#this is the recipe scenting my whole kitchen and spilling out the open windows into the rest of the neighborhood | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sugawara-sweetheart · 3 years

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darling nymphet (m)

❥dilf!suguru getou x fem!reader

❥warnings: age gap, non-jujutsu world!au, masturbation, voyeurism, cunnilingus, overstim, vaginal penetration, facial, mild cum play, spitting, clit-slapping, praise kink

❥word count: 4.5k

this is for @kaijime‘s dilf collab. im so sorry this is so horribly late but i really hope you enjoy this and thank you so much for letting me join your collab, I'm honoured to have been a part of it <33 and for my regular readings, im so sorry this is the first time im posting a fic in ages too.

it sounds like a cliche but the men your age just weren’t good enough.

childish. immature. not to mention weak dick game, thinking it’s sufficient to just give you a few thrusts before spilling their cum into a condom they initially claimed ‘wouldn’t be big enough’, your clit painfully ignored whilst they have the audacity to ask you ‘did you cum?’

it’s almost embarrassing- and pathetic enough that you swear yourself to be celibate one night over a bottle of wine. too many disgusting men not simply worth your time, it’d be better to abstain from men till someone actually worth dropping your panties for comes along. not that you have to wait long- because the next morning you wake to seeing a removal van outside your home. the doors are open, furniture being carried out by the men and your stomach’s in knots as you peer carefully from the crack in your curtains, intrigued and hopeful for a glimpse of your new neighbours. the last thing you need are troublesome people- the type that’d park badly and leave you with no space for your own car or the type that host parties too often and keep the whole street awake. but the last thing you expect is for him to come strolling out of the house, smiling as he thanks the movers for bringing in the last couch.

tall. muscular. handsome. this man is perfectly sculpted, enough to make you gasp as you press against the window, salivating already. his creamy skin glows in the morning sunlight, long dark hair falling in his narrow eyes as he gazes around the street. bulging muscles ripple in his navy t-shirt with every movement and it’s not a lie to say a small moan falls from your lips just at the mere sight of him. there’s no denying he’s older- much older than you’d ever considered, with lines tracing around his sharp eyes but fuck, you’d never seen a man like him before.

the cogs in your mind are already turning when you see a flash across the garden and you freeze, your mouth dropping open. there’s a small child- a little boy probably no older than ten running to your new neighbour, blue tresses wild over his grinning face. you’re stunned as he hugs the man, the man laughing and you’re speechless as it dawns upon you- he’s a father. you’d never been with a man like that before- responsible, caring, a proper adult.

you’re supposed to be deterred. you’re just a mere adult of twenty-something, young, childish, immature still- this sort of older man is not for you. but for some reason, it makes your heart thump faster. your stomach flutters with the thrill of just imagining it- a hot, older man, a man old enough to be your father, fucking you, his dick buried in your clenching cunt, his fingers shoved in your mouth, soft voice murmuring filth in your ear, his hot breath tickling your cheek as your pussy dribbles all over his throbbing cock.

you inhale sharply, mind hazy and dizzy from the new excitement. there’s no guarantee a man of his age and his lifestyle would even be interested in the likes of you- but you’re not the type to shy away from a challenge.

the hours spent in the kitchen poring over a recipe book and the splatters of dough all over the countertop is worth it when you’re finally taking a tray of golden choc-chip cookies out of the oven, the sweet scent filling your home. a smile stretches across your face as you fill a pretty plate with them, taking one final glance in the mirror before you leave your home. it’s uncomfortable, the underwire of the push-up bra squeezing against your rib cage but it’s worth it to perfect the look; the look of the perfect girl-next-door, hot neighbour cliche with your shorts and slippers, hair messy but makeup perfected.

two knocks on the door and it swings open a moment later, the handsome face of your new neighbour greeting you. but he’s better up close, your lips pressing shut to suppress the whine that threatens to escape. so fucking hot. he’s like a Greek god, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles at you, head tilting. your knees feel weak as his onyx eyes slowly trace along the length of your body.

“hi.” a sweet voice. it’s young and girlish as you put it on, fluttering your lashes with a saccharine smile painted on your face, but you don’t miss the way his thin brows raise momentarily. “i just saw you moved in- i’m your neighbour, y/n. it’s lovely to meet you- i brought cookies!” he chuckles, leaning his body against the doorframe and you’re practically drooling as you notice how the veins along his arm ripples. no ring on the left hand. it’s hard to control the smirk.

“that’s so sweet of you, y/n.” a honeyed voice meets your ears and you inhale sharply as your name rolls from his lips. so perfect. you wish you could hear him moaning it. “i’m suguru. thank you for the cookies- why don’t you come in? my son will love you for them.”

easy so far.

you giggle, thanking him as you step into his house, your body grazing his as he moves to close the door behind you. rich yet subtle cologne fills your nose and you can’t help but imagine how much stronger his scent would be when you’re burying your face into his neck, biting into his shoulder and moaning into his sweaty skin as he pounds into you.

can he sense the sin pulsating through you? there’s a smirk tugging at his lips, eyelids hooded when he gently presses his hand to the small of your back. “just straight ahead to the kitchen.” you can feel his eyes on you as you walk, swaying your hips enough you’re sure there’s no way he’ll be able to forget about you.

“mahito, we have a guest.” the small boy sat at the kitchen table tears his eyes away from his ipad at the sound of his father’s voice, his piercing eyes flashing to you. a smile brightens his face when he sees the plate of cookies in your hand, rushing to you immediately. “this is y/n, she’s our neighbour. say hello.” he does as his father says and you flash him a kind smile as you offer him the plate, thankful he’s quick to grab a couple before he rushes out of the room with his ipad.

“he’s not great with people so don’t mind him.” getou’s laugh is sweet, filling the room as your stomach flutters, your own laugh joining his. “but thank you for this.” you watch his hand reach out for a cookie, veins rippling. his eyes are locked with yours as he brings it to his lips, biting into it slow. a small groan falls from his lips as he chews and you can’t tug your eyes away, swallowing hard as your legs press together.

“they’re delicious.” he murmurs, pink tongue swiping across his lips, leaving them glistening. you want nothing more than for him to use it on you, to bury his face between your legs, to leave your thighs shaking around him, toes curling.

“i’m glad you like them. i’ll be sure to make them often now.” you smile as you step forward. your chest is inches away from his but he doesn’t make to move away. “you have a crumb.” you reach a hand out slowly, swiping your thumb across the corner of his smirking lip, his skin soft against yours.

“thank you, sweetheart.” you’re stunned when his tongue darts out, the wet tip swiping along your thumb to collect the crumb. a gasp escapes you, heat rising to your cheeks but getou just smiles as he taps your cheeks gently. “you’re a doll.”

you can feel your skin burnt, alight with the fiery tingles of lust running through you. your heart hammers, knees feeling weak as you inhale sharply, getou’s narrowed eyes falling to the curves of your quivering lips.

“dad! i want more cookies!” the loud, obnoxious, childish voice snaps you out of your rose-tinted haze as you and getou spring apart, his child running into the kitchen. there’s a slight wariness as his eyes flicker to you but you’re too busy gripping the edge of the countertop to steady yourself, thighs pressing together to care.

“no more.” getou smiles. “you’ll ruin your dinner. would you care to stay for some?” he turns to you, eyes slowly raking down the length of your body and you’re half-tempted to say yes, but that’d spoil the fun. there’s a better appeal in playing the long game so you stretch a smile across your face, waving a hand dismissively.

“no, i should let you settle in. but welcome to the neighbourhood- you’ll like it here.”

his eyes burn into you as he walks you to the walk, not even bothering to hide his shameless smirk.

“thank you, darling. i’m sure i will.”

you live to make sure your words come true.

it starts off slow.

a week or two of watching closely by the curtains lets you know the time getou returns home after dropping his kid off to school, giving you the perfect opportunity to sit at your porch, sipping your morning coffee in nothing but a skimpy little tank top and sleeping shorts. it’s worth the biting morning cold to see how getou stops in his tracks, brows raising as he takes in how the thin strap slides down your shoulder, his eyes raking over your smooth collarbone and what’s exposed of your chest, the nipples protuding through the thin fabric, the soft skin of your thighs.

“morning.” it’s such a thrill to see how the older man swallows as his eyes fall onto your lips, wet with the traces of coffee. sometimes you’ll go even further- bending over to pick up the stray weeds to have your shorts hug the curve of your ass or leaning over for your chest to almost spill out of your flimsy top as you water the plants.

“it is now, sweetheart.” you don’t miss the deep mumble falling from getou’s lips as he strolls back into his house, footsteps slow and eyes lingering. sometimes he’ll stop and chat, letting you push your tits together as you lean against the shared fence, thighs pressing together every time his sharp eyes dips away from your eyes to your body.

any chance you get to speak to the older man you take- the wrong post, some baked treats, you need to borrow some milk, a stiff jar you can’t open? you’re skipping into his house, whining that you need his help so bad, pouting your red lips and jumping with joy when he easily clicks it open. a smirk tugs at his lips whenever you thank him so earnestly, stroking your hand over his thick bicep.

“aren’t you such a sweet little doll?” he always smiles back, earning a coy giggle to fall from your lips.

but the best chance you possibly have is your large bedroom window facing the master bedroom of getou’s. it still takes you by surprise how often you’ve seen the older man stroll out of his bathroom in just a towel wrapped around his lower half but you love it every time- the curve of his bulge pressing against the white, his long wet hair pushed back, skin damp with droplets running down his chest and glistening abs, his handsome face looking somewhat older in the dim lighting of his bedroom. it drives you insane, you’re salivating as you watch him hungrily till the curtains close. but you can easily still see the silhouette of his body through the sheerness of the curtains- the curves and chisels of his body as the towel falls, leaving little but enough to your imagination. it’s enough to make the ache too unbearable that you can’t resist laying down across your bed, one hand reaching between your legs and the other groping your chest, fingers buried in your throbbing cunt, wishing it was his instead, that the heat dancing across your skin is the blaze his lips leave behind, that your heavy pants are joined by his.

you don’t know what pushes you this far.

the haze of lust engulfs you too far one night. some liquid courage and you’re tipsy enough to ignore the thoughts of self-restrain when you stalk into your bedroom. the silk robe around your body sends shivers running down your spine as you sit at the end of your bed, staring out at the window across. you can see getou clearly, still in just his bath towel, pushing his wet hair back as he stands in front of his wardrobe mirror. it takes him a moment before his eyes flicker towards the window but the moment he does is perfect- his eyes widen momentarily as he stares at you before a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. one hand raised slowly, he waves at you- but he freezes the moment the robe slips from your body.

you whine to yourself as you stroke a hand up along your thigh, spreading your legs slowly, the hands reaching up up along your stomach, towards your chest. the thin lace of your bra barely hold your tits and your legs tremble as you grope them, feeling your nipples harden through the thin fabric. but getou doesn’t look away, not even when you spread your legs completely and let your fingers trail over your clothed clit. he’s pinned in place, watching you with his lips upturned, head tilted as he watches you rub your fingers against your cunt, how your legs tremble with pleasure, how your lips fall apart with sweet moans. your eyes flutter shut as you feel the coil tighten in your stomach- he’d be so good pounding you into the mattress, calling you his sweet little girl, instructing you to touch yourself as you fall apart on his cock, reminding you only he can make you feel this good, that no guy your own age can ever make you moan this loud.

your release is warm, body shaking as your hot moans fill the room. your wet pussy clenches around nothing as your eyes slowly open, locking with getou’s narrowed slits piercing into you. nothing but the permanent smug smirk gracing his face lingers before the curtains close and you’re left with a thudding heart.

you’re sure your life is over. that he’ll report you, or move out, or tell all the other neighbours in the facebook group or just get a documentary channel involved- but you want nothing more than to avoid getou for the rest of your life. it’s humiliating how you somehow thought that was the right way to seduce a man only it horribly failed and now you were left trying to avoid him at all costs. almost a week had passed and you’d always wait till his car was no longer in his drive to leave the house. the frequent flirtatious chats over the garden fence was done, no morning coffee on the porch and no little trips into his home. you were sure you’d gotten so close to him that you’d even heard his son mahito’s voice carrying over the back garden as he was playing out, asking about you. but you doubt getou even cared- after all, his bedroom curtains had been firmly drawn shut since, leaving you with a scorned ego.

you’re surprised one evening to hear the door knock, confused as to who’d be coming over without notice- after all, your friends were all busy and you hadn’t made any plans. but you’re stunned when you open the door and see none other than getou stood on the doorstep.

he looks like he’d just come home from work, dark hair tied back in a bun with that signature lock of hair falling into his eye, eyes darkened, white crisp shirt unbuttoned at the top. you freeze as you stare at him, cursing his smirk that has you like a deer caught in headlights, your legs feeling weak as you feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

“why’s my little sweetheart looking so flustered? you weren’t so shy back then.” you can’t force any words out. not in reply to his honeyed voice as he steps into your home, the door closing shut behind him. “my kid’s away this weekend. so i guess i’ve got plenty of time for you, darling.” you swallow as he reaches out, fingers closing around your chin tenderly. he brushes the coarse pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, making you inhale sharply. “i haven’t forgotten your little show- instead i’ve been waiting. so tell me, how badly do you want me to stuff your pretty, little cunt and fuck you dumb?”

it’s jarring, how such an angelic face spew such filth with a handsome smirk and a sweet voice. but you’re drunk on suguru getou, a whine falling from your lips as you cling to his shirt, desperate for him as you press your legs together to try and soothe that throbbing ache between your legs.

“s-suguru, please. i need you so bad. want you to ruin me. please.” he chuckles at your words, fingers threading through your hair as he tilts your head upwards.

“such a sweet, polite little thing you are. but it’s daddy for you.”

“daddy.”

it’s pure sin falling from your lips, getou moaning softly as his lips connect with yours. he’s hungry, tasting of sweet peppermint and making fire run through your veins as you cling to him, letting him tighten his fingers in your hair, tilt back your head, deepening the wet desperate kiss. you tug at his shirt, pulling him into the living room with your lips still pressed against his, whining when his tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you can’t resist bucking your hips up into his, wrapping your legs around him when he pushes you onto the couch.

“please, daddy.” you’re breathless, eyes fluttering shut as getou peppers hot kisses leaving a blaze dancing on your skin along the column of your throat. “fuck me already.” he chuckles against your skin, gripping your chin as his dark eyes lock with yours, lust burning in them.

“oh don’t worry- i will. i’ll fuck you so good you’ll be screaming my name when you cream all over my cock. you’ve never fucked someone this old, have you?” your cheeks burn as you shake your head, making him laugh as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, teeth grazing your skin between the open-mouthed kisses he presses. “good. i’ll fuck you so good you’ll never want anyone else’s dick again.”

there’s no time wasted in pulling off the clothes and you don’t even register that you’re braless and in a boring pair of panties until getou pulls back to pull off his own shirt. your cheeks burn with embarrassment as he gazes at you but much to your surprise, there’s a certain thrill when he cocks his head and smirks at you.

“no pretty lingerie today? does that mean that was all just for me the other night?” you scowl as you’re about to scoff at him but you’re cut off by his fingers reaching out to grope your chest, squeezing the flesh as you squirm. “i’m honoured- daddy appreciated your little show a lot, sweetheart.”

you groan his name as he wraps his lips around the pebbled buds, sucking and licking to make warmth run through you before he sinks to knees. “i wanted to see that cute little pussy of yours so bad.” you inhale sharply as he spreads your legs, placing each thigh across his shoulders and rubbing his thumb against the soft skin. “i wanted to see how wet and tight this little cunt can get.” you whine as he kisses your clothed clit through the fabric before he hooks a finger into the waistband, tugging down your panties. eyes locked with yours. it’s pure sin, how his face dips between your legs, wet tongue sliding out along your folds. it’s pure ecstasy.

your head falls back with a lewd moan as getou eats you out, his tongue sliding along your damp folds, swirling and sucking your clit as your thighs tighten around his head. your fingers thread through his hair, tightening around the locks, making him groan into your cunt as he tonguefucks your hole, the coil in your stomach tightening.

“oh, god-” your moans fill the room, hips bucking up into his face as you grind against him, toes curling with the pleasure flooding through it. but the pleasure fades as soon as he pulls away, slapping his fingers against your clit harshly. you squeal at the sensitivity, panting as your hole flutters around nothing. “why did you stop?”

“my name.” his hand slides along the length of your body, groping your tit momentarily before he reaches your throat, squeezing around it softly but hard enough to make you whimper. “you’re only moaning my name, understand?”

“yes, daddy.” getou doesn’t rip his eyes away from you before he sinks back to your pussy, lapping at your wetness as warm pleasure runs through you once more. you whine loudly, panting ‘daddy’ over and over as you tug at his hair, grinding against his face as his fingers prod your hole. the slight stretch of his long fingers curling between your warm walls burns but it’s washed away with the sheer pleasure pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

your orgasm is heavy as it rushes through you, prolonged as getou sucks your clit hard, his fingers pumping in and out of your gushing cunt. you moan as your back arches with pleasure, legs trembling on either side of his face till it starts to sting with overstimulation.

“daddy-” a whimper falls from your lips as you try to push getou’s head away, your cunt throbbing till he finally pulls away, not without delivering a few slaps to your cunt that has you jerking and crying out with tears stinging your eyes.

“pretty girl.” getou looks like pure sin, eyes darkened and a mixture of your release and saliva smeared across his chin. “such a good girl for your daddy.” he presses his lips to yours, tongue sliding into your mouth and you moan at the taste of yourself, clinging to him as he tugs down his boxers. his hard cock springs against his stomach and your walls clench just at the sight of it. he’s not the biggest you’ve ever had but he’s thick and it’s pretty, the head flushed pink, leaking a trail of silvery precum down the veiny length.

“how much do you want me, sweetheart?” you whine as he taps the cockhead against your clit, the pressure making you squirm whilst his eyes burn into you.

“please.” he scoffs at your pathetic whisper, smirking as he slides his dick along your cunt, edging towards your entrance, leaving you whimpering with anticipation.

“please, suguru- i need you so bad. i want you so bad. want you to stuff me full of your cock and fuck me so hard- please!” tears spill from your eyes and your nails pierce crescents into the skin of his shoulders, causing him to groan softly as he finally rests his cock against your entrance.

“you sound so pretty whining for me. what a good little girl you are.”

you watch with widened eyes, heart thumping as he puckers his lips and spits directly onto your fluttering cunt, the lewdness of it causing your pussy to clench around nothing before he slowly slides his cock in. the stretch burns, his thick cock stretching out your little pussy as you squeal, head falling back against your couch cushions as getou presses a thumb to your swollen clit, rubbing slowly.

“that’s it, you look so pretty taking daddy’s cock like a good girl. can you take it all?” you nod, biting your bottom lip so hard to suppress the moans you’re sure it’ll draw blood as he watches his cock sink deeper into your wet pussy. “not even moaning for me? does that just mean i’ll have to make you scream?” you can’t hold back the loud gasp that escapes you when he pulls out almost completely, cock coated in a glistening sheen of slick, before slamming back into you, your back arching as you push your chest flesh against his.

“su- daddy!”

“that’s better- want you to hear you moaning for me all pretty as i fuck this cute little cunt of yours.” getou’s ruthless as he fucks you- he thrusts into you, fast and hard with your spongy walls tightening around him, feeling every ridge and vein flooding you with pleasure. his lips mouth kisses along your throat, thumb swirling your clit as your legs wrap around him, pulling him in closer as your hips buck up into his. “you’re so wet.” he groans, the lewd sounds of your slick squelching and the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling your living room as his teeth scrape along your collarbones. “who’s fucking you this good, sweetheart? who’s making you feel this good?”

“y-you! you, daddy!” tears swim in your eyes and your body trembles as he pounds into you, his cock filling up your pussy completely, slamming into you and leaving your mind dizzy with the sheer pleasure.

“that;’s right.” getou grunts, teeth catching your ear lobe and sucking on the flesh as you whine. “nobody else can fuck you this good. i bet the boys your age can’t fuck you nearly half as good- not like me. your pussy loves me, sucking my cock back in. i own this cute little cunny, don’t i?” you can barely talk as you feel the coil tightening in your stomach, your orgasm pushing closer as you can only nod, moans falling freely from your lips. “do you want to cum, baby?” you nod desperately, eyes rolling to the back of your head as getou swirls your clit harder, his hips snapping against yours as you’re pushed closer and closer to the edge.

your orgasm is heavenly. euphoria rushes through you as you’re seeing white, your walls tightening around getou as he groans into the crook of your shoulder, his cock throbbing. he fucks you through your high, grunting with each thrust till he slips out, leaving your abused cunt fluttering. you’re barely registering anything, too fucked out till the white hot ropes of cum splatter over your face and chest.

getou pants as he almost falls over you, holding himself up by his forearms. his face is damp with sweat, his smirk still tugging at his lips as he slides a thumb across your cheek, collecting the white cum onto his fingertip. as he holds it to your lips, you don’t hesitate to slide out your tongue, moaning softly as you lick his thumb clean.

“such a good girl for me. how about next weekend i introduce you to one of my old mates, huh?”

suguru getou was already your rose-coloured nymphet dream. there was no way you could resist turning down a second.

#suguru getou imagines #suguru getou x reader #suguru getou fic #suguru getou x y/n #suguru getou #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fic #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk #jjk imagines #jjk fic #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #cw age gap

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nincompoopydoo · 3 years

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PINING, BAGELS, REPEAT.

— WHEN THE DRINKING'S DONE ; PART 6 / ?

( gif from this gifset by @jascontodd )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

SUMMARY: Sunday night dinner with your mother doesn’t go as planned when Bruce shows up unexpectedly at your door and you both know how your mother really loves him alot.

A/N: Slow and kinda long-winded chapter again haha. I used to be the kind of person who couldn’t write long stuff. Now look at me. Who is she??? Enjoy this one yall. Probably one or two more chapters to go, depends on how much I can write <3

WARNINGS: Swearing, alcohol. I write about what I feel and they are very real. So if you find these things triggering, please do not read this.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Sunday night. You’re in an apron, flushed from the heat of the stove. You’ve just poured a glass of wine for your mother, but she doesn’t drink it—too busy walking around your apartment, clearing your stuff as she criticizes your lack of cleanliness and organization. Grading papers during exam season keeps you busy. Needless to say, you don’t have the time to clean your goddamn house.

You still love her anyway.

You’re at the sink, purple-stained fingers from peeling the tunic of the red onions are under running water when there is a knock on your door. It’s deafening, rapid, and agitating. You’ve just spilled boiling water onto your hand and you really don’t need another problem to come charging at your front door. Literally.

Moving out of the kitchen with haste, you call out over your shoulder to your mother to quit rearranging with bits and bobs of stationary and papers because yes, it’s messy but you know exactly where everything is. The knocking doesn’t cease, and your annoyance aggravates further. You’re gonna have to punch someone or something if it doesn’t stop.

You aggressively pushed the barrel of the bolt lock, swinging the door open as the strands of your wild hair flew backward in the sudden blow of air.

All forms of anger and agitation disappear as soon as your gaze meets the flushed face of none other than Bruce fucking Wayne, dressed in a grey dress vest, tie hanging loosely a pristine white shirt, and an ebony tweed overcoat. This feels like deja vu. Your expression goes through a series of mixed emotions, mostly confusion, when it morphed into a guise of embarrassment, cheeks even redder. “Don’t tell me I texted you by accident again?” He blinks, seemingly as bewildered as you are. “What? No, no. No. I—” His sentence is cut short when he takes a moment to catch his breath. Your brows are frowning even deeper than before. “Did you run here or something? And what are you doing here anyway?”

Bruce shifts in his stance, a palm against the door frame, shaking his head. He feels small under your interrogative stare. “No, I came here to see you…” he trails off, eyes shamelessly skirting across your figure. He just now notices that it may be a bad time for him to turn up, and you’re hit with the realization you’re in a ratty apron, very red and very sweaty. You’re right. It is deja vu because why are you always a mess when Bruce shows up at your front door unannounced? You abruptly pull the apron over your head, hurling it behind the door, hands palming the frizz of your hair into a somewhat presentable look.

“Look, I need to talk you—”

“Honey! Who’s at the door?” He’s being cut off mid-sentence again. This time, by your mother’s voice from the living room. Your eyes are wide again—so are his.

Your mother’s fondness for Bruce is an understatement. Obsession is a better word. She had only met him once, and that was six years ago but the conceptualization of being somewhat related to an exceptionally handsome and successful man had gotten to her head all those years ago. Hell, she loves him more than she loves you. Your mother—A woman who wishes to call your best friend ‘son’ with a whole lot of love to give. If she discovers Bruce is here, at your doorstep, she will never let go. Never. And you both know it. There’s a silent understanding that travels between the two of you and the look you’re giving him tells only one thing—Run before it’s too late.

“Bruce Wayne as I live and breathe...”

Well, too late.

A small-statured lady stands on the farther side of the hallway, face lit up with sheer joy and excitement as if she had just won a lottery. She approaches him with arms open wide and soon, her hands are laid on his cheeks, examining the man’s face carefully. Bruce just stands there, stiff as a rock, unsure of how to regain his composure from all the adrenaline of wanting to see you now that he was in such close proximity to the woman who raised you. When it’s you, he tends to struggle with timing and it’s partly the reason he has never managed to act on his feelings for you. For the longest time, he has wanted to be more than friends or whatever the hell this was. He had been hesitant but now, he’s very sure.

Sometimes it feels like it's the right person but the wrong time. He doesn’t want it to be that way. He wants to make things right with you.

And there he was, being squished under the grasp of the lady that loves him very much.

He catches your gaze; you flash him a sympathetic smile as you mouth the word “sorry.” Bruce arches his brows, indicating he has no idea what to do or how to get out of this situation.

“You’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you!” the older woman exclaims, a hand now firmly on his shoulder, the other brushing away his long strands of hair from his face with affection. Bruce would never admit it; he likes the attention your mother gives to him—the touch of a mother. Something he longs for.

“Why don’t you come in and join us for dinner? There's more than enough food.”

Crap, you should have known that question was bound to be mentioned. You’re not convinced that you will be able to suppress your emotional heartburn and the idea of Bruce tasting the dishes you’re cooking, it’s making your palms sweat. But what the hell. You shouldn’t be this nervous around him, you’ve known each other for years. He has seen you at your worst and vice versa.

Still, you’ll like to avoid the predicament of a dinner table set for you, your mother, and the man you secretly love. You’re quick with an answer. “Oh, I’m sure he has other important things to do. Bruce is very busy—”

“I’ll be happy to. I have no plans for tonight after all.”

You stare at Bruce, eyes glimmering with shock and betrayal—he is supposed to be on your side. He simply sends you a swift wink, and you feel the growing and most likely apparent deep red of your already flushed cheeks. You glance away to face your mother, eye crinkling in hopes of concealing the effect he has on you. Well, at least your mother looks fucking overjoyed. Maybe the night won’t end in disappointment.

The scent of chicken and spice whiffs through the air from the dishes of chicken and chorizo paella you’ve managed to whip up in a quick thirty minutes—a recipe you came by in an article titled “Fancy dishes for lazy cooks.” Well, it’s certainly working; everyone looks pleasantly surprised when you emerge from the kitchen with a cast-iron skillet within your kitchen gloved-grasp.

Happiness is the sound of the clinking of cutlery against nearly empty smeared plates, the splash of wine cascading from the bottle you held into the glasses of your guests, and the occasional laughter that erupts from your mother as Bruce tries to make a joke through mouthfuls of paella. A symphony of contentment and comfort, composed and orchestrated by the two most significant individuals in your life. Beauty is made anywhere beautiful people are; in this space, cramped up at the beech wooden table made for one by the casement window that overlooks the apartment across yours.

This side of Bruce—where boyish smiles were manifested and hearty laughs arising from the belly—is the side you miss the most. Years ago, things felt simpler though your past self would deny that notion as human life continues to become more intricate as we grow older and our eyes see more. Innocence to maturity. Happiness to grief. But, the complexity of this warfare between the brain and the heart seems to reside in perpetual darkness, no light at the end of the tunnel. For a long time, you thought deciding to be alone could eventually bring peace to the madness but maybe, you’ve been with the wrong people this whole time. It’s your reflection against the window pane that shows the evident crinkle in your eyes and the constant upward in the curve of your lips even though it contrasts the gloomy hues of blue from the sky at twilight—you’re happy.

It’s the way your mother leans over and wipes off the bits of rice from the corner of your mouth and the exchange of awkward smiles when Bruce accidentally brushes his hand against yours when reaching for the fork. This is what you want. And maybe, just maybe, you deserve to not be alone.

“So, have you decided on who you’re taking to the wedding?”

Your mother’s voice hauls you back from your daydream. She gives you a knowing look, discretely glancing towards Bruce on the other end of the table. She knows you don’t have a date, and you know she wants you to bring Bruce. You feel your anxiety creep back in.

This is weirdly the second time you’re in this situation.

“I don’t know yet...” In times like this, you wonder if your mother wields some sort of magical ability of truth or something because no matter how much you try, you can never lie to her. And now, you wish the ground would collapse and swallow you up. You know she means well, but oh my God, Bruce is staring at you and you don’t know what to do with your hands anymore.

“Wedding?” Bruce chirps with a questioning brow as he glances between you and your mother. Now, you’re forced to explain for the sake of context. “My cousin’s getting married next week and mom here wants me to bring a date.” Your mother’s expression indicates that you’re lying through your teeth. Yet in reality, it’s not technically a lie if you’re leaving parts of reason out of the explanation because it’s true she wants you to bring a date but you don’t mention how you don’t want to go alone because weddings make you sad.

It sounds pathetic.

Bruce just nods, taking a sip of his wine. The fact he’s not saying anything is making you anxious. You thought you didn’t want him to be your date but now, maybe you do. These feelings are messing up your brain. It’s just mush now, and there’s no cure.

These are the times you want to say “Fuck you, Bruce” but in the nicest way possible.

“Why don’t you bring Bruce?”

She was direct as they come but is mostly tired of your lack of initiative and doubt. I mean, it’s not like you’re asking him to marry you, right? And honestly, you’re kind of relieved you didn’t have to be one to do it but you can’t keep depending on her to do all the heavy lifting for you. You’re not a teenager anymore. You’re a goddamn grown adult.

Nevertheless, you peer at his reaction to this from the corner of your eye, fully expecting some sort of a resting jaded expression or eyes wide in horror but he’s just looking at you...with that look—highly bewildered and almost seems to be entertained by your embarrassment. Despite the purse of his lips, you manage to catch sight of the slight impish tuck of his lips.

He thinks it's the wine, but he isn’t exactly sure.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

“Are you sure about this?” you cross your arms, as you watch Bruce shrug on his coat from the rack. The two of you are squeezed in the entryway of your apartment, huddling in hushed conversation. “About what?” he asks absentmindedly when in reality, he knows exactly what you’re referring to. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, it’s an excuse to be around you longer. You purse your lips, shifting in your stance, eyes flickering away from his gaze. “About coming to the wedding,” you say it slowly, carefully, like you’re afraid to and you’re not sure why. He nods with the furrow of his brows, tugging his hands into the pockets of his ebony tweed coat. “I’m sure...Unless you don’t want me to come—”

“No, no. God, of course, I want you to come,” you stop, realizing how your sudden outburst of excitement must have made you seem desperate. You clear your throat, feet shifting once more. “I don’t want to pull you off work just because I don’t want to be alone.”

He raises his brows, nearing a little closer to you. “So that’s the real reason?” A hint of a smile—it’s a teasing one. You simply throw a fist to his arm yet unable to stifle your growing smile. “Don’t be a jerk.”

Bruce winces followed by a laugh that comes out more light a puff of air as he bares his palms in a gesture of surrender. “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

Maybe, it’s the walls of this hallway, covered with hung framed photographs of family, childhood, and friends because it’s starting to feel warm. You think it’s the way his eyes light up when you laugh, radiating a sort of comforting warmth on this cold night. It feels like home. Bruce feels like home. You notice the prominent stain of your mother’s lipstick on his left cheek. You bring one hand to rest on the curve of his cheekbone, thumb trying to efface the smeared stain away.

You’re not sure if it's the smell of his deodorant or the sudden sense of his breath on your skin that made you comprehend the closing gap between your face and his. In an instant, your hand jerks away and returns to your side, clenching to a fist. Bruce clears his throat, bringing a hand up to scratch the growing stubble at his jaw. The touch of your fingers lingers like a burn.

Recognizing the tension in the air, you decide to avert your thoughts back to the conversation you were having in the first place. “You know, you don’t have to come. Really. You’ve done a lot for me, and you know that.”

“Yes...but I’ll always have your back no matter what.”

He smiles at you. The kind that reaches his eyes. He looks younger like this.

“And I’ll always have yours, Bruce.”

You’re an idiot. He’s an idiot. You’re just two idiots, standing in the hallway with hearts that feel like they’re about to explode. Despite the lingering tension in the air that’s still present, you bring him into an embrace. It feels natural, your arms around his shoulder and his on the small of your back. “Thanks for everything. Especially for making my mom really happy.” you punctuate your sentence with a gentle caress to the back where his shoulders meet. You hear the muffled sound of his laugh, feeling the rumble of his chest against yours as you try not to squirm at the brush of his unshaven chin against the curve of your neck. “No problem,” he mumbles before pulling away.

“And you need a shave.” You’re pointing to his chin and he finds himself scratching it again. He merely hums in response.

Swinging the door open while you wave him goodbye feels like a part of you is leaving. You’re not sure why you’re feeling this newly found emptiness in you when you know you’ll see him next week. You decide to blame the wine. It’s easier that way.

He’s walking away, already out of view when you decide you should really say something at least.

“Bruce,” you suddenly call out; he turns on his heels and backtracks a little too eager to face you at the doorway. “What was it you wanted to talk about?” He frowns in response, head tilting in a questioning manner. “When you came here, you said you needed to talk.”

He recalls the real reason he was here in the first place. Rushing to your door like you’re about to disappear any minute. Yet, you’re here, still at the doorway, three hours later. Fuck, he was about to confess.

Bad timing. Again.

Right person, wrong time.

No. He’ll make it right. Just, not now.

“I was...going to thank you for the bagels; Asiago. Nice choice.” Is what he says instead of reciting the words that had been running through his head in rehearsal since the drive to your apartment. He ignores the way your shoulders sag, perhaps in relief—he doesn’t want to know. He ignores the burning in his chest when you nod, the corners of your mouth tugging into a faint smile as you raise a palm in a somewhat solemn wave of farewell. He ignores the sting in his eyes when the door closes on him, symbolizing finality when he really doesn’t want it to end. Left alone in the dismal light of the hallway; it acts as a poignant reminder of his bereavement and how much of his consolation depends on your presence.

When the drinking's done, does it make it any easier for him to open himself up to you?

Bruce allows himself to cry once he pulls the car door to a close because he feels overwhelmed by the conflicting thoughts that continue to reside in his mind. The regrets, the what-ifs, and the should-haves. He forgets himself sometimes because he gets so lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t recognize himself anymore.

You keep him grounded. You remind him who Bruce Wayne truly is.

He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the rearview mirror.

You’re right. He does need a shave.

TAGLIST:

@raineeace

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batman x reader #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #bruce wayne x you #batman x you #justice league

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Everybody Knows You're High, 3/4 (Rajila) - Dartmouth420

Summary: Raja’s attempt at self-awareness uncovers some… feelings. Manila gets paranoid, there’s another party, and a big old miscommunication.

A/N: we now truly enter the idiots portion of this friends-to-idiots-to-lovers tale. this has been fun to write, thank you to everyone for your enthusiasm :)

tw: weed, mild jealousy, alcohol, vomiting

“So, Manila thinks I lack self-awareness,” announced Raja to the kitchen as she stirred a large helping of weed into the pot of melted butter on the stove. She wanted to get a second opinion on the matter, and her roommates were a great place to start.

Delta and Carmen burst out laughing.

“Yeah, no shit,” deadpanned Delta, who was next to her at the counter, chopping vegetables.

“What? Come on… ” complained Raja, turning away from the stove. Apparently the second opinion was mockery.

“You’re one of the least self-aware people I’ve ever met,” added Carmen, who was sitting at the kitchen table with her knees up and drinking tea, “Like, it’s kind of charming but also maybe worth a psychological study, you know?”

“Well you’re a Psych major, write a paper on me or whatever.”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea…”

“So wait, you’re still into her?” said Delta, with exaggerated concerned, “Raja, how long has it been?”

“A while… ” replied Raja vaguely, stirring her concoction with a wooden spoon. The smell of weed infusing into butter permeated the room.

“That’s for real? I thought it was a joke,” said Carmen, putting her tea down, “This isn’t normal for you.”

“I’d even say unprecedented,” added Delta, with a smirk at the edge of her mouth.

“Ugh, stop it,” whined Raja, pouting.

When Raja decided the infusion was sufficient, she took the weed butter mixture and dumped it through a strainer into a large bowl, then turned back to the stove and put several squares of baking chocolate in the same pot, leaving it to melt over low heat.

“I just want to… ” said Raja, trying to gather her thoughts and feelings into one place. She got out the eggs, sugar and flour. What she felt for Manila was a wonderful and frustrating mixture of friendship and attraction. It wasn’t much different from the way she felt about her other friends, but it was stronger and a lot more distracting. There wasn’t any good way to express it. “…I don’t know, make out with her.”

“That much is obvious,” laughed Delta. “So do it already.”

“I’m trying but she thinks I’m joking, she keeps making fun of me! I don’t get it, what am I doing wrong?”

“Well if you want more than a casual hook-up, then maybe tell her that… but like, in a subtle way,” said Carmen, sipping her tea, “You’ll have an opportunity today, I invited her over for a Mario Kart rematch-“

“No!” exclaimed Raja and Delta at the same time. Mario Kart was banned at their house for a reason.

“Also,” continued Carmen as though they hadn’t spoken, motioning at Raja’s bowl, “Are the special brownies just for you, or for everyone?”

“Everyone,” replied Raja, wondering if Carmen was right, maybe she did want a little more than just a casual makeout session with Manila. She mixed the sugar and melted chocolate into the butter with a whisk. But what did more even mean? “They’re for that party at Morgan’s this weekend.”

“Oooh, that’ll be fun.”

Luckily Raja and Delta managed to convince Carmen and Manila to avoid a friendship-shattering Mario Kart rematch and they all played Super Smash Bros as usual while the scent of baking brownies filled the apartment.

Manila seemed more relaxed today, squashed into the couch with the three roommates. Raja had been defeated first, she put her controller down as her character died and tilted her head to rest on Manila’s shoulder.

“Guess what I did last night?” said Manila out of the blue, her quick thumbs jabbing at the controller and building up combinations of moves to strike at Carmen on the screen, to Carmen’s frustrated grumble next to her.

“What?” asked Raja lazily, while on the screen Carmen and Manila teamed up to rip Delta’s character to shreds. Manila smelled like lavender conditioner. Would her neck taste like that too?

“Yara started Snapchatting me, apparently she’s mad at Alexis now,” said Manila, in a self-congratulatory tone, “And it got a little sexy.”

“How sexy are we talking?” asked Delta immediately, her voice full of intrigue.

“Yeah, how sexy?” added Carmen, trying to get her character back up onto the platform as Manila turned on her.

A weird feeling swirled in Raja’s stomach. She frowned, still resting her head on Manila’s shoulder, almost afraid to look at her expression. On the screen, Delta’s character died and Delta dropped her controller, clearly far more interested in the story than she was in the game.

“We might’ve…” drawled Manila, suggestively, “Exchanged a few pictures and videos and uh, you know.”

“Oh my god, you did that with Yara?!” exclaimed Delta, delighted. “While she’s still dating Alexis? Whore.”

“Mmm,” said Manila smugly, nudging Raja’s leg with her own, while on the screen she summoned a thunderbolt and attacked Carmen. “You know what I like about her? She’s incredibly self-aware-”

“I think the brownies are done!” exclaimed Raja, leaping up from the couch and walking furiously out of the room into the kitchen, to the laughter of her three friends.

Raja paced around the kitchen, fuming. The joke had gone too far at this point, and Manila was just rubbing it in and being mean. Raja wasn’t even that jealous of Manila’s interaction with Yara, she just didn’t understand what was so appealing about someone on the other side of a screen, when Raja herself was a warm, living, breathing human and right here!

Raja mourned how incredibly unjust the whole situation was, and took the brownies out of the oven. She waited for them to cool, listening to the conversation and the noise from the TV as Manila once again royally defeated everyone in the room and Carmen complained that she’d win if they were playing Mario Kart…

It hit Raja like a lightning bolt. Maybe she could just tell Manila how she felt, ask her directly what she wanted, and see if it made a difference and would make the stupid joke stop. Raja beamed at her reflection in the window and posed victoriously. She was self-aware as fuck.

But first, weed brownies.

Raja sliced the still-warm tray, taking out four pieces so there was one for everyone if they wanted. Raja’s recipe was potent so it was best to be careful and start small. She put them on a little plate and brought it back out into the living room.

“Who wants to get wrecked?” asked Raja with a big grin, coming back around the corner to where Delta was stretching, Carmen had a competitive look on her face and Manila was gently taunting her.

“Me!”

“Me too.”

“Same.”

“Wicked,” said Raja, and plopped back down in her spot on the couch, offering the plate. Everyone took a piece, and complimented her on the taste. What a lovely way to spend an afternoon.

“It’s not working,” complained Manila, after another few more rounds of Smash Bros, “We’re gonna need more.”

“Yeah, I’m not really feeling it,” added Delta.

“Just give it time, you two are so impatient,” said Raja, rolling her eyes.

An hour later Raja was thoroughly couch-locked, lying on her side, a deep relaxation throughout her body. Her thoughts were slow and gentle, like great blue whales moving in the vast Pacific. Manila sat next to her, slumped back, her expression glazed over. Delta was flat on her back on the floor, staring at the ceiling. Carmen was curled up in the easy chair next to the couch, her caramel hair spilling over the arm.

The Smash Bros theme played over and over from the opening menu on the TV, but the controllers were completely abandoned.

“Do you think they’re spying on us?” whispered Manila, staring straight ahead.

“Who?” asked Raja, squinting at her.

“I dunno, the CIA?”

“I mean, probably.”

“No… ” groaned Manila in response, bringing a hand to her mouth, “I don’t want that.”

“Are you getting paranoid?” asked Raja, slow concern rising in her body.

“No… ” said Manila, and looked around, her expression growing nervous, “But, they could be, right? Anyone could be. Do you think they have cameras like, in our phones?”

“Yeah,” replied Raja, blinking glacially, “There’s cameras in our phones, duh. How else would we take pictures?”

Manila scrunched her eyebrows together and whimpered, anxiously pushing her phone off the couch so it clattered on the floor.

“No,” managed Delta from next to the coffee table, “I don’t think-”

Raja loosely realized that Manila was heading in the direction of a bad time. Raja sat up, shifting her slow, heavy limbs to pull Manila up too so that they sat cross-legged on the couch, looking at each other. Manila’s pupils were huge, and her lips were slightly parted.

“No one’s watching you,” said Raja, attempting confidence, “Uh, no one that matters, anyway.”

“What if I fail all my classes?” whispered Manila.

“You’re not gonna.”

“But what if I do?”

Raja reached forward and took Manila’s face in her hands, and said, “Then we’ll drop out together and become… drag kings. Or entrepreneurs. We’d be good at that.”

Manila let out a tiny laugh, but her eyebrows remained worried. Totally spaced out, Raja just smiled at her and hoped it helped.

Manila reached out and took Raja’s face in her hands as well, stroking her thumbs across Raja’s cheekbones. The action was so oddly intimate and animal that, in a flash, Raja understood exactly why and how human beings were descended from apes, and before that, how fish had first crawled out of the vast, primordial ocean onto land.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Manila, her voice soft, her pupils huge. Her hair was a curly cascade down her shoulders.

“Whales,” murmured Raja in response, and in her minds eye another blue whale of thought rose up, carrying with it the idea that it might be lovely to kiss Manila right now-

“That’s beautiful,” whispered Manila, with rare earnestness.

“Do you wanna make out?” murmured Raja. Manila’s face was warm, and the scent of her lavender conditioner drifted from her hair into Raja’s nose again.

“Yeah, but Delta and Carmen are right here,” said Manila, dropping her hands from Raja’s face to rest on her forearms. Raja let go of Manila’s face as well, resting her hands in her lap as Manila’s positive response slowly registered in her mind. Her fingertips almost tingled.

“They don’t care.”

“We totally don’t,” agreed Carmen from the chair, where she’d shifted, now upside down with her legs draped over the back of it, “That might be kinda hot, actually.”

“We should paint the ceiling…” whispered Delta, awed, from the floor.

“We can make out in the future,” said Manila, patting Raja’s arm in a reassuring way, and reaching for the bag of chips on the table.

“The future?” said Raja, a whale of concern surfacing in her mind, “Like, with global warming and Mars colonies?”

“Yeah, then.”

Later, when Manila had stumbled home and Raja was a bit less high, she remembered that Manila had technically said yes, and considered it to be good progress. In fact, now that she’d truly registered it, excitement was growing in her chest. Finally, her proposition had worked! She couldn’t wait.

Manila awoke the next day to the pure adrenaline and terror that can only be brought on by the violence of a loud alarm clock after too little sleep. Manila slapped at the stop button on her alarm and willed her heart to stop racing. It was just the weed, she reasoned to herself as she stared at the ceiling and still felt high, it was just the weed that had made her say yes. Raja’s fucking weed brownies. Raja wouldn’t even remember the conversation. Hopefully. Not that touching her face and staring into her deep brown eyes hadn’t been nice, really nice.

Raja was a lot more… attentive, lately. Affectionate. Caring. Maybe a little jealous, as proven by Manila’s complete and utter lie about Yara, which she’d strategically employed to test the waters. Raja was acting the way you’d act around someone who was maybe more than just a friend or a casual hookup…

But Manila wasn’t exactly sure what to do with that information.

Manila supposed she could’ve just told Raja how she felt, as she willed herself to get out of bed, but she sensed that once she started talking she wouldn’t be able to stop and it would all come out. All those painful feelings she’d been storing away since they’d met. There was no humanly possible way to be chill about it.

More immediately, there was the matter of getting to her morning class. It was the only other class she shared with Raja, and Manila didn’t believe in skipping class except in the circumstance of dire illness. Manila got dressed, put on some mom jeans and tried to find all her stuff, then hurried outside to find Raja waiting for her on the sidewalk out front, with a big grin, saying, “You’re late.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are.”

Raja stared at her for a long time, and Manila stared back and blinked. Even in the morning, with dark circles under her eyes, unbrushed hair, those stupid yellow sunglasses and an ugly, oversized camouflage T-shirt, Raja still looked impossibly sexy. Ugh. Manila hated her, and herself, for a split second.

“You’re still high,” stated Raja, her grin growing like the Cheshire Cat.

“Just a little.”

“I am too.”

“Whoop-de-fucking-do for us.”

“Mm-hmm,” hummed Raja smugly, and they walked down the street towards campus, falling into step.

Manila knew she had readings to do later, but maybe she’d take a break and play Legend of Zelda this afternoon. Zelda always made her feel better, and maybe if she beat the Water Temple she’d feel a little less head over heels in stupid, unrequited love with Raja. Raja slung a lazy arm over her shoulder as they walked and Manila decided that it may as well happen, and wrapped her arm around Raja’s back, because human contact was nice and it made her feel a little less annoyed about everything.

Everyone at the party at Morgan’s house (except Raven) cheered when Raja put the plate of weed brownies down on the kitchen table and announced, “Alright bitches, they’re special and potent, and they take about forty-five minutes to kick in, so start small.”

But Raja hadn’t indulged in her own creations tonight. Instead, she sipped some wine and watched as Manila played an incredibly loud and competitive round of beer pong with Shangela and her dancer friends. Raja had decided to go right back to what Manila had first told her on the day she’d freaked out at the grocery store and had her little realization, which was to ask her when she wasn’t high. And to tell her how she felt. With like, words.

She’d discussed her plan thoroughly with Delta, who thought the whole thing was getting ridiculous and someone should probably just lock Raja and Manila in a room together until they figured it out. Unfortunately it wasn’t up to Delta. Raja laughed as Shangela victoriously sunk the ping pong ball again and Manila grumbled and drank up.

Raja went out on the deck, leaning on the railing and looking out at the yard. It was a warm night with a gentle breeze, and Raja felt the urge to light up a joint but pushed it aside. In the opposite corner of the deck, Manila’s gym buddy, Willam, was talking to somebody. Raja nodded to her, and she nodded back and continued her conversation. Music and light spilled out of the house.

Raja smoothed down her shirt and waited. She’d told Manila she’d be out on the deck for a while and hopefully Manila would come find her after she inevitably lost to Shangela at beer pong. Shangela had the hand-eye coordination of a heart surgeon, even a few drinks in, and while Manila was great at Smash Bros, and liked to run and work out, her depth perception in real life had room for improvement.

So Raja waited, and tried not to sweat nervously. This whole self-awareness thing was challenging, and it was awkward not being high at a party. Perhaps what Manila had said about Raja being kind of an anxious bitch was right…

A couple minutes later Manila stumbled out onto the deck with a red solo cup in her hand, laughing at something happening behind her. Unfortunately, Willam caught Manila’s eye before she noticed Raja lurking in the corner like a gremlin, and she went over and talked to her. Raja glanced over at some antics happening on the lawn, until Manila finally turned around and sauntered the few short steps across the deck to her.

“Ugh, I can’t believe Shangela beat me again,” complained Manila, leaning on the railing next to Raja, “She wins like every time!”

“See how it feels?” teased Raja.

“Whatever bitch, you deserve to be last at something,” replied Manila, nudging her and giving her a tipsy grin.

Raja chuckled and took a moment to gather herself. She’d never had to tell anyone she actually liked them before, and really wasn’t sure where to start. Normally, most people wanted to make out and leave it at that and if they caught feelings then Raja would either go along with it or let them down easy. Raja snuck a glance at Manila. Her hair was up a high ponytail again tonight, brushing the back of her neck, and her little smirk had a knowing edge to it. Her tight black shirt was… low-cut. Raja quickly looked back up at her face.

“You’re not smoking your usual blunt,” observed Manila, bluntly, after a moment of silence.

“Oh yeah, no,” said Raja, twisting her hands together. This would have been way easier high. “I didn’t feel like it.”

“So you had some of your brownies earlier.”

“Nope.”

“Ooh, so you’re drinking tonight,” said Manila with a conspiratorial smile, gesturing at the mostly untouched red solo cup balanced on the ledge of the railing next to Raja, and raising her own.

“Not really.”

“You’re sober?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” asked Manila, scrunching up her nose, as cute as she was incredulous, “We’re at a party.”

Raja wasn’t entirely sure why she was so mercilessly sober at this party either, but then she remembered the task at hand.

Dodging the question, Raja clutched at her cup and said, “So, I kind of wanted to tell you something.”

“What?” asked Manila, turning around and leaning back against the railing, resting her elbows on the edge.

“Uh,” said Raja, and let out an awkward laugh, “Well.” She took a deep breath and tried her best. “I’ve been thinking about uh, our friendship and about you, like, over the past little while.”

Manila looked confused, but motioned for her to continue.

“I really like you.” There, Raja had said it, but the words kept tumbling out. “You’re pretty and hilarious and smart and you actually look after yourself, which is like, responsible and kinda hot. And we already know we get along, so maybe it’s a good place to, uh, start dating… in a low-key kind of way?”

Manila still looked confused, even borderline distressed, like she was trying to wrestle a very difficult philosophical concept. Raja realized that she hadn’t been very clear.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, uh,” finished Raja, biting her lip and laughing awkwardly again, “Do you wanna make out?”

Manila’s face was on an emotional journey, which Raja watched with a combination of amusement and nervous anticipation. Maybe Manila would make fun of her for this too, and she’d just have to live with it. Maybe it didn’t matter how Raja felt, it would remain a joke forever. Or maybe, just maybe, Manila would feel the same way…

“Uh,” said Manila, nodding to herself. Her eyes were wide with surprise and disbelief, and she didn’t even tease Raja for being a total dweeb, which Raja had expected. “I mean…”

Raja waited, trying not to fidget and totally failing.

“Yeah,” said Manila, with a heavy, relieved exhale, “Yeah, I think that could be really great.”

A big smile stole over Manila’s face and she straightened up from where she was leaning on the railing and shuffled closer to Raja. Raja stepped forward too, her heart beating fast. She was so happy, so relieved, now that she’d admitted her feelings and Manila seemed to return them, she wanted nothing more than to make out with her, finally.

They leaned towards each other, excited and cautious. Manila touched Raja’s shirt, running her finger over the buttons. They were very close together. Raja could smell the alcohol on her breath and that lavender conditioner as Manila leaned in closer, tilting her head up to meet her, their lips just about to touch-

But at the last second Raja couldn’t resist the urge to mess with Manila, as she had with her before.

“Mmm, you know what?” said Raja, pulling back and flipping her hair over her shoulder, joking, “You missed your chance, I’m not interested anymore.”

Raja grinned. But instead of smiling back and maybe smacking her arm in mock-offence, genuine betrayal and disappointment crossed over Manila’s face. She stepped back, gave Raja an awful, disgusted look, turned on her heel and she stomped off the deck and back into the house.

Raja’s stomach dropped right out her body and through the deck, through the grass and the dirt and the crust of the earth right into the magma underneath.

Oh shit.

Manila had known, she’d just known that it was too good to be true.

And of course, she was right. It was entirely bullshit. Raja was just messing with her but it had gone to too far and it wasn’t funny anymore! Before, when it had just been silly, casual offers to make out it was fine, but Raja lying about having real feelings was cruel. Manila breathed in deeply and pressed back tears.

Manila stalked through the party in to the crowded living room, where there was a folding table covered in bottles of alcohol and mix. Manila took a random half-empty bottle of Absolut™ vodka and put it to her lips, gulping back as much as she could. It stung her throat. Manila should never, ever have let herself admit that she cared, let herself be vulnerable-

“Hey,” said a voice next to her, “That’s my vodka.”

Manila lowered the bottle, which was significantly emptier, and saw Raven with a frown on her face, her blunt bangs just brushing her neat eyebrows.

“Sorry,” muttered Manila and put the bottle back down on the table.

But Raven just took it and poured two hefty shots into two conveniently located shot glasses, and offered Manila one. Fuck it. Manila took the shot glass. With a smirk, Raven raised her glass and Manila clinked them together, then slammed it back. Manila eyed Raven as she lowered the glass, her stomach twisting against the sudden onslaught of alcohol. Raven wasn’t really her type but she was attractive enough, and the betrayal and anger rolling around in Manila’s body needed to go somewhere-

“Let me guess,” said Raven, with a knowing smile, “You were talking to Raja, right? She has a tendency to break hearts.”

Manila nodded bitterly, trying to put the glass down on the table, and momentarily lost her balance. Raven grabbed her arm and steadied her, letting out a low, amused chuckle.

“Do you wanna make out?” asked Manila impulsively, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Raven blinked with surprise, and laughed, “Sure? I always thought you were cute-“

“Great,” interrupted Manila, stumbling in to Raven and wrapping her arms around her neck. The kiss was sudden and sloppy, the taste of vodka mingling on their mouths.

Raja stood all alone on the deck. She’d fucked up.

Raja hadn’t been thinking, she’d rashly assumed the joke would be harmless, and that Manila could take it. Manila had done practically the same thing to her a few weeks ago…

But maybe it wasn’t quite the same, because that time Raja had just been offering to casually make out, not like… actually attempting to express her feelings and propose that they try to date or whatever. Hmm.

Spurred by her own foolishness and the sudden fear that Manila would never talk to her again, Raja walked quickly off the deck. She re-entered the party, and scanned the kitchen. The plate of brownies was picked over and the music was loud and it was even more crowded than before. But Manila wasn’t in there, and Raja looked round for Delta or Carmen to ask for help. Carmen was nowhere to be seen, and Delta was in the corner, flirting with some guy.

Raja would have to deal with this herself.

Raja moved through the crowd of people towards the living room. She passed Shangela, Morgan and some guys and then entered the crowded room. Raja craned her neck to see over the crowd, and froze.

Manila was by a table covered in bottles, locked in an embrace with Raven of all people!

They were by the edge of the crowd, their bodies flush together, Manila’s arms around Raven’s neck, and Raven’s hands on her waist… betrayal and hurt flooded through Raja’s veins.

“Hey!” exclaimed Raja, hurrying across the room, “What the hell, Manila?! You can’t just make out with my ex!”

Raven and Manila broke away from each other, and both glared at her. Raven’s stupid red lipstick was smeared across Manila’s lips, staining the perfect corner of her mouth.

“I can do what I want!” objected Manila, slurring her words and turning back to Raven, trying to kiss her again, but Raven was still glaring at Raja, her expression annoyed.

“I told you like four times you’re not invited to parties here anymore!” snapped Raven.

“You know I don’t read your texts,” retorted Raja, trying to get Manila to make eye contact with her as Manila pawed at Raven, trying to pull her back in, “Manila, come on-”

“You’re such a bitch,” said Raven, rolling her eyes and batting Manila away from her. “Back off Manila, I don’t want to be involved with whatever this is-”

“Don’t go-” managed Manila, trying to hang on to Raven, but Raven slid out of her grip and quickly escaped across the crowded living room into the hallway.

Raja and Manila stared at each other.

“Look, I didn’t mean it-” began Raja.

“Whatever,” interrupted Manila, shaky, trying to push past her and follow Raven, “I know you didn’t mean it, obviously.”

“No,” said Raja, shifting in front of her, and trying to get her words out properly, “I meant the first part, the part where I said I like you. But not the part where I said, uh, that I didn’t. Like you.”

Even Raja could tell that was basically incoherent. Manila tilted her head to the side and her mouth fell open in annoyed confusion. Raja didn’t know what to say, the hurt and regret swirled inside her. But she desperately wanted Manila to understand that what she meant was, well… not serious, exactly. But important, significant. She should’ve had some weed to take the edge off.

“Wait, what-” began Manila, reaching out to steady herself on the table.

“Can we talk about this somewhere else?” asked Raja, noting that Manila seemed significantly drunker then she’d been a few minutes ago. “Also, are you okay?”

“I had some vodka,” muttered Manila, and then nodded, “Yeah, let’s uh, go outside.”

“Right,” said Raja, and let Manila lead her unsteadily through the room and down the front steps.

Outside, Manila started walking down the familiar sidewalk in the direction of where they both lived. The noise of the party faded behind them. Raja walked next to her, trying to gather her words again.

“I’m sorry I made fun of you at the Halloween party just ‘cause you wanted to make out,” apologized Manila, in a small, tight voice, “But I- I just couldn’t deal with it. I can’t deal with you, you make me feel like I’m going insane.”

“Well… yeah it kind of hurt, but it’s okay,” said Raja, trying to make sense of the second part of what Manila had said, and figure out what to say next. Manila sighed deeply, her expression scrunched up, sad and frustrated, power-walking with unsteady determination down the street. Raja had to hurry to keep up.

“But like I said, uh,” continued Raja, unsure as to why they were practically sprinting, “You’re my friend and I care about you. I don’t want to make you feel like you’re insane or whatever-“

Their hands brushed together. Raja caught her fingers with Manila’s and held her hand, her grip gentle, hoping that maybe this would show how she felt better than words could.

A single tear dripped down Manila’s face, but she kept walking, squeezing Raja’s hand in return.

After a minute or two, Manila stopped abruptly and Raja jerked to halt a couple steps past her, their arms stretched out between them.

“Uh-” said Manila, and paled, her eyes widening.

She turned and threw up in the neighbour’s yard.

Raja rushed over and held her hair back while Manila puked up vodka-tainted bile into a giant hosta plant that Raja recognized as the one Manila had pushed her into a week or two ago. Manila groaned pathetically and straightened back up.

“Are we near my house?” whined Manila, spitting on the ground and wiping her mouth.

“Yeah,” replied Raja, suppressing her laugh and pointing barely fifteen feet away, “You live right here.”

“Oh.”

With that, they walked the few steps down the sidewalk and up the stairs to Manila’s house. Manila unlocked the door and flicked the light on, kicking off her shoes. Raja snuck past her and made for the kitchen, pouring two glasses of water. Admittedly one of them was in a mason jar, because the dishes situation seemed a bit out of control. Manila followed her through and they both sat down at the kitchen table.

Raja handed Manila the water and Manila sipped it. She looked haggard and sad, her lower lip pouting more than normal. Raja reflected in the silence, thinking over what had happened and wondering if they’d ever manage to get involved at this rate. Maybe by graduation. Manila stood up from the table and got some saltines from the cupboard and they ate them, and drank more water. Then Manila stood up again, and paused awkwardly in front of Raja.

“I need to go to bed,” said Manila, biting her lip and not quite making eye contact.

“But I wanna make out,” whined Raja with a joking smile, before realizing with hot embarrassment that it was beyond stupid to make yet another joke about it-

“With my vomit breath?” replied Manila dryly.

Raja laughed, and so did Manila, dimples appearing in her cheeks. Raja stood, relieved, and they surveyed one another awkwardly. Raja darted forward and hugged Manila, pulling her in close for a moment and breathing in the smell of her hair. Manila seemed surprised but hugged her in return.

Raja stepped back and said, “Let’s talk tomorrow?”

Manila nodded, crossing her arms and looking tired and pathetic in lousy yellowish light of her kitchen. Her hair was everywhere, her eyes were puffy, and Raven’s red lipstick still stained the side of her mouth.

Well, thought Raja mildly to herself as she left, this is the woman I’ve chosen to love.

Love. Hmm.

#rpdr fanfiction #rajila #raja gemini #manila luzon #lesbian au #college au #everybody knows you're high #dartmouth420 #tw weed #tw vomiting

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aheistwithyaboi · 4 years

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Christmas Cookies

Oh boy here we go. This was requested by @spookyold-saintjm from this prompt list. I could never live up to the genius that is Spooky but here’s some Eric Derekson fluff. I hope you enjoy :)

8. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

17. “I don’t mind that you didn’t get me a present because you are my present.”

The fluffy snow drifted to the ground in blissful silence. Kids were tucked in their beds dreaming of the coming morning and it’s promised merriment. It was late at night on Christmas Eve and every light along the block was out except for one.

Christmas music hummed softly from the radio and the tree glowed from festive fairy lights.

“Come one Eric we have to get these cookies done before Santa gets here!”

You stood in the kitchen calling out to Eric who was in the living room. You had your apron doned and baking ingredients at the ready.

“I don’t know y/n, I’ve never really baked before” came Eric’s timid reply, “I-I would get the m-measurements wrong and make terrible cookies.”

You sigh, walking into the living room. Eric is wearing the colourful red and white sweater you bought him last year, nervously pacing near the window wringing a handkerchief in his hands. Taking his hands into yours you say softly, “Awe you wouldn’t mess anything up they’re just be baked with a little more love.” A smile hesitantly inches onto Eric’s face. “Plus, I’ll be there making sure you follow the recipe.” You pull him into a hug, encircling his strong waist. You feel some of the tension in back release.

“Oh ok, y/n.” He says into your shoulder.

Stepping back smiling and say,

“Let's get to it then.”

You two spend an hour making cookies together, the oven warming up the whole house. The air takes on the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg you use in your baking, smelling like childhood memories. At first, Eric stands away from the kitchen island, observing the way you carefully measure the ingredients. He approaches you diffidently asking if he can mix the flour and spices. You willingly oblige standing behind him guiding his hand, showing him how to mix without spilling flour over the sides. Soon Eric is mixing confidently and you busy yourself with the rest of the recipe. The Christmas music jingles in the background as you two waltz around the kitchen passing the eggs, kneading and rolling dough. Eric accidentally bumps into you with the bag of flour your apron By the time the last sheet of cookie is removed from the oven, Eric is smiling giddily.

“Thanks for the help babe, I can’t wait to eat these. You wanna watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas?”

The excited look on Eric’s face shifts and suddenly looks worried.

“Hey is everything ok?” You say rushing over to him. “We don’t have to watch that movie, you can pick a different one.”

He worms out of your grasp and runs up the stairs.

“St-stay down there!” He yells over his shoulder.

You stand awkwardly in the kitchen wondering aloud to yourself if you should go upstairs and see if he’s ok.

As soon as you made up your mind to go check on him, you hear Eric’s footsteps coming back down the stairs. He appears in the kitchen, flustered and flushed from the quick movement. He holds a red and gold wrapped box in his big hands.

“Oh Eric, you didn’t have to get me anything.” Immediate relief floods your system knowing that Eric is alright. He holds the box out, gesturing for you to open it.

When you open the perfectly wrapped present, you nearly melt with affection. Inside sits a small plush teddy bear wearing knitted boots.

“Did you knit these Eric?” You ask in amazement.

“Ye-yeah” he replies blushing.

“You absolutely darling! This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever given me.” You plant a kiss on his cheek and he turns even redder. Hugging his soft body, you start to tear up. You never even thought to get him something. Money had been tight recently and you hadn’t been able to get much for your’s and Eric’s one year anniversary either. You sniffle into his shoulder, trying not to cry aloud.

“What’s wrong y/n?” He guides you to the couch and takes you into his arms, your head resting across his broad chest.

“I *sniff* didn’t get you anything, I feel really bad.”

“Oh, y/n I don’t mind that you didn’t get me a present because you are my present.”

You can’t hold back anymore and cry openly as Eric holds you tight. He mutters sweet assurances telling you it’s ok. Eric smooths down your hair, planting soft kisses on the top of your head. Once you calm down you feel really sleepy. The last thing you remember before drifting off to sleep is Eric whispering softly, “I love you y/n, more than any present in the world.”

#markiplier #eric derekson #eric dereksonxreader #christmas #writing #my fic #fanfiction #i tried my best

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ellygoesnyooom · 6 years

Text

MC tries (and fails) to make pancakes for the RFA

Okay, so the context behind this is kinda funny? I tried to make pancakes once recently and absolutely failed miserably do not ever let me cook you pancakes it won’t end well. I was finishing up with my last pancake and was putting the pancake in the oven because I had it on low to keep the other pancakes warm, and while I was doing that, disaster struck. The spatula caught on the oven door and knocked my pancake to the ground. It was terrible, and I was dying, and took a picture and sent it to my friend, who died too. Basically, it was funny and I decided to write some scenarios based around this. I wanted to do V and Saeran, but they were getting long, so I didn’t want to make the post any longer. If you want to see them, though, let me know, I will definitely add them! I hope you enjoy, and thank you guys so much again for 300 followers!!

(low key promo, @saeyoungchoiownsthisass wrote something based off this [you can find it here] and you should totally check it out, it’s amazing and plus the photo I sent her is there so)

Yoosung

You wanted to make Yoosung some pancakes for breakfast to surprise him

You woke up early, went into the kitchen quietly, and mixed together the pancake batter

Everything was going great! The pancakes were looking good, and you had a good stack keeping warm in the oven

You poured the last of the pancake batter into the pan and went over to the bread drawer to pull out two slices of bread for toast

Then, once those were toasting, you got a tall glass out and filled that with orange juice

Basically, you prepared the whole tray, even setting the silverware up fancy beside the plate

You were smiling down at the tray proudly when the acrid scent of something burning hit your nose

That’s when you realized that, oh yeah, you are still cooking, and oh yeah, there is still a pancake in the pan

You lunged for the pan to take it off the stove and did, turning off the heat

But, that didn’t stop the smoke from reaching the smoke detector, which set that off

“Shitshitshitshitshit”

Yoosung ran out, eyes wide and scared. “MC! Where are… you.” He froze in the doorway to see you standing on top of a chair, fanning the smoke detector frantically. You stopped once the alarm stopped sounding and faced him

“Uh.. surprise?” You sent him a guilty/awkward smile as he took in the dirtied bowls and smoking pan and the general mess and you climbed off the chair

“Did you try making breakfast for me?” “Um, it was going to be a surprise,” you said sheepishly

A grin spread across his face as he came over and engulfed you in his arms. “I love you, even if you are sometimes a klutz.”

The surviving pancakes turned out well, though, and even though the surprise was ruined, Yoosung still loved it, even getting up and going for seconds

“Thank you, honey, I love them! But let me make you breakfast next time, okay?” You couldn’t have agreed more

Zen

You were hungry, and neither of you had gone shopping recently

Zen was at rehearsal and was going to bring groceries back home, but that wasn’t going to be for a while

As you alternated between opening the fridge and going to the pantry to look for food, you found a box of pancake mix

You had never made pancakes before, but were hungry and feeling up to the challenge, so you decided to mix the batter up and make some

Everything was going good. Was meaning past tense. That went out the window when you poured the batter into the pan, and it was so runny it wouldn’t hold it’s shape and formed a liquid blob

“That isn’t supposed to happen” you told yourself and reread the directions, adding a bit more mix until the mixture thickened

By this time a few minutes had passed, and you were starting to smell something burning

Quickly you scrapped that and poured a new pancake in

It held it’s shape and surprisingly, when you flipped it, had an almost even tone. The pancake looked great when you took it out of the pan and added more batter

You continued this, humming to yourself happily when they turned out better and better

You were half way through the bowl of batter and pouring some more into the pan when you heard someone bang on the door

Startled, your grip on the bowl slipped and you dropped the bowl, spilling the contents everywhere, including you

The kitchen and you were a disaster, and someone was knocking on the door

“Hold on!” You yelled, lowkey panicking as you turned off the burner and tried to wipe most of the batter off your skin as you rushed to the door

“Hello?” You sneakily hid your dirtied body behind the door when you opened it, but got shoved into the wall as Zen practically fell inside, arms full of groceries

He dropped the bags and shut the door, revealing your batter covered self. “Jagi? What happened to your clothing?” “Oh, uhmm nothing! It’s fine!”

“Okay, lets go put these groceries away then. I’m sorry for not shopping sooner.” He picked them all up again easily and strided to the kitchen while you lowkey panicked. “N-No! I can put them away!” too late

He froze in the kitchen, surveying the damage for a bit before chuckling. “So something did happen.” You didn’t respond, instead hiding your face in shame

He put the groceries down and came back to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek and licking where some of the batter had splashed. “Taste’s good, mmm~”

nOSEBLEEDS

Jaehee

She was working hard at the cafe and was tired, so one morning you decided to wake her up to pancakes in bed

You had made them before and weren’t too worried, mixing the ingredients and pouring the batter into the waiting pan

While you waited, you set the bowl down and leaned against the counter, spatula set on the counter while you scrolled through social media

You had a timer set on your phone to flip the pancakes, and when it went off, you reached for the spatula, only to bump the bowl full of batter onto the ground

You watched helplessly as the ceramic bowl tumbled to the tiled floor, the batter splashing everywhere and the bowl shattering into multiple pieces

The sound seemed to reverberate in the apartment, and you froze, just staring at the mess before quickly turning off the stove and grabbing some gloves to clean the glass

You had just started on wiping up the spilled batter when you heard a little gasp from behind you

Ashamed, you turned, seeing Jaehee staring at the mess of spilled batter, and at you mopping it up. Her eyes drifted to the pile of glass that remained of the bowl set off to the side. She was still in her pajamas, bundled up in a robe

“Did you try to make me breakfast?” You blushed and nodded, hiding your face.

“You really didn’t need to, MC. But thank you for the thought. I really appreciate it.” She didn’t seem mad, and grabbed some paper towels to help you clean up the batter despite you protesting

When you two finally finished and disposed of the broken bowl and mound of batter-soaked paper towels, she let out a yawn

“Coffee?” You asked, and giggled when she yawned again and nodded sleepily. “Yes, please.”

Jumin

He was always making you pancakes, so you decided to make him some, for a change

I mean, what could be so hard? All you need to do is mix the ingredients, pour it in a bowl-oh

The batter was too thin, and just ran instead of turning into a nice circle

Not discouraged by this, you added some things to the batter to thicken it up and went to pour it into the pan

This time, though, it was too thick, and you were starting to get frustrated

You added some more liquid and tried again, but it didn’t hold it’s shape again

You were trying to remember how Jumin always did it. You’d seen him do it so many times so flawlessly, and you memorized how he did it. So why couldn’t you replicate it???

Finally, you dumped the botched attempt of batter and googled a recipe

You set about preparing the batter, and poured it into the waiting pan

The first pancake turned out well, but to be sure it tasted okay, you poured a bit of maple syrup over top it and tried it

The pancake tasted horrible, and you quickly tossed that and the batter away with a frustrated groan

Elizabeth was laying on the floor, watching with wide blue eyes. She seemed to be judging your every movement, and you scowled at the cat. “What? You think you could do it better?” She just twitched her tail and stared at you with those innocent eyes

“Ugh.” You got out a new bowl and tossed the second bowl in the sink and remade the recipe, with the same result

You let out a cry of frustration and slammed the spatula down on the countertop in anger

“Why can’t I get it?”

“Get what, darling?” You jumped ,turning around to find your husband leaning against the wall, still in his robe, arms crossed loosely over his chest and a bemused smile playing across his lips

“I-uh, how long have you been here?” You asked sheepisly as she pushed off the wall and walked over to you, wrapping you in his arms

“Not too long. Would you like me to show you how to do it properly?” You nodded

In the end, the surprise didn’t work out, but you did learn how to make pancakes the right way from Jumin, who seemed happy to show you, and didn’t mind having to do it for you

707/Saeyoung

He had been working so hard in his office for the past day and a half

You had barely seen him. Every time you went in to ask if he was okay, if he needed something, he would dismiss you, though not as cruelly as he did before.

Usually, it was a, “Not now, MC, I’ll be done in an hour, okay?” or “One more hour, I promise, okay? Then we can do whatever you want.”

Hours passed, though, and he didn’t come out, and you knew better than to pressure him to come out

So, you sat out with Saeran for the day, doing whatever he wanted with him

You went to bed alone that night, and the next morning, he was still there, working. You came up behind him, trying but not able to decipher the codes on the screen. Disappointment filled you seeing the plate of food you made him for dinner barely touched where you left it last night

“Saeyoung, please, take a break. It’s been-” He turned to you and gripped your hands. He looked absolutely wrecked, dark bags under his eyes, but he gave you a tired smile. “I’ve almost got it, honey. It shouldn’t be more than an hour, tops.”

“That’s what you said last time.” You said dejectedly and broke away from him, leaving him to work

Saeran was awake by now, and you decided to make pancakes for breakfast

He leaned against the counter and watched as you prepared the pancake batter. He let out an annoyed groan when you splashed a bit of the mixture on his face, but had a smile on his face

You two made small talk as they cooked. He eventually moved to sit on the counter, but moved again to sit at the table when a good amount were done

You served him a small stack of pancakes and let him top them off howerver he liked while you made a plate up for Saeyoung, piling it off with his favorite toppings. He hadn’t eaten anything, and you were going to make him eat, even if it meant tying him up and forcing the food down his throat

As this was happening, he finally broke into the file he needed to, and extracted the needed files. He was so tired, but felt bad for ignoring you for the past day, so he went out to find you

He could hear you and Saeran talking in the kitchen and headed there

You were coming around the same corner he was with the plate of pancakes, and the two of you ran into each other

“Oh!” The pancakes flew from the plate, getting on your hands and ending up on the floor. Thank goodness you used a paper plate, and it just tumbled to the ground with the pancakes

He apologized profusely, but instead of getting mad, you just started to laugh. Poor man was confused

“Don’t worry, Saeyoung, the pancakes don’t matter. Did you finish finally?” He let out a breath of relief and responded, “Yes, finally. I’m sorry for ditching you for the last day. I’ll spend the next day with you, okay?”

“Nope. You will help me clean up this mess and you will go sleep. I’ll be fine.” He smirked, registering the syrup on your hand and grabbing it, sticking one of your fingers in his mouth

“Mmm, tastes good~” You smacked him, blushing hard, and he just grinned kissing you. “Let’s clean up, shall we?”

cue saeran yelling at you two for doing that while he was eating lol

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