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aperrywilliams · 10 months

Text

Under the Rain (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif. Credits to the creator!)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Reader is waiting for Spencer in a restaurant to celebrate their 2nd anniversary. What happens when Spencer doesn't show up?

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending. Spencer fucked up but Reader loves him.

A/N: It's winter on this side of the world, and the rain makes me kind of sad.

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Is there anything worse than your boyfriend standing you up in a fancy restaurant on your 2nd anniversary? Yes, being stood up by your boyfriend in a fancy restaurant on your 2nd anniversary day while outside it’s raining cats and dogs.

That's worse. And pathetic.

You feel pathetic, sitting in that chair, all dolled up and waiting. You arrived at 19:30, and now your watch reads 20:45. No sight of Spencer.

What the fuck?

He was the one who suggested a romantic dinner in this very restaurant. He was the one who told you to make reservations. How could he forget it? You knew there wasn’t an active case. The very Penelope told you it was paperwork day when you texted her in the afternoon.

In the past hour, you dialed his number several times. You were worried at some point: what if something terrible happened to him? But you know bad news travels fast, so you assumed he didn’t show up just because he forgot. Deep down, you wanted there to be another explanation because if he only forgot, that would strengthen the idea of how little you mean to him.

Sensing the pitiful looks the hostess and the waitress sent you occasionally, you only wanted to dig a hole and disappear.

When the clock marked 21:00, you gave up. You asked the hostess for your coat and left the place completely silent.

The rain pouring outside was the perfect scenario for your current mood. You thought about calling a cab in front of the restaurant, but you only wanted to be far from that place as soon as possible, so you started to walk in the rain.

Goodbye to the stylish hairstyle that took you hours to achieve. Goodbye to the makeup you put so much effort into doing.

Striding along the sidewalk, you made sure to step on each water puddle you found along the way as you recalled every moment in the past months you felt Spencer away from you. And not only physically as when he was in a case. It was more than that. It was each morning he didn’t say I love you before leaving your shared apartment. It was each text he didn’t send telling you he was coming home or leaving for a case. It was each coffee you didn't share in the morning. It was each animated chat in the middle of the night you didn't have.

Were you being dramatic? You knew Spencer’s tendency to distract and engage in whatever his job could present him. In any other circumstances, you could have understood. Not tonight, though. Not when it was supposed to be your night together celebrating this milestone. The two years of love you thought were strengthening your relationship. How blind you have been. How naive.

You kept wandering on the streets with no destination. You didn’t want to come back to the apartment. You didn’t know where else to go either. So you kept walking.

Spencer Reid is a man with an eidetic memory. Everybody knows that. He can remember every piece of information people usually wouldn’t recall. He knows almost everything about anything. But even with his big brain, he sometimes has trouble keeping track of his own life. Like today.

Engrossed in a pile of manila folders from old cases, he lost time. A task meant to take just an hour or so kept him occupied and entertained for almost four hours. Emily’s voice was the only thing that brought him back from those files to reality.

“You still here?” Emily asked with a frown. Spencer looked at her oddly.

“Yeah. I was looking for patterns in our last cases in the northwest. What Tara said about the mixed murder weapons sounded familiar to me,” he explained before rubbing his eyes. He didn't notice how tired he felt until Emily interrupted him.

“Spencer, it’s almost 10 pm. And there is no active case. You can resume this tomorrow. I even thought you had plans today?”

‘10 pm’ and ‘plans today’ was enough to bring Spencer to realization.

“Fuck!” He yelped, jumping from his seat and freezing immediately, not knowing what to do.

“What?” Emily asked, seeing the panic in Spencer’s eyes.

“Shit. Shit. Shit,” he repeated over and over as he reached for his phone in his satchel.

“What is it, Reid?”

“Emily. I was supposed to be in a restaurant with (Y/N) tonight! It’s - uh - it’s our second anniversary,” he, visibly embarrassed, finished the sentence.

Emily shut her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Reid? How on earth do you forget something like that?”

“I don’t know! I - I don’t really know. Fuck. I’m an asshole!” He checked the phone: twenty missing calls. Why he left it on mute?

“Stop complaining and do something! Come on! Move your ass out of here if you want a chance of not being precisely kicked in the ass by her,” Emily instructed. She knew Spencer needed directions when he was freaking out.

Spencer rechecked his watch. It read 10:05 pm.

Swearing under his breath, he dialed your number, which went straight to voicemail. Putting his coat on, he tried again while rushing to the elevator. Maybe you were still at the restaurant? Getting in the first cab he found, Spencer headed there.

Once he arrived, he asked the hostess about you. The girl told him you left after 9 pm.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He called you again with no success. This time you turned off your phone. Spencer’s stomach was a knot, and his heart hurt imagining you sitting alone, waiting for him.

Were you at home? Spencer guessed you wouldn't want to see him, so it was less probable. Should he go there anyway and wait for you? No. You deserved better than that. He would look for you even if it could take all night. Taking a cab, he decided to check the apartment - just in case - and grab his car keys.

As expected, you weren’t in the apartment. Spencer faced the darkness and coldness of the place, and a chill ran down his spine—the fear of losing you forever.

In the car, he thought, where you could be. It was still raining, and Spencer feared you were getting soaked and frozen, God knows where.

It was at this kind of moment Spencer wanted his eidetic memory, and all the knowledge in his brain could help to compensate for the dose of common sense he lacked.

‘Come on, Spencer. Think. For once in your life, do it for what is really important for you.’

Spencer parked and rushed out of the car, hoping his hunch was correct. He was in a park. Not any park, though. It was where he met you three years ago—where his life changed forever and for the better for once.

You were in a swing, moving softly back and forth, your feet touching the ground. Your eyes focused on the rain collecting in the nook you created with your feet in the mud.

“(Y/N)!” Spencer called once he spotted you. The rain muffled the sound of his voice.

Your eyes didn’t leave the ground. At first, you thought you were imagining things. It could have been wishful thinking that your boyfriend really cared about you. He called again, and now your brain obliged your eyes to look toward the voice’s source.

Spencer was in a corner where the park's playground began. He was looking at you and wanted to run to you, but the fear you could run away made him stay there, as the rain dampened him.

The sight of you broke him. You were utterly soaked. Your coat and lovely black dress were ruined, and your face with traces of smeared makeup. He could even spot your bloodshot eyes, swollen from crying.

He caused that. And Spencer hated himself for it.

Seeing you didn't say anything, barely acknowledging his presence, Spencer dared to take some steps forward. Your numb body didn't even flinch.

“(Y/N). I’m sorry,” were his first words. Expectable but useless for you. “I fucked it up. I’m sorry. I should have been there. I wanted to be there with you,” he apologized, giving a few steps closer to you. Not looking at him, you mumbled.

“But you weren’t. And if you really wanted to have been there, you would have.” Your voice was low and husky. You sounded tired and defeated. It was worse for Spencer. For him, you should be yelling. Telling him how hurting you were. How an asshole he was.

“Baby, there is no excuse for what I did. The last thing I want in my life is to hurt you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Spencer’s voice broke with each word.

What had he done? Why? How can he be so stupid? He loves you. You’re the most important person in his life, so why did he do that to you? How can he fix it?

Still not looking at him, you spoke again.

“I can’t understand, Spencer. It was our anniversary. You were the one who suggested doing it,” you remind him. He nodded, kneeling in front of you. It didn’t matter the mud, and it didn’t matter the rain still falling. Spencer needed to look at your eyes to explain himself.

“I’m an idiot. I lost track of time and forgot,” he mumbled. You held up your head and finally looked at him.

“You forgot? So it's true I’m not that important to you,” you concluded sadly. Spencer’s eyes widened.

“No! Don’t say that!” he pleaded.

“Am I wrong? I don’t think so.” Your chin wobbled, but you needed to say it. “I know your job is important, Spencer. I do. And I never wanted to compete with that because I thought I didn’t have to. But after these past months, I think I need to get used to the idea I lost you already,” you acknowledged with a pained sob betraying you. It was the pang of the meaning behind your own words.

The memories of the past months flashed before Spencer's eyes. And there he saw it. The kisses he didn't give you, the 'I love you' he didn't tell you. The nights he didn't sleep by your side—all the things he has been missing.

He realized that although he never doubted his love for you, he stopped nurturing it and took it for granted.

Crying, he took your hands, and by divine grace, you didn't push him away.

No words he could say would be enough to convey how sorry he was. But he needed to try because he didn’t want to lose you. You needed to know he loved you and that you owned his heart. You needed to know he just realized he made a mistake, and he wants to fix it.

“The first time I saw you in this very place, you were slowly swaying in this exact spot with your eyes focused on the book in your hands. I was so mesmerized that I never thought I would get the nerve to talk to you, you know? But I did. And when I saw the warm look you gave me when I asked you if you had read the author's biography, I felt my heart warming as never before. And when I heard your laugh after I clumsily tried to flirt with you? I swear it was the sound I wanted to hear for the rest of my life,” Spencer confessed, eyes sparkling at the memory. You fondly recalled it too. You never liked to talk with strangers all of a sudden, but with Spencer? It felt natural and right.

“You let me in in your life. You opened your heart to me and taught me how to do that too. You realized I’m not the best student in those matters, though,” he chuckled, seeing your nod.

“Despite that, you believed in me. You gave me a chance to love you, and I swear loving you has been the most natural thing that has ever happened to me. You have made me so happy (Y/N). You have no idea. And that is the problem. I have not known how to love you the way you deserve. I hadn't realized what I was doing. I'm sorry. I spent much of my life fending alone, not walking with anyone by my side. And I know that does not excuse my behavior. Even so, I dare to ask for an opportunity to prove you do not have to compete with my job. Give me a chance to prove to you I can be better. I can be the man who deserves your love. Please let me gain back your love and the privilege to hear you laugh again."

Spencer was almost out of breath when he was done speaking. You mulled in his words as his hands enveloped yours, patiently awaiting your response. Would you give him a chance?

As the rain continued pouring down, your eyes focused on him, still kneeling before you with hopeful eyes.

You know he loves you. Even if he needs to be better at proving it to you. And you love him even if you feel hurt for what he did. You both would have to work to make it work. You both deserved the chance, though.

The answer to his question was clear then.

You hopped off the swing and kneeled, not releasing his hands grasp and pulling him to catch his lips with yours. He kissed you back with everything he had. When both parted, you smiled at him, and Spencer was trying to figure out what that meant. You spoke to make it clear.

“Please, just don't make me regret being in this same place three years ago.”

Spencer earnestly shook his head.

“I won’t. I promise,” he told you before kissing you again under the rain.

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @disaster-in-waiting @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #under the rain #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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deadlymistletoe · 10 months

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A Marriage Overridden

Pairing: Thranduil x f!reader

Genre: Angst/romance

Description: Keeping your relationship with Thranduil a secret backfires when your parents arrange a marriage for you. Thankfully, all arranged marriages have to go through the elvenking himself.

Warnings: None? Reader doesn't have the best parents, but nothing physical or too bad overall.

Word count: 1745

The only sound was that of the basket you had been holding clattering to the ground, flowers so lovingly picked spilling out.

You stared between your parents, your eyes pleading with them to announce that this was nothing more than a joke made in bad taste.

They didn’t.

“No. No! You can’t!” You choked out. This couldn’t be happening. You had to have heard wrong… but no, your mother shook her head, a small smile on her face.

“Y/N, this is a good thing. We only want what’s best for you, and nothing can get better than this.” She ignored you as you shook your head, in denial. “Callon is a well respected soldier in the king’s guard, and his parents have agreed that the two of you would make a fine match. You would be respected, and treated well, what more could you want?”

Thranduil. The name was on the tip of your tongue, but you held it back, whether from the shock or the practice of keeping your involvement with the king a secret you weren’t sure.

When you’d first gotten involved with Thranduil, the secrecy had been necessary - it was a new relationship, he was the king - well above your own social status - and neither of you wanted the opinions of the kingdom to influence your relationship. Whether it worked out or not, at least then it could happen naturally without being scrutinized.

As your relationship developed into something more serious, neither of you suggested letting the secrecy stop - this was something that was yours, it belonged to the two of you, and neither of you wanted to burst the little bubble the two of you were in.

Besides - there was just something exciting about that idea of sneaking around, forbidden fruit, so to speak (you still remembered the way your heart had rapidly beat against your chest when the two of you had been abruptly interrupted and you’d had to hide in the large closet of silks while Galion spoke to the king about a delivery of wine of all things.)

You were happy. You were, dare you say it, in love.

And now, when faced with the question of what you could want more than what your parents were offering, an image of the pale-haired ellon surfaced in your mind.

You took a deep breath, looking at your parents. “I can’t marry Callon. Please don’t ask me why, I just can’t.”

Your father frowned. “This could be your only chance. If you can’t give us a proper reason..”

He trailed off and you stuttered, scrambling for an answer that wouldn’t reveal the secret you kept so close to your heart. “I don’t love him!”

Your mother laughed lightly. “Oh, my dear Y/N. If that’s all then there’s nothing to be worried about. Your father and I weren’t in love either, but we came to love each other over time. I’m sure it would be the same for you.” She lowered her voice as if telling a secret. “Besides, I’ve heard Callon is very fond of you.”

You scoffed. “I’ve spoken to him once, to ask him to move out of a doorway! How can he be fond of me? He doesn’t even know me!”

Your mother stopped smiling. “That’s enough. This is going ahead whether you like it or not. We can’t let an opportunity like this slide past.”

You felt betrayed as you looked at your parents who had raised you, loved you. “That’s all this is to you? An opportunity? You care more about gaining status than what I want?”

Your father shook his head. “We’re doing this for you. You’ll thank us later. Now make yourself presentable. We’ve scheduled an audience with King Thranuil in order to make the arrangement official.”

After you’d locked yourself in your bedroom you leant back against the door. The ‘audience’ with the king was in less than an hour. Your parents had given you no warning so you wouldn’t have time to try to find a way around the arrangement.

You didn’t even have time to find Thranduil and warn him. Oh, no. Sure, the king had the option to decline the arrangement with good reason, but what reason was good enough? Would he risk the aftermath of revealing his relationship with you just for this? What if he thought you wanted this? Asked for it even, and decided not to tell him?

This couldn’t be happening.

But it was. And now you were seated stiffly beside Callon, avoiding Thranduil’s gaze from where he sat across from you on the other side of his desk.

You and Callon’s parents sat on either side of the two of you, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room.

It didn’t take Thranduil long to read the document that needed only his signature to be valid.

His eyes moved questionly to you when he finished, and you wondered if you imagined the brief look of confusion and hurt before his expression cleared.

Maybe it was a testament to just how strong your relationship had become, but in the brief moment your eyes locked, you could almost hear him asking you, ‘Is this what you want?’ and you replied with a very slight shake of your head, your eyes clearly sending him your answer. ‘No.’

He didn’t reply, instead turning his attention to the elves who had arranged the marriage and leaned back in his seat with a sigh, “I’m afraid I shall have to override this marriage.”

You let out a silent sigh of relief, wondering just how he was going to justify his decision. After all, it was almost unheard of for the king to interfere with this sort of thing, simply signing off on it without a second thought.

Callon frowned beside you, but you didn’t pay him any mind, instead watching as confusion and slight frustration passed over the faces of the others in the room.

“What?” Your mother stumbled over her words, "Why?” Your father nudged her and she quickly tacked on the words, “Your majesty.”

Thranduil looked almost amused as he answered. “Your daughter is already betrothed. She can hardly be betrothed to two ellon’s at the same time, can she?”

The looks that crossed the faces of your parents would have been comical had it been any other situation.

Callon’s parents looked at yours in confusion and annoyance, clearly wondering why your parents had agreed to such an arrangement if their daughter was already romantically attached to someone.

Then you did a double take as his words registered.

What?

“To who?”

You narrowed your eyes. Yes, you thought, to whom am I betrothed without knowing it?

He met your eyes with his. “To me.”

Oh. Oh! You felt your heart flutter in your chest, your cheeks heating up before you were knocked back to reality at the reactions of the others in the room.

Shock covered the faces of the other elves in the room, and as you timidly watched the emotions cross your parent’s faces, Callon’s mother spoke up. “It seems that none of us were aware of this development, otherwise we never would have suggested…”

Your mother turned to look at you. “Why didn’t you tell us?” She asked, and you couldn’t tell if she was more angry or hurt that you hadn’t told her.

You searched fruitlessly for an answer, vaguely hearing Callon’s parents leave the room after excusing themselves, when Thranduil’s low voice cut in, answering for you. “I asked her not to. Clearly, I was wrong in doing so, but do not punish your daughter for my misjudgement.”

Your parents stared at Thranduil - who had come around to your side of the desk - for a moment before quickly assuring him that they didn’t blame him, nor would they take it out on you.

Your mother paused on the way out, looking at you. “Are you happy?”

You glanced at Thranduil, watching you carefully before looking back at your mother. “Yes.”

She nodded, glancing between you and Thranduil. “We’ll speak to you later.”

As they left, movement suddenly reminded you that Callon was still here as he stood up, glancing nervously at his king.

Thranduil tilted his head towards the elf. “I do not blame you for the mistakes of others. Go in peace.”

Callon nodded, relieved, and headed for the door but hesitated, looking back at you before leaving. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad our parents weren’t able to go through with it, for my heart too is already taken.”

You gave him a smile as he left, suddenly feeling much more sympathetic towards the ellon.

You turned back to Thranduil, suddenly feeling nervous. What if he only said what he did to override the arrangement? What if he didn’t actually wish to marry you? What would happen now the secret was out?

He didn’t give you much any more time to worry. As soon as you’d turned around his lips landed on yours and you felt yourself relaxing against him. This had to be a good sign, right?

Thranduil pulled back, his thumb brushing across your cheek as he looked at you, voice a mere murmur as he spoke. “I apologize if I was out of line, but I couldn’t think of anything else. Of course, if you don’t wish to marry me you are under no obligation-”

“What?” You cut him off, wondering if you were hearing right.

He frowned before beginning to repeat himself, but you interrupted again. “No, I mean, you weren’t just saying it? You mean if I did wish to marry you…you’d be okay with it?”

He shook his head, a bemused expression on his face. “Of course I’d be okay with it. I just didn’t want to assume…getting married would mean telling people about our relationship and I wasn’t sure you’d want that.”

A smile came across your lips. “You should have said something earlier.”

He hummed. “I suppose if I had then we wouldn’t have ended up in a situation like today.”

You giggled before becoming serious again. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you. It was too late by the time my parents told me.”

His breath brushed against your ear as he leant closer, pulling you against me. “It’s not your fault,” you felt him smirk against your skin, “but should you wish to make it up to me regardless…”

“Of course.” You breathed as he connected your lips once more.

Taglist:

@fizzyxcustard @bookworm-with-coffee

#imagines #the hobbit #female reader #thranduil #the hobbit x reader #thranduil x reader #thranduil imagine #thranduil x you #my writing

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louebel · 6 months

Note

Hi! Can I request fluff Law x fem!reader where reader is feels sick but tries to ignore it/do things on her own (she’s not used to ask for help) but as a doctor law easily can tell by the signs and it happens during their sea journey on the polar tang? Hope I’m not asking too much love ya 🥺

Feel free to add angst or anything else to your writing ^•^

this is super old and the only request i'll ever do (atm) since i had a wip— ANON SORRY IT TOOK FOREVER <\3 reader is gn since i used the second person and no description.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: trafalgar law × gn!reader 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 6,124 wc. a bit angsty, ends with fluff, emotional reader for the sickness, law is bad at emotions. this turned longer than expected, i hope it's decent xdd hit me up if there's any mistakes lol. supposed to be called windows of the soul,, divider by @ benkeibear my lord and saviour. 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: sickness overtook your body and worsened your already pitiful situation. law has been ignoring you and you have no idea why... but with how you felt, there was no way you could confront him at the moment.

scrub, scrub, scrub...

"... phew ..."

scrub... poof!

"Oh! — damnit — aargh..."

Cleaning today has been a nightmare. Never been so tedious.

Like, it was already uninteresting compared to all the other things you could do, but today it was ten times worse. You could bear it, seeking to make dusting shelves fun by humming some random tune to yourself. It was okay, something you had to do every once in a while. You could do it.

If only you weren't sick.

"Achoo! Achoo! — urgh... Achooo..! Damn."

You began feeling like this some days ago, or so you told yourself as you delicately hunched down to the floor, hoping to grasp the yellow sponge soaked in foam and water without experiencing excruciating pain. However, your hopes soon shattered as your back screamed in agony and your legs trembled with soreness, almost giving up on you.

Just the flu, you insisted, it would go away. A couple of sneezes mean nothing. You would feel better and all would go back to the ordinary.

... Oh, how wrong you were! And how stupid for not getting a day off.

You were capable, though! You counted on your immune system (it sounded heroic the first time you thought of that). One night is all you needed.

Or not.

"Ow, ow..."

You should've told your captain. Sure, it would cost your courage, pride, and dignity, but at least you'd be cured. You'd rather die than tell him you got sick because of the one herb he instructed everybody to avoid.

What's worse is that he's been rather distant, and he's unquestionably avoiding you. The way he shoots daggers — no, whole machetes in your direction every time you do anything, smart or not, is so clear even the crew can see it. And the worst part? You do not know why.

It had been like this for a while now, and you detested this whole plight with passion. Everything was okay between the two of you, you were sure of it! What did you do that spurred such a reaction? From one so dear to you?

Those sweet memories...

From new findings you excitedly presented him, to revealing himself, his past and adventures to you after almost a year of sailing. You knew everything about him. He knew everything about you.

So why? Why stop so abruptly? You didn't mind when he digressed about his newfound coins. When he murmured under his breath while he pored over medical books or mulled about a particular topic. When he stressed over labor and called for a brief break, where you or the crew would attend to him by delivering him a meal or helping when he wasn’t looking. He's so stubborn.

"Uurgh..."

From captain, to Law, to captain again. Not to mention how he deftly stopped you from hanging out with him. You thought he needed space at first. Maybe he was tired and had to rest for the next few days. That’s alright. However, your thoughts deteriorated as the days passed. But well, right now it's better if he doesn't see you at all. Nor the crew‌ — oh, the damn crew. Those two.

The "two" being the pair of nitwits that constantly stand by law's side and grin at you. Seriously...

You do not understand what Penguin and Shachi find so amusing about your situation with him. It's a tragedy, not a comedy. You love them both, truly, the minute you stepped into the polar tang they were the first ones to get you to open up and all, but goodness, you wish you could beat them for sitting there, cackling and clapping their hands while confiding some mysterious comments to each other when la — the captain, showed up in the area and walked past you with an unreadable gaze. He'd constantly salute you and the others with a bow of his head or more, depending on his mood.

Now? If he saw one inch of your form?

Sigh. His face always went red.

Why can't those two just tell you? Even Ikkaku seemed to know something you didn't. She was more subtle about it, though. Jean Bart wasn't slick either. You could see him smile from a mile away. Hakugan and Clione? Shachi and Penguin 2.0, except they hid behind Jean Bart. The rest pitied you instead, sometimes patting your back — sometimes shaking their head almost in disbelief. Oh, and Bepo gave you suspicious smiles! Every time he tried to say something to you, those two animal hat-wearing goblins silenced him. Did they just want you to suffer?

And if they did want that then their curses were working because even after grabbing the sponge (almost losing your temper as it slipped through your gloved palm twice) and straightening back to an erect pose, your head was still banging with fervor, muscles barely reacting.

If only you could snuggle with the fluffy, warm mink right now. A bitter sigh rushed past your lips at the thought.

Those two were just so mean. But Law was much meaner — the captain, the captain... Yes, the captain. That... That dummy.

You groaned and shook your head while forcing your wobbly arms to scrub the table, exhausted mentally with this never-ending train of thoughts and these fanciful fists leaving invisible bruises all over your poor body. Not to point out those hands pinching your brain like dough...

Just — you... Goodness, what was it he suddenly despised so much? The submarine felt like home. It was home, especially when he joined you. Now when he does, he — the aura he emanates is intimidating, yet everyone is either unaware of it or not affected by it.

What made him so resentful? You can barely say anything when he strides into the place, too panicked to learn how he would perceive you or talk to you if you go on. It's like you're back on step one, isolated, too scared to be yourself with your family. Because of one man who's supposed to be the head of it.

Being you felt like a sin when close to him, as if he preferred the private variant of who you are, and shunned your curious and spirited self. You could understand since he’s rather closed off and well, in a certain aspect you are too, but — did he not like you at all? Was it all an act to not offend you? He didn't seem to dislike your vivid reactions initially, or your foolish gestures when nearing a fresh island. You were often silent, smiling and listening to others converse, but when around your companions, you easily liked to open up since it was the only time you could do so. And they were more than just that. You entrusted all the members of the heart pirates. They meant everything to you. Even him, who stopped including you.

Ugh...

You wished it could all go back to normal.

This disease enjoyed fumbling with your previously scrambled sentiments. Law did mention it brought a high fever and emotional susceptibility. You didn't consider it'd be this severe.

"... Okay, I'm done."

You certainly weren't, with your bed unmade and furniture still dusty; floor imploring for a good wash. However, with the croaky voice you had paired with your runny nose, you doubted you could do more. Even if you did, it'd be better not to.

You peered down at the bucket full of water that probably smelled better than you at the moment, ignoring the small puddle beside it made by your poor handling sponges skills. Grimacing, you decided to leave it where it was in case carrying it back turns out to be a challenge. Hopefully, Ikkaku can provide you help later.

Looking around, your droopy eyelids dimmed your perspective and further provoked you as both exasperation and exhaustion mixed and boiled in your gut, room so messy it mirrored your current state. You didn't know what was irritating you more: the light of the lamp or the disarray you resided in.

Howling dejectedly, you turned and plodded to your bed, opening your arms, ready to throw yourself on the mattress. The more you sleep, the sooner you'll get better. Yeah, you're so brilliant. You closed your eyes and —

knock knock.

— reopened them a second after, remaining immobile for an extra few before glowering at your door, contemplating whether to go open it or linger to determine if they'd leave. Hmm.

You waited.

... knock knock.

Fantastic.

You gritted your teeth, drawing a profound breath to settle your nerves, haywire thanks to the hellish illness. They didn’t deserve to withstand your rage, but who knows, maybe by seeing your shape, they'll show sympathy and tell you. That could work.

Okay.

You sluggishly trudged to the door, not bothering to adjust your unbuttoned pajamas and faking a cheerful facade. You hoped your face didn't look too awful, but you couldn't care less right now.

Gripping and twisting the knob, you pushed it open, greeting them with the feeblest voice you've ever had, your sore nose making it unthinkable to inhale air. You rubbed the back of your head while doing so, eyelids closed to evade any light.

"Yo, Penguin, Shachi, how can I—" the words automatically came out of your coarse and blazing throat, opening your eyes a bit to look at... them...

Then you saw a tattoo. And more tattoos. No white, poofy boiler suits in sight.

By barely seeing light before, you tried giving yourself mercy, but now you were only slaughtering yourself to make sure the person in front of you was, well. Him.

Your jaw fell while your brows lifted in consternation, but shortly returned down thanks to your declining headache. Your pupils then scaled the mountain of mass before you and arrived at the peak. Another pair of eyes.

Cool, gray eyes. The ones that just a week ago welcomed you with compassion and comfort. Now they drive you to wither away from this world. Even if you look up to them. (Hehe, get it? man, you're so silly, wow.)

"—help … Captain. Uh, hello." and there goes your comfort zone.

You tried swallowing down air but got pounds of mucus down your stomach instead, curved posture closing up even more in his presence, ashamed to be seen in such a weak state, instantly regretting not managing your appearance as his gaze scrutinized you from top to bottom, probably displeased with how you presented yourself..

You looked everywhere but at him. He only looked at you.

Envy spurted from the plant’s toxins. How could he focus on one thing and have so much confidence to stare at someone without breaking eye contact at all? If you do the same for longer than two seconds, it feels like whoever looked at you has seen your entire personality, life, darkest secrets that you didn't really have, closest people to you — everything in poor words. The windows of your soul, perpetually agape.

How does he keep them closed? Why can't you seal them at all? Why?—

"—so care to explain the meaning of this?"

"Huh?"

You stupidly stared at him, blinking and glancing at his shoulders, then back at him to break whatever spell he put on you, not able to concentrate at all.

Barely could you see the annoyed expression on his face. You hoped he wasn't dealing with excessive stress. Making him feel worse was not your intention.

"I said, care to explain what this is? You look... terrible—" you cringed at that, "—and you haven't come out of your room since this morning. Do you have any idea what time it is?" His scrutinizing tone made you want to crawl under your blankets and stay there forever, but his patronizing gaze didn't let you.

You could merely fidget with your fingers and glance back at the floor to relieve your worries, which mixed with pain, fatigue, and dirtiness. You called for sleep so badly.

"I'm—I'm sorry, Captain. I, uh, I didn't—" sniff, "—mean to skip my duties. Sorry."

His brow creased in suspicion at your raspy voice and poor shape.

"Is that so? Look at me while you say it." if his words weren't menacing enough, his tone was too. He knew you couldn't do that. Especially now.

"Uh..." you unconvincingly whispered, continuing to play with your fists, until rubbing your nape once more, shuddering at how chilled your hands were compared to it.

Your actions were, again, spotted by him, and if one more thing occurred, then he'll be correct.

"Well? I'm waiting."

"..."

Sighing exasperated, you raised your head to look into his pupils once again.

Unbeknownst to you, he already confirmed another of his impressions while taking a further view of your sullen visage.

"I, uhm, overslept, Captain. That — that happens sometimes, yeah? Sorry about that. I'll—I'll..." stopping for a moment, you squinted your eyes and scrunched your nose while the man before you attentively fixated his stare on your frame and—

"Achooo!" —covered half of your face whilst he recoiled back at the loud sneeze you let out, not expecting it at all. He blinked, then you sneezed again, and again. Streak of three.

If your voice and glossy eyes already told everything to the doctor, the continuous sneezes only reinforced his thesis.

You exhaled haplessly as he sternly said your name.

"You're sick." his firm and coherent words could not be fooled. Your fate was sealed.

"...Yeah." at this point, you didn't care. He was gonna scold you, nothing you could do about it. You could only hope he'll do that after you're cured because right now, you could barely stand still without shivering. You were sure if he wanted to do something he would have already, so he definitely will have a talk with you after you're healthy.

"Why?" you've been proven wrong so many times this morning — afternoon. Evening? That you don't know what's gonna happen next.

You stared at him numbly, almost done with everything.

"What do you mean 'why'? I don't, I don't know. Probably our... Ugh, our last stop, isn't that obvious—"

"Not that. Why didn't you say anything? To the others? To me?"

If it wasn't for your head beating incessantly and the aching of your tendons ruining everything, you would think this was a dream.

You kept gawking at him like a goldfish. His timbre wasn't as stern as it regularly was. It was a bit, just a tad bit lower. Like, barely. His eyes were softer, and if you met the man yesterday, you wouldn't be capable of identifying his mood. It's because you knew him for so long that you could distinguish it.

"I..." you mumbled talks under your breath, awfully feeble to maintain the discussion, barring your eyes and hitching away when Law planted his freezing hand on your forehead. You fussed in protest, although it didn't last long.

"You're cold... Off."

"My hands are perfectly fine. You're burning," he interrupted you, stating the obvious. But you were far too deep to listen, fatigued.

"Yeah... M'sorry." you nodded while deliberately looking down in shame, almost dropping to the ground out of fatigue. Everything seems hazy, the pressure in your skull fading, while the breaths you took were meager.

Something skimmed over your shoulder and nape — ah, his fingertips — palm carefully tilting your head back up. Your mouth hung open, and you attempted to focus on your captain's facial features and the iconic hat to not fall asleep.

"It's fine." But his gentle approach and mellow maneuvers set you in a soothing trance, where you couldn't do anything other than auscultate him.

It’d be an exceptional moment to speak up about these last days, his odd actions.

"It... It is? You, ah... You're not..." but you struggled to do so, chest too heavy to speak. He narrowed his eyes, striving to make out what you were saying, but it was all incomprehensible to him.

"I'm not?" he urged you to proceed, getting closer — he felt warm. Wasn't he cold some seconds ago? Ah, he’s draping his coat over your shoulders, so, so cozy, — and holding you as if you were glass. Why was he holding you? It felt nice, undoubtedly nice. Oh, you were going to fall, you think.

“Hey—hey. It’s okay. I got you. I got you.”

Cradling you in his arms, Law cursed and crouched down, snaking an arm under your knees and sweeping you up, a short "there" slipping from his tongue, keeping you close to his breast. Naturally, you snuggled close to the source of heat, losing consciousness, unaware of your surroundings, his distress, and jogging to the infirmary.

“Hey. Keep your eyes open. No, no, open—yes, yes, like that. Good job. A bit more, then you can go to sleep, alright?"

While nodding lazily when he said your name again, you curled up for more warmth, and he mellowly followed your movement, hefting you up and pressing his lips upon your forehead, his frown deepening at how high the temperature was. He needed to administer medicine quickly.

"Law …'m sorry if I smell."

He scoffed. Thinking of such idiotic things was exactly like you, sputtering them out so bluntly. Rolling his eyes was natural at this point.

"That's my last concern. We'll think of your scent and hygiene later. Don't speak. Shh."

So stupid, so stupid. He should've confronted you ever since you left the island. He should've. It's been a recurring pattern these days. He couldn't see you because of his work but spoke with the others at breakfast, lunch, dinner... They all grew concerned about your distance. Uni shared that it began right after the departing... He knew something wasn't right with you, he could feel it.

Back in that inhabited location, he quickly took note of your drooping posture and fatigued breathing. He wanted to ask about it, but the following days, you acted normal, and Law thought you were queasy because of the heat.

Then he got busy checking on the crew's documents, medicine supply, the damn broken scope Hakugan sadly reported, bounties, news — and something else. He managed to give a check-up to everyone but you. It was mandatory after leaving an island.

With you evading him and him doing the same, this happened. Great. He could only hope it wasn't contagious.

... Wait.

He gritted his teeth in sour realization — Not once has he seen you in the halls or dining hall. No one mentioned you, either. Have you eaten anything at all? Oh, you imbecile.

He palmed your skin through your suit, easing your laments and whimpers, walking through the hallways of the Polar Tang and reaching the infirmary. Kicking the door open while lulling you a bit, shushing and fluttering his eyelids at your sick and quaking form.

"There we go. Shh, I know, I know, it's awful."

Uplifting the blankets, he quickly covered you and began searching for his equipment, rustling and metal clicks tangling with your whines.

"U- uuh... W- where..?"

"I'll be there in a second. I'm here."

As he said that, he quickly came back to you, already stirring medicine in a cup. He had to give to you before you blacked out or fell asleep. Sliding a hand under your back, he carefully pushed you up, gaining a groan from you; you sounded so tired. Tipping your head forward, he brought the rim of the cup to your lips. You were delirious, could barely see or feel, but managed to follow his direct instruction to "open". The first glass was tasteless, fresh... water.

The second tasted awful.

"E—eugh..."

"A couple more sips and we're done. Come on, you're doing good."

Once you drank it all, with a small praise from Law, he gently laid you back down, about to check your vitals. He knew you were in no condition to do as he instructed, it would be all him. Idiot, idiot...

Just looking at you made him guilty. He never saw you this awful. However, what truly pushed him were your next phrases.

“Do you feel better now..?”

Low and dry, they all were. He halted his movements, his hands in the bag, shifting his attention to you.

Your question puzzled him.

Feel better? Him? He was fine. Perhaps you thought the disease was contagious? No; you would've phrased that diversely. His forehead creased, slightly tilted to the side.

"What?"

“I … I missed you."

And as clear drops cascaded down your cheeks, his limbs froze, a bittersweet ache striking his chest.

"I—I thought I did something wrong … I’m sorry … Should've told you. 'M sorry ... really...”

Shit.

“No, no, don’t be. It’s alright, don't—don't speak. You did nothing. Shh...”

And if you stayed conscious for some more seconds, you could've seen those severe pupils mitigate. The windows of his soul open up; the "stern" gaze he preserved for you withering in an instant at your vulnerability.

All he wanted to do was clear that up. When, now..?

“I—I’m the one that should’ve apologized, damn it…”

"Aargh..."

Warm.

"Mmh..."

It was very warm. Pleasant.

"Hn..."

The boilersuit felt different. Heavier, and not … poofy. Hm.

The pillow was so nice, though...

You sought a better position under the comforting and amiable regime of your blanket, squinting your glistening eyes as if sand had struck them; eyebrows knitting in distaste and discomfort, choler cramming up your insides — but not for long, extremely achy and sleepy to lament.

Shouldn't it be easier to relax now that you are tired? Shifting left and right left your muscles throbbing. The peace you could achieve in your dreams was all you begged for. But no, you just had to rise two more times in the span of minutes or hours.

When you woke up the third time, someone surprised you. He was perching on a chair near the infirmary's bed, head, presumably about to doze off. An encyclopedia of vegetation and exotic environs sat in his palms and dotted jeans, the cover made of green-coloured leather, firm to the touch.

He looked peaceful.

"... Law?"

Your lashes fluttered at the fierce shudder that rocked his frame, the textbook about to fall, his eyes snapping open and rapidly darting up to you.

"Oh. You woke up. Good. Good evening."

You were mad at him. You were mad at him.

His lips were indubitably moving. Whatever he was saying, you were not listening. Something about being out for hours, but you were too out of it to pay attention.

And looking down at your body, your eyeballs almost popped out of your sockets at the sight of... Not your boilersuit.

"I'm in my pajamas?"

"And — hm? Oh. I changed you." Pause. "With my devil fruit, of course. Obviously. You were way too hot in it."

"..."

Pause number two.

"I'm hot?" You bluntly said,

"Not in that way." And he quickly retorted, bashful. You immediately got gloomy.

"Oh..." You and Bepo were alike. He couldn’t help but sweatdrop.

"No, no, no, don't — you look fine. That's not what I meant."

A hoarse chuckle ripped from your sensible larynx, a noise that he hadn't heard in a while. His back loosened at your jovial note, the pressure applied on the envelope of the manual lessening.

There was a superb illustration of the flora you accidentally whiffed.

"You inhaled it, didn't you?"

... Silence followed. Then a sigh.

"A simple allergy with a sore throat and emotional instability in the first phase caused by the pollen, weakened muscles and headache in the second, and heightened senses, nausea, and worsening of the body in the last one. You felt them all."

Quick and precise, each symptom he mentioned appeared throughout the weeks you boarded on the Polar Tang. He hit the mark. Glancing at him from the corner of your eyes, you nodded sheepishly, feeling hot in your cheeks.

"Y—Yeah."

"I thought I mentioned dodging those peculiar red flowers. I don't expect you to recall the name, but to avoid it. Thankfully, you only inhaled its pollen, or else you would've been in this bed the moment we departed."

"O—oh... That bad?"

"No, not really. The symptoms would've developed quicker, but nothing dangerous. Perhaps you would have slept over two days, as all cases do when encountering this allergy," He narrows his eyes at you, shutting the book and crossing his long legs, his foot jouncing. "Not at all fatal, only worrying when the patient in question mentions nothing about the symptoms and overworks themselves.”

“Hey—”

“You're fine."

A small huff left your lips, nodding lazily. Nothing was uttered after from both sides. Occasional groans from yours. Only then he spoke.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"..." The answer was simple. He immediately found the illness yet couldn't pinpoint the cause of this? It was almost ironic. Your quietude wasn't taken well.

"Well?"

"... You ignored me. You made it clear."

And he was faking ignorance. That glance, his attitude. You knew him too well, but had no energy to call him out.

"I—I didn't."

"Don't play coy, Law. Did I do something? Even the others know. Penguin and Shachi told me. I—"

You paused when he raised his hand, glancing at it in confusion, then back at him, twice or more. He sighed and dropped it back on his thigh again, using his other one to rub his temple in distress.

"You did nothing. I don't know what... Shachi and Penguin said," You tilted your head at his peculiar manner of quoting them. "But I've got nothing against you."

He stopped rubbing and lifted his head to check on you again and you were unsure of what to say. His brows wrinkled the tender skin of his forehead, severity, and minor unease painting every fiber of his appearance.

You just... didn't know.

"Really? Then why those weird stares? Why leave the room the moment I come in? I mean." you flailed your hands around, looking everywhere as if you could find an explanation. "You never behaved this way, Law, not with anyone. I... It was fine before, right? Let me ask again, did I do something wrong?"

"Of course not!"

At his hasty exclamation, you blinked, uncertain why he became as rigid as stone. Palms back on the blanket, you awaited an elaboration of his thoughts, observing his adumbral face to detect any key to figure out what caused him to alter his ways with you. However, his hat, which you've always appreciated for its fluffiness, turned out to be an issue. Those eyes you've grown so fond of refused to meet yours.

You just couldn't get it. The surrounding air grew an intoxicating no romance book would mention, one that did the contrary of setting your heart aflame, that poor muscle of yours.

If he explained, it would've been easier.

"Okay, 'of course not' ... Sure—"

"We are not having this conversation. You need rest."

He briskly cut you off, and your heart felt constricted. The words felt bitter upon both of your tongues, so bitter and revolting, they made his jaw clench and your eyes water. You weren't having it. Absolutely not.

"I feel better now, thank you, and I say we're having this right here." You pushed, ignoring how he clenched his tattooed fist.

"No—"

"Yes, Law! I don't know what I did, but if it bothers you, shouldn’t you tell me? There are things we can all miss."

The pang in your brain was still active, and you had no patience nor strength to argue. Either he spoke up or you'd go straight to sleep.

"I... You did nothing that bothers me."

His speech was almost a whisper, a low rumble, and were you in your regular state, you'd feel sad to see him like this. Law had no trouble speaking up— perhaps with apologies, or admitting to be wrong when in the midst of a conversation. Maybe something genuinely bothered him. But he'd tell you, wouldn't he? He had to.

But you weren't the only one who had to consider the consequences. He also had to do his part.

"... And?" you encouraged him, to gain something, something that would lead you both to that damned thing you were both chasing, that ounce of understanding.

“And—and what?" alas, it served another wave of blistering dissatisfaction down upon the membranes of your boiling stomach.

He couldn't be serious.

"... Whatever. I'm going to sleep."

"What?"

You detested how you were feeling, a volcano of passions, the pounding in your skull, and the heat, and the ludicrous, nagging insecurity, all these wretched, gristly sensations shoved in your mouth and scraping your gullet, such a relucting and squalid dish, contaminating your palate and inflaming the gums of your teeth.

But all Law could see was how your eyes moistened and reddened, the crinkles at the corners of your mouth, the contracted tissues above your nose.

You couldn't feel how his heart plummeted, either. Again, he caused you to cry.

"Hey... I—"

"No, Law, no! I said leave! You ignored me for almost two weeks and now—now you're just..!"

Perhaps you were being a bit too "dramatic" for something you could solve with a modest exchange, something that, compared to all the obstacles you and Law went through, was a sheer grain of dust in your shoes. Yet you erupted for the frustration, the plant's effects and that nameless thing you'll bring in your grave, for if he knew, he'd probably pity you.

Maybe, just maybe, he should've kept ignoring you. If solely to dim that warmth. The glow in your eyes that only sparked with him.

"I don't mind if you need time. I don't mind if you're busy or whatever, that's obviously fine! But can't you tell me? Is it that hard? Instead of treating me like a stranger? Just—just, just leave..."

Your snotty voice seemed ridiculous, resounding through the infirmary alongside your sobs and sniffles. Vision tarnished by your tears, staring at the ceiling with resignation. It alarmed Law, whose emotions were already scattered; unnerved, anxious.

He couldn't take seeing you like this. He couldn't.

"That’s not it! I... I just — I..!" His broken explanations fell as your cries didn't stop; spasms traveling through your frazzled nerves. He swore under his breath, getting up and coming to you, standing close but so, so distant. His fingers jerked, impatient to wipe your tears, to calm you down, to assure you everything was alright, and this was all on him.

"What..?" you meekly whimpered, gazing at him as he appeared in your sight.

"I, I..!" if only he could express himself. You'd figure out. If only he could, without buckling and tearing apart at the weight of his own feelings.

"... You what, Law?"

It was tough to see with all those tears coating your scleras, but... His lips quivered. His jaw tensed.

His hands craved yours.

"I like—I like you!"

... You wondered if illusions were part of the symptoms. Your eyelids were all but relaxed. Popeyed.

"There. I said it. I mean it. Seriously. I—I think I love you."

You could feel his frantic grip, slightly pulling the blankets in his direction, tense as him. You've never seen Law so … jittery with you. Perhaps when he slowly spoke of his past, or when his plan failed.

"I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I... I was confused. I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't... No, okay. I, I love you, but you don't have to reciprocate, really. ‌I just wanted to clarify that I wasn't—"

This was different, however. Not the same vulnerability, nor agitation. That teetering edge coating his sayings, not at all close to those instances.

"... Law."

"—ignoring you, I mean, I was, but I just couldn't face you, you know? I didn't know how to act—"

That glow, those feelings. The twinkle in his eyes Bepo mentioned when you spoke of something that fascinated you, that rare grin on his lips, and that sweetness, the swelling in his chest, and the red, and the breath of fresh air, and the intoxicating romance books loved to talk about...

Those tints blooming in his cheeks. The faint relaxation of his defined brows. How he covered his pretty, vulnerable self.

He's no different from you. Oh, oho ho, no, he wasn’t. Only now did you realize.

"Law."

"—but I missed you so much, I missed your presence, being with you, I—"

Your heartbeats matched.

"Law!"

You understand now. The definitive yell induced him to quit his blabbering, and eventually, he found your gaze. Those windows were not locked at all. Not marginally, not halfway. They were fully open. You could see him.

"It's... the same."

It was all you could utter. His jaw loosened, and you could recognize his wide, stormy irises.

"Huh? Wh — what?"

"I feel the same way, Law. I—I love you too."

Yours were open, too. They always were- yet he never acknowledged what dwelled inside. Two fools you both were.

"... Oh..." and a breathless whisper was all he could offer.

The silence dissipated. A delightful warmth occupied your rib cage. The pressure was gone.

All is back to normal.

"If... If you weren't sick. I'd kiss you." He mumbled, and his lips looked more luscious than ever. He shouldn't have said that. Now it was even harder.

"P—pfft... Of course, of course. Can you come closer, at least?" you pouted, giving him the best puppy eyes you could muster. “Pretty please?”

"... Fine. It's — not contagious, anyway," he huffed, his cheeks a light pink, and he sat on the margin of the infirmary's bed, hustling just a tad bit closer...

Closer...

"Closer?"

"Alright."

His ears grew pink at your giggles. Your fingers graced each other, "DEATH" entwined with you. His hands were lukewarm. Long, slim, calloused in some places, but also tender to the contact. His metacarpals were partially discernible, defining the shadows. He took care of his nails, ensuring they were cut short, although they appeared slightly, just somewhat lengthier than usual. Not considerably, however; they were still short.

How you missed holding it.

"Sorry, by the way. About everything." Squeezing his hand, you attempted to show him what it meant to you. He squeezed it back, brushing the top of your hand with his thumb, a pensive and solemn look on his face.

"No- I should apologize for not saying anything sooner. I neglected and avoided you. I … I don’t know what to do. You know I’m not the type for relationships.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, but weren't as worried as Law. You'll wait. Nothing would change.

“Mmm. I can wait for you, Law.” Saying it seemed to take him off guard, as if he hadn't thought about it. Or, rather, didn't expect you to propose it. In his head, it seemed silly because it's him. If you were to ask in his place, he'd also wait.

He felt lighter.

“… Truly?”

“Yeah. We can figure it out together. Like we always did. I’ve loved you for years." He inhaled deeply, your words buttery and sweet. "I’m fine with waiting longer.”

Thinking you wouldn't accept, if he asked, was stupid of him too. Of course you would. Of course. With another squeeze, he nodded, and turned his head away from you a bit.

His eyes glistened.

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

You smiled, too, saying nothing in return.

He can take all the time he needs.

After some days, everything went back to the typical routine. The first thing you did was knock Shachi and Penguin's heads, (supported by Ikkaku) and since Hakugan and Clione were on duty, you couldn't do the same for them.

You puffed your cheeks and enjoyed chewing the well-earned treat you snagged from the kitchen, reorganizing boxes since this morning.

"Tired?"

Peeking at the door, a smile adorned your mouth at the sight of your captain leaning on it.

"Mm, there were a lot of them."

"You could've asked for help. You know I don't want any of you to strain yourselves with tasks."

"I had it. Don't worry. Although..." another bite. "I miss it."

"Hm?" he crooned, tipping his head forward. "Miss what?"

You gazed into his eyes, "Miss getting pampered by you when I was sick." lovingly observing how they enlarged a bit before returning to the stoic stare he always wore, swaying his head to dismiss your remarks. The chambré tint on his cheeks was as clear as day, like his light smile. Not that you'd tell him, he'd immediately disregard it.

"... Meet me at my office once you're done."

As he turned his back to you, his boots making clicky rumors with each step, your smirk amplified... After all, who could wait to get coddled by none other than their favorite captain?

#law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece imagine #trafalgar law #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d law x you

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cardentist · 1 month

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Fam how can one be trans in the direction of their assigned sex? I'm not even trying to make the idea sound ridiculous or anything. I'm genuinely curious and want to understand. I thought the whole meaning of trans was that you feel or act in the opposite direction of your assigned sex; if you're transfem but you're afab then to me that's just cisgender??? But like please explain to me how that's not the case if that's what you and others strongly feel so I may grow my compassion

Context: [Link]

well ! while I personally am not intersex, I DO want to highlight intersex people first and foremost.

gender and sex are very Very complex, and I think generally people don't consider the way that being intersex can play a big role in that!

there are intersex people who are afab who are also trans women, there are intersex people who are amab who are trans men, there are intersex people with many Many different relationships with sex and gender and anywhere in between !

an afab person can be born with masculine sex characteristics and transition the way trans women often do. that person May identify as trans, they may not ! that trans person may not even consider themselves a woman depending on who they are and what they want !

I Do think there needs to be an effort to be aware of and make space for intersex people within the trans community, and really the wider queer community as a whole. as it's often something that's given a footnote without deeper thought into the ways that intersex people Actually interact with our communities.

which I don't blame people for not already knowing ! that's the whole point of trying to educate people in the first place ^^

and as for Myself

labels are, ultimately, a form of gender presentation. what you call yourself is an extension of not only how you see yourself, but how Other People perceive you.

I could call myself nonbinary or I could call myself trans masc, and both would be Accurate. but people have certain traits and expectations and associations when they see those labels. there are assumptions made about the kind of life that I live, the things that I want, the things I might experience, that change depending on which labels that I use.

and that's not Inherently a bad thing ! I mean, that's part of why people Like labels. but it Can be a struggle for people whose gender is Funny.

I could Also describe myself as genderqueer or multi-gender or genderfluid or gnc or-. I've tried on lots and lots of labels, and for the most part I haven't thrown any of them out, I just keep them in a box under my bed and take them out when relevant.

I've been wrestling with the feminine aspect of my identity for a very Very long time. I've been aware that I'm some level of trans masc. that part was easy. I want a deeper voice, I want things about my body to change, I don't want people to look at me and see a cis woman.

but I Also like femininity. I've found that after accepting myself as trans masc and slowly growing an environment where I am Perceived as masculine, I've started getting euphoria at presenting femininely in the Same way that I did (and do!) get about presenting masculinely.

but that feeling doesn't carry over when I'm perceived as a cis woman. it's Quite Uncomfortable for obvious gender reasons.

and while I may not know the exact Words that I'd use to describe it (as I've said, I've been chewing on it for Many years now), I've gotten a clearer idea of how I Feel.

I want to be Visibly trans. I want to be perceived masculinely And femininely. I want to transition masculinely to present femininely (and sometimes butch, sometimes like your dad at the ace hardware store, I contain multitudes).

and of course, figuring out what I have going on has involve a lot of exploration ! it's the same way I figured out the whole trans masc thing in the first place. seeking out other trans people and other Things About trans people feeling things out.

I find ! that I have a lot of shared experiences with transfeminine people. both in how I feel about certain things, some of the presentation that I want, and in how people would React To said presentation.

my femininity Is Trans, I don't relate to cis womanhood. but I Do relate to trans femininity. which is really awkward for me, because it's difficult to describe it to other people fjksldljkasfdjklfasd

(I don't personally consider myself a trans woman mind, but I'm certain there Are people who are trans men and trans women at the same time. gender is complicated, sex is complicated. labels are malleable and sometimes situational)

Could I describe myself with a different label? probably ! I've got lots of them. but when I Don't put emphasis on this aspect of myself people assume that it's not there. insist that it Couldn't be there, and I don't know what I'm talking about. and those people who Would act nasty towards me probably aren't gonna change their mind just because I changed my bio. but it feels Nice to assert that aspect of myself when other people are trying to tear it down.

part of me feels like I should post the intersex portion of this by itself, because people tend to engage more with shorter posts and there's nothing Short about my gender situation ljkfdasjkls

but ! I dunno, if this makes even one person understand the gray areas of gender and presentation a little more it'll be worth it.

thank you for taking the time to ask ! and especially for doing so kindly ! I do hope you'll see this

#discourse #long post #intersex #genderqueer #nonbinary #multigender #trans unity #queer unity #moral of the story is that gender is a fuck

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tojigasm · 1 year

Text

Sheep and Wolf

Authors note: omgg, it's been almost an entire year since I've posted a Toji fic, but here he is!! Back in the flesh, he returneth! I hope you all enjoy it!! <33

Warnings: 18+ nsfw, smut, fluff, creampie, kissing, pet names, angst, Christopher Nolan, blood, guns, mentions of bandaging a wound, Toji being old

Toji, who calls you while you're at school, chuckling into the phone when you complain about your professors and the schoolwork you've got to finish by the end of the week.

"I'm still havin' you watch that Christopher Nolan film tonight," he teases, and you can hear his smirk on the end of the line.

"Noooo," you whine, "you're gonna torture me with your film bro shit on top of my homework?" You sigh, and you can hear him laugh, "doesn't mean the film is gonna be any better just because I'm being forced to watch it."

"Yeah, yeah, kid," tojis voice deepens some, and you find yourself smiling at the rasp of it, "now go learn something."

He can hear you giggle on the other end before the line clicks off, and he turns back to looking over folders for his next mission.

—

Toji, who rolls his eyes when you get amped up at night time. Too excited and too happy to fall asleep.

You're wiggling around under the covers until a firm hand grounds your thigh to the mattress.

"M'kay, I think that's enough." Toji warns gently, scrolling through his phone with his other hand. "It's bedtime."

Your idea of "bed time" lasts momentarily before you're shuffling yourself under the covers and wiggling about as you giggle.

You've come to learn that Toji is a very patient boyfriend, but his limits still exist in full, and they become very apparent when interfering with his usual bedtime schedule.

"Y/n," he puts his phone down to watch your hump of sheets and pillows stop at his voice, "what did i just say."

You sheepishly crawl back up to the top of the bed and go to sleep.

—

Toji, who comes back home, stumbling up the wooden stairs, scraped, torn, and bloodied.

The sound of stairs weaning under his unsteady steps pulls you from your sleep to find him slumped against the railing of the wall, pressing his hand to his side.

"Oh my god, toji!" You make your way to him, kneeling on the step above him to look him over. "What did you do, oh my god," You pull his arm over your shoulder to help him stand, and he hisses through his teeth.

"I didn't do shit, not my fault i didn't know the asshole had a fuckin' gun."

Once to the master bathroom, you sit him on the edge of the tub, peeling his shirt up to assess the bloody wound.

"Is it..?"

Toji shakes his head tiredly, waving you off to grab the rubbing alcohol from beside you.

"Nah, I fished the bullet out on the way here." He pulls the collar of his shirt into his mouth in preparation.

You scoot yourself back some to watch him pour the isopropyl over his bloody skin. This was his field anyways, you'd decided.

"Fuck!" Toji groans, throwing his head back.

Working quickly, you move back to help clean the wound with water from the tub before wrapping his stomach with guaze.

He passes out on the edge of the tub, and you stay with him until morning. It'd become a semi-regular routine in his area of work, though the first couple of times you'd been so terrified and he'd felt so bad that the next day after the event you'd have a newly wrapped present on the kitchen counter.

The presents now are that he even makes it back at all.

—

Toji, who fills you so well, you sob.

His cock stretches you open and runs along your gummy walls, thick and girth length sends a pulse of pleasure through your cunt.

"So fuckin' tight. Shit m'gettin' close." Toji groans, kissing up the side of your neck.

"Wanna have your baby," you sob, pulling at his thick raven hair.

Toji chuckles at that, pulling back some to gently cup your cheeks in his hands.

"No, y'dont." He kisses the soft of both cheeks and then your nose and then your lips. "Don't wanna be stuck with his old man forever, do you?"

You giggle through heavy tears, and he holds you tighter to him. A large hand strokes over your head as he pumps into you.

"You're doin' so good." He kisses you, pulling back to rest his forehead to your own, "you're such a good girl."

His thumb strokes your clit and the other presses your knee to the bed, holding you open.

"Sweet angel."

And when his heat fills you, you bite into his shoulder and cum. Gummy walls squeezing around his girth and pulling him in.

—

Toji, who lies with you on your balcony, whispering how much he loves you under the stars after a long week.

"No, that one is big dipper." You laugh, falling back to his chest.

"Sorry I'm not a fuckin' nerd and spend my free time drawin' magical pictures in the fuckin stars." Toji sighs.

"Hey!" You hit his chest, "they're not magical. They're literally right there." You look back up at the sky again.

"Mhm, sure."

The cool breeze of the night blankets the two of you from your shared apartment balcony. It sings and howls through the trees.

Toji's hoodie is soft and envelopes you in its warmth against him. The material thin enough for you to hear his heartbeat through his own shirt.

There's a gentle beat of silence where Toji strokes his knuckles over your cheek back and forth.

"Know I love you, right, kid?" He asks.

You nod against his chest, and you can feel him nod back.

"You're a good girl."

—

Toji, who's age, catches up to him in cruel and unkind ways.

It starts small, him squinting to read the menu print when the two of you go out. At first, you had teased him about it, and he had pushed you with a heavy eye roll.

Then it turned to squinting while watching TV and reading books and driving, so he got readers and contacts.

Sometimes, his age is ridden in late night returns to home. He hardly makes it up the stairs, and there's evidence of his hardship written into grooves in the railings and the light stripes of wood that've been bleached time and time again from his blood.

At others, it's in far more relaxed ways.

When his hair turns a salt and pepper mix that he's no longer able to trim away to ensure his youth. Rather, the white and greys start at the roots now, speckling throughout his thick raven tufts.

And sometimes, it's in the way he rolls the two of you over. Forcing you on top of him as he fills you to the brim. He holds you by the hips, helping to guide you along the length of him at your own pace.

—

Toji, who calls you, choked up on the other line, and you know he won't be coming home.

"I want you to–"

"Toji, please tell me what's going on," you sob, the sound of rain and his shaky pants fill the line.

"Goddamnit, y/n! Listen to me!" He scolds you, and you hang on the tip of every word. Relishing in the realization that it might be the last time you speak to him. The last time he speaks to you. The last time he'd ever have to calm you down, get frustrated with you.

"Toji," you weep, sobbing into the sleeve of his hoodie.

"Honey, I need you to listen to me." He groans on the other end. "You remember the key to the safe?"

You nod, sniffling into your arm, stifling a wale.

"Y/n?"

"Yes!" You cry.

"Good girl, good."

And it almost feels as though he's there with you. Holding you to him and whispering sweet nothings into your hair as you cry in his arms.

Almost as if you'd wake up, and everything would go back to the way it was that morning.

"I want you to take everything and call Nanami." He waits a beat, "you hear me, sweetheart?"

"Yes, yes," you cry through a shaken nod, "I'll call Nanami. I promise."

"He'll help you." He hisses, "you're gonna be okay, baby." He tries to soothe you.

"When will I see you? Are you coming with me?" You ask pitifully. As though you don't know. As though he won't lie to protect you. As though asking the question might tear the fabric of your reality and pull you back to last night when he pulled you into his arms to sleep.

There's a soft moment before he stumbles over his words, "i– you don't need to worry about me, kid." He sighs.

He lets you cry for a moment, soothing you from his end.

"M'sorry I couldn't give you that kid you wanted or half the things you deserve. You're a good girl, far too good fr'me."

"Toji, please," you sob.

"Be good fr'me, okay?"

Your hand strokes over your cheek, mimicking his late touch.

"I will. I love you."

"I love you too, kid."

The line clicks.

#toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #jjk fushiguro #fushiguro toji #fushiguro toji x reader #toji smut #toji fluff #jjk fluff #jjk smut

978 notes · View notes

chronicdisasterwrites · 8 months

Text

for you, i would

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader, geto suguru (gojo’s past arc)

genre + warnings: - JJK S2 SPOILERSSS !! deaths (obvi), panic attack, funeral mentioned, smoking, just major pain. everybody's just hella depressed, swears are said, shifts between past and present (italics is past, normal is present moment), the slow burn is KILLING ME

ANGST but then it's FLUFFY :') bittersweet fluff tho (i'm sorry)

word count: 3,953

authors note: okay you asked, i hope i delivered omg :') this is the part 2 of my fic "death is pretty but his eyes are prettier". this might just be a series, because I have some ideas.

enjoyyy <3

Suguru’s gone. He’s now exiled from Jujutsu High and a certified criminal. Shoko’s putting on a nonchalant show and Satoru is lost. And you are not quite sure how to process so much information all at once.

---

It's been a few days since your encounter with the special grade curse. A few days since you and Satoru had that moment in the hall. Days have passed since then, but your mind still seems to be stuck there, wondering why it felt so different. Since then, every time you've been near Satoru felt different. His looks looked different, his voice sounded different, his aura felt different. You felt different, and you're not sure what changed. Now you were being sent off to another assignment and Satoru was being sent off on a different assignment, and this distance could either make things a good different or a bad different. Now, what you think would be a good different is a thought you don't even want to ponder.

“Hey, you.”

Satoru moves his eyes from the window to acknowledge you. You're leaning against the classroom door with a backpack slung over your shoulder and a smile on your face. A smile that Satoru returns tenfold.

“Hey there. You start missin’ me already?”

You snort with a laugh and walk toward him. Leaning on the desk next to where he was sitting, you lightly shove his head, “Absolutely not.”

He laughs heartily and leans forward on his chair, resting his head on the palm of his hand. He's looking at you through his ever-present dark sunglasses with a dopey smile, and this is exactly what makes your stupid heart flutter, and you just don't understand why. You smile back but it doesn't stay on your face for long enough. Satoru notices of course and similarly his smile is also wiped from his face and replaced with a quizzical quirk of his brows.

“You’re worried. Question is, why?”

You shrug and bring your hand up to bite the skin around your nails, a bad habit you've had since you were a child. Something you've always done to avoid answering unwanted questions or just to avoid the storm in your mind. Satoru sighs and lightly holds your wrist to move it away from your face. He holds your hand and assesses every finger, slowly tracing the lines on your palm with his slender fingers, then your bitten nails, then the veins on your inner wrist. You blush.

“I don't know, this mission just feels different, I guess. I mean…” You look out the window and observe the blue sky with its fluffy white clouds. There's a black rogue cloud creeping up on the clear ones, and you sense a storm coming. You know Satoru and Suguru are strong and they're perfect for this job. But of course you’ll worry, and your voice does nothing to hide that, not that you could even if you tried. Not with Satoru, anyways.

“It’s just a lot for anyone, y’know?”

Satoru looks up from your hand and with soft eyes and an even softer smile he says, “Sure, but nothing we can't handle. And anyways,” His smile gets cheekier and cheeks get warmer, “I gotta come back soon, right? Can't have you bein’ all sad and mopey without me.”

You laugh and shove your hands in your pockets, turning to leave the room when Satoru calls your name.

“Be careful on your mission. I'll see you soon, yeah?”

You look back and smile, “Yeah, you too.”

—-

“So I heard you losers are tasked with babysitting the star plasma vessel? Amanai, was it?” You find Suguru smoking on the balcony near the courtyard on campus. He cranes his neck to look back at you and gives you a small smile.

Blowing out a puff of smoke, Suguru offers you his half-smoked cigarette. You accept it and bring it to your lips as you take your place next to him.

“Yeah. Riko Amanai. I thought you had a mission outside Tokyo?” Suguru asks head tilted as he leans against the wooden railing.

“Yeah in a bit. Wanted to catch you before I leave. I already met Satoru,” you reply as you blow out smoke through your nose and return the remaining cigarette to him. He hums and holds the cig between his index finger and thumb as he puffs it twice before stubbing it out in the ashtray half filled with cigarette butts.

You both stare ahead at the courtyard, basking in the shared silence. You think about the responsibility on their shoulders and how heavy it must be; considering the star plasma vessel is just a few years younger than the four of you. Being raised with only one obligation; to be preserved and grow in isolation for the rest of her years. It isn’t something anyone would want. But that’s Riko Amanai’s life.

“Stop worrying,” Suguru looks at you with an easygoing smile.

You are always amazed at how well he could read you. So you just laugh and pat his back twice before turning to leave.

“Just be careful, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

---

You’re lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling; paralyzed. Things went to shit so fast. Riko had been killed by a man called Toji Zenin or Fushiguro; at this point, you’re not sure. You’ve heard him be called both Zenin and Fushiguro. But nothing had been the same. Suguru was different. Satoru was now the strongest and being sent on more and more solo missions overseas, and back then, you felt in your bones that something was wrong. Everything was wrong anyways. Riko Amanai didn’t deserve the life she got. She didn’t deserve to die like that. And you know Satoru and Suguru. They were headstrong and stubborn; doing things their own way regardless of what anyone said. They were the strongest, after all. So you knew things were worse than they seemed because you know for a fact that if Riko chose to live, they would do whatever it took to make her wish come true. And you were right.

---

Your mission was more or less a success. A dead curse and a few bruises here and there is the best outcome any Jujutsu sorcerer can hope for. But the air in Jujutsu High felt different. Thicker, darker, and not at all the way it was when you left it. Figuring Satoru and Suguru’s mission regarding the star plasma vessel should be complete, you head out to look for them. Heading towards the guy's dorms, it doesn’t take long before you find the hunched-over figure with jet-black hair sitting on the benches near the vending machines.

You approach him with a soft call of his name. Suguru lifts his head to look at you as he mutters your name with a greeting. He looks awful. He looks skinnier and his hair is mostly wet as if he didn’t even bother to dry it off completely after taking a shower. Dark eyebags and half-lidded eyes make him look so much older than he is. Ironically, he looks smaller too. As if the life had been sucked right out of him.

You move forward slowly taking a seat next to him. You lean back and stretch out your legs and wait for him to say something, anything. Preferably about the mission and why he looks so fucked up. But he just asks about your mission.

You reply with a shrug, “It was fine.”

He nods his head as you wait for him to say more. He doesn’t.

“Suguru…what happened?”

He looks detached, lost. He purses his lips and fiddles with his thumbs. “Riko was killed.”

You don’t know what to say. So you don’t say anything at all.

“You know, she wanted to live. Satoru and I decided that we’d support any decision she’d make. She wanted to live longer with her friends, and her family. But then-“ he chokes up. Trying to mask it with a cough he just shrugs and exhales. He lets his head hang low.

“They were clapping,” he clenches his fists and you feel his cursed energy spike.

You don’t know what he means by that. You’re in shock and you have no idea what to say. What can you possibly say to make any of this better? Apologizing seems ridiculous. Saying “she deserved better” is even stupider. Of course, he knows she deserved better. You reach out your hand to touch him before he speaks again.

“I was wrong. These people. These monkeys… they don’t deserve to be protected.”

He looks at your outreached hand and gives a half smile. He unclenches his fists to hold your hand in his larger ones. He caresses your knuckles as you say the only thing that you feel.

“You’re right. They don’t deserve to be protected.”

Suguru looks at you with eyes filled with curiosity and surprise as if he expected you to say the opposite.

You look at his hands holding yours, squeezing his hand once as you continue.

“But then, there are also people like Riko, who do deserve to be protected, right?”

His eyes widen and his hand slacks as he stares at you. Right when he opens his mouth to say something, Haibara’s boisterous voice fills the room. He greets the both of you and you smile back as you retract your hand from Suguru’s and stand to leave.

Suguru calls your name and you look at him. You feel so bad for him, you can’t express it. It’s tearing your heart out seeing him look so depressed, so utterly destroyed. You reach out and brush your knuckles against his cheek. He closes his eyes and releases a sigh. Leaving featherlight touches against the darkness under his eyes, you say softly, “It wasn’t your fault, Suguru. I hope you know that.”

His eyes shut and you can almost hear the torrential thoughts flooding his brain. Your voice is hushed. You want to be as gentle as possible with the way you speak to him now. He’s like a glass bottle filled with a corrosive, bubbling liquid. It must be handled with the utmost care because the only thing containing the liquid is the bottle. If the bottle breaks, the liquid will spill everywhere. Even if it’s collected from the ground and stored in a tougher container, the microscopic glass shards will be near impossible to separate from the liquid itself. Geto Suguru, is a strong man. But even the strongest material is bound to break; if a stronger force acts upon it, continuously, without giving it time to heal and repair. And once broken, Geto Suguru will always have those shards lodged inside his soul.

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

He looks at you with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. You drop your hand as you turn to leave him with Haibara. “I’ll see you, Suguru. Best of luck on your mission, Haibara.”

Haibara gives you a bright smile with eyes turned into little moons. “Thank you senpai! I’ll bring back souvenirs for you all!”

You return his smile and send him a thanks and a wave as you look at Suguru, gaze not being reciprocated. You only see his dark ebony hair covering his face as he stares at the ground, unmoving; distant.

The moment your back turns to them, the smile drops from your face and your eyes fill with tears.

---

You found out about Suguru from Yaga-sensei. Apparently, he had killed his parents and 112 non-sorcerers. Geto Suguru was now a criminal and exiled from the Jujutsu community. The Suguru you last met near the vending machines before he embarked on his new path; before Haibara’s death.

Now you’re lying in bed, marinading in your sadness, thinking about how everything went to shit so fast. Haibara died and Suguru was as good as dead. Nanami was broken. You don't know where Satoru is but wherever he is, he's definitely not okay.

You’d heard Satoru had met Suguru from Shoko, considering she met him before Satoru did. And Shoko. Shoko shut herself off, acting as if everything was fine. She keeps conversations short and drowns herself in her studies and her work. Things will never be the same again.

You feel conflicted. Did my words tick him off? Could I have said something better? Am I a terrible friend? Maybe if I find him now I can talk to him and be by his side, but he’s not the same Suguru I once knew. He didn’t seek me out. Why didn’t he come to meet me? Does he hate me? Does Satoru know I spoke to him before he did what he did? Does Satoru hate me? Will Shoko ever be the same again? No, of course, she won’t. None of us will ever be the same again. It’s all broken. Everything went to shit.

There’s knocking on your door. You glance at the alarm clock on your side table. 2:30 am it blinks, in an angry red light that hurts your eyes. You sit up on your bed as you contemplate whether to open the door or ignore it. You can feel the cursed energy of the person pulsing behind the door. They knock again. You get up and open the door to see one Gojo Satoru leaning against the doorframe with his sunglasses on and shoulders drooped. His stance is unguarded, tired, and face sullen.

“Sorry, were you sleeping?” he looks apologetic as he opens his sunglasses and puts them in his pocket. His once crystal blue eyes are now a muted blue with dark purple circles underneath them.

You silently shake your head, opening the door further and walking deeper into the room hoping he’d follow. He does, as he shuts the door behind him. You sit on the foot of your bed as he drags his feet next to you and falls on his back with his long legs dangling off the edge.

He closes his eyes and opens them, then closes them again. You look at him wondering what to say. As nothing comes to your mind you simply decide to lie down next to him and stare up at the ceiling. You both stay like that for what seems like a long time, soaking in each other’s presence as if it might be stolen from you both within moments.

“You know…I met him. We spoke and he told me I should kill him if I wanted to. I was about to but then I couldn’t do it,” his voice is so small, almost trembling. He’s breathing heavily, the silence in the room when he’s not speaking is so loud you can almost hear his heart beating.

You turn your head to see him staring up at the ceiling. He breathes your name.

“I just… couldn’t do it,” he releases a shaky breath, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Maybe I should have. Maybe because I didn’t kill him, a lot more people will-” he chokes.

Your heart hurts seeing him like this. The pain you were trying to control floods your senses and nothing feels real anymore. You wish it was a nightmare, that once you wake up everything would be fine. Suguru would still be here, his parents still alive, Satoru being his usual childlike self, Shoko with her hilarious little remarks, Haibara filling the room with his larger-than-life presence and laugh, Nanami emo as ever but still with you all. Riko still alive. But the more you try to force yourself to wake up you realize you’re fully awake already. This isn’t a nightmare; it’s real. This is your life.

“Of course you couldn’t, Satoru. I mean it’s Su-“ you cut yourself off with a shaky exhale. “All of this is just so-“ your voice breaks as you try to contain the tears. You take a deep breath trying to hold in your hurt. You have to be strong because right now Satoru isn’t. He needs you now more than ever.

“It’s just so unfair,” you say under your breath.

“I’m supposed to be the strongest. I’m supposed to be the “honored one”. I mean- it was a moment of weakness. I can’t-“ he puts both his hands on his face as he breathes heavily and mutters incoherently.

“I can’t be weak,” he spits the word as if it’s venom. Poison, tainting his pristine lips.

“I just- I can’t.”

He mutters your name as he starts heaving and trembling. You immediately sit up and lean over him; your face over his own.

His eyes blink rapidly as he gulps and tries to take a full breath, ultimately failing.

You hold his face and look into his eyes. “Satoru, you’re having a panic attack. Look at me, okay? Focus on me.”

He shakes his head, and sniffles, clutching his chest as he continues spiraling. “I can’t- I can’t breathe.”

You grab his clenched hand and hold it against your chest. “Feel me breathe, okay? Look look. Inhale, and exhale. Okay? It’s just us here, alright? Forget everything else.”

Your chest rises and falls in a steady motion as Satoru’s eyes lock onto yours. Trying to match his breathing with yours, his eyes slowly regain focus as his chest stops heaving. His Adam’s apple bobs as he takes deeper breaths. Soon enough, your hearts beat in the same rhythm.

“There you go. Deep breaths,” you give him a small smile as one hand still holds his against your chest and the other holding the side of his face; thumb caressing his cheek.

Mouth open and eyes blurry, he gulps as he brings up his free hand to touch your face. His fingers brush over the scar on your right cheek. No one else has ever touched your scar like this. Even you've never traced it with so much love and tenderness. Only Satoru has, and you realize you like that very much. You like the feeling of his fingers on your skin, especially on the part of your body that makes you feel like a complete failure. It scares you, but you can't even think about it now because his fingers are everywhere. They graze your jaw, run through your hair, and trace your nose, before finding their rightful place back over your cheek. His voice is strained and so, so small. “You’re real, right?”

A stubborn stray tear escapes your eye as you give him a watery smile. “Yeah, I’m real, Satoru. I’m real.”

He leans up to rest his forehead against yours as he closes his eyes. Your breaths mix as you feel his silver eyelashes flutter against your cheeks. His wispy bangs tickle your face and you notice his hair has gotten longer. You also notice how he has two indents on each side of the bridge of his nose where his sunglasses spend all their time. He also has the clearest skin you have ever seen anyone have. Your eyes map his face like it's the first time you're seeing him but not the first time you realize that he is so, so beautiful. And your heart almost stops at the realization that you might just be in love with Gojo Satoru.

This is the most intimate you’ve ever been with anyone. This is the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him be and the most vulnerable you’ll ever let yourself be. Your tears don’t seem to stop now, flowing freely, falling onto his rosy cheeks and shirt. He gently wipes them away with his thumb as your foreheads stay pressed together. Hands still intertwined against your heart and thoughts flowing together.

“Thanks. I’m glad you’re here. I just- I had to see you,” his voice was low, almost a whisper.

Your voice is quiet too and you feel your face getting warm. “Always.”

You both stay like that for a couple minutes, breathing each other in, feeling each other’s heart beat. You feel so guilty for wanting to tell him you love him. You can't do that now. He's upset and lost and you won't put something like this on him right now. So you bury it and just bask in the sound of his breathing.

Once he’s calmed down, you both lie down next to each other, shoulders touching, back to staring at the ceiling. You sniffle and wipe your eyes, feeling the weight on your chest significantly lighten. After a few minutes, his raspy voice breaks the silence.

“He has a son,” He looks at you, “Toji Fushiguro. He has a son. Said his name was Megumi Fushiguro.”

His eyes shift between yours and then travels all over your face. He nibbles on his lips and continues, “Apparently, the kid’s been sold to the Zenin’s, ‘cause of the Ten Shadows Technique he inherited.”

You turn your head to look at him and you know what he's thinking.

“You’re gonna stop the sale?”

Satoru grins, “I'm gonna stop the sale,” He looks up at the ceiling and stretches his arms up. “And, anyways. He’ll be much better off here. Not to mention, his technique is the best thing to come out of his shit family, so win-win.”

“How old is he?”

Satoru shrugs, “6? 7, I guess?”

You look up at the ceiling and wonder. When Satoru speaks again, somehow reading your thoughts, you look at him.

“Will you help me?” He looks at you so longingly, and you don't even need to think about the answer. Your worries are forgotten. All you know is that you both will figure it out.

“Of course, Satoru.”

He releases a small exhale and smiles at you. You return it. You open your mouth to say something but Satoru beats you to it.

“You know, sometimes I wish I was just any regular person. Not the strongest, not a sorcerer. Just some random normie.”

You wish you could give him that. Sometimes you also have thoughts like this. What if you were just a regular person? No powers, no clue about curses, no idea about weapons or cursed techniques. A regular life, a regular family.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Satoru hums as he brushes his knuckles against yours. You let your wishful thinking get the better of you.

“Hey. What if we run away?”

Satoru looks at you with wide eyes and a slacked jaw. You look back at him with a half smile, because you know you would. You would run away with him if he wanted to. Of course, you’d ask Shoko to join the both of you as well. But you imagine going somewhere tropical maybe. Somewhere small, a place with a beach preferably so you could watch Satoru prance around in the water and build sandcastles, only for you or Shoko to go and stomp all over it. And then you’d watch him throw a hissy fit and pout about it for the rest of his life. You’d watch the sun set over the ocean every single day without a worry in the world. Maybe you could be there till you’re old and wrinkled. Living to 80, dying in your bed wrapped in blankets and the people you love - a dream. A place where you’re nobodies. A place where Satoru could finally be free. You’d leave everything behind to have that with him. Not like you have much to leave behind anyways. But you would.

Satoru laughs softly, almost under his breath.

“You know what?”

Your eyes are observing his every expression; you stare at his porcelain skin and sharp jaw, eyes staring up at the ceiling and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. He looks at you with his glittering sapphire eyes and bitten-bloodied pink lips stretched into a real smile. You look at the small dimple on the side of his right cheek and you think, just for tonight, maybe the weight on his chest feels lighter too.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

------------------------------------------------------------

part 3

a/n: HAH YOU THOUGHT THEY'D KISS? nope, still hopelessly pining lolol. but we’ll get there, bear with me :’)

tagged: @thepup356, @porridgesblog, @stray-npc, @daisy-the-quake, @reignsaway, @ainetx, @icarusignite

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waldau · 6 months

Text

flustered — jeon wonwoo | 1.7k | fluff

first ever work on tumblr for any fandom! yikes. gender neutral reader. no warnings.

people often think wonwoo isn't the kind of person to express himself freely. you know how untrue that accusation is. wonwoo is far from emotionless. only his close friends know what actually makes him crack up, and you're one of the very few who knows what makes him cry.

but you have no idea what makes him blush.

ever since you've been in a relationship, you've never once seen him blush at anything you've said. compliments don't work, not when he accepts them gracefully and carries on like nothing's happened. he doesn't shy away when the band makes him perform silly antics for the fans, opting to do them with the small, ever-present smile on his face.

even mingyu is clueless when you ask him what it is that could possibly make wonwoo blush. teasing him about you never works because it just makes him smile even more.

so you decide to give it a go and try everything you can to make his cheeks turn red. it's silly, but it should be worth the efforts.

wonwoo doesn't like waking up early when he doesn't have to, but when you wake up today morning, his side of the bed is empty. you get up and walk to the living room, careful not to make any noise.

sure enough, wonwoo's sitting on the sofa with his laptop on the coffee table and a notepad and a pen on his lap, occasionally jotting down something here and there. you watch him for a minute or two before you walk up to him and put your arms around his neck, bending down so your lips are right next to his ear. "good morning," you whisper in the most morning-y voice you can muster. you don't think your voice has ever been this low before.

wonwoo doesn't even flinch. he grips your hands with one of his and turns around to press a kiss to your cheek. "good morning, darling," he says, turning to the laptop to pause the video on his screen before he looks at you again. "did you sleep well?"

"till i realized you weren't sleeping beside me, yes."

he chuckles and takes his hand off yours, laying down before raising his arms to you. you've done this a hundred times before — tumbling over the sofa and onto his chest and into his arms, secure.

he presses a kiss to your head. "do you have any plans for today?"

"none, unless you count me wanting to spend the rest of the day with you." you can't see his reaction, but his heartbeat is steady as it always is. you can feel his smile against your head.

"that's what i wanted to do, too, but do you want to go to the museum today? i know you've been wanting to for a while. maybe we could catch a movie after that."

you don't have the heart to say anything but yes. it sounds like the perfect day, even if you didn't achieve your goal.

the next time you try is when you get into an argument.

it's not an argument, not really. just a minor disagreement.

about a certain cat you want as a pet, and it reaches its final stage with wonwoo on his gaming chair and you standing in front of him, hands on your hips. "are you saying you're so heartless that you can't adopt the poor cat?"

"don't twist my words! it's not like i don't want to adopt it."

"that's the impression you're giving right now."

wonwoo sighs, running a hand through his hair. "i want a cat. and i want it with you. but don't you think it's not fair when i'm not home for a lot of time? i don't want you to raise it all by yourself. what if it doesn't know who i am?"

you stifle a snort. "that's your main concern?"

wonwoo tilts his head. "what else would it be?"

"you're afraid you're going to be an absent dad?"

"is that so bad?"

you let out a laugh. "no. not at all. but does that mean we can get a cat when we move in together?"

wonwoo hesitates. "yes, but i'd rather get it when i don't tour as much, you know?"

you sigh. "you just don't think it's cute enough, do you?"

"what? no! of course not! i was the one who showed it to you, not the other way round."

wonwoo looks cute like this, you think, arguing with you about the tiniest things ever. you hope you'll always argue about stuff like this. without a second thought, you move into his lap and hold his face in your hands, pressing kisses all over it. he lets out a confused noise before holding your waist and letting you do what you want.

"i love you, you know that?" you say earnestly, looking into his eyes.

"i love you too?" he says, frowning slightly.

"you look cute when you're serious. like you're trying to be angry with me, but you're not actually angry. and you also look a bit hot."

he blinks. "are you trying to seduce me into getting you a cat?"

you gasp dramatically. "why would you think that? i mean, what if i was?"

he looks at you for a moment before he chuckles and presses a kiss to your neck. "do you really want it that bad? i'll look into it, i promise."

the third time you try is when you're at the supermarket a few weeks later. wonwoo prefers shopping late at night, especially on friday nights, because there's not many people around.

you don't mind. you like spending late nights out with wonwoo, letting time pass while the night bleeds into day. especially because the day in question is saturday.

you're currently in the dairy products aisle, wonwoo looking at two different brands of tofu and comparing their expiration dates when you suddenly wrap your hands around his waist, pressing yourself to his back. there's no one else around you, and you really hope there's no camera capturing your antics.

wonwoo doesn't budge, simply putting one of the packets back. "i think we'll take this," he says, dropping the remaining one into your basket. "you're going to have to teach me how to make that soup."

you don't respond, still pressed to his back.

wonwoo sets down the basket and tugs you off him, pulling you around so you're facing him.

then he tips your chin up, leans down, and places a gentle kiss on your lips.

you don't know what to say when he pulls away. you can't even tell if it lasted for a few seconds or some minutes. he's worn his nighttime pajamas to the supermarket and he still looks amazing. you know you look like an idiot when he smiles at you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"you could have just asked for a kiss, you know." then he turns back to look at the other products like he didn't just steal your breath away in the middle of a supermarket close to midnight.

you were trying to get him flustered, but it's not like you're complaining.

it finally happens, but when you're expecting it the least. you and wonwoo have just gotten back from the fair that's been open near your place for the past week, somehow having time off from work on the same day.

you've enjoyed yourself for the first time in weeks, strolling through the place with your hand in wonwoo's, sipping on hot chocolate, letting him win you a mario figurine (he'd wanted to try again to get you a plushie, but you found the figurine infinitely funnier), and just taking a ton of pictures with and of him.

you've also bought a lot of little stuff which has amounted to the two bags currently occupying your hands, which is why you sheepishly ask wonwoo if he can unlock the door.

he takes your keys from your jacket without question and opens the door, letting you in first. you're thinking about whether you should set the bags aside and untie your shoes or risk a little damage by just kicking them off, when wonwoo slides past you in your stupidly little hallway and switches on the lights.

his foot catches with yours and he ends up with his back to the wall, while you trip and turn in a desperate attempt not to fall on your face and break the little jars of various jams you've bought.

you get a little more than what you've bargained for when you stumble forward and land your hands on the wall, one on either side of his chest. you're just thankful neither of you is hurt, but when you look up, wonwoo's face is slowly turning red.

for the first time in the two years you've been together, wonwoo's flustered. you're glad he flipped the lights on, because seeing him with a blush on his face seems almost alien. his vision constantly flits between your face and the spot over your shoulder, unwilling to meet your eyes.

you don't know what to say. "wonwoo. i'll fall if i keep holding on any longer."

"oh," he breathes, "yes. right." he looks at you for a moment, unsure how to maneuver you to stand without making you lose your balance, and settles for his hands around your waist. you manage to stand with his help, putting the bags on the floor carefully before a grin makes its way across your face.

"of all the things i've been trying to do to get you to blush, that's what did it?"

he looks at your eyes and then at the floor. "why would you even try to do that?"

"i've never seen you blush! i had to."

"did you get what you wanted?"

he still isn't meeting your eyes. his glasses are halfway across his nose because of the angle you're at, so you push them up for him. "i didn't even plan for this to happen, you know. but it's definitely what i wanted. and you're pretty," you add, revelling in the redness of his ears.

he shakes his head and lets out a small chuckle. "is there any chance you'll let me off the hook anytime soon?"

"as if."

#i kind of don't want anyone to find this but eh #comments appreciated the most if you'd like to interact!#jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt #wonwoo #fluff #waldau writes #🍃 — svt

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dawndelion-winery · 2 years

Text

In Your Way

Getting them to notice you

Ft. Arlecchino, Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone

Arlecchino:

Naturally, to run an orphanage, one must have staff to care for the orphans

You seemed enthusiastic enough about the job, though whether it was an actual passion for helping the children or for the generous salary, she'd never truly know

Still, your actions were sincere enough

She did tell you to report to her regularly, but she hadn't expected you to drop by so often

Each time, you had a thorough report of the children's progress and growth, along with your personal suggestions on what they might need

And every time, she'd approve

She sometimes finds herself musing if she'd ever had someone watch over her like that, brushing away the thought with a huff as she returns to her work

What she didn't know was that a strong motivator for your frequent reports was to see her

Your diligent, skillful lord harbinger who entrusted so much to you

You had hoped doing a good job would earn her praise, or at least make you an irreplaceable subordinate

But she had seldom commented on it, the most you'd gotten out of her being a "Not bad, keep it up"

Still, it was enough for your throbbing heart for her to find you reliable, and so you continued to do your best

And then she decided to take a look at your work for herself

She was shocked to find the children beaming at her, and she quickly found she had you to thank for that, since you'd attributed so much of what you had done for them to her benevolence

Indeed, it was the sort of loyalty necessary to raise soldiers

For the first time, she smiled at you. And your heart stopped

"I look forward to more of your good work, my faithful y/n."

Capitano:

Who doesn't love a gentleman?

He'd stepped in when a higher ranked agent was picking on you and you'd been smitten since

You still fondly reminisce about the way he held his hand for you to take, encouraging you to get stronger

You also recall rising through the ranks, eager to prove him right in having faith in you and finally meeting him again after so long

It made your heart flutter when it turned out he did remember you

"Weren't you that recruit I gave a little nudge to some time back? Mm, it seems I was right about you. Now how else will you prove your worth to me?"

You've never seen his face, but fr the sound of his voice, you swore he was smiling at you with pride

He was the one - the one you'd follow into the heat of an uncertain battle with complete faith because that was the sort of strength and charisma he carried himself with

And oh what a sight he was when he fought, as beautiful as he was ruthless, and graceful as he was strong

How many of the harbingers would hype their soldiers with such confidence? A promise to win?

Perhaps it was that confidence in him that led to you taking that bolt of electro for him

"Have I proven my worth, lord harbinger?"

"Not until you return a hero you haven't. And you will, because I promised."

Dottore:

It wasn't uncommon for students at the academia to be passionate when presenting their topic of research to the class

But there was something about him that stood out from the others even if you couldn't pinpoint it

It could've just been the fact that his ideas were,,,less than humane yet he spoke of them so clinically as though it hardly mattered

But you liked to think it was the way his eyes, already a startling crimson, seemed to light up as he spoke of his thesis

More than the average student's curious experimentation, he was ambitious unlike any other, claiming that with time and resources, he'd be able to create a god

Insane as it sounded, the more you listened, the more you found yourself believing he could

And so began your puppy love, trailing after him as you sang his praises

He had tried shooing you off, thinking this was some prank

But when the people who antagonised him for being a freak began to target you for associating with him, he soon realised that wasn't the case

Insufferable as you were to keep clinging to him, he found himself intrigued by your strange 'loyalty' - if he could call it that

It started with him letting you sit around the lab as he worked so you wouldn't be picked on the moment he shut the door on you

Then he started sending you out on errands for him, surprising you with the trust he was giving you (little as it was)

As you spent more time with him, you grew to enjoy each other's company, and you had finally grown out of your one sided pining

You realised how fruitless it would be, to long for someone who had already devoted himself to his dreams

But hope was a funny thing, and as you prepared to bid him farewell and best of luck on his journey, his hands found yours first

"C'mon then, assistant. I've plenty more to do, and if this forsaken palace of fools won't give me what I need, we'll have to take it ourselves."

Perhaps you had become close after all, if he was insistent on bringing you with him

Pantalone:

There is nothing bankers are better at than rolling money until they're rolling in it

As such, they naturally require substantial collateral for and equally substantial loan

Which was why he was quick to decline you a loan for your business venture despite your insistence that you'd succeed

"As well thought out as you make it out to be, your proposal is simply too outlandish for us to gamble on. Be a dear and stop giving my staff a hard time, they've seen you often enough this past week."

Well, if the Northland Bank wouldn't give you a loan, you'd get the bank himself to give you money

You'd put far too much time and effort into the hopes of achieving this little business venture of yours and you just knew it'd be a success if you could only have a few months to get it going

So what other choice did you have than to attempt to seduce the ninth harbinger and have him fund you

You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you'd thought he'd at least humour you a little instead of having the guards see you out

But you'd be damned if you gave up there

Thus came the game of cat and mouse and for once, Pantalone was the one who had to hide

It rather irked him and so he caved, if only to have you stop tracking him down

And you being the kin soul you are offered to return his investment by making him a shareholder<3

"I'll play along then. But mind you, if you lose this little game and fail to pay me back, I'll simply own you in exchange."

A terrible gamble but one you took nonetheless, much to his surprise, since he'd hoped the situation would scare you into leaving him alone

Even moreso when you did succeed and slapped his money back at him

"Now about that loan so I can expand-"

"It's still a no."

"What?"

"Our current arrangement works just fine, no?" he said, slipping you a blank cheque. "Consider this...a personal investment."

Taglist[send an ask to be added/removed]: @myluvkeiji @pluvioseprince @aqui-soba @euphoric-author @paradise-creator @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @serenenation @loverofthe-stars @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @yuzuricebun @chaosinanutshell @howlantic @codename-hiraeth @andreiling01 @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating

Obligatory @cxlrosii and @i23kazu , my beloved Dottore kisser and Capitano kisser

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #arlecchino #capitano #dottore #pantalone #arlecchino x reader #capitano x reader #dottore x reader #pantalone x reader #genshin arlecchino #genshin capitano #genshin dottore #genshin pantalone #winery specials

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yelshin · 1 year

Text

FRIENDLY SLEEPOVER | MLIST

﹙SCARAMOUCHE/WANDERER X FEM READER﹚

An: big credits to that one person(aka @/yourlocalstranger123) who gave me this idea and motivation UwU(it came out/not me)

Tw: grammatical errors (its me using grammarly/j)

Feeling lazy to get out of your bed and do your routine you decided to stay and cuddle with your kitten, not long after your phone rang and it turns out it was Hu tao! You answered the call feeling lazy to speak up.

"Hey [Name]! Wanna hangout again?" You could literally hear Yoimiya and Ayaka at the background giggling at each other, you stare down at your cat who's sleeping peacefully and god he's just so cute! You can't just leave him alone (if ykyk).

You cleared your throat making sure your voice sound raspy before answering Hu tao "I'm really sorry Hu tao but... Cough I can't hangout with you guys because im..sick." you excused and you could feel Hu tao frowned through the phone "Alright! But make sure to rest well and hope you will be better so that we can hangout again! Take care [Name]!" She ended the call and you found your self giggling while rubbing your nose to Kuni's head squealing in happiness

"Now that im 'sick' you and i can spend time together!" You hugged Kuni tightly. While you two are busy cuddling you suddenly heard someone knocked on your door, feeling the momment is ruined you're a little bit mad because the audacity of this person interrupt your momment.

You opened the door to see the construction worker(?) "We got all materials miss, we can start building the room now" You smiled at them before stepping aside and let them do the work.

"meow" your kitten meowed while hiding under your pillow while the loud sound of drilling machine irritates him so much that your pillow is full of scratches but you don't mind, you can just buy new ones anyway.

"Kuni i know its loud and annoying. As much as i want to go out of house right now i cant risk being caught by Hu tao and the others especially i faked my sickness.." if ever your friends caught you red handed they will drag you more on hangouts meaning you wont get to spend time with your cat and you don't want that!

Kuni got out of the pillow before hopping off the bed and sulks on the corner (just like the 3rd pic above) while he let out small meows and you felt bad, but thank god your brain works faster when it comes to Kuni instead of your homework (this is true fight me if disagree) you walked up to Kuni before picking him up and go to the nearby 7/11 (i love 7/11) and eat ice cream and ofc to take break from the noises (not that noises.. what're u thinking?🤨or is it js me)

"[Name]?" You flinched at the voice behind you; turns out it was your long time friend Xiao! 'What a coincidence that he's here at 7/11..' you usually found him eating almond tofu alone at the roofs but its not like you're not happy to see him

"oh hello Xiao" you greeted, ignoring the fact Xiao and your cat are sending daggers at each other (imagine Xiao is also a kitten that [Name] adopted before kuni🤔🤔🤔 thoughts???) 'whos this little cat think he is?' Xiao thought and have a little chat with you and bid goodbye after.

"Now..." You turn your head to Kuni who's pawing your stomach wanting your attention all over him "you wanna go home? But its still-" "Meow." You sigh and drag Kuni along with you at your house to be greeted by a loud noise again .

It has been weeks and now Kuni's room is finally done. You decided to invite your friends including Xiao, you just thought of inviting him since he's always lonely (idk id i should laugh or feel bad💀)

You heard your doorbell rang and you quickly rush to open it to see your friends having their own pajamas and some blankets for the pillow fort. "Its nice to see everyone being present well come in! Make yourself comfortable."

Well they didn't expect a grumpy cat greet them across the living room. Yoimiya and Ayaka look at each other; sweatdropping

"haha..maybe your cat doesn't want us to be here [Name].." you brush it off before saying "don't worry he's like that when he sees new faces"

"LOOK AT HIM GO!" You clapped while standing proudly like a parent watching their child have baby steps while Kuni tried his best to impress you by standing for 10 seconds "YOU GUYS SEE THAT RIGHT?? ISN'T HE SOOOO CUTE!" you cooed while giving your cat some treats and the others look so done.

"i regret going here."

"hello brother? Yes i wanna go home-"

"..."

"is it possible to give myself a coffin discount?"

"now do you guys wanna play a game?" You turn your head to your friends while they awkwardly look at you "Yeah! But i think we need some snacks because playing games without snacks are boring" Yoimiya answered "Alright! I'll go to 7/11 to buy some snacks while y'all stay here and think of any game." You got up before grabbing your wallet to buy some snacks.

Kuni look at the door before transforming to human Infront of your friends (yall dw he have clothes and dont ask me how🥰)

"WH-WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!" Hu tao shrieked along with the 2 other girls while Xiao have wide eyes. Scaramouche sigh before looking at them with bored eyes "WHO ARE YOU?! ARE YOU [NAME]'S CAT?? BUT HOW一"

"Yes its me [Name]s cat. Got a problem?" It took like a minute for the others to calm down and realized the situation 'does [Name] know about this?' Ayaka thought as they heard the door opened.

"Hey guys im back一"

An: hehehehehehehe CLIFFHANGER BCS YES. Also i need some requests bcs im bored and now that my mailbox is open y'all can send requests now! Also this one is rush jajjajaajwunebdkeusndbf

Taglist: (the bold ones are the one i cant tag.) @thetwinkims @sunsethw4 @etherisy @kunikuzushicandegrademefr @Heiijoxz @eliciana @naritecs @kkazuyass @itztaki @makilovescofi @louise-rosita-leroux @w9vyy @lystaaa @midoriapologist @lilithticalx @red-chester @yushiu @raideneiari @scaraapologist @kxr0mi

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Text

Hawkins Boys (Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader angst/fluff)

Summary: You work up the courage to ask Eddie to the prom, but he seemingly turns you down in favor of Chrissy Cunningham. How will he feel when you show up with Steve Harrington?

Warnings: language, sadness, Eddie is an idiot, brief violence, Chrissy is lovely as always

WC: 2.7k

You:

Today is the day you do it. The day you face you fears, swallow your anxiety, and ask you best friend to the prom.

Eddie Munson is not a prom guy. He doesn't wear suits, he doesn't slow dance, and he probably wouldn't know romance if it smacked him in the head. But you've had a crush on him for ages, and you had to make your move. If he was going to fall for you, it would be on a night when you were dressed up and gorgeous.

He's sitting at the lunch table alone, waiting for the rest of Hellfire Club to come back with their trays of hot food. He nibbles at a pretzel, smiling when he notices you plunk down next to him. You fish two peanut butter sandwiches out of your bag and hand him one. You've been telling him that your mom insists on packing you two, but the truth is, you always make an extra one for him.

"We're almost done with this godforsaken place," you remind him. "You're gonna walk that stage and finally get your diploma."

"Can't come soon enough," he replies, taking a bite of the sandwich. "Told you all that '86 is my year!"

You giggle. "Would've been more believable if you didn't say the same about '84 and '85." He gives you a playful shove, making you laugh harder.

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters, but he's still smiling. "I'm gonna miss these sandwiches when you go off to college." He raises it for emphasis.

"I'll send you peanut butter so you can make your own," you tease, though the idea doesn't sound half-bad. You just imagine him opening up a package filled with jars of Jif.

He cocks an eyebrow. "I thought I was supposed to send you care packages," he says.

There's a brief silence before you begin to speak again. "Eddie?" you start, "would you wanna go to prom with me?"

Eddie:

"Would you wanna go to prom with me?"

Eddie feels himself freeze. He was going to ask you later today after Hellfire, but now he's caught off-guard. He wracks his brain for what to say.

Steve had given him advice, the same that he had given to Dustin: don't seem too eager, too desperate; keep it casual.

"Oh, uh..." he stammers, running his fingers through his coarse hair. "I dunno...I was thinking of asking Chrissy." There. That would throw you off until he could ask you properly.

He notices as your face falls, and while it makes his heart pang, he doesn't read too much into it. He's already planned how he's going to ask you to prom, and he'll make up for it then.

You:

Tears sting at your eyes when you hear that Eddie's asking Chrissy Cunningham to prom. It makes sense: she's beautiful, sweet, kind, and recently broke up with Jason Carver. You blink until your watery eyes clear, but you know it's only temporary. As soon as the Hellfire boys crowd the table, you quietly slip away. The tears start to fall when you burst into the girls' restroom; sobs make your chest heave.

How could you be so stupid to think that Eddie Munson liked you. You'd been friends for ages; if he wanted to take things farther, he already would have. You lock yourself in a stall until you begin to calm down, at least enough so that you can wash your face and look halfway presentable for your next class.

You're blotting your cheeks with a paper towel that resembles sandpaper when she walks in. Chrissy fucking Cunningham.

"Y/N!" she exclaims, worry evident on her pretty face. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," you lie plainly, buying time to think of an excuse. "Just overwhelmed with the idea of everything being...over." Mostly your fantasies of you and Eddie, but you omit that crucial detail.

Chrissy nods knowingly. "I get it. It's like, we're big fish in a little pond, and soon we'll be little fish in a gigantic pond." She manages a small smile. "At least we still have prom!"

Your voice catches in your throat, and you cough before speaking. "About that..." You're not exactly sure why you're doing this; maybe because you really care about Eddie's happiness, even if it kills you. "I think Eddie Munson wants to go with you. But he's shy about it--you should ask him."

Chrissy wrinkles her nose in confusion. "Me?" she asks. "I've, well, bought from him a few times, but I never knew he was into me."

You laugh. "Chrissy, you're the Queen of Hawkins High," you say gently. "It doesn't take much for the guys here to fall in love with you."

She blushes, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear. "Well, it's not like Jason's gonna take me anymore," she laments, "and Eddie's always been nice to me. Sure, why not?" She pulls you in for a quick hug before flouncing off.

Eddie:

Eddie's relieved when you leave the table; it gives him a chance to go over the plan with the rest of Hellfire.

"So remember," he states, "the goal of today's campaign isn't to win; it's to ask Y/N to prom. Got it?" He looks around sharply at his flock of sheep.

"Got it," they chorus, and he grins.

"Excellent," Eddie says, clasping his hands together. "Now, Sinclair, you're going to--"

"Eddie?" a polite voice breaks his train of thought. He glances over to see Chrissy Cunningham, ponytail swinging in its green scrunchie. "Hi!"

"Um, hi," he answers with a cautious smile. He's not totally opposed to dealing in the middle of the cafeteria, but he prefers the privacy of the woods. "What's up?"

"I was just talking with Y/N," she starts, and Eddie's heart leaps at the mention of your name, "and she said you wanted to take me to prom but were a little nervous to ask."

The other Hellfire members gawp, puzzled at what's unfolding in front of them.

"Anyway," Chrissy continues, "I'd love to go with you! Meet at my place for pictures around 5?"

Eddie sits, slack-jawed, which Chrissy mistakes for introversion. "Here's my address," she slips him a piece of paper and beams. "I really thought I'd have no one to go with after Jason, you know..." she trails off, thinking about her ex's infidelity. "So I really appreciate this." She presses a chaste kiss to his cheek and heads back to her table.

"Dude," Mike Wheeler says finally, "What. The. Fuck?"

Eddie buries his head in his hands. "Y/N asked me to prom, and I told her that I wanted to take Chrissy so she wouldn't be suspicious of my plan, but I guess she...FUCK!" He slams his fists on the table. "What do I do now?"

Dustin slaps a hand to Eddie's back. "Looks like you're taking Chrissy Cunningham to prom, hot shot."

You:

You drive directly to Family Video after school to visit your friend Steve, ditching Hellfire without a second thought. Keith doesn't work Friday afternoons, and you know Steve will let you hunker down in the break room while you throw yourself a pity party.

The tears start up again as soon as you walk through the door. Steve notices immediately, hoisting himself over the counter.

"What happened?" he murmurs, pulling you in for a hug. His eyes widen when you relay the story to him.

"That doesn't make any sense," Steve mutters under his breath, rubbing your back with his strong hand. Eddie had just come to him for advice about you, like, last week. He'd made it abundantly clear that he wanted to take you to prom. Steve hadn't a clue about what changed since then.

"It makes perfect sense," you choke out. "Chrissy is perfect. Everyone loves her; it's not like Eddie is immune to her charm."

Steve takes a deep breath. "I can take you to the prom, if you want," he offers. "I know I'm not your first choice, but at least you won't have to go alone."

You nod gratefully. "Thank you, Stevie," you hug him, smushing your cheek to his chest. "You're the best." The thought of watching Eddie and Chrissy slow dancing still makes you feel sick, but you feel safer knowing that Steve will be by your side.

Your stomach is in knots as you, Robin, Nancy, and Vickie crowd around your vanity, teasing hair and applying makeup. The four of you look incredible: Robin in a red pantsuit, Vickie in a matching knee-length dress, Nancy in a baby pink tulle gown, and you in an emerald dress that ends mid-thigh. You've never felt more beautiful.

Your hand shakes as you bring the mascara wand to your eyelashes, and Nancy notices.

"Nervous about seeing Eddie?" she asks knowingly, and you just nod. She sighs and takes your manicured hands in hers, squeezing them tight. "He doesn't know what he's missing. Chrissy's great, sure, but you two could be soulmates. If he's too dumb to see that, he doesn't deserve you."

You give her the best smile you can muster and go back to readying yourself.

Steve arrives right on time. He takes a sharp breath inward when he sees you make your way down the stairs. You'd been friends since you were kids, seeing each other go through all the awkward stages of life, and he always considered you to be a little sister to him. Tonight, with you in that dress, he's thinking different kinds of thoughts.

"Y/N, you look amazing," he tells you, sliding a corsage onto your wrist. You pin the boutonniere to the lapel of his suit jacket, giggling as you accidentally prick your finger.

"You look so handsome, Steve," you say truthfully. "Thank you so much for taking me."

"My pleasure," he says, losing himself in your eyes for a moment. He clears his throat suddenly. "All right, let's ship out!"

The gym is decorated beautifully; it's hard to tell that it's usually filled with the sound of squeaking sneakers and basketballs bouncing on the wood floor. You make your way to the dance floor with Steve, Robin, Vickie, Nancy, and Jonathan. You're swaying your body and having such a great time that you don't even notice Eddie walk in with Chrissy.

Eddie:

But he notices you.

You're the first thing he sees when he enters the gym, looking absolutely breathtaking in your green dress. Eddie watches as you take Steve Harrington's hand in your own, twirling around and laughing. It's then that he realizes that Steve's tie matches your dress--he's your prom date.

That son of a bitch gave me shit advice so he could steal her, he thinks angrily, clenching his fists. I knew he was still a douchebag. I shouldn't have ever trusted him.

Chrissy wraps her hand around Eddie's bicep, pulling him closer. "You good?" she asks.

"Yeah," he answers too quickly. "Actually, no. Chrissy, I-I think you're an amazing girl. But I wanted to bring Y/N; I got scared when she asked me and made up something about wanting to take you, and not that I don't, but--"

"Eddie, relax," she puts out her hands to stop his rambling. "I thought it was kinda weird when she said you wanted to take me. I mean, everyone can see that you're in love with the girl."

Eddie blushes, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Is it that obvious?"

Chrissy laughs. "Do me a favor?" She waits for him to nod before continuing. "Go after her." The band starts playing a slow song, and Chrissy grins harder. "Perfect timing--ask her for a dance."

Eddie pushes aside his anxiety and turns to go find you. And he does--just as Steve leans over and pulls you in for a kiss.

You:

The band starts playing "Take My Breath Away" when it happens: Steve kisses you.

His soft, pillowy lips crash into yours haphazardly, like he hasn't thought his actions through. He gently places his hand on your forearm. You're too stunned to moved, and even more so when the kiss ends abruptly.

Or rather, it's ended by Eddie grabbing Steve by the collar, slamming him into the nearest wall.

Eddie:

"Harrington, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Eddie snarls, shoving Steve so that his head nearly hits the wall.

"I could ask you the same thing!" Steve retorts. "Get your hands off of me and go back to your date!"

"The only reason I had to take Chrissy was because of your shitty advice," Eddie hisses, never letting go of Steve. "Telling me to play it cool, not to show too much interest. See how well that worked out for me."

"I said be aloof, not be an asshole!" Steve spits back. "Y/N asked you to prom--you should've said yes. Is she supposed to sit around and wait for you? After you straight up rejected her for the head cheerleader?"

And then Eddie finally sees it from your perspective. You worked up the courage to ask him out. You stood there while he seemingly chose Chrissy over you. You set him up with her, still wanting to ensure his happiness. And now you had moved on, moved on with Steve Harrington, and Eddie just had to accept that.

Unless he didn't. Unless he fought for you, like she should've been fighting for you this whole time.

"Where'd she go?" he asks, wide-eyed.

"Put me down, and I'll help you find her."

You:

You run out of the gym, desperate to escape the escalating drama. Footsteps echo behind you, and a male voice says, "There she is."

A large hand grabs your small one. You're pulled back, finding yourself face-to-face with Eddie.

"We need to talk," he says, his voice serious but gentle.

You shake your head. "Go dance with Chrissy and stop worrying about me," you tell him. "Please just leave me alone."

"I don't wanna dance with Chrissy," he says. "I wanna dance with you. I had this whole campaign planned out where I was gonna ask you to prom at the end, and all the Hellfire guys were in on it, but then you asked me and I panicked."

"I don't need your pity, Eddie."

"It's not pity," Steve interrupts, hands in his pockets. "It's the truth. He's an idiot, but he's an idiot who loves you."

"And you?" you ask quizzically, still confused about the kiss.

Steve chuckles softly. "I'm just an idiot who got caught up in the moment. I shouldn't have...I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you tell him, and he nods before starting to leave.

"Hear him out," he says before going back to the gym, jerking his thumb at Eddie.

You cross your arms over your chest as you turn to the metalhead. "It's really hard to be mad at you when you look so good in that suit," you admit shyly.

Eddie takes a step closer to you. "Remind me to wear suits more often," he jokes lightly,

"Or just stop doing dumb things."

He nods. "Noted." He turns slightly towards the gym doors. "Can I...will you dance with me?"

You grin. "Only if you tell me about that special campaign you had planned. Piqued my curiosity, I can't lie."

Eddie leads you back to the dance floor. You wrap your arms around his neck; he places his on the small of your back.

"So," you start, "that campaign?"

"Oh, right," he says, and you sense some anxiety in his tone. "Yeah, I'll tell you about that. But first..."

And then he kisses you, parting your lips with his own. You kiss him back, never wanting to break it.

It ends naturally, with Eddie smiling too wide to continue.

"What are you so happy about?" you tease, rubbing your thumb against his smooth cheek.

He presses his lips to yours again, more briefly this time. "You're finally my girl. Finally mine."

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic

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yuri-is-online · 6 months

Text

Bitch the Pot (Trey Clover x Reader)

Trey's birthday is coming up and you really want to buy him a present.

But what if he doesn't want it? What if he just thinks of your efforts as annoying, or even worse what if he sees right through you and makes things awkward. What if he stashes things away and makes fun of them later, years later when he barely remembers your name.

What if he's secretly looking forward to your presence and hasn't even considered he'd be lucky enough to get a gift. What if... what if...

notes: they/them used for Yuu, we're going to hurt comfort town choo choo mother fuckers, I am using the Hitchhiking Ghost names for the Ramshackle Ghosts because I am unoriginal, the more I think about Trey the more I realize Idia is right, Trey's a skethcy mfer and yeah that's hot. If you like this check out my masterlist for more fic.

You didn't want to indulge Trey's teeth thing.

Sure it will make him happy, smooth over all your little insecurities pricking at your heart as you poke through the second hand store for what you had thought would be a really cute idea on your way here but now weren't so sure about. Besides you are pretty sure that everyone else is going to buy him a bundle of floss and call it a day, well other than Rook who has been waxing poetic about how he had "the most fitting cap for the Rose Chevalier" so all the more reason to put a little less of a personal interest into your gifting and more of a thoughtful touch.

As thoughtful as you could afford anyway. You aren't even sure Trey likes these sorts of things, though that worry is sort of drowned by how surprised you are to find nice looking china in Crane Port's equivalent of a Good Will. There is a nice selection of tea cups, mismatched saucer plates, and the odd pot sat all by its lonesome all with neatly written prices on stickers you don't look forward to scrubbing off.

Afternoon Tea Special~ Pick one Pot, 4 cups w/ saucers, creamer, and sugar bowl: all for just 25 T!

Cute, and not a bad idea you supposed even if it did feel a bit overkill. Your original intention had just been to pick up a sugar bowl and maybe one cup, something for him to put candies in that had a lid so no flies could get at his violets. But it really would be a shame to pass up such a nice deal and hey, if Trey didn't like it he could just ditch it with the Heartslabyul kitchenware once he graduated and never speak to you again.

"Oh this is such a cute little selection!" The lady at the counter's eyes practically sparkle as she carefully wraps up your choices in tissue paper.

"It's a birthday gift." You can't help but mumble and the sparkle flutters out to her entire body, ah that's right, this lady always did look a bit bored when you came in. It seems like you have fed her and her knitting circle for the rest of the week.

"Well then this won't to at all." She huffs and stops wrapping up your order and bends under her counter, the tell tale ruffles of paper and boxes sounding oddly comforting as she produces what you think is a hat box and proudly begins to organize the mismatched set and fetches out even more tissue paper. "Must be for someone important with how long you've been eyeing up a sugar bowl." She wiggles her eye brows. You try to keep your focus on said bowl, you didn't realize she'd been watching you but then again you have been coming down here every spare weekend to stare at it. This shop was nice, it had a bunch of cheap clothes and nick knacks that were used sure, but a life saver for someone from a completely different world. If the lady is thankfully not offended by your silence. She simply tacks your receipt to the box and sends you off with a wink.

"Thank you for your purchase! Please come back soon!" And tell me all bout it! You swear she says it but you don't hear it, too much blood is thrumming in your ears

The hat box is not out of place among the gifts on the party table, so trey doesn't have an excuse to stare at it even if his eyes keep coming back to it. It's lavender, plain save for the cream bow he hopes Yuu tied around it, and had been decently heavy when he picked it up before Cater scolded him about playing favorites.

"Be a good Senior and eat the cookies we made for you until Riddle brings out the cake." He flicks his nose with a knowing look. "Normal people save the best for last right? I'm sure Yuu-yuu will be fine with waiting, since they can barely look at you today~" And of course like a fool he whips his head to look, startling them and proving Cater's point as they immediately scurry back to Ace and Deuce.

"Screw you." He's only half joking but Cater's fully laughing and probably already took a picture. "I'm just worried they felt like they needed to bring a gift I would have been happy just to-"

"No you wouldn't have." For someone who likes lying to himself Cater really doesn't seemed thrilled with his choice to gaslight himself. "You would have spent the rest of the night thinking 'ooooh it'd be really nice if I got something from Yuu, I wonder if they hate meeee, I should make sure they think I don't care about helping them some more so they leave me alone and I don't have to think about how nice it would be to-'"

"Cater!" Trey has never been so grateful to hear Riddle yell about anything in his life. "Could you please help me with the cake? I was going to ask Yuu but they had to go back to Ramshackle."

"Yuu's back at Ramshackle?" Trey reaches to adjust his glasses, trying to ground himself.

"Yes, they said they were feeling sick and-" That's all Trey registers, though he hears the rest "went back to lie down, Grim insisted on staying to make sure the food didn't get them sick." It's his party, he can't just leave that would be an extreme violation of the rules but Cater's earlier accusation comes back to him. Make them think I won't care about them. It's not intentional, he thinks it's obvious he always will but then again-

"Fifteen minutes." Cater whispers under his breath.

"Thirty."

"You're delusional." Still Cater doesn't sound mad. "Eighteen."

"Twenty." He's already snatched up the hat box and making his way towards the doors.

~~~~

"Awww Yuu." Phineas would pat your head if he could. "I'm sure it's not that bad, you're just overthinking things."

"Yeah I think anyone would be happy to get a gift from you!" Gus tries, all three ghosts perking up slightly when you smile just a bit at his encouragement. "And if not then well..."

"I know I'm just being dramatic but I couldn't stand waiting anymore." You don't mention how Ace and Deuce had been teasing you, not wanting to relive the absolute embarrassment of having been caught staring at their Vice-Warden one too many times for dots to remain unconnected. "I asked Grim to bring back some cake but I don't know if he'll remember."

"Oooh let's take bets on it!" Ezra cheers and a familiar, unexpected laugh interrupts sending the ghosts scattering and leaving you at the mercy of a familiar face.

"I think it's safe to say that would be a pretty obvious bet." Trey sets the hat box on your coffee table, folding his strong arms and firmly sticking a lump in your throat. "You should have bet on me."

"Returning your gift is not bringing me something." You huff and Trey has the decency to look a bit awkward.

"I'm not here to return it, there's rules to gifts you know." Oh no. "For example, on our birthdays, the Queen of Hearts says we get to ask for anything we want." He finally moves, unfortunately for you he's decided to use his height to his advantage and lean over the table to crowd you back into the couch. "And I spent a long time thinking about what I should ask for from you."

"Um- I well-" You're looking everywhere but him now, as if you were before. "I did get you a gift though?" He laughs.

"And you ran away before I could thank you." Trey begins to unwrap the ribbons, slowly as if he's waiting for you to look at him but not wanting to deny his curiosity any longer. "But that doesn't change the rules. Sorry, I didn't make them."

The sugar bowl is the first piece he finds, the shop lady has to have set it on top on purpose. His eyebrows raise, not in disappointment you think, curiosity hopefully as he slowly opens the rest of them.

"Sorry." You immediately say to fill the space out of habit, and Trey stops his examination to look up at you.

"What for?" He picks up the sugar bowl, just as amused as you with the clover flowers patterned across it in a nice twist on his name and half the accessories he owns. "Don't tell me you want this stuff back, its mine now."

"No! I'm glad you like," you cringe at the question in your tone and cower at the smirk on Trey's face "I mean I hope you like it."

"A hand picked tea set from the Ramshackle Prefect? It's perfect. Especially for a birthday gift for me." He carefully wraps up the cups and their saucers, silence once again falling over the room as you wonder why he hasn't called you out on your lie, the self doubt suggesting he hadn't noticed. "I meant what I said earlier you know."

"What, about making demands of me?" You say.

"Hey chill I only sort of meant it like that." He doesn't even bother trying to hide his amusement. "I mean betting on me. I know it might sound strange to hear me say, but I do have things I think are worth extra effort. And if I have to put in a lot of it to get you to understand that I am glad you are in my life, then I'll just have to do that." So he did know you weren't sick, and was just dancing around the subject to be polite as usual.

"Happy birthday Trey." Because what else are you supposed to say, and he tries his best to not let his disappointment show as he takes his opened gift back to the rose garden. "I'm- I hope you have a nice time at your party."

He pauses at the threshold of your dorm, the wicked smile returning. "I think I know what I want to ask you to do."

"Oh no." You did not mean to say that out loud.

"Mhm. But you are going to have to come back to Heartslabyul to hear it, but after the party, we can use our cups." Our cups he says, as if you had picked out any cups that were supposed to represent you.

He noticed, of course Trey noticed that there was no trace of Yuu in this very you gift. But he could fix that, if you would just give him a chance. And maybe get the calm celebration he actually wants when you do.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #trey clover x reader #hm #tempted to make goodwill lady an oc because i think yuu deserves an ally in crane port #no idea who she'd be based off of though lol

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pedrotonin · 10 months

Text

THE TOUCH OF YOU

Paring: Joel Miller x F!reader

Summary: You just wanted to have a look, that's all. And now there's an arrangement and you desperately want to touch Joel, but he doesn't let you.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Wordcount: 5k

Warnings: Oral sex (both m and f receiving) P in V. Basically, just porn with a tiny bit of plot (if you squint hard enough).

A/N: English is not my first language. If you spot any bad mistakes, please feel free to message me.

You stroll through the few streets Jackson has to offer. Bored out of your mind, no idea where to go, what to do. You used to work at the tiny supply store run by Tommy and his wife, but Tommy caught you stealing last week and fired you on the spot. Over a simple magazine, unbelievable. You wanted to read the damn thing and return it the next day, but he wouldn't have it. Told you you should have asked him, and yes, you should have, but you didn't think it would be such a big deal. The main reason for taking it without asking though, was because it had been an erotic magazine from the eighties. You could only imagine the look on his face when he would've found out that's what you wanted to bring home with you.

Construction sounds float across the street and you walk towards it without thinking, ending up in front of Tommy's house, his two feet stick from underneat his porch. The perfect opportunity presenting itself. You can tell him why you didn't want him to know about the magazine and you can do so without having to look him in the eye. He'll understand, maybe he'll even give you your job back. Worth the shot!

"Tommy?"

No answer, you try again.

"Tommy? Listen, about that magazine..."

"Hm?" he acknowledges you.

"Look, I'm really sorry for not asking you about it, but you know, it being an erotic magazine," you almost whisper the last two words and a fake laugh escapes you. Jezus, this is hard, your face feels like it's on fire.

"Look, I'm not a thief, I just needed to...wanted to, you know, have a look."

He scoots from beneath the porch with a grunt and stands in front of you. Only...it isn't Tommy. It's his older brother, Joel, with a shit eating grin across his face. His plaid shirt is unbuttoned at the top, sweat dripping from his hair, to his neck, down into his shirt. Fuck.

"Where's Tommy?" you ask, not meeting his eye.

"Workin'. Doing your old job, I recon," Joel replies, while he uses the bottom of his shirt to whipe the sweat from his face, revealing golden skin, a slight tummy and a happy trail you can't help but follow with your eyes.

Maybe he didn't hear your confession from his postion beneath the porch. Maybe he-

"So, you wanted some alone time with a filthy magazine, sugar?"

Shit, so he did hear you...

"'S'okay, we all do once in a while," he smirks, leaning against the porch railing.

"No! I just, I just wanted to have a look. That's all!"

"Sure."

You look at his face and find his eyes dark, skimming over your body. Clearing your throat, you mumble your goodbyes and all but run from him. The audacity of this man, unbelievable.

When you close your front door you rest against it, out of breath and cheeks still on fire. Did that really happen? You can only pray that Joel won't tell Tommy. You don't know him very well, but from the stories you heard, he seems like an asshole. A very handsome asshole, unfortunately. Probably best if you stay indoors for the rest of the day.

Goddamn magazine.

A few hours later you wake from your slumber on the couch. Was there a knock on your door? You sit and listen. Just to be sure you open the door, and there, on your little welcome mat, lies the magazine. You quickly grab it and look around, but the street's empty. You stare at the little booklet. What the fuck. This must be Joel's doing. When you flip it around, a piece of paper falls out and flutters towards the ground. You catch it.

- here's your chance to have a 'look'.

Yep. Definitely Joel.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the magazine untouched on your kitchen table. You don't want to give him the pleasure. Or yourself, for that matter. This whole thing is getting way out of hand. You go to sleep without looking, not even so much as taking a peek.

The next morning there's a knock on your door again. This time there's definitely somebody there. The knocking continues and you open the door just a fraction to find Joel standing in front of it.

"Mornin'" he says, "sleep well?"

The stupid lopsided grin on his face angers you to the bone. You're about to slam the door in his face, but he beats you to it. A strong hand forces the door open and before you know it he's walking past you into your livingroom. What the?

You leave to front door open, grab the magazine and throw it at him.

"Get out and take this with you!" you snarl.

He doesn't move and opens the magazine.

"You made yourself come looking at this?" he asks.

Wow, crude! You can't believe he said that! He's holding up the magazine for you to see and it's the first time you actually see the inside of it. The picture is of a woman on top of a man, riding him, her head thrown back in pleasure. Christ, you didn't expect it to be so grafic!

"What? No! You pervert! I didn't even open it!", you cross your arms over your chest.

"Now get out."

"No? Shame. It's a good edition, this one," he shrugs and shows you another page.

A woman sitting on the edge of a bed, her legs spread wide and a man on his knees in front of her. His mouth devouring her.

"This is my favorite," he tells you.

Your eyes widen, your heart almost bursts out of your chest.

"Why?" you blurt out. It's the first word that comes to your mind and you immediately regret saying it out loud. You don't want to have a conversation with him about this!

"Why? Because I fuckin' love doing this. It's my favorite thing. I could do it all day. I would do it to you. I'd fuckin' love to. You only need to ask, darlin'."

Your mouth opens, closes, opens. What? What did he just say? Your brain short-circuits.

Joel walk towards you and puts a finger underneath your chin, gently closing your gaping mouth. He then rips the page out of the magazine, and puts it on your kitchen table.

"Think about it."

Then he casually walks out and closes the door behind him. You just stand stand there, blinking. Looking at the door, to the table, to the offending piece of paper laying there. You grab it and shove it into a kitchen drawer. No, wait, you don't want to keep it. You should throw it away, or burn it. Yes, that's exactly what you're going to do! But once it's in your hands, you can't help yourself... you take a look. If you squint a little, the man looks like Joel, the woman like y- No!! You crumple it and get on with your day.

That night, when you lay in bed, your mind starts to wonder. Would it be so bad if you'd let him? You have very little experience. Somebody tried it once after you'd asked him, but after a few seconds he said he didn't like doing it, didn't like the taste. It made you feel very insecure and after that one time, you never let it happen again. Told the guys who wanted to go down on you, it wasn't your thing. But truth is, you'd love to know what it would feel like and Joel did say it's his favorite thing to do. You start to imagine what it would be like with him. What it would feel like. His face between your legs, gripping his curly hair, his tongue deep inside you. You gasp as you feel your pussy throb. You swing your legs over the side of your bed and walk towards your livingroom. After a short search you find the crumpled piece of paper underneat your couch. Taking it with you to the bedroom, you slowly unfold it. You make yourself come twice. And when you wake in the morning, you're still feeling needy and make yourself come again. This repeats itself for 3 days.

You must talk to Joel.

You find him on his front porch, drinking coffee, reading a book. He doesn't look up when he greets you.

"Mornin'"

"Morning."

This is hard. You practiced this conversation in your head a million times, but now he's actually in front of you, only silence fills your brain.

"Can I help you, darlin'?" he asks, closing his book.

"I- I just want to..."

He stands and opens his front door.

"Come inside."

He steps inside and when you follow he closes the door behind you. You just stand there looking at him like a fool.

"Coffee?" he offers.

"No," you reply. "I came here to...ask you...if you w-" you take a deep breath.

"Yes?"

"Did you mean what you said, Joel?"

He's catching on straight away.

"I'd love nothing more," he's dead serious. "Is that why you're here?"

You hold up the crumpled piece of paper and his eyes darken. He puts his empty cup in the kitchen sink and takes your hand. Slowly turning you around, he grabs your shoulder and gently pushes you into one of the wooden chairs. Taking the paper, he lays it on the table for you to see, then he lowers himself onto his knees in front of you.

"Joel, ha!" a nervous laugh escapes you, "you really want to do this right n-"

"Yes."

He puts his hands on your knees, gliding them up towards your thighs, taking the fabric of your summer dress with them. Then his hands go to the inside of your thighs and back to your knees, slowly spreading your legs.

You bite your lower lip, your fingers gripping the armrests.

He scoots a little closer, bringing his face in between your legs. His nose rubs you through your panties and he lets out a soft moan. You feel yourself getting wet. He must feel it too.

"Been thinking about this every night," he murmers against you. "Can't fuckin' think of anything else."

One of his hands pushes your panties to the side and his fingers slide over you. Your eyes close and a whimper escapes you. He flicks his tongue against you and moans. The sound vibrating against your clit. Your hands fist into his hair and you grind yourself against his mouth.

"So wet already, fuckin' delicious," he slurs.

And that's how it begins. And about an hour and 6 orgasms later, he stops. Not because he wants to, but because you can't take it any more. Your hair is plastered to your face, sweat running down your neck, your legs shaking, the muscles tense and sore. His head rests on one of your thighs, his eyes are closed and he looks utterly content. His mustache and beard are glistening with your juices.

"Joel?"

He opens his eyes.

"Hm?"

"You want me to return the favor?"

He smiles and stands, taking your hand.

"No, s'okay. Let me walk you back to your house."

You're confused, but too tired to argue or ask him about it. So you let him help you to your feet and hold onto him as he walks you back to your house.

It turns into an 'arrangement' of sorts. When you feel needy, you go to him. No words needed. He takes you inside and eats you out until you scream for him to stop. He never comes to your house, and he never asks for anything in return. Always turns you down when you offer.

As time passes, his refusal to receive is driving you crazy. Because he won't let you touch him, you want it more than anything. He's on your mind 24/7. You want to seek him out daily, but you resist the temptation, trying to minimize it to 2 or 3 times a week. It's been 2 days and you're already squirming in your seat. You'll go to him today, and you will ask him about it.

He sees you coming and opens his door with a grin. You sit on the chair, it's the routine, but before he can drop to his knees, you cross your legs. The motion stops him, confuses him.

"Please, sit," you point towards another chair. "I want to ask you something."

He gives you a stern look, but sits down. One of his eyebrows raise while he waits for you to continue.

"I was wondering. Is there a reason you never want anything in return? Is it not working anymore?" you gesture towards his crotch.

At first he just looks at you, blinking a few times, then he chokes, his hand covering his mouth, and then....he starts to laugh. Out loud for christ sake! The rich sound of it echoes through the room. You stare at him, it was a serious question.

"It is working just fine, baby."

He goes to stand in front of you, ready to drop to his knees again, but you're not done with this conversation yet.

"I want you, Joel."

He looks down at you, an emotion you can't identify crosses briefly over his face, but then he shakes his head and it's gone.

"No. You don't."

You touch his stomach, but he flinches away from you. With his back towards you, he starts to breathe heavily. What is going on?

"You don't want me. You don't know me. You don't know the things I've done. I don't deserve it." He turns around again, but he doesn't look at you.

What is he talking about? You raise your hand again, an unbearable need to touch him, to comfort him consuming you, but he puts up a hand to stop you.

"Don't. "

You rise and the both of you stand in front of eachother awkwardly. He runs a hand over his face and you fiddle with the seem of your dress.

"Look. We either continue like this, or we don't continue at all," his voice sounds strained.

You look him up and down. Slowly shaking your head.

"No, please, Joel" you whisper.

He shakes his head and the look he gives you almost makes you change your mind, but you turn around and walk out of his house, out of this arrangement. You need time, time to make Joel Miller accept your touch. For him to enjoy being on the receiving end. You keep walking and don't look back.

Two weeks pas. Three weeks pas. You're working again. Tommy came to your house last week, said he had overreacted and offered you your job back. You have no idea if Joel had anything to do with it, you haven't seen him since your last encounter. The need to seek him out is almost overwhelming at this point. You can think of nothing else. Your job's providing you with much needed distraction during the day, but during the evenings and nights...he's all you can think about.

You haven't come up with a sollution yet. How to convince somebody to be on the receiving end of sex. Ha! Even saying it in your mind sounds ridiculous.

The little bell next to the door shimes, signaling a customer. You look up to find Joel standing in the doorway, his gaze already on you. You stare at eachother for a good few seconds, before he walks in and grabs a box of rusty old nails. He places it on the counter, not meeting your eye.

"These, please."

You wait for him to look at you again, but he won't.

"Joel, I-"

He starts talking at the exact same moment, interrupting you.

"Please, come see me after work?"

You nod while he gives you a once over before storming out of the shop. The box of nails left untouched on the counter.

You leave 5 minutes early, freshen up and put on a nice dress. Convincing yourself it's not for practical reasons, but just to look nice.

He's on his porch, waiting for you. His shoulders relax a little when he spots you, like he was afraid you wouldn't show up.

"Hi."

He opens his door, and you enter, but once inside you're not sure what to do. Do you sit on one of the wooden chairs? Are you both going to pretend nothing happened? Will you sit on his couch? Or maybe you should just stand here and wait for him to make the first move? You choose the latter.

He's nervous, you can tell. His hands are everywhere: in his hair, touching his neck, removing imaginary lint from his clothes. He clears his throat.

"I miss you," he shakes his head and groans. "No, fuck. I mean, I miss our arrangement."

"I do too, Joel"

"Then why didn't you come to me?" he looks almost desperate.

"I want you to get something out of this as well and -."

"I do! I told you, I love doing it," he interrupts you, becoming frustrated.

"and I want to touch you, Joel."

He puts up his hands in defeat, groaning.

"Fuck," he hisses. "I already told you I don't...I can't."

"Yes you can. Just let me, please."

He turns to face you again. You can see his resolve starting to crumble a little.

"If you don't like it, we can stop."

"That's exactly the problem... I will like it. I know I will, and then I'll want more. And I don't deserve that. I always fuck things up. Or you will die on me and -"

He stops himself, he said too much, you can see it in his eyes. He's angry at himself, angry for his blabbering.

He walks towards the kitchen and his hands grip the counter, turning his knuckles white.

He's staring out the window, probably remembering things from the past. After a while his breathing becomes shallow. He's having a panick attack, you recognize them all too well.

You slowly approach, waiting for him to acknowledge your presence behind him. He doesn't, so you lightly touch his shoulder. He doesn't flinch this time, but you can feel his muscles tense. He looks sideways to your hand, confused as to why it's there. You glide it slowly towards his bicep, he allows it. And then, you throw all caution in the wind as you step into him as your arms wind themselves around his waist, your head rests against his back as you hold him. He doesn't move, doesn't even breathe, so you tell him to.

"Breathe, Joel. Just breathe".

The breath he was holding, leaves him in a big sigh and you feel him slowly start to relax in your arms. His shoulders drop and one of his hands folds over one of yours, keeping it in place. The other's still gripping the counter.

You stay like this for a couple of minutes, untill Joel's breathing is mimicking yours. Calm and even. What happens next is something you didn't expect. He turns around, facing you, and after a moment of contemplating, he suddenly hugs you back. One of his hands slides around your waist and the other tangles in your hair, while he molds you against him. He lowers his head so his face rests against your neck and he breathes you in. You stroke his back with one hand, his hair with the other. After a while he pulls back and looks at you. Almost reluctantly, you take a step back. You smile, but his face stays completely serious.

"I will come back tomorrow."

He nods and there is it: a smile. Albeit a little one, it's still a smile. He opens the door and when you walk pass him, he lightly touches your shoulder.

The hours go by ever so slowly. No customers to distract you, only your own treacherous thoughts.

One hour to go and you already can't take it anymore.

The bell chimes and you look up to find Joel marching towards you. His eyes dart around the store, searching for other customers. When he finds none, he grabs your arm and walks you to the little back room.

"Joel? What are y-"

He closes the door, and before you can finish your sentence, he spins you in his arms, pushing you against the door.

"Joel?"

"Couldn't wait any longer," he murmers against the top of your head.

You expect him to kiss you, or drop to his knees, but he doesn't....he just holds you. One of his hands strokes your back, while the other is around your neck, pushing your face against his chest. He smells so good. Woody, smokey, strong, masculine.

You stand there for about 5 minutes before he releases you. You look up at him, finding his gaze already upon you. He brings his right hand to your face to put a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his thumb grazing your cheek.

The bell chimes again. Of fuckin' course.

Joel motions for you to enter the shop, while he leaves through the back door. You wait 'til he's gone before you walk back inside to find Tommy looking for you.

"Hey. Have you seen Joel?"

"Nope."

Half an hour to go.

He isn't on his porch like usual, so you knock and wait. After a few knocks, just when you think he isn't home, the door opens and he's there. He showered, his hair's still wet and slicked back. He's wearing a dark denim buttom up with the sleeves rolled up, showing his muscular forearms. God, he's so handsome.

You sit on his couch this time, with him right next to you, manspreading, his knee almost touching yours. You're immensely aware of his presence, his body, his heat, his scent.

"Listen," he begins, "this thing," he gestures between you and him "it's not easy for me."

You nod, don't want to interrupt him.

"I don't deserve you,"

There's so much you want to say, but you remain silent. Taking in his pained expression, you can tell he's struggling. He's a man that doesn't like to talk about things.

"and I should probably let you go, but I can't," he pinches the bridge of his nose and scoffs.

"I'm a selfish motherfucker."

"I don't want anyone else, Joel."

He looks at you and shakes his head.

"You should darlin', you really, really should."

You scoot towards him. Slinging your left leg over his left thigh, leaning into him.

"But I don't."

His hand starts to stroke your shoulder. His expressive brown eyes seek yours as he leans in and whispers in your ear:

"Then touch me, damnit."

You let your head rest against his chest, angling upwards so your lips graze the underside of his jaw. Your hand starts to slide over his chest, over his stomach, his thigh. His head falls back against the couch, his mouth opens and his breathing speeds up. Your mouth latches onto his neck, your tongue laving avainst the little bitemarks you leave. Sitting up a bit more, you bring your mouth to his ear, while your hand ghosts over the prominent bulge in his jeans. Earning you a low groan. Oh, how you dreamed about this.

"You okay?" you whisper in his ear, licking his lobe.

He turns his head sideways and his lips find yours. He kisses your bottom lip and then he swipes his tongue over your top lip. You gasp at the sensation and he uses the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth.

"Hmm, s'good, baby," he murmers against you.

His hands cup your face as he deepens the kiss, pulling you on top of him. His hands grab your ass as he guides you over his hard cock. You grind against him and he stops kissing you, instead looking into your eyes while he grunts with each trust of your hips.

Much to your frustration his hands suddenly disappear from your body, as he stands and grasps your arm, yanking you towards his bedroom.

"You're supposed to touch me," he grins as he walks your towards his bed, "not the other way around."

He sits down, spreads his legs and waits.

You don't need any further encouragement. Getting on your knees in front of him, making quick work of his fly and sliding his jeans down. You palm him through his boxers while he strokes your cheek.

You bring your face close to him and gently start to kiss his lenght, enjoying the little moans and hisses that escape him.

"Fuck," Joel groans, "please."

His plea shoots straight to your very core, he's desperate for your touch. Finally.

Your fingers slide underneath the elastic waistband and you push his boxers down, freeing the most beautiful erect cock you've ever seen in your life. He's big, but not overly so. Slightly curved and uncircumcised. A beautiful big vein runs along the side and you lean in to follow it with your tongue, all the way up to his weeping head. He leans back on both his arms, moaning your name with an involuntary trust of his hips.

You take the head into your mouth, gently sucking it, not moving down yet. Your tongue swirling around it and you let your spit dribble down his length, coating him. The sounds he emits make your pussy clench, the need to touch yourself almost overwhelming, but you resist. You never imagined him being so vocal, it's a major turn-on.

Your right hand cradles his balls, while you take him further into your mouth. Bobbing your head up and down, your left hand curling around the lower half of his shaft, pumping.

"Fuck," Joel moans above you.

His hips start to move, meeting your mouth, and one of his hands fists in your hair, but he doesn't pull you towards him. The noises that fill the room make you blush. The wet sound of your sucking, slurping, combined with both of your moans.

"I need more," you say while giving his head a last lick.

"Take it, baby, take it," Joel whispers.

You push down your panties and slip of your dress. Joel's eyes widen at the sight of your naked form. Then you reach for the buttons of his flanel, undoing them one by one. Revealing his tan, gorgeous body. A slight spatter of dark hair covers his chest, his nipples are dark and his slight tummy is rapidly moving while he's struggling to breathe. You take his jeans and boxers and slip them off. The both of you stare at each other for a few seconds. Taking the other in. Then he scoots back and you climb on top of him, pushing your soaking pussy against his hard cock. Gliding your wet lips over his lenght, while his hands grip your hips.

"Sweetheart," he warns.

With a slight angle of your hips, his head is suddenly right at your entrance and you lower yourself. You're so wet, he bottoms out in one thrust. Falling against his chest you need a minute to adjust. It's been a while and Joel's not exactly small. Once you feel your body relax you push yourself up, placing both of your hands on his broad chest. His hands are on your ass, kneading, stroking, his cock deep inside of you. Joel needs more too, his hands now griping your arse and helping you move on top of him. He puts his feet on the matress for leverage and takes over. Fucking you hard. You try to meet his trusts but you can't, falling helplessly against his chest. Your orgasm is approaching, your pussy contracts around him. He feels it too.

"You gonna come for me baby? Fuck yes. Please come, please."

His brutal pace combined with his pleas send you straight over the edge. Your body freezes, your pussy fluttering and squeezing around him. He doesn't stop his movements, chasing his own high. Your slick starts to run down his cock and onto his stomach.

"Joel," you moan.

He pulls out of you and his hot cum splashes on your ass. His eyes squeeze shut while he groans your name. You feel another orgasm building from just looking at him coming undone.

When he finally opens his eyes to look at you, you take his hand, and guide his fingers inside of you. He grunts and starts thrusting them in and out of you while crooking them a bit. When he puts his thumb on your clit, your second orgasm almost hits you immediately. A slight stream of liquid gushes out of you onto his stomach. You fall fowards and he holds you, one hand around your back, one hand in your hair. His fingers gently moving inside you until he's sure you're done.

"Sorry, that never happened before," you whisper against his chest. You're so ashamed you don't dare to look up.

"Baby, don't fuckin' apologize for it," he murmers in your hair. "Fucking hottest thing I've seen in my life. Goin' to explore it some more later."

When you open your eyes, you're confused as to where you are, but then memories of last night flood your mind. Joel holding you against him, stroking your back, you must have fallen asleep.

Rolling onto your side you check if he's still in bed with you. He is. He's on his stomach, head resting on one of his arms, awake, looking at you.

"Hi."

You reach for him, but you're hesitant. He notices and takes your hand, planting little kisses on the inside of your wrist.

"Are you okay?" you ask him.

"Yes, you?"

You lean in untill your lips almost touch his.

"More than okay," you whisper against him before stroking his bottom lip with your tongue.

He grabs you and rolls you onto your back, positioning himself on top of you.

"Turns out I was just a little touch starved," he pushes the head of his growing erection against your already wet folds.

"Let's remedy that," you meet his hips and he moans before kissing you.

"Fuck yes".

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