, and that people could only actually do the laundry if he liked them.

Eddie set Ozzy down in front of the food dish and pressed a kiss to his side before going to get the hampers from his and Steve's (and Wayne’s) room.

Wayne had been living with them since they had bought the house, and he had lived with them in their apartment before that. he was in charge of doing the “adult things”, even though Eddie and Steve were nearing (thirty twenty-seven for Steve and twenty-eight for Eddie, although Eddie was almost twenty-nine), because Steve's memory couldn't be trusted for things he wasn't one hundred percent in on, and Eddie just couldn't be trusted to do most things on his own. He would much rather be writing.

Wayne still worked as a mechanic, downtown, but this time he liked his job. He'd never leave if he  could, but that meant that he wouldn't get to watch baseball with Steve.

Eddie swore that sometimes it felt like Wayne loved Steve more than him.

Steve was working as a teacher—middle schoolers—and he hadn't been doing it for all that long, but the kids loved him. And he loved them back. Especially one girl named Hayden, because he said she reminded him of Max (Max worked with Gareth at a bookstore a little while away. They shared an apartment, and Max didn't really "work" at the store, seeing how her eyesight fluctuated, but Gareth didn’t mind the company)

And then there was Eddie. Who wrote. The whole rockstar thing hadn't really worked out for him, but he and the guys still got together to play whenever Grant and Jeff were in town.

He was working on his hovel, and he hated every second of it. Sure, he loved writing, but writing an entire-ass-novel was hard.

"It's basically a Lord Of The Rings fanfiction!" He had sobbed to steve one night in bed after he had finally (after six months) finished the rough draft for the outline. “I hate it.”

Steve had just hummed in acknowledgment for a moment, half-curled around Eddie with the messy papers in his hands. "Isn't everything based off of something?"

Eddie had shrugged, keeping his face tucked into Steve’s neck.

“I like Ophelia.” Steve had whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of Eddie's head. "Isn't she the one that stabs the guy with the horns?"

Eddie tried to hum an “mhm” of confirmation, but it came as more of a whine of despair. 

“The drawings you did of her for El were pretty,” Steve had continued, his voice gentle and patient in a way that Eddie adored as he nudged his nose into Eddie's hair a bit more. "You should show her these on Sunday when she and her friend Maya come to visit." Eddie had. And honestly? Aside from Steve and Wayne, El was the only reason the novel was even being made. He wouldn't be able to even open his laptop without her nagging and consistent support over the phone.

She lived up north near Jonathan and Argyle, somewhere near New York, and she drove out with her roommate to visit him and Steve occasionally.

Eddie blinked when Ozzy meowed again, rubbing against his flannel pajama pants he hadn't changed out of yet. "All done, bud?" Ozzy didn't answer. 

Sometimes Eddie felt like he was going insane, talking to his cat.

He put in the detergent and made sure the clothes were spiraled so that they would wash better, before turning it on, the clear lid closed. He didn’t know what buttons to press, but he knew what noise they were supposed to make and in what order. Steve was normally in charge of laundry, but most of the kids had presentations to do, and the other half were doing theirs tomorrow. He’d probably be too tired to do the laundry when he got home.

Eddie heard the door open and close, and he assumed it was Steve, because Wayne wasn't supposed to be home for another hour or two.

"Stevie?" Eddie called out, and he kept talking when he didn't get an answer, because sometimes Steve got home and had what Eddie called Quiet Time, where he would just stay silent and listen to Eddie talk for a while before taking a shower and maybe having a nap." You want any apple? I had one just before you got here, but I left the peels on a bowl on the table, because I love you and things you like, even though it's weird. There’s seltzer too, but it's probably still warm because I only put them in the fridge like…fifteen minutes ago. Might be fine if you put ice in it, though.”

Eddie knew something was wrong even before Steve shuffled into the kitchen—all hunched over, his eyes rimmed red and his cheeks wet, glasses perched low on his nose, nearly slipping off of his face—because there were no arms wrapped around his waist, no face pressed into his neck, and no Robin Buckley perched on his counter. 

She had been driving Steve to and from... basically everywhere since he had gotten his license taken away. The doctors—and anyone—didn't trust him to drive with his seizures. It had taken Steve a while to get used to not being everyone's personal chauffeur anymore.

"You okay, babes?" Eddie asked softly, concern seeping into his tone as Steve leaned against the doorframe. 

"I feel like I'm gonna be sick,” Steve choked out, his voice strained.

“Oh, sweetheart...did one of your kids get you sick? "Eddie asked, taking Steve’s glasses off and setting them onto the kitchen counter before cupping his elbow and helping him over to the bathroom.

He gently pushed Steve down to kneel in front of the toilet, tugging his hair up and out of his face. It wouldn't have gotten in the way, but it looked adorable when all of the fringe that would normally sweep over his forehead in its coif was gathered up in a little ponytail on top of his head.

As much as Eddie would always be there for Steve, he still made a face and cringed away slightly when Steve threw up, smoothing his hand up and down Steve's spine and shoulders as Steve gagged and sobbed between painful-sounding heaves.

Eddie slipped off Steve's jacket when he went limp in his arms, reaching over to flush the toilet. “Shower?” 

Steve shook his head, his face contorting into something pathetic that made Eddie’s heart tug.

"What's the matter, baby? "Eddie murmured, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist, his chin tucked over Steve's shoulder. He'd make Steve get up and brush his teeth in a bit after he had sat and rested. He was still shaking, so Eddie doubted he would be able to stand okay right then.

“I’ll have to call in sick tomorrow,” Steve gasped, shaking his head. “I won’t be able to go in.”

“You don’t want to stay home and rest? Darling, I love you and you are so beautiful, but you look like death right now. You’re more pale than me.”

“Liam has his presentation tomorrow. I have to be there! H-he has a hard time speaking, and—a-and I don’t want him to be nervous. I promised him I’d be there for him,” Steve said, his voice broken and desperate, and God, Eddie was so in love with man that it physically hurt.

Steve was so kind, and caring, and sweet, and compassionate, and the list just went on, and on, and on. 

“Look at me,” Eddie whispered, his fingers brushing over Steve’s stomach. “Just breathe, okay? Liam will be okay.”

Steve shook his head again, his breath shaky and his hands gripping at Eddie’s arms like he was scared to let go. He looked like he was going to throw up again if he didn’t calm down, and didn’t want him to have to go through that anymore. 

“Liam will be okay,” Eddie repeated, his voice a bit more firm as he pressed a hand gently to Steve’s chest. “Breathe.”

Steve did breathe, but his voice was still shaking, and Eddie’s hand went up and down with each movement. “I promised him…”

“I know you promised him,” Eddie whispered, pressing a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “But you can’t control these things. He’ll be alright, baby, he’s a good kid.”

Eventually, Steve’s hands loosened and slid up to Eddie’s shoulders. He pushed himself to stand, and Eddie followed after him. “I’m…I’m okay now.”

“You’re okay,” Eddie parroted back, rubbing Steve’s arm up and down as Steve got his toothbrush out of the mug Wayne had put in the bathroom shelf. It was for some fishing company in the Adirondacks that Eddie had never heard of.

The door creaked open just a bit more than it already was and in strolled Ozzy, meowing lightly. Eddie picked him up when he stood to paw at his thigh, cooing, “Aw, there’s my baby…”

He pressed a kiss to the top of Ozzy’s head, and the cat meowed in protest, now seeing it be a bit against his original plan of being cradled and snug in Eddie’s arms if it meant he had to be kissed.

The poor thing lived a very hard life. 

“M’thought I was your baby,” Steve muttered around his toothbrush, and Eddie rolled his eyes, gently knocking his hip into Steve’s, kissing Ozzy’s head again as he squirmed and tried to escape the confines of Eddie’s arms.

“I can have more than one baby,” he said, and then his voice turned more serious. “Oh, shit, I have to call Nance and tell her that we can’t have Megan over tomorrow afternoon.”

Megan was Nancy’s three year old daughter, and she was lovely, but she was stubborn.

Steve’s face crumpled slightly as he washed the toothbrush off, and Eddie watched him try to hide it by pinching at his nose and sighing. “I’m so sorry, Eds, this is ruining all of our plans…”

“Hey, no,” Eddie set Ozzy down when he started to kick at his arm, biting at the sleeve of his t-shirt. “Steve, honey…”

Steve’s eyes were glassy again when Eddie finally got him to look at him. “I hate being sick,” he practically whimpered, his expression pleading, and fuck—if Eddie could make him feel better he would, but that wasn’t really an option.

“I know, sweet thing,” Eddie murmured sympathetically, pressing a kiss to Steve’s knuckles. “You wanna go and lay down? I’ll get you some Tylenol?”

Steve nodded and Eddie helped him to bed, getting him changed even though he could do it himself. He got Steve the pill and some water and told him that if he wanted to shower when he woke up he could, but the water couldn’t be hot in case he passed out again, like he had the last time he was sick. Head injuries with Steve were no joke.

He got Steve’s bag from where he had left it by the front door when he had come in, then switched the laundry over and when he was just sitting down to work again, Wayne got home.

“You’re early.”

Wayne shrugged, picking up one of the apple peels out of the bowl and popping it into his mouth. “Katie forced me to come back before I started workin’ on another car.”

“Hm,” Eddie hummed, opening the laptop. “Steve got home sick, so be nice.”

“M’always nice.”

Eddie sighed, shaking his head slightly with a smile before getting back to work.

Steve hadn’t wanted Eddie to sleep with him in case he got sick, too—offering to sleep on the couch instead so that Eddie could have the bed, but Eddie had very lovingly said “fuck no” to that. He was curled around Steve, nose pressed into the sweaty hair on the back of Steve’s neck. 

Wayne was out on their neighbor’s porch smoking, and Ozzy was put away in the laundry room (his cat house had been moved there before Eddie crawled into bed, he wasn’t evil) so that he wouldn’t wake everyone up at four in the morning. 

There was a trash can by the bed, because Steve had thrown up again after dinner, even though he had barely eaten anything. 

“How much did you write today?” Steve whispered, voice scratchy and hoarse 

“You’re supposed to be sleeping, babes,” Eddie muttered, pressing a kiss to Steve’s shoulder.

“But how much?”

“Three thousand, maybe. Maybe a bit less.”

“That’s a lot.”

“Debatable.”

Steve laughed, then coughed, wincing.

“Go to sleep,” Eddie whispered, his lips brushing against Steve’s skin.

Steve still had that ridiculous ponytail on top of his head. Either he didn’t know it was there still, or he had finally come around to realizing how adorable it was.

(More of this au, and the Doemstic!Steddie AU MasterList) Permanent taglist: @anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @here4thetrama @goodolefashionedloverboi @gregre369

[satocidal]

—RING RING!!

Say hello to our Operator Number One, and A Fan-Favourite:

── .˳⁺⁎˚ This caller seems to be into Humiliation and Generalised Behaviour of a Male Thot

── .˳⁺⁎˚ Geto Suguru — Starring in ⌞Valedicktorian⌝

Synopsis: your favourite academic rival, he wants to respect you, he really does—but he just prefers seeing you cry more.

— Word count: 5.4k

— A/n: I know I know, we all love a cocky lil shit that my man is <3 and tagging @romiyaro @blkkizzat @driaswrld becauseeee I can <3333 (+this was supposed to be way longer but haha)+i know it's supposed to be more smut and kinky than story line but :( I apparently cannot do that

— Warnings: Smut!!MDNI!!AFAB! Fem Reader x Suguru; teasing on both parts; dubious methods of going along a lot of things; Suguru is almost like a soft Dom; hints at spitting; Suguru eats reader out through her panties; reader almost gives Suguru a strip tease or smn like that; Suguru is a cocky bitch; emphasis on academic validation somewhat; smut begins late; reader is a virgin; Oral (fem receiving)

~November Beginning~

[8:03 a.m.]

Your eyes scanned the board fast, alone you stood towards the first corner—aware all too well you’d never even fall below

the first row.

Rank Marks Allotted

Y/n L/n [Valedictorian] 97/100

Suguru Geto [Salutatorian] 91/100

You didn’t bother lowering your eyes any further—a huge grin remained etched on your smile as you rocked back and forth about your Position, waiting for him to drop by.

Eyes flitted simply through the screen of your phone—mindless swipes, mindless likes passed on Instagram as you patiently, a whole wait of 7 minutes, you counted—how so very careless.

You beamed as his silhouette came into view, and his best friend’s right beside—lanky, they both stood, you never cared enough.

“You’re late,” you murmured as he shoved past you—an audible grown let out even though he just knew with the way you stood, that he was beat again.

But this time the difference stood of a worthy 6 points—just 6, how easily that he could’ve had you.

Satoru simply cackled beside him—indulging you with the very complicated handshake he and you had designed in the first year of your college.

“You're both stupid,” he, satoru, grinned, “I barely passed and that's so sick,” you simply chuckled at his words—joy emerging more so at Suguru’s annoyance.

“You’ve got the scholarship from your football team Toru’, unfortunately for us—6 marks make a huge difference,”

“6 marks don't matter,” Suguru grumbled, a frown lay upon his lips — “we’re not kids-”

“-except you will cry like a kid when you go back to your dorm because 6 points was what stopped ya from Rank 1,”

A smirk you bore—he wanted to drill it out of you so bad.

“The only crying that goes off in my dorm are the girls I bring about,” he smirk was his this time, your face twisted in disgust.

“And had you spent that time actually studying maybe you'd have gotten somewhere—and is that a confession that you’re that bad a fuck?”

He was tall, but the certain way he towered over most was amusing–not you though, never you.

Equals, in most senses of the word.

“But then,” you continued, and grinned wide—“don't suppose two minutes could've saved you from anything.”

A brow he raised, “you've been learning insults from middle schoolers—and what would your virgin ass even know?”

Jaw clenched you stared, Suguru Geto had realized your insecurity quick back in the first year—exploiting to all ends possible.

“Maybe you should try learning from them, gonna help you with grades and STDs,” a thin smile you wore, a thin smile he did too.

“At the end of the day, we both get the same grade, same gpa and probably the same job offers,” he paused—staring at your face—you took your chance, “And yet you’ll always remember that I was the one that beat you to the first place.”

A wink you passed, a clenched jaw he stilled.

—.—.—

[1:10 p.m.]

The semester was finally over—Satoru’s parties galore.

A tradition almost, celebration of his, scoring marks enough to pass—an ‘ode’ he deemed it, to you and Suguru for tutoring him together.

More so just an attempt to to spew you both together, failing just as always.

“You’re gonna show up tonight doll?” Satoru asked—eyes staring at your face from beneath—head placed in your lap, feet in Suguru’s lap as you both read books that couldn’t have been more neglected when the tension between the two fell so high. .

A hummed you passed, “Will you let me say no?”

A snort Satoru let out, answer all too obvious.

You sighed, “Tonight, sure but I have some projects to catch up and-”

“-perfect,” Satoru interrupted, all to your annoyance, “hm?”

“Suguru has some remaining too, right?”

Interested piqued slow and with a topic that deepened his natural frown, he—Suguru stared at you.

“I’m in mood for help from her,”

Eyes narrowed, you scowled, “yes well I’m not offering any either ways,”

“Not like you could,”

“Says the- ah!”

A sharp yelp you couldn’t help when Satoru pinched your side in midst of your banter—Something in Suguru found the noise adorable—he hated this little something, “excuse you?”

“You wouldn’t shut up otherwise, right?” A bashful smile he held, and so it happened you just couldn’t hold him guilty, an eye roll and you paused.

“Whatever, I’ll show up tonight but don’t hold me up for the rest of the week ok?”

“As you wish, doll,” a sharp edge Satoru held to his words, invoking a sense of alert in both you and Suguru—neither daring to consult the other.

-

[7:55 p.m.]

“And who exactly are we wearing this piece for huh?” Shoko’s eyes fell on you hard—“Who’s got you that hooked?”

A roll of your eyes, “Just wanted to feel cute is all,” you muttered under your breath—and that was mostly true.

It’s wasn’t such that you’d found someone, nor were you dressing to impress, but then, it was out of spite in some sense.

His words rang in your head- in wasn’t an insult really, being a virgin was fine, it was ok, but you hated even the littlest ‘advantage,’ that he could hold on you.

And so you trudged it on, the little black skirt that Satoru gifted you, so small you’d initially kept it only as a joke—and oh how the turn tables.

The top wouldn’t stand any better at all, almost sheer it lay—a floral print to keep what little of your modesty you wanted to show.

Pathetic and desperate, you called yourself, for turning about so easily—pathetically desperate however, you wanted Suguru to be.

-

[8:15 p.m.]

A step into his mansion, a wolf whistle greeted you.

“Shut up Satoru,” you mumbled, a shy smile playing on your lips—almost guilty, “I know it’s not for me, so who’re you dressed to impress?”

A heat caught up slow on your face at Satoru’s words.

Your eyes landed on Suguru who came sauntering just beside him—jaw clenched at just the sight of him, the perfect way his jean jacket clung to him, “And why couldn’t I dress up for you?”

Satoru’s smirk only grew, all too aware of the hostility and the sexual tension that Suguru and you’d fostered—his biggest mystery lying in the way that it was third year of your college degree and you still hadn’t fucked the lights of each other.

A wink, charismatic, most would say, “because you know I prefer you without anything on princess,”

Had you not known Satoru you’d have probably been disgusted, but wonderous what two years of being together did to a person and their adaptations—and you wondered just why you hadn’t adapted to his black haired best friend.

A soft punch on his arm, you shook your head with a smile, “Really though, you look gorgeous—right Suguru?”

Your eyes moved slow, hesitant almost to meet his, “Yeah sure,” he shrugged casually, and just a little your heart hurt too.

Pathetic.

“You don’t look half bad,” you spoke still, adamant to be the bigger person—adamant to have something going.

He eyed you for a second, then another—a scoff, “what’s up with that top? Fix it please- you look like a slut,”

Silence, the music blaring almost stunned out.

Your face burned, heart all the more—a baffled “what?” Escaped your lips—and possibly Satoru’s, you weren’t sure

You weren’t sure if anything there on..

A roll of his eyes caught you off guard further, heart beat racing despite you when he leaned a little towards you, “if you’re going to try dressing like a prostitute, carry it with confidence—do you have any idea how many guys have been staring? Your boobs are practically falling from in there,”

You hated it, hated his words, his demeanor, his proximity—the way you almost found it endearing that he looked away when you tried your best to fix it, the way he almost ‘shielded’ you from anyone looking at you weird.

You hated it all.

“I don’t need you to ‘watch out’ for me,” you spat—Satoru lay forgotten in the moment, maybe he’d slipped moments ago—had he been there at all?

“Not looking out for you doll, just sayin it doesn’t suit ya,” you wanted to thank the dimmed down lighting, your tears were at the brink of falling, you wanted to punch him.

“What would you know what suits me and what doesn’t,” shaky a voice, drowned by the loud music—a smirk Suguru adorned, “think your rival would pay enough attention on you to know what suits you and what doesn’t,” his grinned only ever widened as he stepped back to stand beside you, “but sure, you do look fuckable,”

Jaw clenched, your eyes stared at each other, “whatever,” a shrug you passed, retired.

“Wait,” and wait you did, persistently at his words, “I’m assuming you don’t know most people here, given you’re the pretty nerd-”

“-do you have anything of material to say or should I go?”

The annoyance lay naked, so did the hurt in your voice.

Suguru was perceptive, perfect in the way his eyes trailed down your body, “I’m just saying, tag along with me—don’t want no accidents happening to my nerd,”

“You’re a nerd too,” a scoff, yours, “that’s what you caught from the whole statement?” A chuckle, his.

You bit the inside of your cheek hard, a mindless nod as you let him hold your hand, unsure of it entirely but never more certain that it was the right thing.

His nerd.

-

[8:45 p.m.]

“You drink?” A shake of your head and a sigh, his, “Really are a goody two shoes huh?”

A scoff you passed at his words, “Nothing goody two shoes about it, just that I don’t like the taste and-”

A snort interrupted you, “Pardon, the taste? Alright then, let me order my doll a strawberry milkshake,”

Your scrunched face only ever helped his face concort with laughter further, “I’m not your doll, or nerd or nothing. Don’t call me yours.” yours Words all too defiant, he smirked.

“Eh?” A pause, heavy, “Don't remember hearing objection for when you’re with Satoru,”

You bit the inside of your cheek-how exactly could he make everything so tough?

“Satoru’s a friend,”

“I'm not?”

You grinned, the lighting lay dim—his smile a blur, as was yours — “You're nothing more than competition,”

A grin, his too, “Ouch—after we spend so much time?”

“What, you enjoy it? You're masochistic too huh?”

“If you're the one who's gonna be torturing me doll,” a wink he offered, you bit the inside of your cheek, as insufferable as always.

However before a retort would fall, before your grin would broaden, before his smirks would lighten—“Here’s your milk shake ma’am!”

An internal groan and a condescending little, “be a good girl and finish it all up for me doll,”

A groan- which bartender even agreed to make milkshakes? At parties? At night?

Your eyes scanned the tag he kept attached, Toji F.

-

[11:44 p.m.]

“Suguru,” your words were frenzied, grip tightening on his arm—eyes moving over the surrounding crowd, “I don’t wanna play,”

Drunk.

The usual it was, late the party started and ended up almost at the next morning, you could hear Satoru Hollering down in the background, eyes narrowed down onto the group of your peers that sat in a circle.

Truth and Dare, the tradition.

Everyone you laid eyes upon, drunk, you were sure Suguru himself stood slightly tipsy, saved for your sake entirely, “Cmon,” his words a drag, “It’s just truth and dare, what’s the worst that can happen?”

And you knew well, that was exactly how all the bad teenage movies began.

“Everything, please, let me go if you wanna continue, that’s alright-”

“-no, can’t let you go,” you smiled slightly at the little pout on his face, adorable he surely was when drunk.

“Yes you can, I can walk back from here you know-”

Sudden, all too sudden he pushed you slight, pinned to the wall.

Words interrupted by his weight shifting onto you, your eyes widened at the closeness- “Won’t let you go alone, too many creeps,” a sincere nod was all you could pass, mouth dry and heart racing—he smirked.

“You like this?”

A shake of your head—another pout from him.

“You lie too much,” he murmured against your form, a hand placed softly on your waist—never moving an inch—“you would do well with a round of truth and dare actually,”

You giggled at his words, heart racing fast still as his hot breath fanned over you, “What if I just choose dare?”

Closer, somehow, he only seemed to move closer.

“You’re too chicken to do that,”

“But what if?”

“Do you?”

“Maybe”

“Ok,” he paused—stepping back, “here’s child’s play for you,” the smile he held now was concerning in ways—you didn’t mind it, “I dare you that if I manage to score better than you in the next semester, you have yo do everything I say for a good one day,”

You couldn’t help the laugh you let out at that.

“You have a thing for losing huh?”

A scoff, an eye roll—why was everything from him gorgeous?

“It’s a dare babe, take it or leave it,”

“Sure thing Suguru,”

“Atta girl,”

—.—.—

The tension was held high, the second semester was to end soon—you weren't all so tensed for that, however something did bother you.

Suguru Geto, for the first time that your eyes had seen, was studying.

Day in and day out, the library was where most people would find you—not Suguru Geto, certified fucker of the batch.

“Pass me the book when you’re done please,” your eyes narrowed at the tone, so damn sweet , “please,” uttered so carefully, you wanted to punch him for no reason.

“Of course,” you smiled back politely, wanting to be anything but so.

your eyes flickered over to Satoru—grinning as he texted the girl he met at the party.

“Why don’t you teach Satoru a lil something too though? He could use your help,” it was a constant, you and your little comments, hell bent on distracting Suguru, hell bent on getting more study time than him—hell bent on winning that particular bet.

He’d been drunk, you were hoping he’d have forgotten—hopes always lay crushed, for in the certain way he grinned when he looked at you, it meant something, surely a promise of winning from him.

Suguru Hummed as he always did—hostility between the two of you hadn’t ebbed exactly but it was bearable—he made it bearable, simply readjustments.

Ever since the party, you weren’t sure if you liked the change or no.

You weren’t sure if it was because of the lies Satoru fed you about him wanting you — or the half truths Your heart screamed, of Suguru wanting to screw you.

However, not being rivals never equated to being friends—obvious in the way not even his begging had softened your heart to lend him your notes.

“Why don’t you? Seem pretty done with the outline of it,”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pertaining a gaze on you softly, he grinned, “Too busy to let a friend fail?”

A defiant ‘yes’ you muttered, eyes stuck on Suguru- adding a little, “we’re not friends,” but pausing as the long fingers moved, long fingers reaching out to give you a note—“what’s that?”

He grinned as he shrugged, but before you could open the little piece of paper, folded all so carefully, “ah ah ah,” he chuckled, “open it outside,”

And you did—walking away with a huf—decided that the library was no longer just your spot, not a glance shared with Satoru, focused all so much at the objective of hogging as much study material as you could for the exam.

A sharp inhale though, annoyance seeping in as you viewed the message on the white piece of paper, decorated with all so many hearts, “Good luck losing, doll-face.”

—.—.—

~Night before the Exam~

“You’re sick for this, you know,” Satoru’s words rang in his head, he scoffed, maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t.

How could it even matter?

The flashlight remained tucked between his arms, working, quick, eyes scanning over the question paper as he stood in the Dean’s Office.

Being a good student, trusted student of course had it perks—the security cameras just somehow malfunctioning could be no coincidence either.

And then again, he wouldn’t cheat a lot, just enough, just to beat you — just enough.

-

And so the next day, while your confident farce broke just a little to see him ask for more sheets than you, to see him write longer—to see him almost do the exam better than you, something told you that the bet wasn’t made in vain, Suguru Geto was a man of plans.

—.—.—

~1st December~

You were sure you’d left before him, before anyone—as always.

And yet, just the way your stomach twisted when you saw his figure standing by the notice board—his grinning face—that was all it took for you to realize that something wasn’t right.

“The fuck are you grinning for?” The nervousness was obvious—Suguru loved it.

“Mind the language love,” he mused—stepping aside, letting your eyes find their own horror.

Rank Marks Allotted

Suguru Geto [Valedictorian] 95/100

Y/n L/n [Salutatorian] 94/100

And oh how he loved the way your face fell, how he loved the green in your eyes and the red tint of your of your burning ears.

“The test was hard though so you know-” the glint of victory all so evident, “-shut up,” you huffed.

“Shut the fuck up—it’s just-”

“-just one mark? Yeah, no.” He snickered behind you, “and ah? Aren’t you the one supposed to be doing what I say? No more teetering me about, doll,” a wink, a shiver up your spine.

He wasn’t wrong.

“Whatever, what do you want? Laundry done or what? Breakfast-”

Suguru’s head tilted to the side, adorably, as if a puppy’s, “you think that’s bad? Oh jeez y/n,” he grinned, “somebody’s in for a surprise?”

And before the realizations of what something worse had to be, before a retort could befall your lips, Suguru Geto had spoken once more—voice defiant, “To my dorm, now.”

The wind around you was cold, yes but chilly was the sensation you felt down your spine.

-

The room was organised, books on the right shelf, mangas on the left—his family photo on the right corner of the desk and a poster of his favorite baseball team right in front.

Nothing you would ever find your room as—scrawled up notes lay shoved in every corner—silly gifts from friends and a pile of unwashed coffee cups.

The contrast was thorough.

Your eyes bore into his, his into your figure-“what do you- why are we here?”

Suguru glared for a second, “what did you think would happen when you lost?”

Not this.

Or, well.

You’d assumed Suguru would use his chance to embarrass you, thoughts were quick though, infested you sat through seconds and hours, days even—thoughts of Suguru Geto and your “humiliation”.

It wasn’t that you wanted to lose, but you wouldn’t have minded—and so a blind eye was all you had to offer when Satoru dropped the keys to the dean’s office—a deaf ear turned when you heard him bragging of the plan to his girls, a stifled laugh when Suguru smacked his head for talking too much.

But now that the situation lay bared, maybe, just maybe it wasn’t the best situation to be in.

Maybe, the nervousness finally crept into the skin—maybe, you realised, maybe you shouldn’t have.

Fortunately or not though, Suguru was perceptive as he was caring—somewhat, “Don’t be nervous, I’m not gonna- you know,” he grinned, thoughts pertaining to your imagination—you didn’t like where and why it lead to everything it did.

Suguru hummed as he walked about, you stood all so awkward in the middle of his room—a hand patted the space next to him on his bed, “come on up here doll,”

You didn’t want to, but oh how the feet moved before they could stop.

“I don’t want to,” he smiled, soft, “well, you do realize what I want, right?”

A gulp, “I’ve never-”

“-I know,” he paused, “I’m not gonna force you into it, only if you wanna-”

You did want to, hell if there was anyone you wanted to trust, it would forever be Suguru Geto somehow.

“What if I say no?”

“Then feel free to just lounge about, I’d love talking to you,”

Heart pace quickened, you licked your lips—“I thought you- you’d make me…”

“Not a monster doll, not gonna do nothing you don’t want,” and just then you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face too, fuck, you really were into him huh?

A bite of your lips, a giggle his—“I think…I think you’ve won fair and square,”

Another small giggle, and boy was everything he did adorable—“you know I cheated-” you bobbed your head, and oh how he was down bad for you too.

“C’mere,”

-

15 minutes in, you’d already taken off your rings—the rules of the game Suguru wanted you to play were simple.

“You’re too smart for your own good,” he’d chuckled, “but, s’not gonna help today,” a book lay in his hands— “I ask the questions and you answer, for every wrong answer you strip, take off one piece of clothing,”

A grin you passed, “of course,” you’d snickered—sitting across him.

“What is my favorite color?” A brow you raised, confused still as to why Suguru even bothered opening the book which read, “NEUROROBOTICS” when all he bothered asking were stupid questions with stupider answers.

“It’s…white? Or uh, blue?” Shots in the dark, all wrong—what pained you though were his answers—“nu uh,” he grinned, “take something off again, and better not tease me again,” you giggled.

The last two questions were just trivial as this, about him, and you’d answered them right too—except he just didn’t accept them at all.

You cursed internally, for skipping wearing socks because as of now you you were debating for the crucial options, the jeans or the top.

Suguru grinned, “my favorite color’s that though, you know when you blush,” you groaned at his words—chuckling along with him because frankly, when had you ever ‘blushed’ for him at all.

Your eyes moved fast, the top it was.

His eyes were sharp, stuck onto your form, pulled right over your head—Suguru was loving his day.

“White huh?” he grinned, your face burned at the way he stared at your Lacy white bra, “it is my favorite color after all,”

“Ask the next question” you snapped—hand reaching for a pillow to help yourself.

Suguru’s smile was soft, “ok, how about…how long have you wanted to fuck me?”

It physically made you uncomfortable to how hot the tip of your ears had gotten.

“No point lying, since we're both here to fuck anyways,”

You pursed your lips, it was true but then—“since the beginning of this year,”

Suguru chuckled at that, clicking his tongue—“the pants now?” your face dropped, it was risky—it would be a first, and with the way Suguru sat fully dressed, humiliating.

“I'm not lying-”

“Liar,”

“I'm not-”

“I'll make ya take off two pieces if you keep this up,”

Two- pants and either of your bra perhaps, or panties, neither seemed better than the other.

A retired ‘ok,’ you choked out, scoffing at how he smirked when your fingers moved in to pull the pants down, slow—“what's the correct answer?”

“The day you first saw me,”

You despised the way he was correct.

Pushed down your legs and thrown aside your pants lay—your eyes and Suguru’s, trailed up all the way to your calves.

“Matching set? You wanted this to happen hm?”

And you despised the experience and knowledge he had—his gaze remained stuck on the white Lacy panties you'd decided to wear.

For him.

How scandalous.

“Continue the game,” Suguru grinned—”how long have I wanted to fuck you?”

Your mouth ran dry—oh?

“The beginning of the semester?” you guessed, truthfully, heartbeat fastening when he smirked—”you have no idea how long I've wanted you here, like this,”

He stood close now, very close, his hand itself moving to unclasp your bra—warm breath fanning your face, “how long?” you whispered.

“Forever. Since I saw you,”

A giggle you let out—“you- no way, you simp,”

A giggle, his—“and there, you ruined the moment,”

A giggle, together.

“Let me see?” Suguru murmured, pulling away softly, slowly the pillow off of your form—finally, the bra pulled away too—his hands held your breasts softly.

You were sure though, the nervousness all too evident in your face, “easy, I'll take care of you,”

You passed a nod in response— biting your lips as the way his hands squeezed you, held you—his thumb rolling onto your nipples—half hardened they stood already in the chilly air of his room.

“You're damn gorgeous,” he whispered- lips pressed against yours, fingers massaging your boobs carefully, “fuck I- you've never?”

A swift shake of your head, “mm’ gonna corrupt you tonight ok?”

And just like that, pushed down to your back you lay, “spread your legs doll,”

And you did, pace fastening as he leaned into the spot between your legs, hand lingering on your inner thigh—“are you turned on?” the smirk on his face was telling, of course you were, “got turned on thinking what I would do to you? Aren't you just the cutest?”

You were inexperienced, sure, but you weren't going to let him tease you all so much-“hurry it up I- hah!”

Or maybe you would, you didn't know.

A soft gasp interrupted your words quick, two fingers pressed directly onto your pussy, prodding about, dancing slight as he tramped about your opening.

“You must've touched yourself?” the question itself felt sickening, you shouldn't have to tell him—“yes,” you mumble slowly, “ever thought about me?”

Another ‘yes’ indiscriminately fell off your lips.

Right at your position you saw him smile, dumbfounded when he whispered a ‘me too,’

Suguru’s other hand—fingers ran close circles on your thigh, “I won't go all the way tonight, you're scared and that's fine—” you gulped, reassurance flitting through you, “wanna make you feel good though,” and exactly as his sentence ended, he propped your legs all the way to his shoulders, despite all that he was doing, an almost innocent —“comfy?” he dropped in the name of formality.

“Relax,” he cooed, soft and gentle as he slowly leaned in, “you're in good hands ok?” your breath hitched still as the first lick came about, wetness spreading all the more than it already was—you were sure you’d never found yourself all so wet.

“Suguru- I- c-can't we do this without the-”

Without the panties—you were already wrecked for him.

A Cheshire smirk spread on his features from down below, “no, we'll go step by step, that's how the studious ones go, right?” you held back a moan when his fingers found your clit—rubbing slow circles, panties getting drenched in your own slick.

“Was that a moan doll?” his words suddenly caught up—a sharp slap landed on your pussy, eliciting a small cry, ”I wanna hear everything from you doll, every whimper, every cry and moan—everything,” you could only nod, and gasp slight as he dived in to press a kiss against your clothed folds.

“I'm so glad you're wearing white sweets,” a devilish grin his and an embarrassed squeak yours as he pinched your folds through your panties—drenched in result of his spit and licks and your own slick, completely see through.

And all throughout, Suguru was relentless in the way he spread apart your folds easily, peeking at the hints of your exposed cunt.

Fingers hooked to repeatedly rub your clit, so slow, never the right pressure or pace—snickering at how your mouth hung ajar, eyes drooping with pleasure.

Low pants and shy breaths only encouraged the raved haired boy still, sparing fingers and diving right in with his lips attached to your pussy lips and panties—tongue pushing against so obscenely against your hidden hole.

A sheepish grin he held, “Suguru,” you let out a broken sob, “please,”

The whine had him feeling back, looking up at you—eyes never Fuller, almost as if drunk in your juices, “hm?”

“Want more—pl-please,” it was almost a drag, your words.

Sobbing almost, at the way he chuckled—“nu uh, this is still technically your punishment, you know that right?”

But even so, Suguru knew he wouldn't deny you pleasure, just…maybe, just tease you a lot—drive you over the edge with his words before his tongue would do it, but he would get to it, surely.

And deep down he knew it too, he couldn't have had anything in him to deny you it either, not when you squirmed for him so adorably.

Just as before, Suguru attached his tongue to your see through panties, swirling around your folds and nub—until he playfully nimbled on it—basking in your gasp and sudden clutch of your fingers on his hair.

Suguru wrapping his lips over your clit once again, feverishly suckling on the swollen flesh— tempted to just move your panties to the side and eat you out like a starved man who hadn’t eaten in weeks.

But then, even with, close to none, experience that you had —you were sure that is what carnal desire would be presented as.

The idea was enticing, to just have it all flipped to the side—but he wasn’t one to give up so easily—and then he did want to see you suffer and cry all for him. Even if he’s currently losing his mind to actually get a taste of your pussy.

“S-Suguru—please, s’close!” his tongue danced about your folds, warping and swiveling the mushy flesh until your legs started to shake—as did you.

Your back arched, loud moans leaving your mouth—almost pornographic they sounded, as your hand was still gripping Suguru’s locks tightly.

Fat tears rolled down your cheeks with your jaw slightly hanging open but no words were escaping your lips, your body spasmed, your grip on suguru’s hair loosened as you held onto the sheets underneath you instead—before you came really hard, drenching your panties even more with your cum.

Suguru was kneading the soft flesh of your thighs as he looked up to you, licking his lips, practically tasting your cum on his tongue already. You swallowed thickly, meeting his intense gaze on you and before you could mutter or say anything— Suguru had beat you to it.

“Not done yet doll,” he grinned—fingers hooking in the waist band of your panties—“next question decides if you become the good little student that you are, and I teach you how to please me—or you get punished more when I get it actually gt to play with your pussy,”

A broken giggle escaped you, “oh well, what is it?”

Suguru couldn't help but giggle at you too, so damn cute that he found you, “how many times are you cum for me?”

All of this work is entirely original and my own, please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[ash5monster01]

Cold Spring Harbor

Chapter One - She’s Got A Way 🎶

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, instant attraction, invisible string theory, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of death, coping mechanisms

Summary: Just when Steve figures he’s bound to be alone the rest of his life, somehow he finds you, and for some reason just being near you makes him feel much less alone in the world.

word count: 2k

→ Two

Masterlist

Spring 1985

She's got a way of showin', how I make her feel

Steve hated being sad. Yet for the last six months that was all he had felt. He should be over it by now. He wished he was over it, but everyday he went to school just to see Nancy with Johnathon and know everything that he lost. He had given up his friends for her, and when she gave him up for Johnathon, he had no one left. No happy family to come home to, and no friends to spend time with, especially no girlfriend to love. Maybe that was why it was so hard to get over her, because she was the only person he had left and she left him too.

So he woke up on the first day of spring break, no parents, no plans, no one at all. It didn’t matter that the first warm sun was shining through his window and the birds chirped happily outside. He figured he would always be alone and he was still just as miserable as before. The only person he did have was Dustin but how many times can you ask a middle schooler to hang out before it gets weird? Steve didn’t want to find out.

He wasn’t going to last all of spring break like this so he was going to do the only thing that made him feel better. The only thing that gave him enough motivation to get out of bed and get ready for the day. So it’s not long until he is walking out the front door and towards his car. Yet before he unlocked it he stopped, eyes glancing into the bright blue sky, and deciding against the drive. It was sunny and almost seventy, plus a walk would be good for him. So he stuffed the keys back in his pocket and started down the road.

Town was half empty once he got there, signs showing that the new mall being built was already taking away business. It was sad to see the town that once was so busy become a shell of nothing. Kind of like him he supposed. Yet the sight of the familiar blue door eased his mind as he pushed in the one place he hoped would be here forever.

“Hey man, long time no see” Ron, the owner smiles from behind the register. Steve matches the smile right back even though he doesn’t feel it. He wished he did.

“Hey Ron, how’s business been?” he asks, eyeing the various shelves throughout the room.

“I wish I could say busy, but ever since word got out that Sam Goody was being built in the mall, no one really cares about Ron’s Records anymore” he says and Steve nods, his throat tightening at the thought.

“I’m sorry about that man, you know I’ll be a customer for life” he tells him and Ron nods, smiling at the boys kindness.

“You and your Grandpa both” Ron says kindly and Steve has to look away before tears form in his eyes.

“I’m gonna check some records out” Steve tells him and Ron nods as he moves to the section he knows it will be at.

Finally reaching the B’s his fingers start skimming the records. It feels like he’s passed a hundred Barry Manilow records by the time he reaches exactly what he’s looking for. Smiling to himself he scans which ones are there, determined what would be the best to listen to. Something that for an entire forty minutes could make him feel much less lonely in this world.

“Billy Joel huh?” Steve looks up and nearly freezes. There you are, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and something about the world stops. He’s not one to be shy but it’s as if the words somehow can’t leave his mouth. There was just something about you. “Since when do boys your age listen to Billy Joel?”

“Hey, he’s still rock n’ roll to me” Steve defends, and it’s cheesy. He knows that, but it doesn’t stop you from laughing. You’re wearing the most perfect smile he’s ever seen and he wants to make you do it again.

“I’m not saying he isn’t, just most guys these days don’t know good music anymore” you say, pulling the record out of his hands and he almost gasps at the way your fingers feel against his.

“Well good music to me is just Billy, always has been” he says and you give him a small nod, smile still on your face. He briefly wonders what it could be about you that makes him suddenly so content.

“Cold Spring Harbor? I don’t think I’ve ever heard it” you say and Steve’s heart clenches.

“It’s his first album, he was only 22 when he wrote it. It’s one of my favorites” Steve tells you and the mischievous grin you give him makes his heart stutter in his chest.

“Well let’s listen to it” you tell him, hand grabbing his own, and leading him to the front of the building. In the front window there’s two chairs and small record player in between. They had been there for as long as Steve could remember, he had sat in them hundreds of times. He sits in his, the one chair he always sat in, and you sit, well in the other. His throat dries as he sees you sit across from him in the chair that had been empty for many years.

“What’s your favorite track?” you muse, hands delicately working to pull the record from its sleeve and place it on the player.

"The first one, She's Got A Way. It was my Grandpa's favorite, the first Billy song he ever played me" Steve says, looking off onto the rows and rows of records. Remembering a time when he was just short enough to be the same height as them. Rushing around and looking for the most colorful covers while his Grandpa went straight to the B's. Then he'd sit in the very chair he was now, ankles just barely hanging over the edge as his Grandpa played him song after song, in the very seat you were sitting in now.

"So that's where it comes from" you muse, the record spinning as you turn on the machine. Steve watches as you set the needle on the record, sratching till it finds its groove, and fills the silence between you both.

"Why is it his favorite?" you ask after a few moments, watching the boy as he let's the words sink in.

"He claimed it was the only song he ever heard that perfectly described how he felt about my Grandmother. How the right women could completley turn you around and heal you when you least expect it" Steve smiles fondly as he repeats those words he hadn't in a very long time.

"A charmer, I'm sure you are too" you say and the shocked look Steve wears has you laughing lightly. It takes Steve only a second to laugh along with you, realizing just how quickly you had revealed him. It's when your laughter calms he realizes the smile on your face has eased his heart more in the last six months than anything else.

"If you must know" Steve says and you giggle again which has Steve wanting to spend more and more time with you.

"Where is this Grandpa of yours, I have a few questions for him?" you ask and Steve freezes, not expecting the words to leave your mouth. It takes him a moment to respond and you sense the discomfort and place your hand on his own. Steve nearly jumps at the electric touch that comes from it.

"He passed away when I was fifteen, right before high school" he tells you, throat tightening around the admittance.

"I'm so sorry, that's awful" you try to comfort but Steve just smiles.

"You would have loved him though. Everyone did. He was my best friend, the only family I really had that spent time with me. Since my Grandma passed when I was ten, me and him made sure to spend all of middle school together" Steve isn't entirely sure why he is telling you this, he just knows your the first person he has been this comfortable around since his Grandpa and he didn't even know your name yet. He didn’t know what it was about you but he figured there didn't need to be a reason.

"That's so sweet, he sounds so special" you tell him and Steve nods, recalling memories he hadn't allowed himself to think about for years.

"He was, just wish he was still around. He was the only person to ever be there for me, front row at every swim meet and basketball game. Was hard going through highschool knowing he was no longer in the stands, but Billy. Well that's all me and him ever talked about. So sometimes, on days like today when I miss him a little extra, I find him in the lyrics of a song" and your heart soars for the boy in front of you. A boy with a deep sadness buried within him. A boy the world hadn't given a chance yet.

"Is he there right now?" you can't help but ask, the last few lines of the song coming through the speakers on the machine. Steve listens, can practically see his Grandpa yelling at him for not making a move. ‘At least ask her name’ he groans and Steve chuckles lightly to himself.

"Yeah he's here. He always is" Steve says and you give him a smile that somehow heals him. "I'm Steve by the way"

"Nice to meet you Steve" you tell him before offering your own name and Steve finds it rattling through his head, the most beautiful name in all of existence, and somehow it belongs to you. The very girl who showed up while he was feeling down and has inspired him without a sound. The beginning notes of You Can Make Me Free fill the silence between you both and Steve sits up, realizing your hand is still atop his own.

"Sorry for spilling my guts" Steve says and you shake your head, wanting him to know that he had done nothing wrong this entire time.

"Don't be, it actually happens a lot. I seem to make people very comfortable. Guess I just got a way about me" and Steve agrees because somehow in just this short exchange you have inspired him to keep on going, reminded him that this is not the end and it won't be all bad. It is like you have some bright light around you and it gives him the strength to keep going.

"Would you maybe want to go get something to eat?" Steve finds the confidence to ask and you beam a smile brightly back at him.

"I'd love to Steve" you tell him, using his name like it now somehow belongs to you and Steve wishes it does. A million dreams of love surrounding you and for the first time since Nancy he finds himself feeling something for a girl he never thought he'd feel again. He just knows he no longer wants to live without you.

"Have fun you two" Ron calls out as you both exit, the record still playing as you both leave it behind. You talk the whole way to the small diner in town, Steve just smiles and listens, loving how everything sounds the way it comes out your mouth. It's as if every word lifts him up as you are walking.

For the rest of the day Steve does his part getting to know you. Making you laugh and flirting where necessary which never fails to make you blush. The sight of your red cheeks alone make his heart soar for you. It's cute the way you show it, exactly how you feel about him. In return you do find yourself charmed by the very boy you couldn’t resist talking to. You wondered where a sweet boy like him had been your whole life and for the first time you aren't as embarassed by the blush on your cheeks as you normally would be.

"I really like you Rosy" he says matter of fact, the nickname falling easily from his lips. You blush at his words again, shaking your head at the boy you figure you aren't getting rid of anytime soon.

"I like you too Steve"

Taglist: @slvtforstve @keerygal @goosy-goose @livsters @blckburd @loveshotzz @ohwauwdoritos @superblysubpar @southereads @amataadriana @violet2022 @mxrcjqckspnchqsc @madaboutjoe @thunderstomp-and-tequila @justdamnpeachy @micheledawn1975 @fangfatale @kingstevesgf @notlilyyyy @eddiesguitarskills @palmtreesx3

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

[moonlightspencie]

reader x spencer + best friends to lovers + angry love confession — hear me out. literally everyone on the team can tell they’re in love & they even realized before they did. maybe one of them has started going on casual dates (and they hate every minute of it bc it’s not the spencer or the reader) bc of this, either spencer or reader start distancing them self from the other because it’s just hurting them to watch that. when they kiss one says “you don’t know how long i’ve wanted to do this” !!

okay it ended up being a tad different, but i still like the way it turned out!!! definitely still idiots in love lolll

pairing: spencer reid x reader

—————

“What about you, mama? You got any weekend plans?” Derek asked you, raising a brow.

You smirked. “Yeah. I got some plans.”

His eyes widened in question, waiting for some elaboration. Spencer looked up from his desk, secretly curious to find out what you’d be doing.

Emily grew impatient. “Well? Are you just going to leave us hanging?”

“I’ve got a date,” you said quickly, smiling to yourself as the team reacted.

“Ooh, who’s the lucky guy?” JJ asked, leaning in closer.

“Y’all don’t know him, I can almost guarantee that. My friend Hannah set it up.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, burying himself back in his paperwork. Derek noticed, not letting that reaction slide by without some jeering.

“What? You jealous, pretty boy?”

Everyone’s attention was drawn to Spencer as he glared at Derek. You particularly had interest in the reaction he had. He’d been extra prickly lately, and while part of you hoped he was jealous because you wanted him to care, you also kind of liked the idea of him being annoyed by your actions at least once this week.

“Why would I be?”

“Maybe cause I can actually get a date, for one,” you chimed in, receiving a light smack on the arm from JJ.

You merely shrugged it off.

“I choose not to date anyone who comes along.”

You scoffed. “Keep telling yourself that.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, about to say something more when Derek broke it up, reprimanding you both for acting like ‘a couple of middle schoolers.’

“You started it,” you noted, leveling your gaze at Derek. “I was perfectly content ignoring his little huffy attitude.”

“I’m not being huffy,” Spencer said, staring you down.

“You have been all week.”

“No, I haven’t.”

You quirked a brow, giving him the ‘we’ll talk about this later’ look. He sighed, silently going back to his work. Everyone else decided that was about the time they should return to their own business, knowing better than to get in the middle of you two when you were mad at one another.

Near the end of the day, you decided to go and talk to Spencer about whatever was happening that was causing him to act the way he was. You started walking to his desk, though he abruptly stood and gathered his things.

“Spence,” you called as he tried to leave his desk. “Spencer.”

He ignored you. He really should’ve known you better than to do that. You followed after him, trapping him at last in the elevator.

“What is your issue?” you asked, your tone harsher than you intended.

He sighed hard. “I need to go home. I don’t have an issue.”

You stood in front of him, forcing eye contact that he was desperately trying to avoid.

“You ran away from me.”

“No—”

“Yes. You did, and everyone saw it happen so don’t even try acting like you didn’t.”

“Everyone knows your business already, what’s one more thing?”

You furrowed your brow. “Excuse me?”

The elevator dinged, and he started walking away from you. You pursued him quickly.

“Are you talking about earlier? You really think I was out of bounds to tell our friends I had a date?”

He stayed quiet, his jaw ticking as he pushed out of the doors. He was relentlessly trying to get away, but your willpower could certainly be stronger. You followed him into the parking lot, grabbing him by the arm when he tried getting further.

“Spencer,” you called out, clearly annoyed. “This is ridiculous. You’re going to talk to me about this now or we’re never talking again.”

He turned, staring at you for a few moments. He shook his head, anger on his features that looked deeply out of place.

“Why?”

“Because you’re acting like a toddler—”

“No,” he stopped you. “Why are you— You’re constantly going out. Why? You never did that before. Why now?”

You were taken aback, mentally and physically. You tried formulating an answer, though nothing quite provided a good cover-up for ‘I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you and I can’t stop thinking about you and I need to get over it’.

“Why do you care?” is what you settled for.

“I don’t know,” he exclaimed. “I just hate it.”

“Then why don’t you go find someone to date?”

“Because I don’t want to,” he said, matching the venom in your voice.

“Why not?”

“They’re not you!”

“Okay? Every person I’ve dated lately hasn’t been you and I’ve gotten over it,” you spit out, not quite realizing yet what either of you had said.

He geared up to yell back at you when his face morphed from anger to sudden confusion.

“Wait, what?”

You still weren’t quite sure why he looked so confused.

“If I can date someone and get over the fact it isn’t you, I’m sure you could manage the same,” you said quickly.

Oh.

“Wait,” you stopped. “What?”

“What do you mean they’re not me?” he asked, still questioning a little aggressively.

“What do you mean?”

His brain connected those remaining puzzle pieces pretty quickly from that point. His face dropped in shock, hands moving before his head could tell him ‘no’. He grabbed your arms to pull you in, hands holding to your face the second you were close enough, slamming his lips to yours. Your own shock faded quickly enough to kiss him back, your own hands grasping at his wrists.

You broke apart after several seconds, looking at him wide-eyed.

“You have no clue how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said, words practically tumbling from his mouth.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, still feeling in the mood to argue.

“You didn’t either,” he shot back. “You started dating people.”

“Yeah, dumbass, I had to get over you at some point.”

He rolled his eyes, then settled them back on your face. He took you in, a light smile on his face betraying him.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

You nodded. “Same here.”

Derek and Emily strolled out of the building, immediately spotting their two favorite idiots making out next to the government building in which they worked. Emily smiled, then looked at a shocked-but-excited-looking Derek.

She patted him on the shoulder. “You owe me twenty bucks.”

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