Paring: Morpheus x f!reader, Sandman x f!reader
Warnings: swearing, horror images, graphic violence, possible triggers, adult themes, reader discretion is advised
Summary: It all began with a Witch who dreamt nightmares every night. At the end of each and every one of them she ended up in the Dreaming and she saw him, standing in the distance, overseeing his land. But one night, one night he saw her...and that is how their story has begun.
What will Dream of the Endless and sassy Witch discover on a journey through fears and nightmares? Can two damaged beings learn how to dream again? Or will darkness and nightmares consume it all...
Word count: Ongoing, currently at 45k
Note: Gifs used in posts are not mine. Credit and my gratitude to the authors.
Authors note: Series updated regularly, typically twice per week.
synopsis. colt owes ryland, so he cashes in the favor by going to a blind date and pretending to be his twin brother. the problem is, he thinks he might’ve just met the love of his life but she keeps calling him ryland! (4.0k words)
find part 2 here
It’s the end of autumn when Ryland Grace finally takes advantage of the favor his brother owed him a few years back. “Hey Colt. Remember Sydney?”
The man in question, currently halfway through stealing orange juice from Ryland’s partition of the fridge, pauses in his heist to blink up at his brother uncomprehendingly.
“That doesn’t really narrow anything down.”
Ryland sighs before adding, “The rooftop?”
The memories flash by Colt in the blink of an eye, and his face clears from the confusion it held earlier to one of mortification. “I don’t like where this conversation is heading.”
He empties the carton of orange juice in a glass, desperate to flee the scene of the crime, but Ryland’s already halfway towards the kitchen to try and corner his older brother of a few minutes.
“Remember what you told me? Exact words.”
“Ryland—”
“Exact words.” He pushes, intent on what he’s asking. Colt can all but grimace at the memory.
Setting the carton of orange juice down, he sighs and slumps dramatically as if he was physically pained by the concept of the accountability of his words and actions. “I said I owe you one.”
“Good, there you go.” Ryland mimics the tone he uses on the kids he teaches when he’s trying to get a point across, and Colt all but shoots him a glare at being babied. “Well, I’m gonna need that favor now.”
“No.”
“I haven’t even asked yet!”
“Don’t care. I know that voice.” Colt points at his brother suspiciously with the empty carton. “That’s your ‘this is about to ruin my evening’ voice, and I don’t think I appreciate the sentiment.”
Ryland ignores him. “Listen. I have a blind date tonight, but apparently Ilyukhina is unaware of the blind aspect of a blind date so she showed her a picture of my face.”
Colt’s mouth drops. And for a moment, he just stares at his brother. Until a few seconds pass and he starts to laugh. And he keeps laughing—in that mouth wide open, head tilted forward, hands clutching the stomach kind of laughter. “Oh, absolutely not.”
If murder wasn’t illegal, one would’ve already been committed in this very moment.
“We’re twins. It’s not like she’s going to kno— okay, will you stop laughing?”
“Ry, you have to understand how insane this sounds. Come on, that sounds like the plot of a really bad sitcom.” Colt’s shaking his head, trying to wipe away the remains of laughter in the corner of his eyes, but his mouth is still twitching a little from the aftermath of laughing a little too hard. “Besides, why can’t you just go yourself? Are you chickening out?”
“I am not chickening out. I got pulled into a meeting.” Ryland exhales sharply through his nose, voice deeper when he says 'not' and currently visibly trying not to strangle his brother with anything within reach, which is quite a number of things—the rag cloth, the strings of his hoodie, his own hands.
Instead, he continues speaking, “Just pretend to be me for an hour. I’ll try to make it after the meeting.”
And with the gravity of the situation, he adds one last word, “...please.”
Well, that one definitely lands and Colt has to pause from gulping down the orange juice he’d stolen. And he thinks he should relish in this moment longer, his brother begging him. It doesn’t happen very often. He’s usually reprimanded by his twin, not pleaded with.
“Oh, you’re desperate.”
Ryland’s eye twitches, and he resists the urge to pinch his nose bridge. “All you really have to do is show up, smile, don’t flirt too much–”
“Impossible restriction.” Ryland drops his face into his hands, groaning loudly at his brother’s response, and before he can reply with a snide remark, Colt asks, “What if she asks a question I can’t answer?”
“Colt, you’ve known me all my life.” Ryland deadpans, heaving a stage-worthy sigh.
“Fair point.” Colt sighs. “You're really asking me to commit identity theft? You think this is going to work?”
“Yes. So, will you do it?”
Colt ponders on the question because technically, he did owe Ryland a favor, and he was only asking for an hour of his time. And, in all honesty, Colt thinks he can pull of a perfect Ryland Grace so it was a way to boost his own ego. And what was a date anyway? He’s been on multiple dates before.
Even with an answer, he lets the silence stretch for a few seconds more, just to be annoying. Just so he can see the way Ryland anxiously taps on the kitchen counter with his fingers, or his feet on the ground. And when Colt has enough satisfaction, finally, he says, “Fine.”
Ryland visibly relaxes. “Thank you.”
“But if she falls in love with me, that’s on you.”
The relaxed features on Ryland’s face contorts into a somewhat disgusted face. “You’re ridiculous.”
The air is cool in that early-evening way that denotes the slow tipping of autumn into winter. The city glows a warm orange, and there’s laughter spilling out from crowded restaurants whenever the doors open.
Colt checks his phone again. Ryland had given you his number, claiming that he’d suddenly had to change numbers due to scammer calls and phishing schemes. And he all but stares at the same message reflecting, that you were on your way.
It stares back at him.
He rubs the space between his eyes and sighs. This is a terrible idea, a terrible terrible idea. Still, Colt thanks Fuck for choosing the day he’s not masked in his own injuries or little scars from stunt work, picks a day where he actually looks like he has his shit together, and not a man about to commit identity fraud.
“Ryland?,” a soft voice. 10 jars of honey in the way you speak, but Colt recognizes that this was about to be the start of an evening full of lies. And then he sees you, and Colt looks beyond amazed.
Suddenly, he’s nearly convinced there is something significant standing behind him, because what is the connotation of the beauty he’s being subjected to, the same beauty who is looking up at him with a hesitant smile.
Colt pauses, which if Ryland was here to see it would know that it was always a bad sign because it means he’s thinking, really thinking. And he is, he knows this is the exact moment he could stop everything.
Instead, he says, “yeah.”
Your smile widens just a little, and there’s something endearing about the way you press a hand briefly against your chest. “Oh good. I was terrified I’d accidentally agreed to meet a serial killer.”
Colt snorts. “Well, disappointing start for you, then.”
“You joke,” you say, narrowing your eyes slightly as you step closer, “but statistically speaking, I was taking a real risk tonight."
You look up at him, looking up at his disheveled hair from the wind outside. It curls slightly near the ends, stubborn in a way Ryland’s is too. "Your hair's a little longer than in your photo."
“Ha, you know hair. Grows… grows at no specified rate." Woah, what the hell. He didn't even mean to perfectly imitate Ryland in that moment. "Sorry, could you remind me how long do blind dates usually take before one person decides to fake a family emergency?”
You laugh, and Colt feels something shift in the air. “Maybe around twenty minutes. Sorry, we’re still a little ahead of schedule. You’re still stuck with me for 17 minutes more.”
Colt can’t help but smile back at you because the thrill in your smile is too wholesome not to. “Shall we head inside then? Got to make those 17 minutes count.”
“Yeah. That would be ideal.”
The hostess leads you toward the patio seating, and it’s quaint, but incredibly breathtaking. The warm lighting does a great deal at creating an almost comfortable environment. And it’s the perfect spot that the blurred headlights and the city lights reflect just at the huge glass window behind you. Really, perfect for a first date.
Colt pulls out the chair for you, something that’s just taught in the How To Be A Gentleman handbook, and tucks you into the table before he takes his own seat.
“I should tell you right now that I’m a little terrible at first dates.” You say the moment you're settled in.
“You seem fine.”
“That’s because you just met me. It’s only been like five minutes.”
He smiles despite himself. “It gets worse?”
“Dramatically worse.”
“Good. I’m excited to see that.”
The waiter assigned to you arrives with two menus and a bottle of service water, and you thank him politely as you take a copy, flipping through it without really reading.
And by the time you order your drinks and the food, a few conversations have already passed.
“Were you nervous to come here?” You ask more for yourself, but you’re still curious what his answer would be.
“Maybe a little.” Nevermind the reason for his nervousness was the identity theft he was committing. He’s still trying to get used to you calling him Ryland without it surprising him each time.
“Good.” You mirror his response from a few minutes earlier, and he can’t help but huff out a laugh. Though, despite his laughter, he still notices the way your shoulders visibly loosen at his response, like you’d almost hoped that would be his response.
“Good?”
“Yeah cause I was nervous too. It makes me feel less stupid to know you were too, even if it was just a little.”
Colt watches the way you fidget lightly with your sleeve as you speak. Your fingers keep smoothing the fabric over your wrists before immediately letting go again.
“You shouldn’t feel stupid.” He interjects, trying to ease your nerves.
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“What do you mean?”
“I haven’t told you what I did yet.”
He smiles. There’s something about the way you say it, like you’re about to change his life, tell him the craziest story. “What did you do?”
“I changed outfits three times.”
“That’s normal.”
“Four times.” You glance at him, your cheeks pink, and he has half a mind to tell you just how strange the sight makes him feel.
“Still normal.”
“And I arrived way too early so I had to walk around the block twice. And then I almost cancelled.”
This time Colt’s smile softens around the edges. You’re so honest and so easy to talk to, and so quick with conversation. You’re someone who can make anyone feel at home, and you’re charming without intending to be, and that's exactly the problem. Colt has known you less than an hour and somehow you're already slipping through his walls.
"You know," he says, leaning back in his chair, "I don't think I've ever met anybody who admits that on a first date."
You groan immediately. "See? This is why I almost cancelled."
"No, I mean it." Colt shakes his head. "Most people would've taken that information to the grave."
Your smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. He watches it for a second before asking, "Why'd you almost cancel?"
“I don’t know,” you admit quietly, glancing down at the table. “I always think things will be awkward before they happen.”
“And does it feel awkward right now?”
You look back up at him then with your head tilted, and you can almost picture the glint of hopefulness in his eyes but you don’t want to assume. “Just a little.”
Colt leans further back in his chair like he’s relaxed. He isn’t, really. But he wants you to believe he is because a few minutes into the date, you’d already turned him into a sap. And relaxed is way cooler than sappy.
He really does not want to think about how sappy he feels right now. He doesn’t want to think about the feeble stutter in his heart whenever you laugh. He's already lying to you. Developing feelings on top of that feels like building a second bad idea on top of the first one.
“Oh, you’re a science teacher, right? What’s that like?”
Right. Jesus, he forgot he was still pretending to be Ryland. You really have to stop smiling at him like that. He’s starting to like you, and it’s not good on his conscience that he’s pretending to be his brother, and that you think he is his brother.
“It’s uh, good.” Colt says carefully.
You rest your chin against your hand. “What’s your favorite thing to teach?” You ask like you’re genuinely curious, and for a second Colt has the answer, but you’re looking at him so intently that his brain empties completely.
Think, Colt. You attended your brother’s graduation, what the hell was it that he studied? Astronomy? No, it’s something with little things and life.
“Molecular biology!”
Your eyes widen with immediate interest. “Really? For eighth graders?”
“Yeah,” Colt says, nodding like a man moments away from being exposed from a grave sin. “I love molecules. Tiny organisms. Cells. Little… science fellas.”
You stare at him for exactly one second before breaking into laughter, and Colt finds himself watching, drinking up your movements. You just, you laugh with your entire face, and your happiness just spills into everything and it’s so infectious. The way your eyes widen slightly, the way your shoulders fold inward, like you’re genuinely delighted instead of politely amused.
Fuck, he wants to keep making you laugh. He wants to keep hearing your laugh.
Something warm twists in his chest, and Colt has the deeply alarming realization that there is something blooming inside of him and it’s akin to romance. He certainly did not expect to meet someone like you tonight. And shit, his heartbeat is doing something genuinely humiliating inside his chest.
“You don’t really talk like a teacher,” you say after a moment. “Come on, little science fellas?”
“That’s the official term.”
“Stop lying to me!” He laughs at your being flabbergasted, eyes turning into crescents.
“Okay, okay. Here, I’m gonna talk like a teacher.” Colt straightens immediately in his chair.
Your smile turns teasing. “Oh yeah?”
“Here it goes.” He clears his throat dramatically. “The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”
He delivers it with complete sincerity. Smug for exactly one second. Then your laugh breaks loose again and his expression softens helplessly.
“Oh my god,” you say.
“Sorry. That’s all I got.”
“No, that was perfect.” You shake your head, grinning down into your drink. “You looked so proud of yourself too.”
And the scene of you smiling that greets him is so gentle, so soft, that it takes him a moment to catch up to what you’re saying. He knows you mean something else, that he should be proud of his stupid joke or for remembering something he learned in high school, but he looked proud for an entirely different reason.
He’d made you laugh again. He’d heard you laugh again.
So, he replies, in a little white lie, “I really was.”
Colt realizes immediately after, with that same deep undertow of shame, that he is caught in the jaws of a trap entirely of his own making. And he can’t stop walking willingly deeper into it.
He thanks Fuck that not long after, the food arrives and for a moment, the sounds of the city accompany the pair of you as you eat—silverware clinking somewhere inside the restaurant, distant traffic below, the low hum of conversation from nearby tables. It allows him a moment to catch himself, to try and stabilize his heart.
But how can he really when you keep looking at him. Then quickly looking away. Then back again, before darting away again. Finally, you sigh. “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“I keep looking at you.”
A smile twitches on Colt’s lips. “I think that’s supposed to be my line.”
You laugh quietly, ducking your head in the palms of your hands. The sight of your smile makes him laugh a little too.
“Why are you looking at me?” He inquires, his grin lopsided as follows the lilt of your movement, the way you hide your face in your hands, and he can’t help but seek for your eyes. “Don’t hide from me.”
You lower your hands slowly, peeking at him through your fingers first before finally answering in such a clear, and almost sweet tone. “You just look really pretty, and you’re really good at paying attention to everything.”
Colt’s stomach twists as his ears registers your words and somewhere during it, he grows redder than before and his palms are suddenly becoming clammy and he’s rubbing the back of his neck. How do you always catch him off guard like this?
He blinks once. Then twice. And maybe ten times more.
That's genuinely the nicest thing anyone's said to him in a while. "Oh."
He’s still looking at you even after the silence that follows, amazed and flattered that someone could ever say that about him, that you could say that about him. And he’s trying so hard not to look like he’d just been called pretty.
“Sorry,” you say quickly. “Am I talking too much?”
“No.” He immediately interjects, coming back to look at your eyes. Something inside him is still stuttering as he tries to focus after you’d just complemented him.
“I usually do.” You glance away briefly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear and Colt personally has to fight down the urge to reach out and tug the slip of hair back down to your face. “I’m doing it right now.”
“Then keep doing it.”
You pause, and a smile slowly starts to creep back on your lips. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“You know, I noticed it’s been more than an hour since our date started. Do you no longer have that family emergency you have to fake?”
Colt smiles at the repetition of the joke he’d said earlier in the evening, before realizing you’re waiting for him to say something. There’s still that same softness pulsing inside of him, slowly growing and growing and growing. “I’m invested now.”
“In what?”
He lets out a soft breath, shoulders hunching forward slightly as he bends over to be a little closer to you. His expression changes into something more serious. “You."
Your smile changes then—softer, crooked, almost shy. Your limbs are starting to feel loose, and your chest tightens and blooms with warmth.
“That’s a very nice thing to say, Ryland.”
The name lands wrong in his chest, but he doesn’t want to dwell on it. He can pretend much longer, especially after receiving a text from his brother earlier that the meeting would run later than expected. Colt had you for the night, and he intends on making it last.
“Well,” Colt says, “I like you.”
Your eyes widen slightly, and you flush at the sudden confession. Your lips part, wanting to say something, but all the vowels and consonants twist in your mouth, and all you can manage is a small “Oh.”
Shit.
You watch as the color rushes into his face, like spilling wine on a paper towel, and he’s covering his mouth with his hand, and he’s struggling to meet your eyes.
“That came out weirdly fast,” he says immediately, trying to catch himself. His eyes are wide and almost panicked, and it’s so endearing because he looks like he’s ashamed of the way he’s softening and coming unraveled and untangled in front of you.
“No, it’s okay.” You smile. “I just wasn’t expecting you to say it out loud.”
He pauses, and you see him filing through potential responses or excuses but give up midway.
“Yeah,” he chooses honestly instead. “Neither was I, honestly.”
“Most people wait until at least dessert.” You tease, glancing at him over the rim of your glass, and this time, when he looks at you, his face is full of nothing but fondness twinged with embarrassment. You don’t know how the two emotions are able to coexist on his face at the same time.
“I feel embarrassed. Was that intense? It was, wasn’t it?”
“A little.” you say softly.
“Just a little?”
“Okay, maybe a moderate amount. But it was nice.”
You smile at each other, and neither of you are able to keep the blush from your own cheeks.
By the time dinner ends, the city outside has morphed into a blue-black evening with stars littered randomly in the blanketing sky. The cold air rushes in as the two of you step out onto the sidewalk together, and Colt’s hand brushes lightly against the small of your back while guiding you around another couple exiting the restaurant.
The touch lingers half a second too long.
You notice.
“I’m glad I came,” you admit quietly.
“Yeah?” He asks, almost too quiet to catch, almost like he can’t believe it.
“Yeah.”
“Even after changing outfits four times?” He nudges your shoulder with his, and you laugh.
“Five actually.”
“Five? I think you failed to mention that.” There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips, and he’s trying so hard to fight the grin that’s threatening to show, but you just have that effect on people. You’re just so earnest. “Which outfit won?”
You gesture down at yourself. “This one.”
You say it with such happiness and enthusiasm that Colt can’t help but stare at you and the cold that catches pink along your cheeks, and your hair that’s shifting softly in the wind, and how bright your eyes look under the streetlights. God, he really thought he was doing his brother a favor by coming here, but Ryland might’ve accidentally done one for Colt instead.
His heart gives one hard, helpless thud against his ribs as his eyes travel up and down your outfit.
"I've been meaning to mention it all night, but you look really pretty."
The blood thumped so loudly in your ears that you almost didn’t hear him. “Thanks. You don't look so bad yourself."
A comfortable silence falls, like neither of you want to leave quite yet. And then, "Ryland?"
"Hm?"
"I'm really glad tonight wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be,” you admit.
Colt blinks. “So you still think it’s awkward?”
“Yeah,” you say thoughtfully. “But like… the good kind.”
“There’s a good kind?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s that?”
You look at him for a second. “When you’re nervous because you want someone to like you.”
Colt’s heart nearly stops. That was the final blow. Of all the things you could’ve said, this was not something Colt could’ve ever braced himself for. He looks away immediately, rubbing at the back of his neck again. It’s really not in his nature to falter, but then again, he really can’t help it with you, can he?
Not when this is what your heart is like. Like there’s no need to put pressure when it’s something as warm and easy as this.
“You’re blushing, Ryland.”
“I can’t really help it when you say things like that.”
He lets out a helpless laugh at the name. He has half a mind to tell you he actually goes by ‘Colt’ even though it couldn’t have been further away from ‘Ryland’.
Still, he swallows it to enjoy these last final moments with you.
“Goodnight, Ryland.”
“Goodnight.”
A silence falls between you both before you take a few steps away. He mirrors your actions, albeit a little more tentatively.
“Ryland?”
Colt immediately turns back at the interjection of your voice, looking at you with that same look from earlier. It’s almost fond, almost hopeful. And Colt hovers there, waiting.
“Do you want to walk me home?”
You’re trying so hard to keep your voice monotone. He’s trying so hard not to smile, and in all honesty, he should absolutely say no, he should tell you the truth right now before this turns into something impossible because he knows that if he continues to know you, he won’t be able to stop falling for you. Instead, he answers almost immediately, “I’d want nothing more.”
And while walking home, he finds himself glancing down at your hand, wondering what it would be like if he could just reach over and intertwine his fingers with yours, or kiss your cheeks, or make you laugh again.
And somewhere between the restaurant and your apartment, with your shoulders brushing once accidentally, then a few more on purpose, and your footsteps falling into tandem next to his, and your laughter warming the cold night air around him, Colt realizes he is completely, catastrophically fucked.
nerdjo isnt one to openly express feelings for someone let alone romantic ones but there’s no need for silly words when his “subtle” actions say it all
nerdjo who is always one of the first people in class just manages to save a seat right next to him which is the second best seat in the whole classroom
nerdjo who lets you read his most treasured and rare comics that he doesn’t dare let anyone else touch not even his best friend suguru
nerdjo who gets teased by suguru when he notices that your the only girl he follows on instagram
nerdjo who would gladly help you with your homework or even do it for you if you asked him he’s so desperate for the 5 minutes of interaction you two would have
nerdjo who is a totally geek when you compliment his comic book shelf he gets so flustered and red but “trys” to play it cool
nerdjo who lets you play study music and when you mention a song that’s your favorite when he gets home he starts listening to it and adding it to his playlist
nerdjo who knew he liked you when suguru pointed out that he started saying “we” instead of “i” and always having you in mind when making future plans
nerdjo who literally yearns for you so badly he practices ways to confess to you even though he never will
nerdjo who gets super embarrassed when suguru catches him rehearsing a confession and completely denies everything
nerdjo who’s palms are always sweaty when he’s around you from all the nerves and he is super on edge when he’s with you and shy
nerdjo who finally gets the courage (and enough bugging from geto) to finally ask you out and he is on cloud 9 after he does since he finally has the one he’s always wanted 
more like this
authors note - hi everyone i’m sorry i’ve kinda been on a hiatus but im back and ready for more writing!! i hope you all like this one it was based off a submission and sorry if it kinda got sidetracked track at the end!!!
nerdjo isnt one to openly express feelings for someone let alone romantic ones but there’s no need for silly words when his “subtle” actions say it all
nerdjo who is always one of the first people in class just manages to save a seat right next to him which is the second best seat in the whole classroom
nerdjo who lets you read his most treasured and rare comics that he doesn’t dare let anyone else touch not even his best friend suguru
nerdjo who gets teased by suguru when he notices that your the only girl he follows on instagram
nerdjo who would gladly help you with your homework or even do it for you if you asked him he’s so desperate for the 5 minutes of interaction you two would have
nerdjo who is a totally geek when you compliment his comic book shelf he gets so flustered and red but “trys” to play it cool
nerdjo who lets you play study music and when you mention a song that’s your favorite when he gets home he starts listening to it and adding it to his playlist
nerdjo who knew he liked you when suguru pointed out that he started saying “we” instead of “i” and always having you in mind when making future plans
nerdjo who literally yearns for you so badly he practices ways to confess to you even though he never will
nerdjo who gets super embarrassed when suguru catches him rehearsing a confession and completely denies everything
nerdjo who’s palms are always sweaty when he’s around you from all the nerves and he is super on edge when he’s with you and shy
nerdjo who finally gets the courage (and enough bugging from geto) to finally ask you out and he is on cloud 9 after he does since he finally has the one he’s always wanted 
more like this
authors note - hi everyone i’m sorry i’ve kinda been on a hiatus but im back and ready for more writing!! i hope you all like this one it was based off a submission and sorry if it kinda got sidetracked track at the end!!!
warnings: lack of sleep is taking its toll on him; angry Rocky; cuddling, some flirting; Reader is in danger; Reader is hurt; Ryland is caring and sweet; Rocky is a menace
note : life on Hail Mary - lack of sleep, danger, but also the need for closeness.
A/N: Nothing special. I had one scene in mind, so I had to write everything around it. I wanted to thank you all because I see you're reading. It means a lot to me. It's hard to get back into writing after a break…
[Ryland Grace masterlist] [main masterlist]
"Grace stupid."
You looked up from your tablet at Rocky, who was shifting restlessly inside his xenonite enclosure. You couldn’t see a face, if he even had one, but his posture made it obvious: he was irritated. Ryland, meanwhile, dragged a hand through his hair, only making it worse. He was clearly sulking.
"Easy, buddy," he muttered, pointing at Rocky before turning to you. "Did you hear what he just called me?"
You pressed your lips together, setting your tablet aside with deliberate care. "Well… Grace, I don’t think he’s entirely wrong."
Ryland threw his hands up. "Wow. Okay. You’re taking his side!"
"You and Rocky alliance. Good. Grace still stupid."
For hours, the lab had been filled with intense work and loud arguments. The experiment they’d been so sure about had failed immediately. Neither of them gave up, of course, just pivoted, recalculated, argued, and tried again.
If not for you, Grace and Rocky would’ve forgotten to eat entirely. And when they ignored you, you had to physically herd them away like stubborn children, promising they could come back once they’d finished their food.
You checked your watch. Nearly sixteen hours. No wonder Grace was getting sloppy. No wonder Rocky was irritated.
"You need to lie down," you said, stepping toward Ryland. "You need sleep."
"I don’t need…"
You took the tools from his hands and pushed his goggles up onto his forehead.
"Don’t argue with me," you said firmly. "Rocky’s right. When you’re tired, you get irritable and act… stupid."
He rolled his eyes but didn’t fight you. "I just want this to work. We’re close. I can feel it. Another hour or two and…"
"And then Armando gets to hook you up to life support? No. You’re done."
Rocky shifted slightly in his enclosure, pretending not to listen, but he failed. "Grace must sleep. You correct. You smarter than Grace."
You bit back a laugh and rested a hand on Ryland’s shoulder before he could respond. The last thing you needed was another argument on the Hail Mary.
"You take Grace to sleep, question? You watch Grace, question?"
That got you thinking. Rocky rarely asked to be replaced while watching Grace, not like this. He must have been in a really bad mood right now.
"I promise," you said gently, tapping the transparent wall. "Everything okay, Rocky?"
"Will be good after Grace sleeps.” But he tapped lightly in return.
You took Ryland’s arm and led him toward the dorm.
"He likes you more than me," Grace muttered, glancing back.
"Don’t be jealous," you said quietly. You knew Rocky could hear every word anyway. And you also knew he’d still be listening.
The dorm lights were dim. Grace kicked off his Converse and set his glasses aside with zero precision. At some point, the two of you had pushed your mattresses together. One was too narrow. Two were better. Safer, and somehow less lonely.
He collapsed onto the bed with a long sigh. You sat against the wall, picking up a jumpsuit and examining the tear in the sleeve. Quiet work felt right while he rested. Maybe you’d put on an audiobook, there were still so many left in the archive.
"What are you doing?" His voice pulled you out of your thoughts.
"I’ve got a suit to repair," you said, holding it up.
"Don’t be ridiculous. Come here."
"You need sleep."
"Yeah, and how am I supposed to sleep if you’re sitting over there?" He propped himself up, frowning. "It’s bad enough Rocky’s probably still listening, maybe watching too."
You sighed. You weren’t winning this one. "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. It’s science. Probably. I mean, there are studies…l, okay, I don’t remember them exactly, but it sounds like something science would support."
You raised an eyebrow. "That sounds made up."
"It is. But it’s also true."
"...Wow. Okay."
You slipped off your shoes and lay down beside him. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Just the distant hum of the ship, the faint sounds of the lab far away.
Then…
"I’m really glad you’re here. I mean…not glad you’re on a suicide mission. That part is objectively terrible. But… you being here is not terrible." he said. "I mean…this whole situation sucks, obviously. But… yeah. I’m glad it’s you."
You smiled softly. "I’m glad too. Though I would’ve preferred meeting you under better circumstances. Dinner or something like this, maybe."
Ryland swallowed. "Wait…really? You mean, like… a date?"
"Yes. A date. If you wanted."
"Yes…” he said immediately. Too immediately. Then he froze. "I mean…yes. Hypothetically. In a purely theoretical, post-not-dying scenario…yes."
You laughed. "Good. Then when this is over, that’s the first thing we’re doing."
He smiled, softer now. "Deal," he said, and paused. "That sounded too intense. I didn’t mean it like, okay, I’m going to stop talking now."
Your hand found his, your fingers threading together naturally. "You should be asleep," you murmured.
"Working on it." Grace yawned, his eyes already slipping shut. "My brain is currently running three parallel processes," he muttered. "One is exhausted, one is trying to solve the experiment, and one is… this." He gestured vaguely between you. "This one is the least efficient."
You smiled softly. "And which one is winning?"
"None," he mumbled. "Total system failure imminent."
You let out a quiet breath, your thumb brushing lightly against his hand.
"Dr. Grace," you said softly, "I once read a study that said hugging reduces stress. Don’t you think that, combined with your current research, we might…"
"I think that’s an excellent idea," he murmured, cutting in before you could finish. "Groundbreaking. Nobel Prize. Minimum."
His voice faded at the edges, words blurring as sleep caught up with him. You shifted closer, careful, resting lightly against him. For a second, he went still, just for a second,then relaxed. His breathing slowed, evening out, steady and warm beneath your cheek. You stayed like that, listening. It wasn’t ideal. It wasn’t what you would have chosen. But it was good. Somehow.
Rocky was already waiting when you stepped back into the lab. "Grace sleep efficiency improved, question."
You blinked. “Yes?"
"Good. Rocky observations confirm."
Ryland groaned behind you. "Oh no. What did you observe?"
"Heart rate lower. Breathing stable. Grace not stupid during sleep."
You pressed your lips together. "Rocky…"
"Also," he added, "proximity to you increases Grace survival probability."
Ryland froze. "I…what?"
"Conclusion: you stay close to Grace. For science." A pause. "Rocky approve."
Ryland buried his face in his hands. "I’m never going to recover from this."
++++++
"How are you doing?"
Ryland’s voice came through the intercom in your helmet.
"She fine. Question." Rocky said from somewhere in the background.
"It’s fine, Rocky. One more spot and I’m done," you replied.
You clipped yourself to the railing and moved along the Hail Mary’s hull. The damage wasn’t severe, but it needed fixing. The welder Rocky had modified worked perfectly, sealing the hull faster than expected.
Even before you left the airlock, you had to deal with Grace. He didn’t like you going out alone, it made him anxious.
"I’ll be fine," you had told him, pulling on your suit. "Eat something. Get some rest. I know what I’m doing."
"I know," he muttered, adjusting his glasses. "I just… I worry, okay? You’re…I mean, you matter. To the mission. And…just… don’t die, okay?"
"Okay," you smiled, squeezing his shoulder. "Two hours. I’ll be back."
He nodded, but it didn’t really reassure him.
"How are you doing?" he asked again now, over the intercom. "Not trying to be pushy. Rocky’s worried."
"Rocky is not worried. She knows what she is doing. Smarter than Grace."
You smiled. "A few more minutes. What if…"
The ship jolted. The welder slipped from your grip, but you caught it just in time. Another jolt.
"Something’s wrong with the engine…I think it’s a short…I’m fixing it…just…hold on… are you there? Can you hear me?"
"I am, just…"
The next pull yanked you off the railing. The tether snapped tight, then recoiled like a whip, slamming you into the hull. Your head slammed into the helmet. A dull crack echoed in your ears. The air punched out of your lungs, nothing left, just panic and silence.
"Grace! She needs help. Grace! Focus. Fix engine. Now."
You couldn’t answer. Everything spun.
"Are you there? Can you hear me? Say something, please."
"Quick, quick, quick."
Warmth spread across your lips. Metallic. Blood. Your fingers tightened around the welder pressed to your chest as another violent tug shook you. You grabbed the railing again, pain shooting through your arm.
"She there. Time critical. Grace, take her."
The buzzing in your head grew louder. Nausea rolled through you. You clung to the railing, your only anchor. Your vision dimmed.
You were lying on something soft.
"Eye movement detected."
You tried to move, but a hand caught yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles before he let go, like he wasn’t sure he should. He pulled back a little too quickly.
"Hey. Easy."
Ryland.
You opened your eyes briefly, too bright, then shut them again.
"You had a minor concussion," he said, voice quieter now. "Some bruising. You’re okay. Medical system patched you up. You scared us."
"You came for me?" you whispered.
"Of course I did," he said immediately. "Statistically, you’re my favorite person."
"There are no other people here, Grace," Rocky pointed out.
Your lips twitched. You touched your head and felt the bandage under your fingers.
"You should lie down," Ryland said.
"You’re not that kind of doctor."
"Still counts. You’re concussed. You don’t get opinions."
You let out a weak breath that might have been a laugh. "You look tired."
"I’m not," he said quickly. "I’ll stay."
And he did.
When you woke again, hours had passed. Grace didn’t mean to fall asleep, his hand was still loosely wrapped around yours. Rocky watched over both of you.
Later, you managed to sit up. Then stand.
"I didn’t thank you," you said quietly as Ryland steadied you. "You saved me."
"You’d have done the same," he replied, watching you carefully. You scared us." He paused „You scared me."
"I’m sorry."
"Don’t be. Just… next time, you’re staying inside."
Two days later, you were moving on your own again, though neither of them let you do any real work. After you failed to complete your work outside the ship, someone had to do it. The choice wasn't difficult, or rather, you no longer had a say.
"Grace worried. Very, very, very," Rocky said.
"I know," you replied, watching Ryland on the screen outside. "He’s nice, isn’t he?"
"Grace heart rate changes when you speak."
You smiled faintly. "I like him too. And I like you too, Rocky."
"Grace observes you. Often. When you not looking."
"Rocky, stop." You felt yourself blushing and a strange shiver ran down your neck.
"Why stop? This is data."
You blinked. You looked up from the screen and looked at your friend. "What? No, we’re just friends."
"Grace looks at you differently. You look at him that way also. Grace very worried."
You glanced back at the screen, Grace still working. You knew you would have followed him without hesitation, whether his life was in danger or he suddenly decided to fly to the other side of the universe.
"It’s complicated," you said softly. "Humans are complicated."
A click.
"I’m done," Ryland’s voice came through the radio. "Heading back."
"I’m waiting for you. Be careful."
You saw the thumbs-up and smiled. You didn’t see it, the way he smiled, just for a second.
The airlock hissed open. You were already there waiting for him to help him with the suit. Ryland stepped inside, pulling off his helmet too fast, eyes finding you immediately.
"Hey," he said, a little breathless.
"Hey."
He crossed the distance without thinking. He ignored your hands that were waiting to take the helmet from him and threw it to the ground. "Don't do that again, don't go out there alone." he said quietly. "Please."
"I’ll try."
"That’s not…" he stopped, exhaled. "Okay. Fine."
His hand found yours, like it had before, but this time he didn’t hesitate.
“I thought I lost you,” he whispered. “When I came back for you… I’ll never forget it. And being there now, I kept thinking about it.”
“You didn’t lose me, Grace.”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I didn’t.”
But he didn’t move away, not even a little. You were standing too close now. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, slower, more deliberate. The look in his eyes was different than usual.
Your lips. Your eyes. Back again. Something shifted.
"Grace. Heart rate elevated."
Neither of you reacted.
"Significant. Cause: you."
You let out a soft breath, but neither of you pulled away. Ryland leaned in, closer. Close enough that you could feel his breath, uneven and warm. He hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, like he was giving himself one last chance to stop.
"Data indicates—"
Ryland closed the distance. The kiss was soft and careful. A little unsure at first, like he wasn’t entirely convinced this was real. Then his hand tightened slightly around yours, and something in him settled, and it was real. You touched his cheek gently, feeling his soft stubble under your fingers.
"—contact established," Rocky finished.
Ryland pulled back enough to look at you. His blue eyes were wide, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just done.
"…Okay," he breathed.
A beat of your heart.
"Statistically," he added quietly, "that was a good decision."
You laughed softly, and then he smiled, gently, a little crooked, but completely sincere. And this time, when he leaned in again, he didn't hesitate.
When everything around you was so crazy and dangerous, when you lived with the feeling that the end might soon come, this closeness was what you craved. What you deserved. What you wanted to wrest from fate together.
warnings: lack of sleep is taking its toll on him; angry Rocky; cuddling, some flirting; Reader is in danger; Reader is hurt; Ryland is caring and sweet; Rocky is a menace
note : life on Hail Mary - lack of sleep, danger, but also the need for closeness.
A/N: Nothing special. I had one scene in mind, so I had to write everything around it. I wanted to thank you all because I see you're reading. It means a lot to me. It's hard to get back into writing after a break…
[Ryland Grace masterlist] [main masterlist]
"Grace stupid."
You looked up from your tablet at Rocky, who was shifting restlessly inside his xenonite enclosure. You couldn’t see a face, if he even had one, but his posture made it obvious: he was irritated. Ryland, meanwhile, dragged a hand through his hair, only making it worse. He was clearly sulking.
"Easy, buddy," he muttered, pointing at Rocky before turning to you. "Did you hear what he just called me?"
You pressed your lips together, setting your tablet aside with deliberate care. "Well… Grace, I don’t think he’s entirely wrong."
Ryland threw his hands up. "Wow. Okay. You’re taking his side!"
"You and Rocky alliance. Good. Grace still stupid."
For hours, the lab had been filled with intense work and loud arguments. The experiment they’d been so sure about had failed immediately. Neither of them gave up, of course, just pivoted, recalculated, argued, and tried again.
If not for you, Grace and Rocky would’ve forgotten to eat entirely. And when they ignored you, you had to physically herd them away like stubborn children, promising they could come back once they’d finished their food.
You checked your watch. Nearly sixteen hours. No wonder Grace was getting sloppy. No wonder Rocky was irritated.
"You need to lie down," you said, stepping toward Ryland. "You need sleep."
"I don’t need…"
You took the tools from his hands and pushed his goggles up onto his forehead.
"Don’t argue with me," you said firmly. "Rocky’s right. When you’re tired, you get irritable and act… stupid."
He rolled his eyes but didn’t fight you. "I just want this to work. We’re close. I can feel it. Another hour or two and…"
"And then Armando gets to hook you up to life support? No. You’re done."
Rocky shifted slightly in his enclosure, pretending not to listen, but he failed. "Grace must sleep. You correct. You smarter than Grace."
You bit back a laugh and rested a hand on Ryland’s shoulder before he could respond. The last thing you needed was another argument on the Hail Mary.
"You take Grace to sleep, question? You watch Grace, question?"
That got you thinking. Rocky rarely asked to be replaced while watching Grace, not like this. He must have been in a really bad mood right now.
"I promise," you said gently, tapping the transparent wall. "Everything okay, Rocky?"
"Will be good after Grace sleeps.” But he tapped lightly in return.
You took Ryland’s arm and led him toward the dorm.
"He likes you more than me," Grace muttered, glancing back.
"Don’t be jealous," you said quietly. You knew Rocky could hear every word anyway. And you also knew he’d still be listening.
The dorm lights were dim. Grace kicked off his Converse and set his glasses aside with zero precision. At some point, the two of you had pushed your mattresses together. One was too narrow. Two were better. Safer, and somehow less lonely.
He collapsed onto the bed with a long sigh. You sat against the wall, picking up a jumpsuit and examining the tear in the sleeve. Quiet work felt right while he rested. Maybe you’d put on an audiobook, there were still so many left in the archive.
"What are you doing?" His voice pulled you out of your thoughts.
"I’ve got a suit to repair," you said, holding it up.
"Don’t be ridiculous. Come here."
"You need sleep."
"Yeah, and how am I supposed to sleep if you’re sitting over there?" He propped himself up, frowning. "It’s bad enough Rocky’s probably still listening, maybe watching too."
You sighed. You weren’t winning this one. "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. It’s science. Probably. I mean, there are studies…l, okay, I don’t remember them exactly, but it sounds like something science would support."
You raised an eyebrow. "That sounds made up."
"It is. But it’s also true."
"...Wow. Okay."
You slipped off your shoes and lay down beside him. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Just the distant hum of the ship, the faint sounds of the lab far away.
Then…
"I’m really glad you’re here. I mean…not glad you’re on a suicide mission. That part is objectively terrible. But… you being here is not terrible." he said. "I mean…this whole situation sucks, obviously. But… yeah. I’m glad it’s you."
You smiled softly. "I’m glad too. Though I would’ve preferred meeting you under better circumstances. Dinner or something like this, maybe."
Ryland swallowed. "Wait…really? You mean, like… a date?"
"Yes. A date. If you wanted."
"Yes…” he said immediately. Too immediately. Then he froze. "I mean…yes. Hypothetically. In a purely theoretical, post-not-dying scenario…yes."
You laughed. "Good. Then when this is over, that’s the first thing we’re doing."
He smiled, softer now. "Deal," he said, and paused. "That sounded too intense. I didn’t mean it like, okay, I’m going to stop talking now."
Your hand found his, your fingers threading together naturally. "You should be asleep," you murmured.
"Working on it." Grace yawned, his eyes already slipping shut. "My brain is currently running three parallel processes," he muttered. "One is exhausted, one is trying to solve the experiment, and one is… this." He gestured vaguely between you. "This one is the least efficient."
You smiled softly. "And which one is winning?"
"None," he mumbled. "Total system failure imminent."
You let out a quiet breath, your thumb brushing lightly against his hand.
"Dr. Grace," you said softly, "I once read a study that said hugging reduces stress. Don’t you think that, combined with your current research, we might…"
"I think that’s an excellent idea," he murmured, cutting in before you could finish. "Groundbreaking. Nobel Prize. Minimum."
His voice faded at the edges, words blurring as sleep caught up with him. You shifted closer, careful, resting lightly against him. For a second, he went still, just for a second,then relaxed. His breathing slowed, evening out, steady and warm beneath your cheek. You stayed like that, listening. It wasn’t ideal. It wasn’t what you would have chosen. But it was good. Somehow.
Rocky was already waiting when you stepped back into the lab. "Grace sleep efficiency improved, question."
You blinked. “Yes?"
"Good. Rocky observations confirm."
Ryland groaned behind you. "Oh no. What did you observe?"
"Heart rate lower. Breathing stable. Grace not stupid during sleep."
You pressed your lips together. "Rocky…"
"Also," he added, "proximity to you increases Grace survival probability."
Ryland froze. "I…what?"
"Conclusion: you stay close to Grace. For science." A pause. "Rocky approve."
Ryland buried his face in his hands. "I’m never going to recover from this."
++++++
"How are you doing?"
Ryland’s voice came through the intercom in your helmet.
"She fine. Question." Rocky said from somewhere in the background.
"It’s fine, Rocky. One more spot and I’m done," you replied.
You clipped yourself to the railing and moved along the Hail Mary’s hull. The damage wasn’t severe, but it needed fixing. The welder Rocky had modified worked perfectly, sealing the hull faster than expected.
Even before you left the airlock, you had to deal with Grace. He didn’t like you going out alone, it made him anxious.
"I’ll be fine," you had told him, pulling on your suit. "Eat something. Get some rest. I know what I’m doing."
"I know," he muttered, adjusting his glasses. "I just… I worry, okay? You’re…I mean, you matter. To the mission. And…just… don’t die, okay?"
"Okay," you smiled, squeezing his shoulder. "Two hours. I’ll be back."
He nodded, but it didn’t really reassure him.
"How are you doing?" he asked again now, over the intercom. "Not trying to be pushy. Rocky’s worried."
"Rocky is not worried. She knows what she is doing. Smarter than Grace."
You smiled. "A few more minutes. What if…"
The ship jolted. The welder slipped from your grip, but you caught it just in time. Another jolt.
"Something’s wrong with the engine…I think it’s a short…I’m fixing it…just…hold on… are you there? Can you hear me?"
"I am, just…"
The next pull yanked you off the railing. The tether snapped tight, then recoiled like a whip, slamming you into the hull. Your head slammed into the helmet. A dull crack echoed in your ears. The air punched out of your lungs, nothing left, just panic and silence.
"Grace! She needs help. Grace! Focus. Fix engine. Now."
You couldn’t answer. Everything spun.
"Are you there? Can you hear me? Say something, please."
"Quick, quick, quick."
Warmth spread across your lips. Metallic. Blood. Your fingers tightened around the welder pressed to your chest as another violent tug shook you. You grabbed the railing again, pain shooting through your arm.
"She there. Time critical. Grace, take her."
The buzzing in your head grew louder. Nausea rolled through you. You clung to the railing, your only anchor. Your vision dimmed.
You were lying on something soft.
"Eye movement detected."
You tried to move, but a hand caught yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles before he let go, like he wasn’t sure he should. He pulled back a little too quickly.
"Hey. Easy."
Ryland.
You opened your eyes briefly, too bright, then shut them again.
"You had a minor concussion," he said, voice quieter now. "Some bruising. You’re okay. Medical system patched you up. You scared us."
"You came for me?" you whispered.
"Of course I did," he said immediately. "Statistically, you’re my favorite person."
"There are no other people here, Grace," Rocky pointed out.
Your lips twitched. You touched your head and felt the bandage under your fingers.
"You should lie down," Ryland said.
"You’re not that kind of doctor."
"Still counts. You’re concussed. You don’t get opinions."
You let out a weak breath that might have been a laugh. "You look tired."
"I’m not," he said quickly. "I’ll stay."
And he did.
When you woke again, hours had passed. Grace didn’t mean to fall asleep, his hand was still loosely wrapped around yours. Rocky watched over both of you.
Later, you managed to sit up. Then stand.
"I didn’t thank you," you said quietly as Ryland steadied you. "You saved me."
"You’d have done the same," he replied, watching you carefully. You scared us." He paused „You scared me."
"I’m sorry."
"Don’t be. Just… next time, you’re staying inside."
Two days later, you were moving on your own again, though neither of them let you do any real work. After you failed to complete your work outside the ship, someone had to do it. The choice wasn't difficult, or rather, you no longer had a say.
"Grace worried. Very, very, very," Rocky said.
"I know," you replied, watching Ryland on the screen outside. "He’s nice, isn’t he?"
"Grace heart rate changes when you speak."
You smiled faintly. "I like him too. And I like you too, Rocky."
"Grace observes you. Often. When you not looking."
"Rocky, stop." You felt yourself blushing and a strange shiver ran down your neck.
"Why stop? This is data."
You blinked. You looked up from the screen and looked at your friend. "What? No, we’re just friends."
"Grace looks at you differently. You look at him that way also. Grace very worried."
You glanced back at the screen, Grace still working. You knew you would have followed him without hesitation, whether his life was in danger or he suddenly decided to fly to the other side of the universe.
"It’s complicated," you said softly. "Humans are complicated."
A click.
"I’m done," Ryland’s voice came through the radio. "Heading back."
"I’m waiting for you. Be careful."
You saw the thumbs-up and smiled. You didn’t see it, the way he smiled, just for a second.
The airlock hissed open. You were already there waiting for him to help him with the suit. Ryland stepped inside, pulling off his helmet too fast, eyes finding you immediately.
"Hey," he said, a little breathless.
"Hey."
He crossed the distance without thinking. He ignored your hands that were waiting to take the helmet from him and threw it to the ground. "Don't do that again, don't go out there alone." he said quietly. "Please."
"I’ll try."
"That’s not…" he stopped, exhaled. "Okay. Fine."
His hand found yours, like it had before, but this time he didn’t hesitate.
“I thought I lost you,” he whispered. “When I came back for you… I’ll never forget it. And being there now, I kept thinking about it.”
“You didn’t lose me, Grace.”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I didn’t.”
But he didn’t move away, not even a little. You were standing too close now. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, slower, more deliberate. The look in his eyes was different than usual.
Your lips. Your eyes. Back again. Something shifted.
"Grace. Heart rate elevated."
Neither of you reacted.
"Significant. Cause: you."
You let out a soft breath, but neither of you pulled away. Ryland leaned in, closer. Close enough that you could feel his breath, uneven and warm. He hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, like he was giving himself one last chance to stop.
"Data indicates—"
Ryland closed the distance. The kiss was soft and careful. A little unsure at first, like he wasn’t entirely convinced this was real. Then his hand tightened slightly around yours, and something in him settled, and it was real. You touched his cheek gently, feeling his soft stubble under your fingers.
"—contact established," Rocky finished.
Ryland pulled back enough to look at you. His blue eyes were wide, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just done.
"…Okay," he breathed.
A beat of your heart.
"Statistically," he added quietly, "that was a good decision."
You laughed softly, and then he smiled, gently, a little crooked, but completely sincere. And this time, when he leaned in again, he didn't hesitate.
When everything around you was so crazy and dangerous, when you lived with the feeling that the end might soon come, this closeness was what you craved. What you deserved. What you wanted to wrest from fate together.
"just how many of these shipping edits are going to have this sound?" 𓆩♡𓆪
streamer! satoru was strategic. sure, he has a massively huge crush on you, streamer! yn (he still hasn't asked you out despite the amount of times it is painfully obvious that he's really into you... like he's literally turned red on stream because you hugged him in that one get-together with sukuna and then with suguru's stream). but he figured, why not make some bag out of this and stream himself viewing the edits fans have made of him on twitter and tiktok.
he would've asked you to join, but you unfortunately couldn’t due to the fact that you had another collab with another streamer ... nanaken. in actuality, you haven’t really been talking as often due to busy schedules, and satoru sees no point in you talking to him considering the fact that he hasn’t asked you out yet.
but nanami? that was one of streamer! satoru's homeboys, so he didn't really care... until chat noticed stuff.
"haha, you guys really enjoy fucking with me, huh?" satoru was on the nth edit of you and him, making sarcastic comments on how chat really wanted him to be with you (and in his subconscious, he was hoping you'd see this stream and agree and maybe hopefully you two would start dating...) but then he took a look at chat once someone sent a donation.
zeninheir67 sent a $5 donation: u fucking cuck why is ur girl with another streamer rn
"you... she's with one of my friends, nanami right now... mods, silence him. but lets see what my bffs are doing right now since you guys are talking so much shit."
for fun, satoru began to tune into nanaken's stream... and when satoru began looking at the rest of the chat, he felt his heart go to his ass.
marlborosoverparliaments: they look a tad bit close lol
notfvsh1gur0: this feels wrong
yuji2tuff: watch the twitter tl spam other type of edits
makithedestroyer: ur lowk a cuck for this LMAO
there you were, with nanami, so close. nanami's streams didn't really consist of much apart from the occasional sarcastic commentary of internet drama that his viewers sent and the fact that he’s a conventionally attractive guy who crochets on stream while chatting and reacting to shit, and also does asmr (specifically the fan favorite: performative male manipulative ex-boyfriends begs you to come back) .
right…. he’s conventionally attractive…..
“okay… you guys are honestly doing too much. they’re literally just—'" — “what do you think about the shipping edits? huh?”
satoru shut up real quick when he heard what nanami read in his chat. he was currently tapping on a hard-cover book he was reading while you were knitting close to a mic for asmr affects when he read the comment out in amusement.
“i think that’s directed at you, y/n,” — “hm? the edits? of me and toru?”
shit, strike 1.
you smiled, stopping your knitting as you looked around sheepishly. “yeah! i have! they’re cute! i’m sure he thinks they’re cute too. you guys are funny.”
strike 2…
nanami looked over at you, a ghost of a smile creeping. “well, i was going to invite your little boyfriend to join but it looks like he had other plans…”
“oh yeah! but next time we should all collab! i think he’d really like that! i can bring my blind bag things and do asmr with them with you guys!”
strike 3… did you really just hard launch him and he hasn’t even confessed his feelings towards you?! and nanamin supports it? what a fucking g…
tojilifts: this guy stopped functioning wtf
zeninheir67: ew imagine folding for a FOID
makithedestroyer: /zeninheir67 kys
cursedsuguru: you guys are so cute it disgusts me
“hard launch i guess…”
it felt a tad lackluster—maybe because satoru hasn’t yet understood not processed the weight of your words. satoru or streamer! satoru. so he just stared at the chat sending in troll messages about how he’s so whipped.
until he got a text message.
n/n <3: hey! i said something a bit controversial on a stream with nanami and i wanted to apologize if it made you uncomfortable
no… it didn’t. it actually made him excited.
n/n <3: i hope we can possibly talk later alone. at my place after im done with my stream and you are with yours? really wanna talk with you rn !
satoru: sure! i’m down. see you then :)
and so, the usually nonchalant streamer! satoru, burst into a fit of giddy laughter and smiled at his chat.
“its a great evening. i’ll do whatever gets the most votes this stream.”
-
-
-
okay so if i’m gonna do a part 4 i legit dk what to do it on dhdjsjdjsjsjjsjsjjs
"just how many of these shipping edits are going to have this sound?" 𓆩♡𓆪
streamer! satoru was strategic. sure, he has a massively huge crush on you, streamer! yn (he still hasn't asked you out despite the amount of times it is painfully obvious that he's really into you... like he's literally turned red on stream because you hugged him in that one get-together with sukuna and then with suguru's stream). but he figured, why not make some bag out of this and stream himself viewing the edits fans have made of him on twitter and tiktok.
he would've asked you to join, but you unfortunately couldn’t due to the fact that you had another collab with another streamer ... nanaken. in actuality, you haven’t really been talking as often due to busy schedules, and satoru sees no point in you talking to him considering the fact that he hasn’t asked you out yet.
but nanami? that was one of streamer! satoru's homeboys, so he didn't really care... until chat noticed stuff.
"haha, you guys really enjoy fucking with me, huh?" satoru was on the nth edit of you and him, making sarcastic comments on how chat really wanted him to be with you (and in his subconscious, he was hoping you'd see this stream and agree and maybe hopefully you two would start dating...) but then he took a look at chat once someone sent a donation.
zeninheir67 sent a $5 donation: u fucking cuck why is ur girl with another streamer rn
"you... she's with one of my friends, nanami right now... mods, silence him. but lets see what my bffs are doing right now since you guys are talking so much shit."
for fun, satoru began to tune into nanaken's stream... and when satoru began looking at the rest of the chat, he felt his heart go to his ass.
marlborosoverparliaments: they look a tad bit close lol
notfvsh1gur0: this feels wrong
yuji2tuff: watch the twitter tl spam other type of edits
makithedestroyer: ur lowk a cuck for this LMAO
there you were, with nanami, so close. nanami's streams didn't really consist of much apart from the occasional sarcastic commentary of internet drama that his viewers sent and the fact that he’s a conventionally attractive guy who crochets on stream while chatting and reacting to shit, and also does asmr (specifically the fan favorite: performative male manipulative ex-boyfriends begs you to come back) .
right…. he’s conventionally attractive…..
“okay… you guys are honestly doing too much. they’re literally just—'" — “what do you think about the shipping edits? huh?”
satoru shut up real quick when he heard what nanami read in his chat. he was currently tapping on a hard-cover book he was reading while you were knitting close to a mic for asmr affects when he read the comment out in amusement.
“i think that’s directed at you, y/n,” — “hm? the edits? of me and toru?”
shit, strike 1.
you smiled, stopping your knitting as you looked around sheepishly. “yeah! i have! they’re cute! i’m sure he thinks they’re cute too. you guys are funny.”
strike 2…
nanami looked over at you, a ghost of a smile creeping. “well, i was going to invite your little boyfriend to join but it looks like he had other plans…”
“oh yeah! but next time we should all collab! i think he’d really like that! i can bring my blind bag things and do asmr with them with you guys!”
strike 3… did you really just hard launch him and he hasn’t even confessed his feelings towards you?! and nanamin supports it? what a fucking g…
tojilifts: this guy stopped functioning wtf
zeninheir67: ew imagine folding for a FOID
makithedestroyer: /zeninheir67 kys
cursedsuguru: you guys are so cute it disgusts me
“hard launch i guess…”
it felt a tad lackluster—maybe because satoru hasn’t yet understood not processed the weight of your words. satoru or streamer! satoru. so he just stared at the chat sending in troll messages about how he’s so whipped.
until he got a text message.
n/n <3: hey! i said something a bit controversial on a stream with nanami and i wanted to apologize if it made you uncomfortable
no… it didn’t. it actually made him excited.
n/n <3: i hope we can possibly talk later alone. at my place after im done with my stream and you are with yours? really wanna talk with you rn !
satoru: sure! i’m down. see you then :)
and so, the usually nonchalant streamer! satoru, burst into a fit of giddy laughter and smiled at his chat.
“its a great evening. i’ll do whatever gets the most votes this stream.”
-
-
-
okay so if i’m gonna do a part 4 i legit dk what to do it on dhdjsjdjsjsjjsjsjjs
Ryland's fitness watch interrupts your first kiss.
Warnings: None? I mean, unless kissing is a warning.
You giggled at something Ryland said on the walk back to your apartment. His jacket shifted as he gestured around along with his story. The cuffs shifted, moving to rest above his wrists and the silver fitness watch you knew he always wore.
Your fourth date was coming to an end, much to both of your dismay. Ever the gentleman, Dr. Grace insisted on escorting you home from the park you had visited, despite his own apartment being in the opposite direction.
“Sorry,” you watched as Ryland grasped the back of his neck, light blush dusting his cheeks. “I rambled a little. It’s a bad habit…”
Your lips twitched at his demeanour, feet stopping as you reached over to capture his hand in your own and give it a gentle squeeze. His eyes widened, gaze dropping to your intertwined hands as a grin jumped onto his lips.
“I don’t think it’s bad, Ryland. In fact, I like hearing you talk about things you’re passionate about. It’s cute.”
His eyes trailed from your hands and up to your face, gaze lingering on your smile for longer than he probably should have. This was only your fourth date, and he didn’t want to mess this up! He really liked you…
He stuttered as he tried to form an adequate reply when a sudden gust of wind blew through you both, making a shiver run down your spine as you used your free hand to try and rub away the goosebumps that formed.
“Oh, here!”
Ryland reluctantly released your hand, fingers brushing against yours once more before moving to remove his cardigan from himself. He stepped closer to you, guiding the wool over your shoulders. His warm fingertips brushed your skin as he pulled the sleeves to cover your arms then pulled it tighter against you once he was satisfied. The teacher glanced up at you to check it was all right before he buttoned it. However, his fingers lost their grip on the buttons before he could complete his initial task.
The way you looked up at him with blushing cheeks and parted lips had him freeze. Your hand ran up his arm, running over the band of his watch, then along his shoulder before landing on his neck. You caressed his neck slightly as he watched you with wide eyes. His hands that had fallen limp moved on their own accord. One found its place on your waist and the other gently held your cheek with the same delicacy one may hold their fragile childhood doll.
“Is this okay?” He murmured as he leaned closer towards you, eyes flicking between your eyes and lips.
Your own eyes fluttered shut after mumbling a breathless yes. Grace slowly leaned forward – he wanted to give you plenty of chance to move away if you wished – until his lips finally reached yours. Your grip on his neck tightened slightly as you pulled his lower and his hand that rested on your cheek began to caress the skin. His head tilted to the side to gain better access to your lips and he shuffled closer towards you, your bodies practically touching.
Beep, beep, beep.
…?
Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.
That beeping definitely wasn’t normal. What on Earth?
Ryland clearly thought the same as you and he pulled his lips from your own to look around in confusion. Your hand moved to his shoulder, but his remained unmoving. He was determined to kiss you at least one more time after he figured out what that beeping was.
But he couldn’t see anything.
The street you were walking across was empty, and there definitely wasn’t a fire, so what was that beeping?
Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.
He continued to look around for any signs of an emergency until he heard your muffled giggles. He looked back at you to see you covering your mouth as you stared at the screen of his watch.
Erratic heartrate detected.
Oh. Well, he didn’t even know that the watch could do that. Interesting.
Ryland’s cheeks flushed even darker as he pulled his hand from your cheek, trying to hide the alert that you had definitely already seen. He pushed his glasses back up his nose and the beeping continued.
Erratic heartrate detected. Rest now and breathe.
A groan sounded from Ryland’s chest. He dismissed the alert and covered his face in embarrassment.
“Deep breaths, Dr. Grace. Surely you of all people should know the importance of a normal heartrate and 125 sounds a cause for concern.”
He peaked out from behind his, now spread fingers and laughed. His hands dropped back to his sides as he took in your teasing smile. You didn’t seem upset by the disturbance. No, you actually seemed quite flattered.
He shot you a smile before speaking.
“Oh, yes, you are absolutely right, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I feel I need someone to nurse me back to health right this instance.”
“Yeah? What would that entail then, Doctor??”
You giggled as you spoke.
“Another kiss for starters. You know, just to investigate whether that was the cause of the spike. Correlation does not always mean causation- mmpfh-“
Ryland stumbled slightly as you threw yourself against him, hands pulling his face back down to yours. Your lips pressed against his once more and his hands moved to rest on your waist again, drawing you closer.
Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.
Ryland’s hands slipped from your waist, hitting the dismiss button on the watch and quickly moved back to your waist again.
Maybe he needed to test his hypothesis a few more times before you both reached your apartment… Just to be sure!
imagine being older and never having had your first kiss. you just want to get it over with, so you ask your best friend ryland grace to kiss you, no feelings attached. but ryland is anything but ‘no feelings attached’ (~0.9k words)
Ryland is wide-eyed, limp-tailed, and falling over his own two feet.
He doesn’t know how he got himself into this, doesn’t think he can keep his feelings dormant after this, after a favor you made with no regard of how it may land in mind.
(“Would you kiss me?”
“What?”
“Just haven’t had my first kiss yet, and I wanna get it over with. And, I trust you. You’ve kissed people before so you must know how, and it doesn’t have to be anything weird between us. No feelings or anything.”
“Uh, I mean, if you really want to, I mean… yeah. I can—we can do that.”)
How could you not think of how your kissing him may land in the rubble of feelings Ryland had tried to keep hidden. Still, there is fault in him. Because while surprised, he was not unwilling to partake.
Because Ryland had ‘feelings or anything’
Your legs are crossed as you sit on his couch, something of habit, but there is a connotation that differs from the normal. This time, you’re patiently waiting for him, lashes fluttering and anticipating.
Your breathing, calm and steady, is opposite to his. A contrast. Ryland is anything but calm and steady, his heartbeat an overwhelming tempo.
The distance he had always set between the two of you, the same one that had been sheltering him, is closing in as he sits next to you. It almost slams into him when you twist your body to face him.
“Will you kiss me now?” There is a questioning lilt in your voice as you ask him, looking at him with a waiting mouth.
Ryland swallows, Adam's apple bobbing in consequence.
His warm, larger hands are coming to hold the sides of your face with such tenderness. To calm your nerves or his, he’s not so sure.
(It’s definitely the latter.)
“Yeah.” He shocks himself from the stable way his word had left, shocked because every other part of him is buzzing with nerves all bundled up and tangled.
Ryland has always had thoughts of kissing you.
They have been too much work to dismiss, because there are things you do that induce them. It comes to him when you take his hand, a touch that feels alive. It comes when you smile at him a certain way, like the way you are right now.
The silence between you is tranquil, full of anticipation, like the pause after lightning, counting seconds in search of the thunder.
And just when he thinks that his pupils won’t dilate anymore, he finally presses his lips onto yours. What a shame you’d never see them blow up tenfold, eyes shut and letting yourself concentrate on the feeling of being kissed (and him, the feeling of finally kissing you).
It’s a soft brushing at first until his lips are gliding over yours, warm and soft, and kissing suddenly seems so easy. It feels natural when you kiss him back.
A thrill runs down your spine at the feeling, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles to your cheeks, and he hopes you keep your eyes closed in fear that you’ll see his embarrassing, longing, yearning face.
Your hands grip his shoulders to steady yourself, and Ryland feels his heart lurch forward in the rattling cage of his ribs. His bones are buzzing. You’re so good at kissing him back.
He tilts his head in the opposite direction, and you’re quick to follow, and Ryland swears he’s going to scream or pass out, or anything. You’re a way too fast learner, and it seems like you know what you’re doing more than him.
He doesn’t understand how he’s feeling anymore. He wonders how you feel.
Your words have been echoing in his mind since you uttered them—no feelings attached. But who is Ryland, if not a person with feelings attached to you. He is just a man making more room in his mind to tattoo this moment there and keep it permanent, tucked away from the forgetting spirit’s pursuit.
You make a noise into his lips, and Ryland almost vomits at the heavenly sound.
He’s so nervous, he’s going crazy. His mind is no longer a safe space. His couch is no longer one, too. He will now forever remember how your lips feel and taste when he sits here.
Because Ryland no longer wants this to be a dream, to be a mere favor he grants you. He wants this to be his reality. There is embarrassing desire, and yearning, and love-love-love.
When he pulls back, you’re blushing and just as breathless as he is.
And Ryland is light-headed at the sight of your swollen, kiss-bruised lips now stained in a darker shade despite your lipgloss being transferred on his own lips. And at the darkness in your cheeks that makes him run delusional thoughts that he has to burst before they can foster.
“So that’s what kissing feels like.” You say into the space between your faces, which is still so narrow that you must be breathing each other’s breath. “I see now, the appeal of it.”
“Good?”
Something is setting inside of Ryland, greater than yearning. He doesn’t have the word for it, but it feels like every atom in his body is vibrating with the need to kiss you again.
“Really good.”
“Do you want to… do it again? For practice, of - of course.”
You nod your head. The counting stops, and the thunder finally rolls in, and he’s leaning in for another kiss.
𝓲𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 ♰ you distract your nerdy boyfriend from studying with an overwhelming amount of kisses until he forgets what he was even working on.
✿ ◞◟) gojo satoru 𝓍 gn!reader
𝓬𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 suggestive, nerd!satoru, established relationship, domestic fluff, mutual pining . . . except they’re already dating, lovestruck!reader, satoru being the prettiest boy ever, lots and lots of kisses everywhere, satoru is a blushing mess.
the apartment smelled like old paper and the faint, slightly burnt remnant of instant coffee satoru had made hours ago and promptly forgotten about.
it was a familiar scent, woven into the fabric of your shared space, a testimony to the academic chaos that was your boyfriend’s life. the only light in the living room came from a single, scarred desk lamp, its yellowed beam creating a small, concentrated island of illumination on the mountain of books and papers that covered the table. and there, at the very center of this organized pandemonium sat gojo satoru.
you paused in the doorway, leaning against the frame, a small, private smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.
this was your favorite version of satoru, not the charming, effortlessly brilliant student who could dismantle a complex theorem with a lazy grin, but this one; the one who was so deeply absorbed in his studies that the rest of the world ceased to exist. his glasses, a pair of sleek, dark-framed ones he only wore when his contacts got too dry from staring at a screen for hours, were perched on his nose, slightly askew. one of the legs was tucked behind his ear, the other was not, making the entire frame sit at a jaunty, almost comical angle, and he was completely oblivious to it.
he was dressed for comfort with a soft grey hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing the lean, defined muscles of his forearms. his hair, that iconic, beautiful white hair that usually looked like a celestial cloud, was a disaster. soft tufts stuck up in every direction, a few stubborn strands plastered to his temple, a result of running his fingers through it. satoru’s head was propped on his hand, his brow furrowed as he stared at a particularly dense page of text, his lips moving silently as he read. he was so focused, so utterly adorable in his nerdy, intense concentration, that it made your chest ache with a wave of pure, unadulterated affection.
satoru was also, you noted with a warmth that bloomed low in your stomach, incredibly, incredibly hot.
it was a strange dichotomy he embodied perfectly; the ridiculous glasses, the messy hair, the oversized hoodie — all of it screamed 'cute, loveable nerd!'. but then there was the sharp line of his jaw, the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, the sheer, overwhelming masculine grace in the way he held himself even while hunched over a textbook. that bone-deep beauty that he seemed so unaware of in these moments, which only made it all the more potent.
you slowly pushed off from the doorframe, your footsteps soft on the wooden floor.
you didn’t want to startle satoru completely, but a small part of you, the part that was currently being consumed by a huge wave of adoration, wanted to see the exact moment his focus shattered. you crept up behind your boyfriend, your shadow falling over his work. he didn’t react, not even a flinch, so lost in his own world he was. you leaned down, your lips brushing the shell of his ear, and whispered;
"you’re doing the thing."
“hmm?" satoru mumbled, not looking up, his pen still scratching a note in the margin. "what thing?"
"the thing where you look like you’re trying to solve world hunger and global warming at the same time," you murmured slowly, your lips now ghosting along satoru’s jawline. "it’s very . . . strenuous."
satoru paused then, his hand stilling. a slow, pleased shiver ran through him, so subtle you wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t pressed so close.
"it’s just a paper on quantu—mmph . . . !"
you cut him off, but not with a kiss on the lips, no.
you placed a soft, deliberate peck right on the corner of his mouth. a simple, chaste little thing, but it was enough to finally pull satoru’s attention away from the page.
your boyfriend blinked, his head turning slightly to look at you, his glasses still crooked. his eyes, a brilliant, captivating shade of cerulean, were a little unfocused, like he was dragging himself back from the theoretical realm of quantum entanglement to the very real, very immediate you.
"b-baby . . . " he said, a soft, dopey smile spreading across his face, the tension in his shoulders easing.
"mhhh. you’re very pretty when you’re concentrating, you know that?"
a faint blush, the barest hint of pink, dusted his cheeks.
"i’m not pretty," satoru mumbled, a knee-jerk protest, his eyes already drifting back to his notes. "i’m . . . i’m a force of nature. a towering intellect. pretty is a—hey!"
you had done it again, this time placing a kiss on his forehead, right on the smooth skin just above his eyebrow. you felt his muscles relax under your lips, the tension melting away from his brow. you pulled back just enough to see his expression, a mix of surprised pleasure and growing bewilderment.
"what was that for?" satoru asked, and his voice was a little higher than usual.
"you had a wrinkle right there," you said, your voice taking on a matter-of-fact tone. "from frowning. very bad for your skin. i’m just doing my duty as a concerned partner."
"my skin is flawless, thank you very much," he retorted, a familiar, defensive sass creeping into his voice.
but satoru’s blush was deepening, spreading from his cheeks down to his neck. he was trying to look affronted, but his eyes, still a little wide and glassy, were betraying him. he liked this. he liked the attention, the interruption.
you took a step closer, now standing directly beside his chair. you didn’t give satoru a chance to recover, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to the bridge of his nose, right where his glasses sat. satoru’s skin was so warm.
"you’re getting sunspots," you murmured against satoru’s skin. "or . . . lamp-spots. from all this studying."
"i don’t get sunspots," satoru whispered, his voice cracking just a little.
his hands had come up, hovering uselessly in the air between you, like he wasn't sure whether to push you away or pull you closer. he settled on gently gripping your hips, his thumbs stroking the fabric of your shirt. it was a grounding gesture, his way of trying to maintain some semblance of control.
you hummed, a non-committal sound, and moved to press a kiss to his cheek. the skin there was impossibly soft, and you stayed there for a moment, feeling the warmth of his face, the slight stutter of his breath. he smelled like old books, coffee, and something uniquely, comfortingly satoru.
"you smell like a library," you whispered, your lips brushing against his cheekbone.
"is that a good thing?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
satoru’s long lashes were fluttering, his eyes closing on their own accord.
"the best thing," you confirmed, and then you were kissing his temple, the hinge of his jaw, a spot just below his ear that you knew was a hidden treasure trove of nerve endings.
your sweet boyfriend gasped, a sharp, involuntary sound, and his hips jerked in his chair. his fingers tightened on your hips, a silent plea for mercy you weren’t ready to give.
“y/n . . . " he breathed, a world of meaning in your name. it was a plea, a warning, an invitation.
you pulled back just enough to look at satoru, to take in the magnificent, messy picture he made — his glasses were now truly a catastrophe, hanging off one ear and precariously balanced on the other, the bridge resting on the very tip of his nose. satoru’s hair was even more of a mess, courtesy of his own restless fingers. his face was a symphony of reds and pinks, the blush spreading down his neck and disappearing into the collar of his hoodie. his lips were slightly parted, his breath coming in shallow, rapid pants.
satoru looked utterly, deliciously undone, and all from a few chaste kisses from you.
but the most potent detail was his eyes. that brilliant blue, usually so sharp, so full of clever mischief, was now dark, hazy, and completely, utterly focused on you.
there was a vulnerability there, a raw, unguarded longing that made your heart clench. he looked beautiful. he looked perfect. he looked like he was about to combust if you didn't kiss him properly, and the sight of him like this — this brilliant, beautiful boy, brought to such a tender, wanton state just by you — ignited a primal, possessive heat deep inside you.
"you’re so cute," you said, your voice dropping to a husky whisper. "and so, so fucking hot, you know that? you have no idea what you do to me, sitting here looking like a wet dream in your nerdy glasses."
satoru’s adam’s apple bobbed again.
"not a wet dream," he managed to choke out, a last-ditch effort at his usual bravado. he sounded so small, so out of his depth. so perfectly, wonderfully him. "just . . . a very tired student who really wants to—mmph!"
you had had enough of his adorable, pathetic protests.
you shut him up properly this time, cupping your boyfriend’s face in your hands and leaning in to press your lips to his. it was a soft, gentle kiss at first, a simple meeting of mouths, but the moment your lips touched, it was like a spark to tinder.
satoru made a small, desperate sound against your mouth, his hands relinquishing their grip on your hips to come up and bury themselves in your hair, pulling you closer. the kiss deepened, his lips parting under yours, and you obliged him, your tongue brushing against his lower lip. he tasted like coffee and the faint, sweet residue of the cherry chapstick the young boy always used.
you broke the kiss, but only to tilt satoru’s head back, giving you better access to his neck.
you trailed a line of open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat, feeling his pulse hammering a frantic rhythm against your lips. you found his pulse point, that spot that was always so sensitive, and you sucked, gently, just enough to leave a faint, pink mark. satoru whimpered, a sound of pure pleasure, his hips bucking up against your thigh.
"y/n, please . . . " satoru gasped, his head falling back further, completely surrendering to your onslaught.
you nibbled on his collarbone, which was peeking out from the neckline of his hoodie. you kissed the hollow of satoru’s throat, the slope of his shoulder. you kissed satoru’s eyelids, his eyebrows, the tip of his nose again. you were everywhere, dotting satoru’s face and neck with a constellation of affection. you kissed the spot behind his ear, and he shivered violently. you pressed a kiss to his chin, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, teasing him, drawing it out, savouring every minute tremor and low moan you could coax from him.
satoru’s glasses had finally fallen off completely, landing with a soft clatter on the book he’d been reading.
he didn’t even notice. his world had narrowed to you, to the sensation of your lips on his skin. his hands were tangled in your hair, clutching at you, his fingers flexing and uncurling, a sign of his absolute, hopeless surrender.
satoru’s face was a mess of colour, his skin completely flushed, his lips swollen and slick, his eyes completely dazed. he was a masterpiece of flustered desire, a picture of devastating vulnerability that he only ever showed you. the smart, sharp-tongued genius was completely and utterly putty in your hands. it was a heady feeling, a powerful intoxication; satoru loved you, and you loved him, and in this moment, that was the only truth in the universe.
finally, you couldn't take the teasing anymore.
the sight of him, the taste of his skin, the sound of his desperate little gasps — it was all too much. you needed more. you needed to devour him completely.
you captured satoru’s mouth again, but this time, there was no gentleness; it was a hungry, possessive kiss, your tongue tangling with his, claiming him, tasting him. you poured all your pent-up adoration and want into that kiss, and he met you with equal fervour, his own tongue dancing with yours, his hands tightening in your hair. he kissed you back like you were the air he needed to breathe, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered; and to satoru, you were.
you broke the kiss only when you were both gasping for air, your foreheads resting together, your breath mingling in the small space between you.
satoru’s eyes were closed, his long, white lashes fanned out against his flushed cheeks. a single, soft, shaky moan escaped his lips, the sound of a man completely and utterly conquered.
"your face is sooo red," you whispered, a teasing lilt in your voice, though you were just as breathless as he was. "like a very pretty tomato."
he managed to crack one eye open, peering at you through his lashes. a weak, crooked grin spread across his face.
"you’re very mean," satoru mumbled, his voice hoarse. "and i love you."
you smiled, a genuine, heart-stopping smile that crinkled the corners of your pretty eyes. you leaned in, kissing the red tip of satoru’s nose again.
"i love you too, my nerdy, beautiful boy. now," you said, pulling back and looking pointedly at the scattered papers. "what was that paper on again? quantum . . . something?"
satoru groaned, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder, his body completely slumping against yours in a heap of exhausted, contented defeat.
"i think i forgot," he mumbled into your shirt.
you laughed, a soft, happy sound, and pressed a kiss to the crown of satoru’s messy white hair.
"good," you whispered, wrapping your arms around him. "then take a break. study later."
you felt the smile spread against your shoulder as his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.
yeah . . . this was your favourite version of satoru, and you were never, ever going to get tired of it.
