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#because they can smell the affection for all (most) people rolling off of you in waves
lovesickeros · 4 months
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can.. can I ask for an affectionate reader with characters who aren’t normally like… used to the love? like, not just through words but physical affection like hand-holding, kisses, hugs, all that shebang. probably with a few people like yelan, ei, basically any character that is either cut-off from society or seems socially distant or isolated. 😞
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× affectionate reader with yelan, ei, & furina
[ 4.2 Archon Quest spoilers ]
× yelan
Varies between how you display your affection, to be honest. Just like being affectionate with people? She's cool with it as long as you don't pop by while she's working (mostly because she'll end up dragging you into it for a bit of fun). I don't think she's all that touchy feely herself, but she'll absolutely get you gifts instead– like pretty knick nacks? She'll make sure to snag any she thinks you might like. Like a good meal? Sure, she'll take you out to one of the restaurants in the city, doesn't matter how expensive. Her treat. If you do prefer physical gifts rather then being taken out, you'll eventually get used to the random unmarked letters and packages showing up where your staying pretty often. It's obvious to know who it came from even if she never signs anything.
Flirty reader, though? Whole nother can of worms and now it's a challenge. The more confident you are the more interested she is. The other acolytes would absolutely seethe at the idea but she has no hesitation at just straight up flirting back– she's as charismatic as they come and she's got a poker face that's basically impenetrable. She'll probably also make a bet to see who cracks first (she always wins, unsurprisingly). Probably won't get dragged into any of her schemes this way but if you ask politely maybe she'll consider it, anyway.
The smell of freshly brewed tea and the clatter of dice across wood was a common sight at the Yanshang Teahouse– less common was the woman secluded in the far corner, her lips pulled into a grin that flashed fangs and a look that would scare off the most confident of men.
She'd normally try to scope out any new blood that'd made the mistake of stepping into her teahouse and was equally stupid enough to accept a gamble against her just for the thrill of it, but she was far too absorbed in the warm body at her side, one of her die clasped tightly in their hand as she guided them through the motions– they had a knack for it, she had to admit. The thought made her preen, the clatter of the die as it rolled across the table giving her that subtle, familiar rush.
Even if she knew exactly where it'd land.
"Six. Hm, maybe you're just lucky," She muses, plucking the die from the table and holding it up to her eye like a prized jewel, "Or maybe you're not as innocent as you'd have us believe." There's a sharp glint in her eyes at the prospect, but everyone else has the sense to keep their heads down and their words to themselves as she tosses the die herself.
"So why don't we find out and make a bet, just between you and me?"
× ei
Varies between Ei and the Shogun, because you'll probably be seeing either as much as the other. Sometimes you gotta really squint to tell who it is sometimes, but you get used to it. Both are fairly similar, though, in that their first instinct (especially in public) is to tense up like you're about to attack them or something. Difference is Ei eventually relaxes after a solid minute of trying to process your sudden affection and, if no one else is around, she might even reciprocate. Just don't tease her for being a little stiff and awkward about it, she's trying. That's what happens when your only company is a robot and uh. Nothing. For like 500 years. She's trying. Raiden, on the other hand, is just about as awkward as you can imagine. She's polite (blunt) about it because Ei is fond of you and also you are. The Creator. But she's not really built to deal with personal relationships and so she doesn't know how to deal with affection.
..Depending on what you do you may or may not blue screen Ei hard enough that she retreats back to PoE
Ei usually isn't fond of sitting still, unless it's to meditate. At least then she goes in with a purpose, something to achieve– but now, she's just focused on trying not to make a fool of herself. Her muscles are starting to ache from how hard she's tensing, though, in an effort to sit as straight and still as possible as their hands glide through her hair, weaving it into a single braid.
She can just barely hear the subtle lilt of their voice as they hum– and though it is soothing, it is also..very distracting. She can't focus long enough to try and meditate, too lost in the gentle rise and fall of their voice and the care they take to braid her hair. If she'd had a heart, she'd sure it'd be beating so wildly against her ribcage they could hear it.
But then it stops– their hands fall back to their sides and their humming falters. She freezes, too, racking her brain for any slights she must have committed. Instead, she is met with a calm, tender touch on the back of her neck, making her inhale sharply.
"Am I making you uncomfortable, Ei? You're so tense.." She has to grit her teeth to stop herself from bowing so low her head presses against the ground, her hands folded in her lap, clenching instinctively. "..No, Divine One." She answers simply, trying to contain the adoration swelling in her chest.
Yet as much as she tries to relax, to ease their worries, she finds that she cannot.
"Hm." That small murmur, a simple sound that nearly made her jump, was the only warning she got before they scooted closer, wrapping their arms around her stomach and resting their chin on her shoulder with a grin she would liken to Miko's, if she dared to make such a comparison. "Really?"
She swears she must've been feverish at the affection, lightheaded and dazed until she thought she might simply perish at the brush of their hands against her own.
Much to her embarrassment, however, she doesn't realize she's instinctively pulled back into Plane of Euthymia until she sees the familiar dull purples engulf her vision once again.
Though only a small solace, it seemed a little..brighter, this time.
× furina
Varies between pre 4.2 and post 4.2 archon quests to be honest.
Pre 4.2 she comes off as very vain– of course the most Divine would see fit to spoil her with affection! She deserves it, and is obviously their favorite! Just don't look too hard because she's terrible at hiding how flustered she actually is. Absolutely goes home right after and screams into her pillow for at least thirty minutes minimum.
Post 4.2 she's a lot more openly bashful and flustered. She's really not used to affection and even the smallest show of it has her folding immediately. Now that she doesn't need to worry about being found out she's a lot more receptive to affection. Cup her cheeks and compliment her and her knees are buckling. Like. Especially weak for compliments and praise (she deserves it. please spoil her).
She swears she must be hallucinating– she had been having trouble sleeping recently. But..no. The visage of the Creator was as real as the sweat beading on her brow as she stared at them for a long, awkward moment. Should..she let them in? But then they'd see the pathetic state she was in, and the last thing she wanted to do was make a fool of herself in front of them-!
Her choice was quickly made for her, anyway, as she let out an undignified squeak of surprise when they suddenly tugged her forward into their chest, enclosing her in a hug.
Her first reaction was to freeze– her second was becoming absolutely flustered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink and her mouth closing and opening as she tried to find her words.
"I– ah..um." She stumbled over her words instead, floundering like a fish out of water. Yet she felt a distinct sense of emptiness wash over her when they finally pulled back, looking a touch sheepish. "Sorry, sorry– you just looked like you needed a hug."
The silence spoke for itself, her shoulders tensing slightly. But the way the concern and affection bled through their voice made her waver, her hands trembling as she let out a shaky breath that almost sounded like a sigh.
"It's..It's fine! Fine, I'm fine." She repeated, trying desperately to ignored the way her voice cracked and how hot her face felt– though it was more an attempt to affirm herself that she was not thinking about how warm they felt, how much she..actually enjoyed the hug. She wasn't thinking about it all! Absolutely not!
..Maybe a little.
"Just warn me next time, please?"
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jayden-killer · 8 months
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YOU LOOK LONELY.. I CAN FIX THAT. (Miguel O'Hara AU!)
summary: Year 2099 and a new A.I. had been lanuched. He is called "Miguel" and he's here to comfort you in your most hard times. But, little you know, he's more than a A.I.
paring: Miguel O'Hara x F! Reader.
A/N: woah there, Detroit: Become Human and Blade Runner combined togheter? Why not, hehehe.
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WHAT'S IT LIKE TO HOLD THE HAND TO SOMEONE? INTERLINKED.
DID THEY TEACH YOU HOW TO FEEL FINGER TO FINGER? INTERLINKED.
DO YOU DREAM ABOUT BEING INTERLINKED?
INTERLINKED.
Year 2099. Bright neon leons illuminated the streets, high skyscrapers were imposing themselves, showing on their huge advertising screens and weather forecast. It was night, and the air smelled of smog. She always believed that all those air purifiers wouldn't be very effective. But now it didn’t matter, because among the crowd of people in the street she walked with her head down, tired eyes that seemed off. Next to her, dozens, no, many more people, ready to start their weekend. They planned to go to nightclubs, drink, have sex, or do something she didn't care about. She heard their laughter in the background, and he could clearly see some guys pushing each other, laughing, and joking in the corner of his eye. She didn’t care. She just wanted to get to her house. Then she gave himself a push and marched more quickly, because she could no longer. She wished to put an end to the terrible sadness in her heart.
"I'm home".
The moment she walked across the threshold of her house the lights went on, lighting up the living room and kitchen. She breathed deeply and threw out the excess oxygen accumulated, also expelling the tension she had accumulated in the day. She looked around, and calmly placed the bag on her raw coffee table until she heard some sweets in the house, yet heavy steps. Her eyebrows leapt up and a smile, a soft smile, fell on her face.
"Miguel," said his name softly. "You’re here."
"I am always here, dear. Ven aquì". The man smiled back and extended his arms in her direction. She didn’t waste any time holding him to herself. Miguel tilted his head to the side and a confused expression landed on his face. " I can feel your heartbeat, and your blood pressure is 61 mmHg. What’s going on, dear?" Miguel’s arms touched her gently, almost as if she were a fragile doll, caressing her hips. Her eyes shone.
"I just missed you, my love" she answered quietly, never stopping looking into his reddish, brown eyes. "That's all".
"I want to help you, mi sol, how can I?"
Miguel blinked, genuinely worried about his partner’s health. He gave her a rough hand in her soft hair and continued to caress her. She stared at him with those eyes that showed true love, felt, and felt good because now it was just her and her Miguel. It was just the two of them in his house while the world was doing who knows what beyond those walls. He sighed, and nodded, answering Miguel’s question. "Oh, no, I’m fine. I just missed you so much".
"I’m here, mi flor, I’m here," he repeated once again, bringing his body to him, a hug that Miguel really felt. His heart pompo more, feeling so close to him the person who had immediately shown him kindness, sweetness. The warmth that emanated from his loved one was comfortable. It was all true for him.
"Do you want to watch a movie? In exactly eight minutes, they’re gonna broadcast the "Bicentennial Man". It’s your favorite movie, right?" Miguel smiled at her, grabbing her hand and gently sitting her down on the sofa. She did not take her eyes off him for a moment: his tall, imposing figure, with large shoulders and trained arms, but she only saw a sweet man who needed great affection. He was perfect in every way.
"Of course I do, but only if you will be next to me to pamper me".
"Absolutely". Miguel landed lightly on the sofa and took a breath. With a gesture of the hand, the television went on, and the channel was rolled into the desired one with a single finger move. The girl got much closer to the man, cuddling up to him, resting her temple on his huge muscular arm. Miguel spent no time surrounding his beloved with that arm, bringing her closer to him. The two remained there, enjoying their presence, occasionally discussing the development of the film, a film that she had reviewed over and over again.
It was now night, the hologram of the clock marked 12.12 am. Miguel’s eyes fell on the figure of his beloved then sleeping companion. He calculated his breath and his heartbeats, and everything seemed normal to him. He was just resting quietly. He understood that his day had been intense, without her telling him, but he didn’t want to hurt her. Because over time he had learned to respect the needs of humans. He had become accustomed to their habits, or rather, to the habits of the one who had welcomed him to his house, without treating him as a slave, without showing racism towards him, just because he was a robot. Yet, he felt real every time he touched himself in the face, fingering his facial features. Every morning it was the same. Her arms picked her up, taking care not to wake her. She looked like an angel, he thought, admiring her as if she really was. How could human beings be such beautiful creatures, so deadly?
"Door, please," he muttered. The door to his room opened like a curtain, closing behind him. She walked calmly to her bed, then rested it on the warm mattress she had heated for her. He pulled the blanket up, and he watched her sleep for a few more minutes. She couldn’t believe it, she was the most beautiful creature he’d seen.
"Rest, my love. I’ll be here with you tomorrow too," he smiled, laying a subtle, soft kiss on her lips. His artificial heart blew, even more, even more the liquid that was contained in his circuits. He lowered the shutters and warmed the home environment a little more. Leaving the room, Miguel headed for his post, where he would recharge for the following day.
"Model 70868". This was what was written horizontally on his desk. He was not comfortable with it. He didn’t feel like a simple robot, something built to serve mankind and satisfy it fully. He didn’t feel like a machine.
"I want to be human".
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My dearest Lumi,
Firstly, I want to congratulate you on your follower milestone. You exude talent and grace and I am beyond grateful that you’ve chosen to share your gift of writing with the world. You deserve every ounce of praise.
Secondly, I’d like to put in a request for said follower milestone. I would love if you’d write something for my favorite little lovable pot wash. His presence in Alford Plea makes me smile in abundance and he fills me with immeasurable joy. I have wracked my brain for like three days and just can’t come up with a solid premise so I’m leaving this one up to dealers choice.
You’re the best 💕
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No solid premise?  No problem!  Here’s some softness for our little lovable pot wash 🤍🤍🤍
(Written for the follower milestone!)
He works in one of the best restaurants in the city, which is as fantastic as it is annoying, because it means that you hardly ever see Johnny at normal hours.  His shifts can start at half seven in the morning or two in the afternoon, and they’ve easily gone on for fourteen hours some days.  It’s not entirely unusual for you to be pulled out of deep sleep for a minute or two almost every other night—you’ll hear him try his best to be quiet sneak into your shared flat at and you’ll sleepily wonder if he’ll stick around the next morning long enough for you to make him some coffee or have breakfast together. 
And, of course, when he’s not working or sleeping, he’s studying. 
Your flatmate’s biggest and most well-kept secret is his university degree, one he’s determined to see through while he continues to work.  You wonder how he isn’t closer to burn-out, but you know him.  You’ve known him for a long time.  
He’s one of the hardest working people you know, the most cheerful, the life of the party, radiant and glowing, both inside and out, and you love him you love him you love him—
The front door clicks quietly shut and then—“Bonnie?”— and you smile.  
“In here,” you call out, and hop off the couch to grab him a beer.  He meets you halfway—when you close the fridge door, his goofy smile greets you—and oh.  The man makes your heart flutter, even after all this time.  Especially after all this time.  “Hi,” you whisper, not wanting to break the spell of the moment.  “Alright?”
“Better now,” he says, smiling.  In a few fluid moments, he’s taken the bottle of beer in his hands, used his teeth to open it like the complete savage that he is, lifted you up and set you on the counter.  “So much better now.”  The words are muffled on account of his face being buried in your neck, arms naturally going around you.
The actual time Johnny can spend with you feels like it comes in peaks and troughs, but never his affection—you’re always spoiled in that regard.  
You’ve never bothered labelling this thing you have with him because you don’t need to.  You share the lease of your flat, just as much as you share the good and the bad of your lives.  He’s your best friend, your flatmate, your confidant, your pillar of support, just as much as you’re his bonnie, his emergency contact, his mother’s favourite, his his his.    
“Mmpf—smell nice,” he murmurs (the words muffled against your skin make you shudder and you feel goosebumps along the length of your arms, but Johnny never notices).  Only when he pushes away from you do you get your first proper look at him.   
He looks tired, so so exhausted, but even then, nothing can hide the fact that he glows.  His eyes are melted lazulite under the dim kitchen lights, all the colours of the bright blue sea melted into one.  They hold you captive, and you almost miss his tired babbling.
“...knew it was gonna happen, but right now?  Been just months, wasnae expectin’ it, hen!”
“Wait, what?”
“What?”
You roll your eyes and try to get him to repeat himself.  “What weren’t you expecting, what happened?”
Your words make him roll his eyes mockingly, and he boops your nose lightly.  “You weren’t listenin,’ bonnie?  Simon.  The mad lad’s only gone and married his lass!”
“WHAT?”  Your brows kiss your hairline in shock, and you’re left gaping at him.  “Seriously?”
“Seriously!  Saw her rock on her finger today, massive thing!”  He shakes his head with a smile, and you know it’s in fondness for Simon and his new wife.  “Said Simon wasnae havin’ her hide it anymore.”
“God!  Married!  It’s so…grown up?”
“Suppose so, bonnie.  Nice, though.”  He pushes himself away from you and chugs  half the bottle of beer you’d given him.  “Debrief on the couch?” 
“Yes, please,” you groan and jump off the counter, massaging your buttocks.    
You follow him outside and he plops on to the couch, but there’s no sign of his usual routine of turning the telly on for some football.  You watch as he puts his beer on the coffee table (completely ignoring the coaster, of course) and leans his head back against the couch, looking deep in thought.  
Johnny looks beautiful in that angle, you think—broad shoulders leaning all the way back, his neck exposed and looking ripe for your mouth, your tongue on his skin.  You watch in a daze as he brings his hands up to rub his eyes with his palms, then stretches lightly and relaxes.  “Come sit wi’ me, bonnie,” he says, without opening his eyes, and you’re walking towards him without even registering the fact.  
He draws you in effortlessly, and each time, you fall into his orbit without even the pretence of resistance.     
“It…bothers you?  The fact that Simon’s married now, like a real adult?”  You busy yourself, looking anywhere but him, mindlessly moving his beer onto the coaster.   
“Naw, bonnie…no, it doesnae bother me.  I just…dunno, just bein’ a twat.”
“Maybe,” you say without preamble.  “You’re not…jealous?”
“Shit.  Maybe ah am,” he concedes.  “Dunno, it’s never bothered me like so before.”  He turns to you with a sceptical look in his eyes.  “Ye don’t want it?”
“Marriage?”
“Aye.  That and…to fall in love.”
Ah.  Your mind thumbs through the collection of moments you’ve felt over the years—moments where you’d been so sure that you’d crumble before him, beg him to feel about you the way you felt about him.  The memories flip in your consciousness painfully  until you have a measured response for him.  One that doesn’t give you away.  
“Doesn’t everyone?” you whisper.  
“Aye, of course.  But it’s different.  Girls are supposed to want it more?”  He says the words with a mischievous grin, and you have to scoff at the obvious attempt to rile you up. 
“That’s very feminist of you.”
“Just saying’ what ah’ve heard!”
“And yet, you’re the one bitching about it, John.”
“John?!  Ach, bonnie, you cannae call me that!” he says in mock-horror, hand reaching up to grasp at his chest.  And then he smiles at you again, sincere and full of light and so, so him, that you return in, almost involuntarily.  “Ah’m happy for him, of course.  He’s happy.  In love.  Happy.”
You laugh out loud before you can help it and take a second to notice his glare.  “Sorry, sorry!” you wheeze, sounding decidedly not sorry.  “You sounded like you wanted to fuck him there, for a second, I’m sorry!”
“Aye well, he’s handsome, no?  I’d go fo’ him!”
“...yeah.”  You sigh dreamily as you think about Johnny’s boss—tall and handsome, with arms the size of trucks—and the appeal is obvious.  You’ve met Simon several times over the years, and he’s only ever shown you respect and polite interest.  He’s not exactly your type, but even you can’t turn your nose up at a man that looks like Simon does.
“Okay, that’s enough daydreamin,’ brat!”  Johnny laughs, knocking into your shoulder with his own.  “Lustin’ after a married man.”  He shakes his head dramatically.  “Yer shameful.”
“Nah.  I’m happy for him too!  And…you needn’t be upset about this, Johnny—”
“I’m no’ upset at all—”
“I know.”  You put your hands up in surrender.  “You can be happy for your friend, and for Simon, and you can want it for yourself too.  Nothing wrong with that.”  You try to keep your voice calm, but understanding.  After all, you know all too well the feelings of both, coveting and being happy for your friend.    
 “Guess not.  N’ these things take time, do they not?  It’ll happen?”
“It’ll happen,” you confirm.  “Just need to find the right person and feel the right feelings for them.”    
“Gosh, this conversation’s makin’ me miserable!  Hate bein’ single, y’know?  S’not good for me.”  He leans against the backrest again, and turns his head just so he can look at you.  “We’re both single at the same time in a long time, bonnie.  Ye realised that yet?”
“Shit.  Yeah, you’re right!  Wow.  I hadn’t realised that!”   In fact, you hadn’t stopped thinking about it.             
“We oughta do somethin’ abou’ it?”
You hope to god your laugh only sounds nervous to your own ears, and that you don’t like a character in a Sunday morning cartoon with your shifty eyes that don’t dare stray in the direction of Johnny’s face.  “How about, tomorrow, I pick you up after your shift and buy you a drink?  We’ll even stop at that nasty chicken shop you like after.  So you can’t complain that I don’t do anything nice for you!”  
His eyes melt, and you along with them.  “Thank ye, bonnie.”
“Always.”
You can’t help but smile when his eyes radiate pure happiness at your words.  It takes so little to make Johnny happy and you want to spend a lifetime doing it.  So lost are you in the thought, that you don’t notice the twitch in the muscles of his forearm at the look on your face, how his fingers tremble as they cup your cheek.  When he kisses your forehead gratefully and leans away from you, you don’t hear his heart speed up or his shaky exhale, don’t feel his clammy palms.   
“And you’ve ne’er felt it, eh?  The right feelin’ for the right person?” he quotes you.
“No,” you lie.  I love you.  “You?”
“No,” he lies.  “But…maybe someday, eh?”
“Maybe someday,” you agree, easily.      
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lady-ashfade · 1 year
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New neighbor
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Lockwood and co x fem!reader.
Characters: Anthony, lucy, George.
Plot: The team meets a new neighbor and falls immediately.
This is really fluffy and kinda a crack post, I honestly just wanted something funny between the team.
Warnings: Spelling mistakes, love stroke idiots. The reading being innocent and sweet.
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The house was quiet, the team doing their own things by themselves. Lockwood was in the library reading, he found it almost peaceful and he needed a break. Lucy was in the addict looking through some boxes of her things, she needed to organize her clothes. Then there was, George.
George was on the kitchen floor scrubbing the floor to shine, the whole house smelled like cleaning products. Every dish was washed, each nook and cranny was clean. He was wearing gloves and his apron because he took cleaning very seriously.
The boor bell rings.
Upon hearing the ding George looked up and then at himself, he wasn’t getting up. “Lockwood! Someone’s at the door.” He screamed for his friend to hear. Lockwood sighed and put a book down and got up from his chair and made his way to the door. Maybe it was a new client.
The boy grabbed ahold of the doorknob and twisted it open and revealed who was he behind, and to his surprise made heart flutter. Standing at his front door was a lovely girl with a kind smile, she was very attentive and she looked so soft. Almost too cute for the charming boy to handle.
“Hello, how can I help you?” He threw on his most charming smirk. She looked at him and didn’t flutter, “Yes, hello! I just moved next door and wanted to greet my new neighbors, with something special.” Lockwoods gaze followed her as she bend down and he saw a wrapped basket, along with a few others.
“Just a few baked goods inside, I also listed everything on a note inside of all the ingredients so if anyone has a allergy that can know.” She picked up the pretty basket and held it out for him to take. She was thoughtful.
He could smell the sweets from here and he wanted to opened it but that would be rude, so he took the basket out her hands. “Theses are lovely, would you like to come in-”
“Who’s at the door?” They both turned around to see a boy walking closer to them, gloves and curly black hair. George looked up and locked eyes with the girl and felt his heart flutter. She seemed to have that affected on people. “Um, hello. Who are you?” He sounded so dry and rude.
Lockwood looked back at her, “Forgive him, as I was saying would you like to come in.” As lockwood spoke George came to the door and looked at the basket in his hands confused. The girl noticed his confusion and giggled a bit.
Their eyes widen at you coving your mouth and the sweet sound coming out. “I just moved next door, I wanted to meet the new neighbors so I brought bake goods- With a poorly wrapped basket.” She looked a bit awkward at the last part and rubbed her arm.
“And your name?” George asked. “Y/n.” She held out a hand for him to take but they both realized he had on gloves. “A wonderful name- George can you take this into the kitchen.” Lockwood shoved the basket into his hand and tried to make him leave.
“Why me?” George shouted a bit. “Because I said so, I am your boss-” he was cut off. “Don’t you dare give me that, you just want me to leave.” The girl looked between the two as they continued to have a small argument.
“What’s happened now.” Y/n looked passed boys and saw a cute girl with short hair at the end of the stairs. The girl looked back at her and smiled, walking over to the door. “Oh, I understand.” Lucy offered y/n a apology smile.
“Boys, that’s very rude to fight in front of someone new.” She scolded them and they rolled their eyes. “Lucy by the way, sorry for the boys. They have no manners.” Y/n laughed at her comment.
“No worries, I actually have to deliver some more of theses baskets but it was nice meeting you all.” They watched in disappointment when she picked up the rest of the baskets, “I hope to see you again.” And she turned around and walked down the steps.
Lucy watched for a minute and closed the door then looked between the two boys. Lockwood was staring at George who glared back at him, both annoyed with the other.
“Yeah, I call dibs.” The two boys turned away and looked at the Lucy. “No, I met her first.” Lockwood tried to reason but George laughed. “You were going to keep her to yourself, I made her giggle.”
“No, she was laughing at you.” George rolled his eyes. “Still counts!” He shouted. “No it doesn’t!”
“Boys! You made a fool of yourself, which makes my case way better.” Lucy snatched the basket from George hands and walked away. “Come back, this isn’t over.” The boys followed her.
“I say it is, so shut up.”
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pixievi · 2 years
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Hi, I’ve never done a request before, so I’m not sure how this works or if you’ll want to write this or not. But how about a Vi x reader where Vi has terrible period cramps and the reader helps her by getting her to orgasm, despite how painful it is for her at first? Thanks!
that method really works and I will stand by it!! I hope this is okay <3
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summary | normally, vi can power through her cramps like most women and other menstruating people, but this time these cramps were sent specifically to spite her. so she seeks your help ;)
warnings | nsfw, established relationship, bath sex, fluffy, afab!reader, top!reader, praise
wc | 1,1k
! minors and men dni !
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“Come on, up you get”
“No”
“It’ll help you feel better”
You had been trying to get Vi up from between her cozy blankets on the bed to the bathroom, so she could have relief. But she was being stubborn, insisting she didn’t need anything to help. When both of you knew damn well it was the opposite. She’d been bed ridden all day because of her spitefully bad cramps. Her hand gripped your wrist and pulled you back down to where you were before you got up, snuggled into her side. You sighed. Reverse psychology it is, then.
“Alright then”, you got up again, ignoring her protests. “Guess I’ll just have to have a nice warm bath all by myself then”.
You feigned a pout and dramatically huffed, slowly stepping to the bathroom. Head hanging. Vi huffed herself, rolling her eyes at your antics. She really, really did not want to move. Her cramps agreed, stabbing against her already aching uterus. She massaged her abdomen gently while simultaneously cursing it. The sound of rushing water hitting the tub filled the room faintly, along with you shuffling around. Closing the presses. Popping open bottles. A pleased hum when bubbles formed.
“It’s not too late to change your mind!”, you sang from the room opposite. “I’ll make it worth your time”
‘I’ll mAke iT wOrtH yoUr tIMe”, she mouthed.
She didn’t miss the teasing lilt of your voice though, now she was wondering what you’re up to. With her fed up mocking done, she heaved herself up and lumbered to the bathroom. Finding you sitting at the edge of the large tub and swishing around the various products you’ve thrown into the hot water. Creating a heavenly smelling concoction. She plopped down beside you, resting her hand on your thigh and watched your routine. Softly inhaling the floral scent from the water. The rushing sound stopped abruptly and you jumped up, quickly stripping down to your underwear before guiding her to stand.
You helped her peel off her clothes, crouching down to place gentle kiss on her now exposed abdomen. She scratched your scalp appreciatively with a smile. Once her pants and underwear were off, she reached around and unclasped your bra. Followed by your panties dropping to your ankles. Her eyes followed you eagerly as you stepped in and sat down, legs apart. The bubbles only leaving the top of your knees exposed. She followed you, settling in between your legs. Her muscular back flush against your chest. You felt her instantly relax into the warmth, resting her head on your shoulder.
“Feel okay?”, you asked against her ear, massaging her hips.
She hummed, closing her eyes. Rubbing your thighs. It was much better than she thought it would be. Tingles followed the tips of your finger as you traced the definition of her abs, her stomach slowly rising and then relaxing again. Your ministrations travelled up to just under her breasts. Keeping close enough to spark heat but not satiate it. The tender caresses enveloping her body with little sparks. Vi rolled her head, nose now poking into your neck. Getting into a better position to peck your neck with feathery light kisses. You leaned into them, fingers trailing up and down on the insides of her thighs. You wanted to tease her, just a little bit. She always looked so adorable when she was desperate for your touch.
It didn’t take long for your sweet attention to affect her. She brought your head down to her and brought your lips to hers, slightly raising herself. The kiss deepened and her tongue danced with your own. All while she squirmed towards you fingers, still infuriatingly on the sensitive skin of her thighs. Her cheeks flushed as her need grew and she nipped at your bottom lip impatiently. Chuckling against her, you felt all the way down her stomach. Stopping just above the hairs. Where she needed you the most. You pulled away and she chased after you, nudging the back of your neck to bring you down again. Instead, you gazed into her blown, expectant eyes.
“I might know something else that would make you feel better”
Her breath hitched and she brought your hand down further, bucking into you. “Please”
Your touch ghosted over her pussy, lightly exploring. Massaging. Spreading her open. Working her up further until she was rolling into your hand and her chest heaved, murmuring soft pleas. Then you finally touched her. She groaned in relief as you applied pressure to her aching bundle of nerves. Suckling on her neck, your other hand occupied itself with teasing her nipple. The pinches adding more sparks to the fire. The water sloshed dangerously close to tipping over the edge as Vi matched the rhythm of your fingers with her hips.
“That’s it, good girl”
“F-faster”
She cursed as your pace changed and bit her lip at the mounting pressure within her. The cramps were overshadowed by the delicious pleasure you gave her. Her hand was still on the back of your neck, while the other held a white knuckle grip on the edge of the tub. You pressed deeper, letting her fuck your hand. Her stomach tensed as she chased her high, wanton moans spilling from her lips. With your other hand you teased her entrance. Not slipping in, but just enough touch on the sensitive skin. She screwed her eyes shut at the new sensation.
“G’nna cum for me pretty thing?”
“Y-yeah. Make me cum, cupcake”, she groaned.
“You’re so pretty like this”
You murmured into her neck, the praise and vibration sending shivers down her spine. Pooling into the already tightly coiled pressure in her core. Her ivory skin was painted in a blush just from your continuous praises alone. She arched into you, chest heaving. Little gasps left her as she picked up the pace. You nibbled at her neck, beckoning her to cum.
“I’m close”
“Yeah?”
“Mm-yeah!”
“You gonna be a good girl and cum all over my fingers?”
The pressure snapped. Her eyes rolled back as her hips jerked upwards, snapping her thighs closed. Keeping your hands there while she rode out her high. You praised her passionately through it as she panted. Gaze clouded over. The hand from your neck found its way to your cheek and caressed it gently. You massaged her thighs after she freed your hands, relaxing her. Bringing her back down. She squirmed upwards lazily and brought your lips to hers again.
“Thank you”, she whispered against your lips.
“Feel better?”
She hummed and smiled, laying her forehead against your cheek. You wiped away the damp hairs that stuck to her face and placed a chaste kiss to her sweaty forehead.
“Can I wash your hair?”
She chuckled breathlessly. “That your plan all along?”
“Nooo”
She snorted. But still sat up in your lap with a soft smile.
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cascowriteswords · 2 years
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Number 2 early morning kiss- but plot twist, they’re friends and have never kissed before!
Lexa's phone alarm going off feels like nails being hammered into Clarke's skull. Startling awake, she winces and grabs the nearest pillow to clamp it down over her face and cover her ears, groaning. She feels Lexa's weight shift as she leans to turn it off and then sits up in bed. 
"Good morning Clarke," she says, voice thick and scratchy with sleep. There’s more movement from her side of the bed and Clarke can picture her stretching, the loose tee she slept in hanging off one of her shoulders as her hands raise towards the ceiling. 
She can picture it but she can’t see it because she’s not taking the pillow off of her head even if she can barely breathe. She knows neither of them remembered to shut the blinds last night and just the thought of the early morning sun in her eyes makes her headache flare with anticipatory pain. She grumbles a good morning with a mouth full of cotton that is for all intents and purposes unintelligible, but Lexa somehow understands. 
“Up and at 'em, champ,” she says. The bed dips one final time and then her weight is gone from it entirely. Clarke feels the cold seep into her spot right away and groans again. “I told you not to have that last drink. You knew we needed to get up early this morning.”
Clarke doesn’t remember much from last night if she’s being honest. She remembers meeting Lexa at her apartment so they could carpool over to the bar where their coworker was having a little shindig for her 40th birthday. She remembers conning Finn into buying them drinks by batting her eyelashes leaning just a little bit into his personal space while they chatted because it isn’t her fault if the guy won’t take no for an answer and if she could use that to her advantage she was absolutely going to. She remembers watching some girl from accounting flirting unsuccessfully with Lexa and getting annoyed when she crashed their game of pool. And then she remembers getting back to Lexa’s place later that night in foggy bits and pieces - Lexa failing to convince her to brush her teeth, rummaging through her drawers to find something to sleep in, the lights turning out just as her head hit the pillow. 
She doesn’t remember Lexa telling her not to have another drink, but it does sound like something she would say. She’s always been the responsible friend between the two of them. "I can't,” she mumbles into the pillow. “Just leave me.” Then, in an attempt to shift the blame, “Who has a birthday party on a Tuesday anyways?”
“Yes, blame the birthday girl for your hangover,” Lexa says. Her eye roll is practically audible, but Clarke doesn’t care. Seriously, don’t most people celebrate the weekend before or after? 
She can hear Lexa moving around the room but is caught off guard when the pillow is suddenly yanked out of her hands and away from her face. She squints at Lexa as she leans over her and tosses the pillow to the side, whines in protest when she prevents her from covering her eyes with her hands by pinning them down on either side of her head. “You’re being ridiculous,” Lexa tells her, shaking her head. She smiles crookedly and affectionately at Clarke’s sullen expression, eyes stubbornly closing again as Lexa appraises her. “The sales department is expecting us to present to them in less than an hour. We need to get a move on.”
“That means I have at least 20 minutes before I need to get out of bed,” Clarke tells her indignantly. 
“You would if you didn’t reek of alcohol like it’s coming out of your pores,” Lexa says. “You need to shower.”
“Are you saying I smell?” 
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Rude,” Clarke mutters under her breath, still stubbornly refusing to open her eyes. “I feel like I’m literally dying and you decide to comment on my body odor.”
“That’s what friends are for,” Lexa laughs. She leans forward and presses a kiss to Clarke’s forehead. It’s a new development, that kind of open, physical affection from Lexa, but Clarke’s pretty sure that enough of those could get rid of her headache entirely. “Come on. I’m going to go get some coffee started, and I want to hear the water running within 5 minutes at the latest.”
Two things then happen simultaneously that take both of them by surprise; Clarke actually complies and starts to sit up, while Lexa is just about to kiss her cheek in parting before she gets up from the bed to start the coffee as promised. If Clarke would just open her damn eyes the collision could have been avoided, but she won’t, so Lexa’s lips end up landing on hers instead of on her cheek as she’d intended. 
That gets Clarke to open her eyes immediately. It’s brief contact that can barely be called a kiss, Lexa’s lips only just brushing hers before she realizes what’s happening and jerks away. Clarke freezes, dazed, headache miraculously forgotten while all she can feel is her lips tingling and her heart puttering off beat in her chest. 
She watches as a blush blooms across Lexa’s cheeks and her eyes go wide. “Clarke - shit, I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to - I was just -” she stammers. Her eyes jump wildly around Clarke’s face as she tries to read her, which is likely difficult because Clarke is just staring at her dumbly, still entranced by the buzzing of her lips from such fleeting contact, transfixed by the way Lexa’s eyes have gone dark despite the way she instantly tries to take the kiss back. “I didn’t mean to,” she settles on after a few seconds. “I’m sorry.”
Clarke swallows, tongue darting out to wet her lips. It feels like a physical effort to form any sort of thought in this state, and being kissed by Lexa has only scrambled her brain further. But the last thing she wants is Lexa looking like that, stricken and mortified. Not when she’s been daydreaming about kissing her for essentially as long as they’ve known each other. She’s anything but upset about it.
“Lexa,” she says, snagging her friend’s hand just before she’s about to get up from the bed and possibly run from the room by the looks of it. There’s probably a more elegant way to do this - there definitely is - but she only has one thought on her mind right now. She’d take the initiative herself but she wants to leave Lexa an out if she wants it, as much as she hopes she doesn't. “Kiss me again. I wasn’t ready.”
Lexa hadn’t been ready the first time either, that much quickly becomes clear. She hesitates for only the few seconds it takes her to process what Clarke just said, then surges forward with the kind of self-assured confidence Clarke has always imagined she would have. Their mouths fit together like they were always meant to do so as she reaches up to cradle Lexa’s face in her hands and one of Lexa’s hands settles against her ribcage. She is soft and warm and so much more than Clarke could have ever possibly dreamed she would be. A warmth like spring flowers unfurling their petals in the morning sun blooms in her chest and stomach while a shiver travels pleasantly down her spine. 
It’s only when she feels Lexa’s mouth open against hers, hot breath fanning deliciously against her lips, that she remembers drunkenly fighting against brushing her teeth the night before. And god does she want to feel Lexa’s tongue in her mouth but she can only imagine how horrible her morning breath must be right now. 
With her hands still on Lexa’s face she pulls away, thumbs brushing over high cheekbones idly as she revels over how wrecked Lexa looks, lips wet and glistening and hanging partly open as she catches her breath. She looks exceptionally kissable. “Fuck, I really want to keep doing that,” she says. “But I also really need to brush my teeth first.”
“You do,” Lexa agrees cheekily. Clarke pinches her side in retaliation, forcing a giggling Lexa up and off of the bed to escape her wrath. She stands just out of arm’s reach, smirking at Clarke’s miffed expression. “But for the record, I really want to keep doing that, too. Why haven’t we done that before?”
“Because you friendzoned me!” Clarke exclaims incredulously. “I asked you out on like my fifth day in the office and you invited everyone else to come with us.”
“I - what?” Lexa asks. “I didn’t know you were asking me out. I thought it was just because I was the only other person in the department.”
Clarke shakes her head, incredulous. “I love you and you’re brilliant, but sometimes you are really dumb.”
Lexa accepts that. She glances at her watch and then at Clarke, looking torn. “Please go shower and brush your teeth. I’m going to actually go make coffee now. And then when you come out, fully dressed and ready to go to work, I’m going to ask you out on a date tonight. A real one, not a friend-date. Because I’d like to continue the whole kissing thing, if you would.”
Clarke definitely would. She showers, brushes her teeth, and gets dressed quickly enough to leave them some time to resume the kissing thing before they have to drive in. 
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Text
An Unexpected Janegon Fanfic
Little somethin somethin I wrote over the weekend. It’s way more rough around the edges than I’d like, so I may polish it a bit and re-post it on ao3. I may also add another part because I have some ideas floating about in the back of my brain.
Basically — started writing it, had a breakdown, can’t be bothered to edit. Bone atrophy.
genre: fluff with a touch of conflict, comedy, romance
contains: very sparse, minor swearing; nothing beyond what you’d hear on the nightly news.
word count: 5,383
blurb: Egon finally works up the courage to ask Janine out, but their first date doesn’t go quite as smoothly as they’d like.
Janine’s fling with Louis ended as quickly as it began — chalked up to the product of the psychomagnotheric plasm affecting their emotions. Although the two of them remained amicable, their friendship wasn’t without a bit of awkwardness.
It didn’t take long for the latest paranormal crisis to dissipate into the back of everyone’s minds. Janine cut her hair into a pixie, took up a couple new hobbies, and fell comfortably back into her job as secretary.
Egon, however, seemed oddly distant. Occasionally she’d catch him observing her silently, but as soon as she openly noticed him, he’d turn his attention elsewhere.
Maybe she was imagining things, she concluded. She shouldn’t get her hopes up. After all, it seemed that Egon had been giving her the cold shoulder ever since they’d reopened the business. And lately, he’d become even more distant.
She tried to busy herself with work and crochet and reading. Best not to dwell on things she couldn’t control, after all. But she’d never been one to avoid a confrontation and it was only a matter of time before she snapped.
The Ecto shrieks up the street, sirens wailing ominously. Janine barely looks over the tops of her thick black glasses to acknowledge it as Louis hurries to open the garage doors. Her attention returns to filing her nails into almond shapes.
The vehicle’s sirens fade off into silence as it rolls in. Distantly, she’s aware of the doors of the Cadillac opening, the shuffling of the four men getting out and retrieving traps from within.
Ray walks past, inadvertently wafting the noxious white smoke of the two traps in his hands in Janine’s direction.
She coughs, waving the smoke away. It stings her nose and makes everything smell like barbecued gym socks.
“Back already?” she croaks, “How’d it go?”
“Smooth as can be.” Ray replies around the cigarette in his mouth, “I mean. Touch and go for a minute there but we got ‘em in the end. They tossed Venkman around the place a coupla times though.”
“I’d file charges for battery if they weren’t dead.” comes Venkman’s voice, “I’m gonna be sore for days after this one.”
“Maybe if you weren’t so aggressive towards them, they wouldn’t wanna wallop you so often.” Winston suggests,
“And that goes for people, too,” Janine says,
Peter sticks his tongue out at her childishly.
Egon speaks up next as he inspects the proton packs, “Provoking spirits into showing themselves is a well-established technique in the field of paranormal investigation. It’s widely regarded as the best course of action, but those of us with unbruised backsides would beg to differ.”
“Yeah, yeah. Give me the full lecture on it later, Spengs. Maybe just before bed so you can lull me to sleep.” Peter mutters as he heads toward the stairs with a limp and multiple dramatic groans.
Winston follows him and Janine overhears their conversation as they ascend the stairs.
“Hey, coulda been worse, Venky. Some Advil and a nap and you’ll be good as new. Besides, your ass broke most of the falls. It’s not like you hurt anything too important.”
“Yeah. Nothin’ except my pride.”
“Well, that could do with a good bruising every once in a while.”
“Jeez, thanks, Winston. I’ll remember that comment the next time you ask for a raise.”
Egon finishes checking over the proton packs and walks to Janine’s desk, pulling the invoice out of his pocket. He hands it to her with a polite dip of his head, then turns to leave.
Nothing more. Barely acknowledging her. Just a passing interaction, if one could even call that an interaction.
That’s it. She’s had it with him keeping his distance. He’s going to have to explain himself and there’s no time like the present.
Janine shoots to her feet, slapping the invoice down on her desk.
“Egon Spengler —“
He turns with a look on his face that suggests he knows exactly how much trouble he’s in.
She nods her head in beckoning and shoves her glasses up, “C’mere.”
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows tensely. He returns to her desk hesitantly with a soft acknowledgment, “Yes?”
Something in Janine’s core burns like venom. Like acid, eating away at her resolve. He’s staring at her so innocently with those big brown eyes and that placid expression. It’s infuriating. Doesn’t he know the inconvenience he’s caused?
For a moment, Janine just stares up at him, her blood pressure rising. Finally, she crosses her arms, sets her lips in a hard line, and blurts out her question.
“Why are you avoiding me?”
Egon shuffles awkwardly and fiddles with the collar of his flight suit, “I uh —“
“Don’t try to deny it!” Janine snaps without thinking. That had come out suddenly and harshly, surprising even Janine herself. A shockwave of guilt hits her.
Her voice softens and she squeezes her hands sheepishly, “I…I’m sorry, Egon. What were you going to say?”
Egon dips his head in acceptance of the apology. He clears his throat and clasps his hands in front of his lower stomach, tapping his fingers idly on the side of his opposite hand.
“I…thought it best to keep my distance.”
Janine hadn’t been expecting that. She stares quizzically at him. “What the hell for?”
Egon considers his answer for a moment. When he finally speaks, his reply is careful and measured.
“…I wasn’t blind to your affection for me all those years ago. However, I was…unsure whether I reciprocated those sentiments. Now I’m certain that I do, but…I was unaware whether you still felt that way. All of this was…too complicated for me to try and figure out. So I decided the best course of action was to avoid the problem entirely.”
Janine can’t help it. A smile creeps onto her face against her will. Then she snorts, giggling a bit.
“Because of course ya did. How could ya come to any other conclusion?” She waves her hand in dismissal of her own words, stifling the last few giggles, “Oh, I don’t mean to laugh, Egon. I just…”
She takes a breath to compose herself, “I thought you were mad at me.”
Egon shakes his head, putting his hands into his pockets casually, “No. No, of course not.”
Janine smiles warmly at him. Gosh, just look at that clueless look in his eyes. He has no idea how worried she’s been over absolutely nothing.
“I’ve…I’ve missed you, Egon.” she says, “And uh…as for that predicament you were tryna avoid…why not just ask me?”
Egon blinks, completely taken aback at her suggestion.
“Come again?”
Janine scoffs, “Oh, c’mon. You’ve got a bajillion degrees in some sciencey somethin’ or other but ya can’t just ask a girl how she feels?”
“…To be fair, you were dating Louis. And then you weren’t. It seemed safe to assume that you’d moved on far past me at this point.”
“Well, I haven’t!” she laughs, “Besides, that thing with Louis ended ages ago.”
Janine hadn’t meant to blurt out this confession. It shocks her for a moment. She really does still like him. Huh. Funny how she hadn’t admitted it even to herself until now.
Egon’s very clearly still digesting this information. The cogs in his brain are turning, processing, coming up with how to react.
“Well,” he finally says,
Janine notices that his ears have turned bright red now. He swallows again, looking a touch apprehensive.
“…Seems there’s no need to ask that particular question now. So how about a different one?”
“Okay. Fire away.” Janine says, her voice uncharacteristically strangled,
“…Would you like to get coffee together?”
Janine can’t think of a response that isn’t a high pitched squeak, so she settles for nodding so rapidly that her glasses slide down her nose. She shoves them back up again quickly.
Egon gives her the smallest, most relieved little smile. “Excellent. It’s a date. Give me fifteen minutes?”
“…S-sounds good.” Janine says,
“Excellent.” And with that, Egon turns on his heel, leaving Janine reeling.
****
Well that was terrifying beyond anything he’d experienced lately. Egon’s heart is pounding hard as he climbs; the stairs have nothing to do with it. Lightheadedness overtakes him for a moment.
He stops halfway up to take a deep, conscious breath. His lungs relax a bit and Egon breathes out freely.
In the back of his mind, he hopes to God that he managed to keep a cool exterior about the whole thing.
“Hey, Spengy!”
He turns at the sound of Ray walking up the stairs behind him.
“You okay?”
Egon nods wordlessly and the two men walk up to the second floor together.
“Sure? You uh…look a little pale. And your ears are kinda red.”
Egon huffs at him, clearly flustered from his conversation with Janine, “I’m fine.”
They’re standing at the top of the stairs now. Winston sits at the table while Venkman leans against the kitchenette counter, each of them sipping a Miller Lite.
“I’m going out for a coffee break, as is Janine.” Egon announces,
He hurriedly turns toward the sleeping quarters, but Ray’s arm shoots out and pulls him back by his shoulder.
“Whoa, whoa, w-wait —“ Ray stutters, “Like…together? On a date?”
Egon nods.
“Aw, your mother and I are so proud!” Venkman jeers, coming over to toss an arm around Ray’s shoulder. He turns to him and says in mock mutters under his breath, “We did give him the talk, didn’t we?”
Ray shoves him off, “Knock it off, Pete. Jeez, your beer breath is awful. …This is big for him! Last he told me, he wasn’t even gonna make his move for another couple months!”
“…And you believed him? Ray, Egon doesn’t make moves. He just has one move — stare longingly at her with those big sad eyes until she either goes out with him or adopts him from the shelter.”
“Venkman, I swear —“ Egon is at a loss for words, so he settles on the only ones that make sense, “Shut up.”
“What he said!” Winston chimes in, “Peter, you know full well you only got one move.”
“And what’s that?”
“Be crazy overconfident until you wear her down and somehow trick her into thinkin it’s charm.”
“Well, if it ain’t broke —“
With the attention turned away from himself, Egon takes the opportunity to slip past the three of them and into the sleeping quarters.
He changes into his usual clothing quickly, makes an attempt at knocking a few stray curls back into place, and checks that there isn’t anything in his teeth.
Why is he so nervous, he wonders? Poltergeists and demons are commonplace irritants to him. But prospect of actually going on a date with another person terrifies him on a completely different level.
He’s still not sure when or how he developed the courage to ask her out. The whole conversation had been a blur of spontaneous, manic decisions.
He shakes his head and stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. What does she see in him, he wonders? …Probably not much on the physical front. Egon is fairly sure that he’s not conventionally attractive. He’s certainly not hunky or chiseled. If anything, he’s sort of lanky. A little softer around the middle than he’d like. His nose is long and thin. His bottom teeth are a little crooked and his top ones seem jagged, although he’s been told he has a nice smile.
He doesn’t even bother trying to completely tame his fluffy curls these days. Just brushes them up off his forehead, spritzes some hairspray and calls that good. There’s a strong chance he’s going to get slimed anyway, in his profession. No sense in trying to look über-presentable all the time.
Ray enters the open bathroom door behind him, leaning casually against the doorframe.
“Hey, Egie? Don’t mind Peter, eh? He’s just fooling around. You know how he is.”
“Yeah.” Egon nods absentmindedly, double checking for bits of breakfast in his teeth and re-doing the knot in his tie one more time.
“I’m sure it’ll go great.” Ray says, fully entering the room to slap Egon on the shoulder, “Just…have fun. Be yourself. And —“
“Ray.“ Egon chides,
“Yeah. Sorry.”
Egon finishes knotting his tie and turns away from the mirror, gripping Ray’s shoulder.
“I appreciate the effort.”
Ray nods. “You got this. I know it.”
Egon turns to leave and Ray follows.
Janine is waiting at the top of the stairs with her coat over her arm. She seems to have touched up her lipstick and maybe moved her short red hair around. Egon can’t really be sure, but he knows she’s stunning. That much is clear from the funny feeling in his stomach when he looks at her. Butterflies, maybe?
“Ready?” Egon asks,
“Sure am.” she replies,
Venkman eyes the two of them but remains silent. It seems to be taking quite a bit of effort to do so. Egon offers her his arm and they descend the stairs together.
“You kids have fun!” Ray calls after them,
***
The cafe is warm and inviting, in stark contrast to the bitterly cold grey Manhattan winter. The two of them make their way up to the counter and order their drinks.
Janine thinks that she spots the barista — a conceited-looking, dull middle aged woman — eyeing Egon a little too closely for her liking.
She debates telling her off. It’s only a first date, she realizes; they’re not even a couple and Janine is already feeling territorial.
They make their way to a table and settle in, hanging their coats on the backs of their chairs and stealing awkward glances at one another.
“So…” she begins, examining her nails as casually as she can, “…Uh. What’s new with you?”
Egon’s lips part as if he’s about to reply, but he hesitates, looking everywhere but at her.
“Nothing worth mentioning. …I’m a creature of habit.” At this, he glances at her with a small smile, “Aside from work, I…don’t get out much. But you were already aware of that.”
She laughs nervously, “Yeah. Me neither. …Which you prob’ly already knew about me.”
Silence overtakes them again, but is quickly broken by an employee with a tray delivering their drinks.
Once he hurries off again, the silence between them stretches on.
Janine huffs.
“What are we doin’ here, Egon? I’m sittin’ here all frazzled and awkward an’…I don’t have the slightest clue why.”
Egon looks up from his mug to give her a shy, nervous little smile before returning his eyes to the cup.
“Hm. If it’s any comfort, I’m in the same boat.”
Janine props her head up with her hand and lazily stirs the foam atop her cappuccino.
“I’m normally so comfortable around you. It’s weird to be so…”
“Nervous?” he offers,
She nods.
“…What do people talk about on dates, anyway?” she sighs,
He looks over the tops of his glasses at her incredulously.
“You’re asking the wrong man.”
She snorts. “Figures. …Well, here’s something! What’ve you been readin lately?”
Egon perks up a bit.
“I’ve been on a death kick lately. Cemeteries, morgues, anything having to do with where the dead are housed. And the undead, too.” he blurts out,
For a moment, regret flickers across his face, as if he’s not quite sure that this is an acceptable topic of conversation for a coffee date.
Janine is entirely unfazed by this.
She grins, “Perfect. Tell me somethin’ about that.”
Egon seems a bit taken aback, but continues as she requests, “I was reading an article earlier this week about cadavers which have been naturally mummified in peat bogs. Bog bodies.”
“Gross.” Janine wrinkles her nose, “How?”
“It has to do with the precise biochemical composition of the bog and the physical characteristics of the location. The acidity and temperature keep natural materials from decomposing. However, oftentimes the bones are completely dissolved.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Janine says,
“Most haven’t.” Egon says, “…it’s a bit morbid.”
“Ha. You don’t say.” she snarks, “…I sorta like morbid. Why do you think I stuck around as receptionist so long?”
He shrugs, “Because I made Venkman raise your pay?”
“Well, that helps. But it’s mostly because I’ve always had a fascination with this kinda stuff. Ghosts and such. …On my break — or y’know, whenever it gets slow — I’ve been reading some speculative poetry. Mostly the spooky, eerie stuff.”
“Like Edgar Allan Poe?”
She nods.
“He’s one of my favorites. His work is well-known for a reason.”
Janine pauses, looking fondly at Egon.
“What?” he asks, “Do I have a cappuccino foam mustache?”
“No, no.” she laughs, “I was just thinkin’… This is nice.”
He hums in agreement. “It’s rare that a first date doesn’t end in disaster after about ten minutes.”
“Wonder why that is.” Janine says without thinking,
“…Excuse me?”
“I…I just —“ she shakes her head, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“Then why did you say it?”
“I…don’t know.”
“Interactions like this are difficult for me. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t point that out.” he snaps,
“I’m sorry. I just —“
“I’m nervous enough as it is. After what Louis told me, I was half worried that you’d start talking about copulation right out of the gate.”
Janine nearly spits out her drink.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snips,
“You had Louis convinced you two were going to have a child together.” he says bluntly, “He had names picked out.”
“In my defense, my brain was all outta whack because of that stupid mood slime.”
“Still. The psychoreactive plasm can’t create something out of nothing; it simply amplified your latent attraction to Louis, your romantic frustration towards me, and your jealousy of Dana’s role as a mother.”
“My what?” Blood rushes in her ears and she has to fight the urge to splash her drink in his face.
He opens his mouth to speak, but Janine beats him to it, “Egon. Drop it.”
“No.”
“No wonder those other dates ended like they did.” Janine snaps, “You’re being rude.”
“You’re the one who made a jab at my social skills.”
“Yeah, I did. And it was well-deserved!” she says, raising her voice,
“Don’t shout.”
“I’m not shouting! I —“ Janine is shaking with fury now. She glares at him from across the table, unsure what to say next. Finally, she decides it’s not worth her time.
“I’m leaving.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
With a final glare in his direction, she grabs her coat and storms out of the cafe, leaving Egon behind.
***
The firehouse door creaks open — slowly, ominously — and Egon curses under his breath. He’d hoped to make his entrance quietly.
Janine is ignoring him from her desk. Whether this is a mercy or a slight, he can’t be sure. He swallows the lump in his throat and approaches the desk, holding out her purse to her.
“You forgot this.” He says coldly,
She takes it from him. “Thanks. Anything else, Dr. Spengler?”
“Luckily, no.” He turns and leaves, ascending the stairs to the lab.
THWACK.
Winston’s dart hits the board and Ray sucks in a breath through gritted teeth.
“Man, that’s gonna be tough to beat.” Ray says, chewing his lip,
From his spot near the two of them, Venkman notices Egon’s entrance first.
“Hey, Spengs. Your date ditch you?”
Egon answers the question with a glare.
“Yeah. I figured. …Sorry, pal. That’s rough.”
Venkman’s tone is about as genuine as it ever gets. Ray and Winston are looking in Egon’s direction with such pity. He can hardly stand it.
“I’ll be upstairs.” he says,
Without another word, he makes his exit.
Egon enters the third floor laboratory and the knot in his stomach unravels. The stillness wraps him in a peaceful, private silence.
Solitude is a soft place to land.
He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and busies himself with work. The time flies past without another thought towards Janine. He can’t afford to dwell on it just now. It’s too painful; too complex.
The afternoon becomes evening. Hours bleed together, marked only by the progress he makes on his project. Eventually, he has multiple parts fully assembled — the next upgrades to their proton packs.
He sets them in a plastic bin and ventures downstairs with them. The second floor is mercifully empty. Setting his bin full of parts on one of the tables, he slowly creeps downstairs to fetch one of the packs.
Janine is gone from her desk. The garage is empty, meaning two or more of the other ghostbusters are also gone.
They’ve left his pack near his locker, as well as Venkman’s. Selecting his from the two, Egon lugs it upstairs.
He has it disassembled and is halfway through adding his upgrades when he hears the front door creak open. He pauses, listening for the source.
Heels click across the garage floor and up the stairs. Their owner now stands at the top; he can feel her eyes on him.
“Egon?” Comes Janine’s voice
He doesn’t turn to look at her.
“I thought you had gone home for the evening.” he says,
“I…I had.” she replies, “I just couldn’t stay there knowing that…that things are the way they are between us.”
Now Egon looks up from his project to regard her.
She sweeps her bangs out of her eyes and nervously adjusts her glasses before approaching him. Putting a hand on his forearm, she looks him directly in the eye.
Egon turns the rest of the way toward her.
“I…I’m sorry.” she says, “Really, I am.”
He dips his head in a nod.
“I am, too. I…didn’t mean to lash out like that. It was immature of me.” he says quietly,
“I forgive you,”
He sighs in relief as the weight in his chest dissipates.
“How about we try that date again some other time? If…if you’re up for that.” Janine proposes,
“…You’re coming back for more of this?” Egon gestures to himself,
She chuckles, “Yeah, if you’ll let me.”
He considers it briefly, “Alright. …Let’s hope my track record with second dates doesn’t catch up to me.”
“Which is?”
“They don’t usually happen after that catastrophic first one.“
She laughs a little, “Yeah? …Well here’s an idea. First date, part two.”
“That’s just a second date with a different name.” Egon protests,
“No, it’s not,” she says, “Not if part two happens on the same day. You ever hear of a second date happening only hours after the first?”
“…Can’t say I have.”
“See?” she says, raising her eyebrows playfully, “Completely different.”
Egon smiles in amusement, “Alright, I’ll give you that. Where will this second part take place? I picked last time, it only seems fair that you get to choose now.”
She looks over his shoulder at the record player.
“We’ll stay right here. Have a quiet night in.” she replies, making her way toward it,
Egon swivels on his barstool to watch her as she picks out a record.
“You like Sinatra?” she asks,
“Who doesn’t?”
She puts on the record, gently setting the needle in its groove. Fly Me To The Moon begins to play and she looks back at him.
“How’s your dancin’?”
“Excellent.” he says, standing,
“Ooh, pretty confident in that, are we?” she teases, “An’ here I was afraid I was gonna hafta lead.”
She walks up to him and takes his hand, pulling him into the open. Her hand seems small in his; it’s much warmer, though. Less clammy.
He places his free hand lightly on her waist and she places hers on his shoulder. They begin to sway and step to the music, falling into a comfortable rhythm.
Janine accidentally kicks his toe.
“Sorry,” she says,
“Don’t worry about it,” he replies, guiding her into a spin,
She laughs as she spins back to their original position, “When did you learn to dance?”
“High school. Most of the girls were afraid of me, so I reasoned that if I could dance, they’d be a little less wary.”
“How’d you figure that?”
He shrugs, “I don’t know. It seemed more expressive and…sensitive than my other hobbies.”
“Hobbies like mortuary science and predicting the amount of teenage STD cases in Cleveland and building death rays?”
“It wasn’t a death ray,” Egon says, “It was a sonic gun.“
“Whatever,” she giggles, “If it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t well-liked in high school either. I think I came off as sorta intimidating.”
“You? Intimidating?” he deadpans,
This time she kicks his toe on purpose — playfully, so as to warn him but not hurt him.
“Ow!” he says, laughing a little,
“Oh, shut up, ya big baby. …No, really, I um…I scared off most people who got close. I was sporty and brainy and a little too loud mouthed for my own good. Drove people away pretty quick.”
He nods, “…You won’t get rid of me that easily.”
She smiles, “Same goes for me. Try and scare me off with all the morbid science ya want. I’m stickin’ around.”
“Good.”
He dips her suddenly and she yelps, clutching onto him.
“Drop me and I’ll kick you somewhere it’ll really hurt!” she threatens playfully,
“Noted.”
He stands her upright again. They fall into silence as the song continues and their steps mirror the rhythm. Egon loses himself in the song and in studying Janine’s face.
She has such an attractive bone structure, highlighted by her short haircut. Her eyes are nice, too. Warm, intense hazel-brown. Like she’s staring straight into his mind.
Her lips are tinted a pinkish red. Just enough to be noticeable.
The song ends and he finds himself still studying her.
“Um. Earth to Egon,” she jokes,
“…Sorry. I um…” He drops his hands from leading position.
His face burns. The next song has faded into the background; all he can focus on is her.
This romantic stuff definitely isn’t his forte. Still, he’s willing to take a risk.
“Can I…?” he reaches hesitantly toward her face,
She eyes him for a second, her cheeks burning red in turn. “Sure.”
He cups her cheek in his hand, tilting her chin up a fraction. Before the bravery abandons him, he gives her a quick peck on the lips. He hovers near, as if he’s not sure he should pull away.
She returns the kiss with one of her own, quite a bit longer and more relaxed than his had been.
Egon backs off a bit. He’s now certain that his face is entirely red. So is Janine’s, so he feels a bit less embarrassed about it. He half wonders if she can hear his heart pounding.
She giggles nervously, giving him a shove, “Gosh, you’ve got me all flustered and…a-and…stuttering.”
Egon can’t even work up the courage to speak. A billion emotions and sensations are bubbling up from his core and he’s not sure how to deal with any of them. He’s dazed and elated and a little dizzy, blood rushing in his ears, his palms all sweaty and his mouth completely dry. He’s half drunk on a rush of oxytocin and endorphins.
“You okay?” she asks, “You look like you’re gonna have a heart attack.”
“I think I just did. Maybe a minor one.”
She giggles.
“I…think I’m going to make some tea.” Egon says,
He scrambles away to fire up the Bunsen burner, calling over his shoulder, “Would you like some?”
“Sure,” she says, giggling at him,
He turns to look at her, “Chamomile?”
She nods, still biting back a laugh.
“What?”
“Nothin’. …If we really do become a couple, are you gonna hafta make some tea to decompress after every kiss?” she teases, stopping the record.
He gives her a playful glare, “Maybe.”
She smiles in return and shrugs, “Fine by me. Whenever I want some tea, I’ll just give you a smooch and off you’ll go.”
“Ha.”
She kicks off her heels and scoots them aside, sitting down on the couch.
“…I don’t know about you, but I think part two is going much better than the first one.”
He nods, getting out two mugs and placing a teabag into each, “Mm, yeah. I wholeheartedly agree.”
“What do you think…about what I said earlier?”
“Hm?”
“About…officially dating,”
Egon misses the mug entirely and spills a dash of sugar on the counter in shock. He recovers quickly, resuming his task.
“I don’t know. …I wouldn’t be…opposed to it.”
“Not opposed. Just what every girl wants to hear.” Janine jokes,
He fills each cup with water, gives them a stir, and brings them over to where Janine has seated herself.
“I just meant that —“
“I know.” She takes her cup from him, “It’s scary and new and…boy, would it be a chore to explain to everybody.”
He nods, sitting down next to her, “Hypothetically, I’d rather keep it solely between us for a while. That would remove the pressure of broadcasting it to our friends and family. And we could allow our relationship to evolve as romance is added to the mix without having to answer to anyone.”
She nods, sipping her tea, “Agreed. I hate answerin’ all those questions about a new guy in my life.”
“Mm. The few times I’ve told the others about having met someone, they asked if I grew her in a lab.”
Janine laughs, “Oh, that’s awful!”
“…Not really. They’ve seen how I look at my Petri dishes full of mold.”
“Gee, that makes me feel real special,”
“You should. I love mold.”
She folds her legs in and tucks her feet under herself, leaning back to lay her head on Egon’s shoulder.
He lets her, putting an arm around her shoulders. It’s strange how natural that feels to him; just hours earlier, they were having a hard time striking up a conversation in a cafe.
He sips at his tea. The warmth pales in comparison to having Janine tucked under his arm.
“What is that?” she asks,
“Earl grey.”
“Huh. Smells nice. Citrusy.”
He nods, “Yes. Sort of like your new perfume.”
She glances at him, “You noticed that, huh?”
“Mm-hm. ...I…I like it,” he admits,
“Me too. It’s jasmine and tangerine. I thought it was a little too sweet at first, but it’s grown on me.” She sips her chamomile, considering her next question carefully, “So. Back to the question at hand —“
“Yes.”
“…”Yes”, what?”
“Yes, I’d like to be a couple.”
“…You’re kidding. Seems a little bit of a big step for you.”
“After five years of taking turns pining? Absolutely not.”
“…Okay, then.” She tries to regain her bearings before delicately posing her next question, “Do you wanna tell anybody?”
“Hell no.”
She bursts out laughing.
“Good! Me neither. …Wow. Secretly dating. Sounds scandalous.”
“Don’t think of it as a secret. Think of it as…refusing to volunteer information.”
“…That still sorta sounds like a secret.”
“Suit yourself.” Egon shrugs,
They stay like that for hours, snuggled up on the couch and chatting about whatever strikes their fancy, until the hour grows ridiculously late.
“It’s one in the morning,” Janine says, sitting up.
“…So it is.”
“I should really head home.”
“…Alright. Would you like me to hail you a cab?”
She smiles sleepily, “Maybe just walk me to my apartment? It’s not far.”
He nods, “Certainly.”
The two of them grab their coats and bundle up before heading out into the freezing night. Everything is illuminated by a billion lights, both near and far.
Egon offers Janine his arm and escorts her as she leads the way. His fingers feel frozen by the time they enter the foyer of her apartment building. Janine shivers.
“Brrr. What I wouldn’t give for it to be spring right now.” she says, removing her hair scarf.
She turns to Egon, sighing contentedly.
“Thank you for walking me home.” she stands on her tip toes to give him a kiss goodnight.
Suddenly he no longer feels like an ice cube as his cheeks burn red again.
“Goodnight, Egon.” she says,
“Goodnight.” he replies,
She turns and heads up the stairs. Egon waits there for a moment, listening for the sound of her door opening. Once he’s certain she’s safely home, he braces himself and heads back out in the cold to walk home to the firehouse.
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axewchao · 8 months
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Battered, Bruised, and Burned
In the aftermath of a battle against the divine, a warrior miraculously escapes her final destination, thanks to a kind soul being at the right place at the right time.
~~~
Tyranitar had seen a lot of things in his life as a Rescuer.
He'd seen Pokémon of all kinds get stranded in the most brutal of mystery dungeons, whether out of a desire of fame, fortune, or acts of foolishness. He'd seen more ferocious, violent Pokémon act as the unspoken "rulers" of said dungeons, ready to maul anyone that dared enter their territory, intentionally or otherwise. He'd seen the lengths criminals would go to just to get what they want. The innocents they were willing to hurt.
He'd seen so many people suffer in so many ways.
But this... this was something else.
He isn't sure if the sight should've affected him the way it did. A leisurely walk through the woods on his day off, interrupted by the potent smell of blood on the wind, when it wasn't there a moment before. He didn't think twice about following it to its source, and when he did...
When he did...
Tyranitar shuddered. Shaking his head, he raised a claw to knock on the healer's door.
A few muffled footsteps were heard, and the door opened to a heap of pink fluff and the scent of medicinal herbs. "Y-Yes, how can I... oh-!" Her bright blue eyes widened as she turned her head up toward his face. "Hello, Tyranitar..."
Tyranitar nodded his head, "Miss Patch."
"Are you here to see..." The 'Aromatisslytuff's' voice trailed off. It seemed she was still shaken by her current patient as well. At Tyranitar's second nod, she stepped back, letting the larger Pokémon inside.
"How, uh... How is he?"
"She is... still asleep." Miss Patch's ears drooped, "I was just about to change some of her bandages."
"Oh, uh, I can come back later-"
"No," Miss Patch grabbed his claw, "I'd... rather have a familar face nearby."
While Miss Patchouli was a skilled healer and was no stranger to more... messy injuries, Tyranitar knew that this patient's wounds took the cake. And left the poor woman a little shaken as a result. He couldn't deny his own unnerved state, honestly.
Because really, even in the line of rescue work, how often do Pokémon come back missing a limb?
~
The patient in question was in the exact same condition Tyranitar had left him, er, her in. Which is to say, not good at all.
From crest to what little wasn't covered by the blanket, the Sceptile was covered in bruises and bandages, some of which were already soaked through with blood. The leaves on her intact arm were burned, and despite Miss Patch's words, Tyranitar still glanced down at Sceptile's chest for signs of her breathing. His relief rose and fell alongside it.
It reminded Tyranitar of how he first found her just two days prior.
How she was just... lying there in the clearing, unmoving and unresponsive when he frantically tried to wake her. The smell of fire and smoke clinging to her, as if she'd just walked through a damn forest fire. Or a volcano.
The latter of which made no sense in multiple ways; they weren't anywhere near a volcano and the forest they were currently in (which had never been set ablaze) was home to incredibly weak Pokémon. No one strong enough to maim this Sceptile, let alone leave such severe burns on her. 
Alakazam once told him that when Pokémon have more serious injuries, you shouldn't move them unless absolutely necessary. Al was always smart like that. Came with the territory of his line.
But alas, Al wasn't there, and neither was Charizard, so all Tyranitar could think to do was pick Sceptile up as carefully as possible, and run like mad back to Pokémon Square. Silently begging her to hold on all the while.
Times like this made him hate how big and slow he was. Or at least make him wish he had wings. Or could teleport; that'd be ever better.
"Do-" He cleared his throat, "Do you... need me to get anything?"
Miss Patch set a bandage roll aside and held up a small pair of scissors. "Hold her arm for me, please?"
As Tyranitar did as he was asked, he kept his eyes on Sceptile's face for any reaction.
...Not even a groan.
One one hand, that was a good thing; it meant she proabably wasn't feeling too much pain from whatever the hell happened to her. But on the other, the silence was driving Tyranitar crazy. He wanted to hear something out of her. Anything that helped prove that he wasn't too late to save her. That he and Miss Patch weren't just delaying the inevitable.
Miss Patch likely felt the same, if her expression was anything to go by.
"...I, uh... M'sorry, by the way..."
Miss Patch looked up, "For what?"
"Dumping her here and runnin' off." Dammit, that wasn't what Tyranitar wanted to say... Oh well, better go through with it. It's not like he was lying, anyway.
Miss Patch waved a claw, smiling awkwardly as she set the dirty bandages aside. "Oh no, i-it's alright! I figured you would want to... erm... clean up a little. And calm everyone down..."
That was easier said than done. Everyone in town had questions, and unfortunately Tyranitar didn't have a single answer. He didn't know who this Sceptile was, he didn't know where she came from, and he didn't have the slightest idea who or what left her in such a state.
After he'd gotten the chance to wash his scales and attempt to reassure the townsfolk, Tyranitar returned to the clearing with the sheriff. Thankfully, Sceptile wasn't found inside a dungeon, so the area was just as he left it.
Which was... even more unsettling, once he got the chance to actually look around.
Apart from a dried patch of blood, the clearing was completely untouched. No signs of a battle or struggle, no trails or footprints that could indicate which direction Sceptile came from, nothing. Not even trying to track her scent provided any results, as the only trail that gave was the path Tyranitar took after he found her.
The only conclusion the sheriff could come to was that Sceptile had been attacked somewhere else and left in the forest to bleed out, with her assailants being smart enough to cover their tracks and scents. Logically, it made sense; Tyranitar had dealt with plenty of criminals that were smart enough to do something like that, but...
Something still felt off. He couldn't put his claw on it.
"Still, I... It wasn't right to just leave you alone like that. If you weren't by yourself, that'd be one thing, but I just dropped her off and you were freaking out and I didn't even-"
"Titanite." Miss Patch wasn't stern or upset, but the sound of Titanite's own name was enough to shut him up. "It's alright. You did what you could, and that's what matters."
He could only nod, unable to say anything more as Miss Patch finished wrapping Sceptile's arm.
"I need to get the burn ointment ready. Could you stay with her for a moment?" Miss Patch's smile was much more stable this time.
"Sure." Titanite wasn't sure if his own was very convincing. If it wasn't, Miss Patch didn't comment, instead walking out the room without another word.
It was silent once more. Titanite hated it.
His shoulders fell as he sighed, rubbing his eyes. He really wished his teammates were here. At least then he'd know what else he could do. How to act.
...Heh. He could already hear Al groaning at such a lousy pun.
Taking a seat on the floor beside Sceptile's bed, Titanite glanced down at her face. At her bruises. The muscles on her right arm, and what remained of her left.
Whoever this Sceptile was, she was clearly a fighter. The kind that wouldn't go down easily if confronted. If Charizard were here and she weren't injured, he probably would've challenged her to a battle without a second thought. Which was saying something, since Charizard wasn't one to issue challenges if it looked like an easy win.
It just made Titanite ask for what felt like the tenth time in two days:
"...What happened to you?"
Please wake up and tell me.
~~~
If I ever got around to completely writing this story out in any format (comic/fic/etc.), I'd probably end up going back and forth between Dal n' Val's journey through the Mystery Dungeon world. Two stories at the same time, culminating in their eventual reunion ;w;
A reunion that they'll have to friggin' fight for, as the darker forces of the world try their damnedest to keep this particular human and Pokémon separated for as long as possible. Even to the point of trying to eliminate Dalex in particular, before he can learn to fully control his newfound abilities as a Pokémon.
But we all know what happens when humans and Pokémon band together: Odds are defied, limits are broken, and dreams become reality.
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Juslo, "Is it cuddling if you've been kidnapped?"
Frostiron, "Baby got cut off"
Stony, "Lust at first site" (the misspelling, yes)
Tags are from my AO3 history ;P
Juslo, "Is it cuddling if you've been kidnapped?"
MAFIA AU. Loki owns a club despite being his brother's right hand in the organized crime of it all. Justin is a regular customer at the club, works for someone big but very anonymous, doing heists, doing theft jobs, doing shit that Justin is good at.
Story starts with Loki waking up in the backseat of a car. Justin is driving. Loki complains about his head hurting and feeling a little sick to his stomach. Justin changes to music to something more soothing. Tells Loki to lie back down. He's serious, seems grim (his shirt is definitely not grim - most of Justin's shirts are weird riffs on cabana shirts).
Cuts to later. Somewhere - a small beach house in some remote village in Long Island - Loki's in a kitchen. Sliding glass door looks out on the beach. Gray day, waves rolling in. Music playing in the background. Justin walks in, looks in the pans on the stove, peeks into the oven. "Smells good," he tells Loki.
(Comments get made somewhere else in the story - Thor freaking out because Loki's been kidnapped. Text from an anonymous person about the kidnapping - negotiations to be made. Thor trying to find out who did it, getting more pissed.)
Loki and Justin eat the dinner together that Loki cooks. "I'm still surprised that you're this amazing of a cook. I figured you grew up with all your meals cooked for you." Loki's flattered, smiles. They discuss Thor's mood as of late - something about drifting through life, no real direction, especially for himself and it's affecting the family business, depressed.
(Maybe another cut to Thor being anything but directionless, sending out his people, going personally to Loki's club to ask around. The negotiator has his cell number, so he's not worried about not being home. Runs into the "middle man" - the guy everyone knows works for the faceless mystery "person" (Ultron). Thor talks to him about helping to find Loki, to negotiate, to track down whomever has kidnapped his brother. Middle man says he'll talk to his boss, see what can be done.)
After dinner, Loki and Justin are sitting on the sofa, watching movies. Loki finishes his glass of wine, sets it aside and slides over on the couch to cuddle up to Justin. Justin wraps his arms around Loki. It becomes clear that they've been involved the whole time. Loki asks, "So Graham'll make sure your tracks are covered, even after Thor pays the ransom?" Justin nods and kisses the top of Loki's head. "It's all covered. He'll turn over the money to you once Thor's sent it to the negotiator." Loki: "And Thor'll hopefully get over his moping for a while and quit dragging down the family business so that I can run my club in peace." Justin laughs. "You gonna give the money back to Thor and tell him what you did?" Loki laughs. "Yeah. No. He loves me enough to protect me and to pay a ransom. He'd kill me himself if he realized I was trying to fix him and pulled a stunt. I'll just put the money into the club...and the sweeties, and it'll wind its way back into his part of the business. It'll be an investment he doesn't know he's making." Loki kisses Justin. "I'll set some aside, and you and I will go on vacation for real. Now come on. I want to cuddle."
Justin is very happy to oblige his boyfriend. "Is it cuddling if you've been kidnapped?"
Frostiron, "Baby got cut off"
This one is honestly stumping me. It's been stumping me the whole time. I think it would have something to do with one of them either getting stuck in traffic because someone cut them off or I don't know. Maybe got cut off while talking to each other? I'm not sure, but my brain isn't wanting to wrap around the tag. It'll probably show up in my dreams now and haunt me because I left this one blank. LOL
Stony, "Lust at first site" (the misspelling, yes)
Not an AU. Avengers all live together in the tower. Loki lives there. Is dating Bucky (or who knows? Maybe Bruce - unexpected and ridiculously adorable). Really adorable with whichever one it is. Tony's break up with Pepper (she broke up with him but she tells people it was mutual because she doesn't want to see him spiral out with drinking) was rougher on him than he thought, and he's tried dating, but there's no fire to any of it. Nothing to interest him.
Steve's tried dating, but he has absolutely nothing in common with anyone he's tried seeing. He's getting more and more frustrated.
Natasha suggests to both of them - separately - that they just need to get laid, just to clear the negative energy away from them. "Just fuck someone, several someones. Doesn't have to be a connection. Just do it and move on."
Skip ahead. Steve's looking at the app on his phone (App's called "Lust at First Site" - maybe, probably?). He's swiping through profiles. None of the photos have faces, he understood this going into it, esp when he asked Bucky to help him with photos for his profile. Runs into an intriguing profile, and the photos are fucking *stunning*. All of them, from the front, are from just barely above the stomach down, and the ones from the back are from shoulder down to the guy's ass. Steve wants to draw this person. He wants to bite this person. The profile is witty, of course, and the interests are all shared ones. Steve messages the guy. They have many back and forth conversations through the app's PM. Eventually it moves on from there. The guy checks out Steve's profile and definitely likes what he sees. They have several steamy sexts, but they never start to talk. They agree to meet in person after several months.
You can see where this is going, right?
From my Let's Play post.
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spiderblog-mcu · 2 years
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Eddie likes you but he's too much of a pussy to say anything
I'm not sure how frequently I will be doing this kind of content from now on but I had this idea in my head and just had to get it out!! It's inspired by the scene of Eddie looking in the fridge and finding a can of soup.
I'm better at blurbs than actually writing things out...unless it's smut...maybe one day
Eddie had no idea what to expect when you invited him over for dinner yesterday at school but he had trouble saying no. Partly because he loves a good meal, but mostly because he has a gigantic crush on you. Usually he just sticks with getting a whiff of your shampoo at Hellfire, because truthfully he thought you'd find his affection gross. After all, every other girl at school does, why would you be any different? None the less, he showers (extra soap this time), puts on something decent, and finds a nice bouquet of flowers (he totally didn't clip them from someone else's garden...). His feet are kind of numb on the drive over, and when he rings your door bell his pulse thumps in his head. None of that is made better when you greet him with your sweet smile.
"Hey you're here!"
"Yup, um," come on Eddie charm her up! "These are for the lovely chef." he presents a handful of tuplips tied together with what looks to be a shoe lace.
"They're beautiful, come on in, dinner is almost ready." Your house is so nice on the inside. Family pictures hang on the walls alongside a mantel of awards you have won. There's even an embroidered picture that says home sweet home. It's corny but Eddie kind of envies it. He never got the white picket fence family experience. "I have the perfect vase for those." It's turquoise and sitting just out of reach on a china cabinet. You stretch up as far as your tip toes will take you but your fingers can barely brush the vase. He can't help but smile, you are just too cute to him. "Hey Eddie can you-"
"Of course young hobbit." You give him a playful swat on the arm before he pulls the vase down. "Anything else you can't reach?"
"ha ha very funny," you say flatly, "I'm good. Take a seat at the table and I'll get the food." The setting is nothing fancy but it is more than most people have ever done for him. There's a white table cloth embellished with lace at the ends (please god don't let him spill something), a small dish of butter, as well as the cutlery and water glasses.
"Gosh y/n you didn't have to go through this much trouble!" he calls out.
"No trouble at all." You enter the dining room with two bowls wafting of a smell Eddie could only describe as heavenly. He thinks it's some sort of soup but it doesn't have alphabet shaped pasta or neon orange liquid. "There's one more dish to come out." More?! Has she been in the kitchen all day? Out you come with a pan of bread rolls that smell fresh.
"Holy shit you made bread too?!" You nod picking up your fork.
"I figured if I was making bourguignon I'd add some fresh rolls to soak up the sauce."
"Bour what now?"
"It's a french stew made with beef." He's amazed. Truly amazed. Why go through so much trouble for him?
"Ok, well. Bone apple teeth." The meal was amazing, honestly he didn't know food could taste so good! His idea of a nice meal is the pizza still being hot when it gets to his door. And he may have polished off half of the rolls...and the butter. What? It melts into the bun! "Well doll this is a meal fit for a king. No, a god!" A soft blush blooms on your cheeks.
"I'm glad you like it. I don't cook for many people."
"So this is a rare occasion? I'm honored."
"Well you let me join the Hellfire club late in the campaign and I felt like showing my appreciation."
"Consider it shown. Actually I feel like I owe you now." Eddie chuckles.
-----
As much as Eddie loved the meal, the after-dinner was his favourite part of the night. The two of you washed the dishes together and you had put a little smear of bubbles on his cheek. That ended with a slippery floor and more soap on your clothes than on the dishes. But you didn't mind, spending this evening with Eddie has been so heart warming for you. Surrendering to the mess, you swiped a bottle of wine from the family liquor cabinet and sat next to Eddie on the floor against the cubbords. Eddie wanted to say something, god he really did! But the fear of ruining the moment was too great for him.
"You sure your parents won't miss the booze?"
"Nah, they have more than enough."
-----
A bottle and a half later, Eddie thinks it's time to say goodnight. He was excited (and truthfully hopeful) when you passed him a bowl with the rest of the bread rolls.
"you sure?"
"Positive. I can always make more."
"Thanks dollface." Theres a split second of comfortable silence between you. Kiss her. NO! Pussy. Wait why is she leaning in? It was a gentle and quick kiss to his cheek but his body felt like it was on fire. Good thing his ears are hidden inside his hair, too bad he can't hide his sheepish smile.
"Goodnight Eddie."
"Goodnight y/n."
Yeah...he is hopelessly in love with you.
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spxcemuses · 11 months
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senses and other oddly specific headcanons
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what does your muse smell like? Jack almost always smells like freshly baked pie (this is canon) because of being in his factory a lot. Other scents associated with him include plums/plum juice and expensive lotions/colognes, or even the occasional whiff of cigar tobacco.
what does your muse’s hands feel like? His hands are massive. They are surprisingly soft and warm at the palms, his fingertips cooler. Can sometimes be damp/clammy but not all the time. The knuckles on his hands and fingers are a bit rough due to work but otherwise soft as well. what does your muse usually eat in a day? Just pie (I'm kidding). For real though, he usually eats 2-3 times a day, with him eating dinner and breakfast the most. For breakfast, Jack has something simple to start off so his appetite isn't ruined later on. He has either poached or scrambled eggs with toast or hot cereal, and coffee is almost always included (the guy needs caffeine). He always eats breakfast and never skips. For lunch, he usually has sandwiches or soups. Sometimes he'll scarf down a few mini-pastries along with some herbal tea (or any type of tea). Sometimes he taste-tests pies and gets to eat a slice too if it's deemed worthy for shipment. He eats lunch the least due to being so busy. Dinner is his largest meal and he'll have a variety of "rich-people" foods (because he's wealthy duh). He's had anything from roast duck to expensive cheeses/etc. and just more high-quality/gourmet items due to his wealth.
does your muse have a good singing voice? Jack's not a professional singer or anything, but his voice isn't grating to listen to. He is likely a baritone when singing. He is more of the kind of person to speak-sing than actually sing. This clip is a great example on how I imagine him to sing.
does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks? bad habits: interrupting, eye-rolling, bragging, unnecessary aggression (just to name a few; he has a LOT), childish behavior. nervous ticks: throat-clearing, eye twitching.
what does your muse usually look like/wear? Jack is a very large and fat man in stature, with his cheeks being disproportionately larger than the rest of his face. He has pink bob hair and bluish-lavender eyes. Normally he wears a long purple jacket over a light purple buttoned shirt with a double triangular cut, a white shirt underneath that, a pink tie, brown trousers, and black knee-high boots with small heels. When not wearing his iconic suit, he wears classy, elegant clothing in various shades of purple and/or pink.
is your muse affectionate? how much? how so? Jack is hardly affectionate, if at all (so no). He'll give the occasional pat on the shoulder or slightly softer glance but he's not a big guy for affection to most people. With those he's closer to/significant others, though, he's more affectionate albeit hesitant. He's more of a guy who gives words of affection and lavish gifts than physical affection (and the fact that he's an irredeemable monster /hj).
what position does your muse sleep in? Jack usually sleeps on his stomach, his arms tucked neatly under his pillow. Sometimes though he tends to sleep on his back. It really depends on the situation and how he's feeling that day.
could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room Definitely. Jack is a big guy both in stature and presence, so hearing him from another room is a positive. Whether it's from his petulant, irate shouting to joyous declarations, his voice carries and you WILL hear him.
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what does your muse smell like? He smells like a multitude of things, but two descriptors can be used: wet and raw. Probably smells like a wet dog with the faint mixture of garbage and iron (like the metallic scent blood gives off) due to his living conditions. He doesn't mind it too much and will wear perfumes/colognes if "You" wish him to.
what does your muse’s hands feel like? His hands are slender, his grip firm and uncomfortably warm (very much like how a person's skin feels when they're having a fever warm). They also have the texture of clay and can be squished around.
what does your muse usually eat in a day? Doe doesn't really need to eat, but he will literally eat anything food and non-food related; he's like a goat. He will especially eat anything YOU like. One of his favorite snacks is teeth. He also likes sour and bitter flavors.
does your muse have a good singing voice? He doesn't sing, so no. I'd imagine he'd be very off-key and scratchy at times when he does sing. He loves it when you sing for him, though.
does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks? Bad habits: licking television screens, prolonged staring, clinginess/neediness, slouching. Nervous ticks: fiddling with his jacket sleeves, nail biting (sort of), sweating, stumbling over words (sometimes).
what does your muse usually look like/wear? His appearance can change to suit "your" needs/wants, but he has a standard look. John Doe is a slender entity with pale skin. He also has black, curly hair that goes down to his upper back that is also prehensile. He has four fingers on each hand and three toes on each foot, wide unblinking eyes and a persistent yellow smile with an unnatural amount of teeth. Doe usually wears a short-sleeve grey t-shirt with a red design that's always changing, a black hoodie, brown trousers, and pointed black shoes. If he's not wearing his hoodie and t-shirt, he wears anything in colors of black, grey, and/or red.
is your muse affectionate? how much? how so? Doe is very, VERY affectionate. Once he has someone in his sights, he will do anything to be around them, even going so far as to be physically clingy. Hugging, giving praise, and anything romantic is what he is searching for.
what position does your muse sleep in? He lies flat on his back, stiff as a board (think log or soldier position). Doe doesn't really "sleep"; he rests there with his eyes shut for 8-9 hours and is fully rested afterward.
could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room? Probably not. Doe is oftentimes a quiet entity unless you get involved. He has a bad habit of scaring people unintentionally (usually) so he is quiet most of the time.
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madamescarlette · 3 years
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something is SUPREMELY funny to me about the fact that Mrs. Tifton took basically one look at the youngest, cheeriest, reddest-headed of the Penderwicks, I-Am-Fond-Of-Many-People-Unless-Otherwise-Convinced Lydia, and went “hmmm, yes, I like this one, I choose her as my Penderwick delegate (and also want to steal her hair color).”
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neoncrowpen · 2 years
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Can you please do a poly (Yandere?) joe Goldberg x reader x Love Quinn scenario?
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Matthew Gibson was the indie bookshop owner of Page and Pen in the heart of Madre Linda. His stray gray hair made him seem more attractive to others. He didn’t like using technology because “technology is a viral plague on humanity”. Most people heralded him for his book recommendations and he drank in the power he held over people. Every week, he held an exclusive book club meeting for a select few of Madre Linda’s elite. As Matthew put his arm around your shoulders, you cringed.
As you cringed, an idea occurred to Joe and Love at the same time.
It was only after a heated argument that lasted hours into the night that they acknowledged a truth in their marriage. About love. About you. They told themselves they would keep themselves in check. It was enough to just stalk you. It was enough to just be friends with you. It was enough to yearn from afar and nothing more.
Love’s grip on her wine glass tightened and the gears turned in Joe’s head. You shrugged off your boss’ creepy touch. You cleared your throat and continued telling your favorite couple about your debut book.
“So, I should have a release date by next week, I think,” you gave them a half-smile. Love glared at Matthew like she could roll him into cinnamon buns.
“That’s great!” Joe smiled. He caught how your cheeks flushed at his warmth. He pushed a little further. “Can’t wait to read it. I don’t always read fantasy, but I think I’ll make an exception for yours.” Matthew slid his hand around your waist. Words left Matthew’s disgusting mouth, but Joe and Love didn’t hear them. An echo replaced the air.
Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only! Only!
Only!
Only ours. Ours alone.
It repeated like a beat, like mantra that carried weight. It grew heavier as the night waned. Wine spilled next to you when your eyes grew heavy. You snapped awake. But only for a moment. Love touched your arm, picking up the glass for you. When you leaned into her touch, she knew she was doing the right thing. She gave a knowing look to Joe, signaling him to go into the next step of the plan. You barely noticed there was no one else left at Matthew Gibson’s house. All you remember is how Love smelled of vanilla and gingerbread when she secured you in the backseat of her car.
A sliver of sunlight gently woke you the next afternoon. You attempted to pull your wrist towards you, but the rope secured around it only let you go so far. Your eyes shot awake. You snapped your head to your opposite side. Your legs kicked but went nowhere. They waited patiently at the corner of the bed.
“I was good, wasn’t I?” you asked them, struggling against the bindings.
“You’re lucky,” Joe’s voice turned low. “At least we tied to a bed this time.”
Love scolded. “Joe, be nice.” Her hand caressed your cheek. It was almost cruel. How Love’s affection was comforting and peaceful. Love kissed your nose.
“I’m sorry,” she frowned. “But, you broke the rules.”
“No! I didn’t! Matthew touched me! I tried to get him to stop!” you explained yourself. Joe stepped forward to the end of the bed. His hand gripped your ankle. His other hand grabbed something behind him.
“No one is allowed to touch you. No one but us.” He said. Love kissed your cheek again. Her arms wrapped around you. You heard a whirring in the air. Your eyes darted to Joe’s hand. He held a tattoo gun firmly in his hand. Its point hovered over your foot.
“Stay still, Y/N.” Love told you. Her thumb moved across your mouth. “It’s okay if you have to scream. I’ll hold you.” Joe dragged the tattoo gun across the top of your foot, sending an indescribable pain up your leg. You wouldn’t give Love the satisfaction of screaming, but she read your face. Your eyes shut tight as you heaved air as if you could attempt to hide the pain. Love wiped away a tear from your cheek. “Now, no one will be in the way.”
[Author's Notes: I loved writing this! Thank you so much for the request. I will be considering a part 2 to this or at least, I'd write more Yandere Joe and Love.]
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queentala · 2 years
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Being mates with Fenrys headcanons
It’s not a surprise that Fenrys is little clingy puppy that loves attention, especially from his mate.
His love langue is physical touch.
He enjoys being both big and little spoon.
There is no better feeling than you snuggled into his chest, relaxed and happy. Fenrys is so proud that his presence makes you feel safe, that you’re feeling comfortable around him and can lower your guard as you trust him with your life.
During moments like this he plays with your hair with one hand while the other caresses your body or gently strokes your cheek. If you fall asleep Fenrys will kiss your forehead and either drift off too or lay with his eyes closed and nose buried in your hair.
No matter how much Fenrys loves bathing you in affection, there are nights when HE wants to be babied and taken care of.
If you’re laying in bed with a book, your mate will literally throw himself at you and snuggle his face into your chest demanding caresses. Or the other way, he gets under the blankets at your feet and crawl under it until he reaches your belly then he lays his head on it and falls asleep feeling safe and loved (if he hasn’t fallen asleep yet and you stop petting him, he will blow air on your stomach, making you laugh and he won’t stop until you give him your attention back)
Also Fenrys likes to snuggle with you in this wolf form. He’s like your personal fluffy pillow and blanket during winter nights. Sometimes when he is half-asleep, his tail automatically starts to wag what never fails to put a big smile on your face.
Our puppy has nightmares because some fucking bitch aka Maeve gave him trauma (to Maeve: hope you burn in hell for hurting my little cinnamon roll). Anyways, sometimes Fenrys wakes up in the middle of the night, all sweaty and heavy breathing, terror could be felt from his smell from kilometers. In moments like this you need to act quickly, constantly talk to him to remind him you’re with him and it was only a bad dream. After awhile soft kisses and loving touches will lull him back to sleep but there are nights when Fen is not able to fall asleep back. It really helps him when you tell him various stories of your childhood or your adventures or your dreams. It keeps his mind away from awful demons hunting him and lets Fenrys focus on the thing he loves the most - you.
Fenrys loves taking bubble baths with his mate. The two of you have bubbles fight or put them on your chin/face/head and parody different people. (Fen mastered to perfection parodying Lorcan and you always choke from laughter when he does so)
By getting married to Fenrys you got yourself your own hairdresser. He will wash your hair with the most gentle and relaxing moves, then he will dry them off and carefully comb them as not to pull you too hard. If you two are going out, Fenrys will style your hair in fancy hairdos (every other woman is jealous because they always looks so stunning). And let’s say your mate doesn’t hide with the fact he’s the one who made your hair.
Of course you always return the favor. Fenrys with pleasure lays his head on your lap, smiling gently and admiring the focus on your face as you model his eyebrows as painless as you can. Also he loves when you do his skin routine; when your fingers massage creams into his face and if you softly run your finger along his nose he’s immediately melting.
During summer night the two of you sit at your rooftop and admire the stars, always having competition on who can find more constellations. Few times you got bored and started making your own ones, giving them the most stupid names like “ninja shark” or “ballerina Lorcan”
Yeah, roasting Lorcan is daily basis.
Also long walks on the beach during sunset or staying there all night and watching sunrise in Fenrys’ arms.
He takes you on adventures all the time let it be climbing mountains, long walks through the forest, cliff jumping or swimming in the lake at midnight.
When it’s raining Fenrys pulls you outside and once you face him, he’d bow down and ask you to dance with him. After you’re breathless from dancing and laughing he would kiss you passionately while holding you against his chest and then carry you inside in his arms and prepare you hot bath so you don’t get sick.
He is very romantic person in general, always taking you on the most creative dates, giving you most meaningful gifts no matter what the price is because you deserve everything and Fenrys is willing to give it to you.
He gives you so many nicknames from totally basic ones like babe, sweetheart or princess to funny, cute ones like puff or cutie patootie.
Fenrys likes when you wear his shirts or jackets. Especially when you add some accessories and totally slay that look. Of course he doesn’t mind if you wear it with messy bun and only panties underneath looking like a potato. He finds you cute and hot all the time.
Always when he comes back from other city/country/continent he brings you lots of local sweets and pastries. If he liked some dish there, he ask for recipes and then 1) if you can cook be begs you to cook it for him, 2) if you cannot, the two of you sit in the kitchen trying to figure out if the dish you made will kill you or not
With his joyful personality and smart mouth Fenrys makes you laugh all the time. He makes funny faces at totally random moments and when you’re sad Fenrys goes beyond any limits and makes complete idiot of himself just to see you smile.
If you’re on your period Fenrys will agree to everything you want. Wish to stay in bed all day? You got it. Sweets from the bakery across the city? He’s on the way. Cramps are getting worse? Massage, pain revealing  herbs and dose of affection, he’ll give you anything.
You’re everything Fenrys ever wanted but the thought of starting his own family with you is something he can’t get out of his mind.
Once you tell him you’re pregnant he’ll scream, cry, laugh and run around the castle screaming “I’m going to be a dad” (When Lorcan heard that, he came to you with condolences and told you it’s never too late to run away)
"Yeah...... Let's hope this baby takes more after me..." "Oh trust me, I'll be praying for that"
When you suggested to name your daughter Connie to honor his brother he fell in love with you once again
Fenrys would protect you with his body, sacrifice his life or freedom if it meant you’d be safe. He’s always overprotective but sometimes he gets on another level and when you gets annoyed he only smiles at you and you’re no longer angry because come on, how can you be mad at this little ball of love?
He gets whiny when he needs to leave and you can’t go with him. Your goodbyes are the longest and the second he’s back you’re being thrown on your bed (either for cuddles or other naughty actions)
100% spoils you. Loves going shopping with you and buy you everything you want even when you tell him not to. And when the two of you pass the lingerie shop... “No baby, we don’t need to eat this month. Now let’s go buy you this red lacy set. And this black one too! Oh, this is pretty...”
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sukirichi · 3 years
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“your hair is really soft” – jjk ver!
ft. itadori yuuji, gojo satoru, fushiguro megumi, nanami kento, ryoumen sukuna, & inumaki toge
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ITADORI YUUJI – you’re in the room with Yuuji, who is busy watching the movies gojo-sensei had given him. He holds the cursed corpse in his other side, careful not to let him hit you, while your head lies on his shoulder, eyes drooping close from your long day. Yuuji turns the volume down and brings you closer to him until you’re practically sitting on his lap, his lips making brief contact at the crown of your head while he mumbles sweet nothings, too engrossed in the movie.
You smile at his sweet gesture, gently fisting the front of his jacket while you return the affection, kissing the edges of his jaw softly to not distract him too much. Yuuji’s lips tilt at the soft press of your lips on his warm skin. Soon, your hands rake up to his hair where your nails rake his scalp. Immediately, Yuuji deflates like a balloon as he purrs at the movement, making you chuckle in your sleepy daze.
“Your hair is really soft,” you note, and his eyes practically sparkle. Yuuji was a huge fan of hair gels and hair products, that his desk was filled with different brands all so he could keep his hair perfectly styled – in that somewhat natural, messy appeal. You love it on him and he melts at the fact you’ve noticed his efforts into taking care of himself. Most of all, the feeling of the smooth tendrils running past your fingertips like caressing a field of flowers lulls both you and him to a serene state.
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GOJO SATORU – Like Yuuji, Gojo takes his time in styling his hair. You brush your teeth beside Gojo, who scowls as he struggles to keep his hair up the way he likes before he puts on his blindfold. The lanky man groans and adds more product, flattening the strands of his hair between his palms before swooping it up. When it falls down, Gojo whines, leaning forward on the sink counter.
You chuckle to yourself; he could be so dramatic sometimes. Bumping your hip with his, you gesture at him to move, and the big baby pouts before placing his chin on your shoulder as he watches you gargle. “Babe,” he sniffles, arms wrapping around your middle before his nose nuzzles into your skin. You giggle and push him away; the little bastard knew you were ticklish there. “My hair won’t stick up the way I want it to. Now I don’t look so cool anymore. What would my students say? That Gojo-Sensei stopped being attractive?”
That earns him an eye roll and a playful smack to his shoulder. “Ow!” Gojo rubs his shoulder with another pout, although both of you know nothing ever really hurts the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. “You’re mean.”
“And you’re just fishing for compliments.”
When Gojo hides his smirk behind his palm, you know you’ve hit the nail right on the head. Gojo was probably the most self-assured and overconfident man you’ve ever met – the day he thought lowly of himself and worried about anything concerning him that would ruin his “image” would be the day pigs could fly. Nevertheless, you give in with a sigh, extending your palm towards him.
“Give me the gel. I’ll fix your hair for you.”
“You’re a lifesaver, babe!” Obediently, Gojo crouches down so you could reach his hair, but not before muttering “shorty” under his breath. You tug at his hair harshly than you intended as payback, and Gojo only lets out a loud, fake moan before doubling over.
Your laughter and his bubble and echo through the cramped room, but both of you don’t mind. It’s moments like these you cherish with your whole heart even though it’s not extremely sweet or anything over the top. Dating a jujutsu sorcerer, the strongest one at that, wasn’t always rainbows and unicorns. You worry for him all the time and stay up awake all night, only ever finding peace in your sleep when he comes home safely – which he always does.
Still, you don’t stop worrying for him. It’s only natural, after all, and the way Gojo’s eyes soften as you slightly massage his scalp and style his hair for him lets you know he loves small moments like this too when both of you are completely alone in your own worlds, just enjoying each other’s presence and not having to think about anything else.
“Your hair is really soft,” you muse, unaware of the way Gojo’s closed his eyes as he lets your hand do the magic. When the familiar scent of vanilla and flowers wafts into your senses, you lean down closer to him to sniff his hair, stopping in your movements. “That’s odd. You smell like shampoo, but I haven’t bought that scent in a week.”
“Well, I may or not be the one who emptied it the last time,” he sheepishly chuckles.
“Gojo! That shampoo was really expensive!”
“Yeah, but I wanted to smell like you,” he coos, gently peeling your arms off him so he could hug you. Because of the height difference, you face plant into his bare chest where his skin is still warm from the shower. You keep feigning your irritation, but really, you squish your cheek above his heart, and Gojo’s chest rumbles as he laughs – he knows you can’t resist him. “Sorry about it babe, let’s go grocery shopping tonight when I come home, yeah?”
“You better buy your own shampoo,” you grumble, but Gojo only laughs.
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  FUSHIGURO MEGUMI – Megumi is hunched over his desk, eyebrows pinched together while his hands move at an extreme speed. He’s studying while you scroll through memes on your phone, not wanting to disturb your boyfriend. Megumi is studious as ever, and it’s not that you aren’t, but you’re definitely a lot more relaxed than he is. 
You often tease him that you’ve got amazing memory by tapping your forehead whenever he tells you to study with him, which only makes him huff, but in reality, you refuse to study with him because he’s so distracting.
The way he bites his lip when he’s concentrated on something has your stomach erupting with butterflies, and it doesn’t help when his dark blue eyes pierce through the pages like the poor textbook committed a crime he couldn’t forgive.
All in all, Megumi’s beauty tripled tenfold when he was dedicated to something, and it was this fact that had you keeping your distance from him while he studies, because the last thing he needs is to have you jump him when he’s got an exam to prepare for. Unbeknownst to him, you’re angling your phone upwards until his beautiful side profile comes to view – and it’s so unfair his lashes are longer and thicker than yours – and you take a silent snap.
You take a few more pictures with a silent giggle, making sure to set it as your lock screen later. Nothing better than waking up to Megumi’s face every time your alarm went off, but your daydreaming is halted when Megumi drops his pen with a loud sigh.
“I know you’re taking pictures of me,” he side-eyes you with a glare. You squeak before hiding your phone behind you, knowing that it’s not out of the picture for Megumi to steal them and delete his precious photos. It didn’t help he knows your password either (duh, it’s his birthdate) so you take the extra mile by offering him a sickeningly sweet smile, an apology ready to leave your lips when – “If you wanted my attention that badly, you could’ve just said so. I don’t mind taking a break or something.”
Although he sounds annoyed, the way he avoids your gaze to hide his reddened cheeks and ears say otherwise. Megumi’s back faces you as you wait patiently on his bed. You don’t want to bother him – you really don’t – so you stay put, and Megumi sighs for the hundredth time that night before spinning on his chair, arms stretched out wide open. “Come. Want hugs.”
He keeps his gaze on his lap to swallow the embarrassment of using baby-like words, which was a huge contrast from his quiet and cold persona. You don’t mind though. Deep down, Megumi is like everyone else who wants constant affection, so you leap out of his bed and jump into his arms. Megumi relaxes with your weight on top of him before he squishes his cheeks against your boobs – one of his quirks that you found endearing – a sign that he just wanted to relax for a little while.
Megumi isn’t really that huge on touch, so moments like this where he allows himself to be physically intimate with you has you floating on cloud nine. You hear him sigh between you, and you hide your grin by pushing his hair back to reveal those pretty eyes of his, beckoning him to look you in the eye.
As expected, his cheeks flush a beet red at the intensity of your gaze, but what really catches your attention is how his eyes just brighten even though they’re lined with dark circles. 
This precious boy means everything to you, and you cup his face until your noses are rubbing. “Love you, Gumi,” you whisper, the boy’s breath hitching when your eyelashes flutter against his skin. Megumi tsks, a faux scowl on his face because both of you are painfully aware that he just melts around you.
“Stop teasing me. You know I don’t like that.”
“I’m not teasing you,” you lie, brushing his hair back in a soothing manner to help him relieve the headache he gets when he studies too much. “You know, your hair is really soft. Can I keep doing this?”
Megumi hates it when people touch his hair, so you expect him to say no – and you’ll gladly respect it – but instead, he pushes you closer and murmurs, “Don’t stop doing that.”
You smile so wide you fear your face would break.
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  NANAMI KENTO – You’ve always been fascinated with your co-worker. You don’t know what it is about the sharp-faced and stoic Nanami Kento that somehow makes him stand out from the rest. It’s not like he was smarter or better than anyone, although you do admit Nanami overworks most of the time.
It’s kind of pathetic you’ve been crushing on him ever since your first day of work. Maybe it’s because he worked with virtue and wishes to actually be honest instead of just sucking the money out of others. Maybe it’s because seeing him visit a bakery every after work makes him seem softer and a lot more human than his seemingly unapproachable nature. Whatever it was, you can’t explain why you’re so enamoured with the blond, or why you have the audacity to suddenly card your fingers through his hair at his desk that time.
You were told by your boss to give him this folder – quick, easy, and simple. But Nanami has this effect on you that he makes your brain go brr every time you go closer to him. You blame it on the fact both of you are alone at the office right now for OT, but when Nanami freezes under your touch, you realize the grave consequences of your actions.
As if you’ve touched something boiling hot – and he kind of is – you retract your arm and bow so deep you feel a vertebrae popping air. “I’m so sorry!” you begin to blabber, bowing repeatedly to the point your hair has become a mess. You can’t even look him in the eye – what were you thinking?! “I didn’t mean to, it’s just your hair looked really nice and soft and I couldn’t help myself! If you want to tell the higher-ups about this harassment and get me fired, I promise I won’t mind. In fact, I’ll take this to my grave and even offer my firstborn child as an apology—”
“Y/N.”
“because I’ve done something so horrendous and oh my gosh, I was just eating donuts and I probably got crumbs in your pretty hair—”
“Y/N,”
“And that’s really so low of me. Uh, actually, I may or may not have spent last month’s salary to buy my niece a huge ass dollhouse, but I’d gladly schedule a hair appointment for you—” you stop your words when you feel huge, calloused hands squishing your cheeks together until your lips are puckered out like a fish. Nanami stands before you, looking as handsome as ever, and that thought only has you panicking more and withdrawing. “I’m so sorry.”
Nanami sighs, pulling away to give you some space. You try to fight back the whine because not only did you look ridiculous under him, but also because you actually missed his touch.
“It’s fine. I don’t mind,” he takes the folder from you, pauses, then tilts his head to the side. “You think my hair is soft?”
“Uhm,” you blink rapidly, “Y-yes. Your hair is really pretty too. In fact, everything about you is pretty, like your hands when you type in paperwork but – I’m talking too much aren’t I?” you laugh nervously, scratching the back of your head. “I’m sorry. I tend to ramble when I’m nervous.”
“I make you nervous?” Nanami doesn’t sound like he believes it.
“Yeah,” you confess, switching your weight from one foot to another. At this point, you’ve given up on asking him out for coffee this weekend because you’re sure he’s labelled you as an idiot now. Not that it’s surprising though; not only does Nanami keep to himself out of social aversion, but you’re also pretty loud and awkward, a huge contrast to someone as well-put as him. “Anyways, uh,” you clear your throat, gesturing to your cubicle. “Now that you’ve got the file, I’m gonna go do my part. See you later, I guess. Or not. You can go home first you want. I’ve got quite a lot on my plate.”
“I’ll wait for you.”
“Sorry?”
Nanami organizes his desk one last time before following you to your desk. “I’m done with my part and it’s late. It’s not safe for you to walk home alone,” he glances at his watch, “I’ll wait for you until you’re done and walk you back home. That way, I don’t have to worry about your safety tonight,” he plops down on the empty seat next to yours, crossing his arms on his broad chest. “Take all the time you need. Just wake me up when you’re done.”
Just like that, Nanami dozes off, exhausted from a long day of hard work. You, on the other hand, are more energized than ever as you suddenly find a strong wave of motivation you’ve never had before.
Maybe you don’t mess up everything, after all.
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  RYOUMEN SUKUNA – He groans when you giggle at him, using your small, dainty hands to brush it through his hair. Sukuna liked to sleep in and it was only seven in the morning, meaning he’s supposed to be still lost in dreamland with thoughts about you and your cute little face. But because you’re an annoying brat who’s an early bird and way too cheerful as a morning person, you’re wide awake when the sun shone through the windows, and you’re gently coaxing him awake by rotating your fingers through his hair.
“Your hair is really soft.”
“Stop that,” he complains, but doesn’t really do anything to push you away. “It’s too early. Go back to bed.”
“But I’m already awake,” you tease, proving your point by taking off his covers and patting his chest. “Come on, let me make you breakfast. Maybe we can go out today and go see a movie, what do you think? It’s my day off so we better make use of it!”
“Exactly, it’s a day off,” he growls the last part, surprising you when his strong hands grip your thigh and drag you beside him. Soon enough, Sukuna has you trapped in his muscular arms until you can’t move anymore. “Let’s just stay the whole day in bed. Plus, I’m the one making breakfast. There’s no way you’re still cooking for me on your day off.”
“But I love cooking for you.”
“I know, but it’s my turn now,” he huffs through your hair. Sukuna’s grip loosens around you a bit to give you room to breathe, but he’s taken aback when you only snuggle closer to him to the point your legs and tangled and your body is warm from his heat. You don’t have to say it out loud to tell him you’ve conceded to his wishes.
As always, Sukuna is right. It feels much better to just let go of time and enjoy this moment. And he smells so good, feels so warm, that you’re unable to stop yourself from burrowing closer onto his body until you’re sure you’re about to start smelling like him later.
Of course, Sukuna likes the thought of that, so he sweeps one arm behind to tug the covers back over your bodies. He kisses your temple, and with a low, husky voice, grumbles, “Let’s go back to sleep, then we’ll do everything you want later, okay? I just want to stay in bed with you a little longer.”
For a guy who was considered heartless and barbaric, he sure turned into putty in your hands.
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  INUMAKI TOGE – The platinum haired boy lays on your lap, the wire of headphones dangling beside you both. You’re thankful Inumaki has his eyes closed, because the last thing you want him to see is how embarrassed and giddy you are at that moment.
You and Inumaki have been friends for years, meaning you’ve been hiding your crush on him for a painfully long time. He’s recently made a Spotify playlist with an innocent text of, “I made you a playlist of all the songs that reminds me of you,” which leads you both to your current predicament. It’s a rather lazy weekend and Gojo-sensei isn’t around to bother any of you, so you’re in Inumaki’s room, careful not to bounce your legs out of habit to not give the poor boy a headache.
You snap back to life when Inumaki squeezes your thigh, and you’re met with azure eyes looking back up at you. “Mustard leaf?” he points to your face, which has been previously constricted and heated from his close proximity. It isn’t the first time you and Toge have cuddled, but it’s been too long and you’re standing at the edge of a dangerous cliff with the desire to tell him you like him.
Inumaki must’ve thought you’re uncomfortable with his weight on you because he begins to sit up. “Oh, no, no!” you coax him back down despite his questioning eyes, a wide grin replacing your flustered state to conceal it. “Its’s fine, really. I was just vibing with the songs.”
He hums, not completely believing it, but he doesn’t want to push either. Soon, he settles into your lap again and makes you lose your mind when his breath starts to tickle your kneepads now that he’s facing behind you.
Your heart just about combusts, and before you know it, Inumaki has fallen asleep while the theme of Howl’s Moving Castle plays. Once his breathing regulated into a steady rhythm, you reach out to brush his hair back and lightly add some pressure for better sleep. You know Inumaki lies that, and you smile to yourself when he leans into your touch even in his slumber.
“Your hair is so soft,” you say mostly to yourself, leaning down to kiss his the crown of his head, making Inumaki sigh contentedly. Gosh, you love him so much.
Now isn’t the time but...hopefully, one day you could tell him how you feel. Even if he rejects you, you hope you could still be friends even after that awkward encounter –
You freeze as the next song comes on. I.F.L.Y by Bazzi comes on, and just as you cover your mouth to silence your gasps, you hear the faintest snickers coming from Inumaki before he goes back to “snoring.”
“Toge! Were you awake the whole time?!”
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messers-moony · 3 years
Text
Mine | F.H
Paring: Five Hargreeves X Fem!Reader
Summary: Five pushes himself to the limit.
Prompt: Feeling their temperature
At times stress can be so deafening that it repels back. It takes over your body and shuts it down as a sign to stop. Most people would stop at the first signs. Five Hargreeves is not most people. He pushes himself to his very limit - until his body completely shuts down and leaves him with nothing. Multiple people noticed his body, giving him red flags of its nearby closure, but he denied them.
Allison saw the incapability to keep his hands steady. Diego noticed his clothes getting messier and tousled - at first, he thought it was because of his girlfriend - turns out it wasn’t. Vanya observed the lost look in his forest-green eyes. Luther noticed his excessive fidgeting. Klaus began to see him secluding himself back into his room. Y/n noticed everything.
Five’s brown hair became greasy and matted. Eyes dull and lack of any shine. Hands shaking and unable to keep still. Pencils not following his hand's movements because of his repeated shaking. Clothes were thrown all over the bedroom. Chalk covered the pale green walls - bed unmade. Coffee mugs going unwashed. Papers askew throughout the room. Manilla folders scattered on the dresser. Blazer no longer being worn, and instead, Five wore his shorts with a white button-up, occasionally a tie.
He loved to push it, didn’t he? Not listening until one day, he collapsed. Practically fainting while staring at his walls full of equations. The siblings and Y/n downstairs until one of them heard a clatter from upstairs. They shared a look of concern. Y/n placed a bookmark in her book, standing up and setting her book on the side table.
Y/n sighed, “Well, I should go see if that was Five.”
They nodded in response. Quickly Y/n made her way up the large stairs. Eventually, she made it outside Five’s door. Knocking on it gently, she called to him and got no response. Taking that as an okay to open the door, she found Five laying on the floor - sleeping?
Y/n scoffed, “You love to push it. You’re gonna kill yourself like this, babe.”
Carefully she lifted his body to the bed. Y/n placed the blankets over him. Five’s face was blossoming with a magenta color. Y/n took the back of her hand, placing it over his forehead. His temperature was high. Five had a fever because he couldn’t take a break. It killed her to see him like this, but karmas had its way. Leaning down, holding her hair back, she kissed his forehead before laying beside him.
Hours later, Five woke, his body curled around someone’s leg as they sat with their back against the headboard. He felt nauseous and groggy. Sweat began to pile at his hairline, and it was rolling down his back. Nosing the person's thigh, he tried to get closer. They reached their hand down to his hair and began to scratch his scalp. A noise - one that could only be described as a purr - erupted from his throat.
“How do you feel, love?” Y/n asked softly.
“How did I end up here?”
“You fainted.”
Five glared up at her, “I’m not joking. I was downstairs with everyone else until we heard a clatter. I came to check up on you, and you were on the floor.” Y/n defended, putting her hands up making Five whine at the absence of her hand in his hair.
“Am I dying?”
Y/n chuckled, scratching his scalp once more, “No, you’re sick.”
“How am I sick?” Five retorted bitterly, “You got too stressed.” Y/n answered.
Five narrowed his eyes at her, “Too much stress weakens your immune system, therefore making you more conscious of catching a cold. Which you indeed caught.” Y/n explained softly as Five laid his hot cheek on her thigh.
“My nurse.”
She snorted, “Might as well be.”
Five fell asleep moments later, hoping to sleep it off. Her hand in his hair felt heavenly. It had been so many days of no affection being in her presence felt so calming. It was slowing his heartbeat into a steady beat instead of his racing. His breathing was turning even - a symptom of falling asleep soon. For once in the past week, he felt at peace curled around his girlfriend. Knowing that he could let down his guard and feel safe. Softly Five left a kiss on the top of her thigh before falling asleep completely.
The following morning Five woke up to an empty bed. It left him pouting. Minutes past and Y/n walked into the bedroom with a tray. Groaning Five pulled himself into a sitting position, back against the headboard as he watched his personal angel. Y/n smiled at him, possibly making his fever worse.
Y/n looked beautiful. Golden rays from the sun reached her body, making her look ethereal. Her hair was ruffled, and her eyes still not fully awake. Clothes askew, but god, did she look beautiful. Her e/c eyes may not be fully awake, but they sparkled in the golden glow. Full of life, love, and adoration for him. That’s what made his throat swell. Y/n was his, all his.
Lightly Y/n placed the tray on top of the bed. Five saw breakfast placed on it along with two mugs of coffee and a tiny cup of pink liquid. Quickly Five’s hand gravitated towards the dark brown liquid, but Y/n moved his hand away with a small smile. Instead, she handed him the little cup with pink liquid. Five took it and smelt it cautiously - it made him grimace.
“It’s supposed to make you feel better.” Y/n stated, cupping his cheek and kissing his forehead.
“It smells gross.” Five replied childishly.
Y/n smiled sympathetically, “I know, my love, but it’ll make you feel better.”
He looked at her and then the cup repeatedly. Eventually, he took the liquid like a shot. Five reached hastily for the coffee, and this time Y/n didn’t stop him. She took her place beside him and placed a kiss on his temple. Five set the coffee cup back on the tray and leaned against her shoulder, picking at the food she brought upstairs.
“Thank you.” Five said suddenly, “For what?” Y/n questioned, kissing the top of his head.
“Taking care of me.” Five answered, kissing her shoulder and playing his temple back on it, “You’re mine to love and mine to take care of.” Y/n stated, making Five’s face light aflame.
Oh, he was so going to marry her.
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