#BUT SOMETHING WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE FOR THEM TO ACKNOWLEDGE ONE ANOTHER AT LEAST

[cherrieflavouredheadcanons]

Sorry to send you another request, but I just got hit with this sudden brainrot:

Could I get short headcanons of how the dorm leaders would do for the orange peel theory?

I was so into writing this, that I accidentally made it with the overblot gang (aka Jamil and not Kalim) and didn’t notice until I was done😭. I hope that’s okay, but if you want a Kalim one (or any others) just send in another request! Also these ended up way longer than i intended... But I hope you all enjoy them nontheless!

Orange peel theory 

Characters: Overblot gang CW: None, just fluff, established relationships, Reader is the prefect

Riddle Rosehearts

You and Riddle were studying together, or rather, he was studying and you pretended to study as you were looking at the oranges on the desk.

Whenever you studied together Riddle places a bowl of fruits on the table for you two to snack on, they were usually always strawberries and many other berries but today an Orange was included.

You remembered a trend from your world where people would ask their partners to peel an orange for them and it would show if they were willing to do small things for them, you smiled as you realised you finally had someone to test said theory out on.

Taking the orange into your hand you looked at it, and then at Riddle thinking for a moment before holding it out to him.

“Riddle, can you peel this for me please?”

The housewarden had been so focused on his studying that he got surprised when you asked him something, once he realised what you had asked he raised an eyebrow quietly wondering to himself why you couldn't do it yourself.

But he was raised to be a gentleman, and he honestly loved doing small things for you so he nodded and carefully peeled the fruit for you, making you smile.

Once you got the peeled fruit back you were amazed by how careful he peeled it, no white skin was seen anywhere anymore, and the pieces were all nicely separated.

Leona Kingscholar

Sitting in his room you stared at the Lion beastman laying on his bed, you knew he wasn’t sleeping yet by the way his tail flickered but he certainly was about to.

Ace had dared you to try the orange peel theory on Leona, more specifically try it when he was about to sleep and you agreed for some reason you can’t remember. He had given you an orange before you went to Savanaclaw to spend the night in Leona’s room.

“Hey…Leona?” Your voice was quiet as you asked, looking at your tired boyfriend.

“...mhm?” Well…at least he acknowledged you calling out to him. “...can you peel this orange for me?”

He lazily opened one eye, looking at you. “Can’t you do it yourself Herbivore?” His voice had a teasing tone in it, but he didn’t move a muscle.

You visibly deflated, granted you had expected such an outcome but still, it was kinda disappointing.

Leona sighed once he saw you looking disappointed and sat up. “Hand over the orange.” You perked up as soon you heard it and handed it over with a smile.

He peeled it and then gave you the orange along with the peels back. “Never ask me for anything again.” He said as he laid back down, but you knew he wasn’t serious. “Also come sleep with me once you eat your damn orange.”

His peeling job wasn't the best, and there was a lot of the white skin left on the orange and the pieces weren’t separated,  but you were flattered that he still did it. And of course you cuddled up to him once you ate it.

Azul Ashengrotto

Sitting in the Mostro Lounge you were eating from a fruit platter Azul had brought you, a blush on his face as he sat it down in front of you.

Just as you were about to take a strawberry from it, Floyd suddenly put an Orange on it. “Heey Shrimpy, I have heard of this trend that couples do involving an orange and I wanna see you try it on Azul!”

You knew what trend he was talking about and were confused why he wanted you to try it on Azul, but he refused to say the reason at least until you actually did it. Knowing Floyd, you knew he would keep pestering you until you did.

Sighing, you grabbed the orange and made your way to Azul’s office as Floyd cheered you on.

Walking into the office you saw him working on some contracts. “Hey, Azul? Floyd gave me an Orange for my fruit platter, but it’s not peeled so could you maybe do it for me?”

Poor Azul did not expect you to suddenly be in his office, he got so scared he choked on his spit for a second, looking at you like you were a ghost.

“Angelfish! You can’t just come in here with no warning and scare me like that!” You did not say anything in return instead you held out the orange to him and looked at him expectedly.

“Expecting me to peel you an orange without me getting anything back? How preposterous” He had a blush on his face as he took the orange out of your hands, peeling it nonetheless. You smiled knowing he didn’t need you to give him anything back for peeling it. He handed you the peeled orange back, and you kissed his cheek as a thanks making the poor octopus blush even harder.

His peeling job was immaculate, with how well it was peeled you could think a robot did it, and of course he separated the pieces for you as well.

Jamil Viper

Sitting in the Scarabia lounge you were waiting for Jamil to come back from cooking a meal for Kalim, you wanted to join him and help him but he refused saying you should just wait in the lounge. You were scrolling through Magictok to pass the time a bit faster 

As you sit there scrolling you notice the fruit basket sitting there. You remembered Kalim telling you that you can just grab whatever they are there to be eaten after all.

That's when you come across a video talking about the orange peel theory, you see people explain it and also try it out.

Not only does it make you crave an orange, but it also makes you wanna try the theory on Jamil. But you knew he had much on his plate already, having to make every meal for Kalim, so you decided against it. You were pretty sure that Jamil would do it if you asked him anyways. 

You put your phone aside and go to grab an orange from the basket, looking for the best one. (They are all of the highest quality since Kalim brought them). Grabbing a nice big one you want to start peeling it.

That’s when suddenly it gets snatched out your hand, looking up to see who took your orange, ready to lecture them you see its Jamil. Wordlessly he starts peeling it.

You look at him confused, when did he come in and how did you not notice it? He could have said something at least instead of scaring you by snatching your orange. If he wanted one you would have given him one!

Just as you were about to ask him why he took your orange away and began peeling it himself, he held out a perfectly peeled  piece to you, making you even more confused. “What? You wanted an orange right?" He looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

You could feel the butterflies in your stomach as you smiled at him and took the piece, as he continued peeling the rest of the orange for you and giving you piece by piece. You didn’t even have to ask him for it, which made you smile, thinking to yourself that you had in fact won the orange peel theory

Vil Schoenheit 

He had invited you to his room for a self care night between the two of you. Skincare haircare and everything, of course all prepared by him. He can’t have you use the basic drug store products can he?

You sit in front of him, smiling as he carefully applies a cream to your face, his touch lightly tickling you. He scolds you for moving, but you can hear there is a slight smile in his voice.

As he applies the cream you realise it smells like oranges, which reminds you that you and Epel once talked about how Vil would do regarding the orange peel theory. Maybe now was a good time to try it out?

“Viiil…?” You ask in the most innocent voice you can. He doesn’t answer, instead he looks at you and raises one of his perfectly plucked eyebrows. “Do you think…you could peel me an orange?”

“Darling, it is nearly time for bed. I don’t know if an orange now is such a good-” He couldn’t finish his sentence as he saw how you gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

With a sigh he got up and said “Fine, but only if you promise to brush your teeth right after so we can go to bed, I am not sacrificing my 8 hours of sleep just because you want an Orange.” And with that he left for the Pomefiore kitchen.

Giddily you sat on his bed, texting Epel the result of the orange peel theory, poor Epel was so shocked that his housewarden agreed to peel you an orange so short before his sleep time.

Before you could answer anything back to the first year, Vil came back in the room with orange slices on a platter.

The slices were peeled beautifully, and rearranged symmetrical next to each other. Just as you were about to grab the plate, Vil pulled it out of your range and gave you a sly smirk. He picked a slice up and held it to your mouth, obviously alluding that he would feed them to you which made you flustered.

Idia Shroud

You and him were in his room having a gaming session together. Though you needed a short break so you let Idia play alone for a bit.

Sitting on his bed, you sipped some water just silently watching your boyfriend, thinking about your relationship and smiling at the many small things he does for you.

Well small to everyone else, but you knew how much it scares him to do some things, so those ‘small’ gestures meant the world to you.

As you were thinking about small gestures, you remembered the orange theory and thought why not try it on your boyfriend? It wouldn’t prove anything, whether  he said yes or no, he proved enough that he would do small things for you, but you wanted to do it for fun.

“Hey Idia?” You called out to him, waiting for a sign from him that he had heard you. Still looking at his screen he gave you an affirmative nod and asked “What’s up?” 

“I kinda feel like an orange.” You said, looking at him expectantly to see what he would say next. You could see him stop his movements both in real life and in game which concerned you. “...Idia..?” Pausing the game he slowly turned around and looked at you, a confused look on his face.

“...like…emotionally?” He asked in the most serious and confused tone you could imagine. 

You could tell from his face he was sincere when he asked and wasn’t messing with you. For a second you could not believe what he had asked you, it felt surreal. But then you couldn’t help but laugh out loud. You wanted to say something but your laughter stopped you from doing so, instead you fell backwards on his bed, laughter never dying.

Idia now was even more confused, why were you laughing? That's when he realised what you actually meant, and began blushing furiously, his hair now a shade of pink. He wanted to crawl in a hole and die, but…if you really wanted an orange (and promised not to mention it to anyone ever) he would peel you one…

Malleus Draconia

Malleus had invited you to a meeting of the Gargoyle Research society (as if those meetings aren’t just him walking alone through the school). And of yours you agreed.

He was holding your hand as he led you along the school grounds, telling you facts about all the different Gargoyles.

You listened intently, smiling at him and asking him questions every now and then to show him you were interested in what he was telling you, which made him happy and tell you more enthusiastically.

Though at one point you began craving some food, which got you to thinking, how would your boyfriend react to the orange peel theory? You couldn’t imagine him denying you an orange, but you also couldn’t see him peel one? Maybe it was because of his royal status..

“Hey Hornton?” You asked him and he looked into your eyes, his gaze gentle. “Yes, my child of man?” “Do you think you could get me and peel me an orange? I am kinda craving one…”

He looked surprised at first and then began quietly laughing “Fufufu..I already knew you were special, yet here you are proving it once again, asking the future king of Briar Valley to prepare you some food.” He closed his eyes and smiled “Just wait here my dear and I will fetch you what you want”

You smiled at him and nodded, and he teleported away, only leaving his firefly like lights behind.

Sitting down on a bench you waited for him to come teleport in front of you again. But when he was gone for nearly 10 minutes you slightly began to worry…did Lilia somehow end up cooking something once he learned you wanted some food and Malleus wanted to save you from it? Or was-

Just as you were about to keep thinking about it, Malleus appeared back in front of you…With a massive bowl full of orange slices in it. You gawked at the sheer amount, how was one human supposed to eat all of that? “Child of man, I did not know how many you wanted, so I told Sebek to fetch me every Orange he could find, and then peeled them all by myself.” He was so proud of himself, that you couldn’t help but smile but still wondered what to do with that many Oranges…maybe some of the other first years would want them?

[riaki]

nice boys and sour hearts | satoru gojo x reader

wc: 4.6k cw: minor swearing, he refers to u as 'momma' once (its normal i promise) n i think thats about it post suguru defection, shoko typical smoking ; no established relationship b ur def more than friends

i didnt want this angst to be too intense so i made it super duper fluffy. hopes it tastes like strawberries to u cs it does in my head ; another one of those fics i whipped up to meet the weekend deadline b i’m actually proud of this one not proofread!

satoru hates arguing with you.

it bites at him; twists his heart from the inside out in such a gut-wrenching way that he can hardly stand seeing your nose wrinkle in frustration and your eyes narrow with impatience, let alone hear the words coming out of your mouth, dripping with venom and irritation directed at him. he's never been used to being on the receiving end.

it tastes sour; bitter on his tongue in a way he's never been accustomed to. his tastebuds only recognize the sweet taste of fruit syrup, powdered sugar, or warm chocolate as home; he never indulges in the bitter, like the black coffee the kid he took in seems to like so much. but he'll take the silly sour lemon drops with sweet cream in the center, only because they remind him of you. you, so sweet when you love but sour when you're annoyed, which happens to be now, in this instant.

of course, he'll tell himself he doesn't mind. that sweet and sour have always gone nicely together. like strawberry lemonade on hot summer afternoons when the both of you have had enough of being stuffed into a clammy hot classroom with your musclebrain teacher. sometimes its the three of you, maybe even the four of you if you get lucky with the pixie stick trade offering (a healthier alternative to a cigarette, you both agreed on). but nowadays, it was only ever the two of you. the bitter had chosen his own path, and tangy was locked up in the infirmary sun up to sun down.

but right now, you're upset with him. and he absolutely despises it— to him, it's abhorrent. a strong word, but it's only fitting. but he can't help it when your conversation lingers in his mind, spinning itself a web of self-doubt and hurt and anger as he slips his gym shoes off and redresses himself by the school lockers, running a hand through his hair with a forced, annoyed exhale.

it was nothing big, really. or at least, that's what he thinks. you'd been in the gym after school, watching as he messed around with the basketball, seeing how long he could go dribbling by himself with a bump of his knee there, pushing it to the floor with his hand and watching it bounce back up with mild interest. he had no one to play with, but at least the ball would come back up no matter how much he pushed it down.

it was small. barely worth fussing over.

he had already been irritated. it was hot out, because summer was coming around. sweat beaded on his neck and rolled down his chest, seeping into his shirt as he wiped his forehead and made another shoot at the hoop, landing back on his feet with a soft thud as the basketball rattled around the rusted metal ring and fell through the net for the nth time that afternoon.

a hum of approval comes from your throat, followed by a loud whistle of contentment from him as he watches the ball bounce on the floor. he hikes his sunglasses up his forehead, bringing an arm up and wiping away the sweat on his cheek with his sleeve as he turns to look at you.

"that was pretty good, yeah? i think i deserve a celebratory smooch. lay some sugar on me, momma'." he laughs, loud and arrogant. you just give him a pointed look at that, but he ignores it as a sign for something wrong and only acknowledges it as your dramatic endearment. like speeding up at the sight of a yellow light in hopes that you'll make it instead of slowing down at the warning.

his shoes made squeaking sounds on the gym floor as he made his way over to you, swiping his shades off his face and sliding them onto your forehead, nestling in your hair as he grabbed a rag from the bench and wiped the sweat from his jaw. you have his uniform jacket on your lap, the yellow button glinting in the dying sunlight filtering in through the windows, reflecting off indiscernible flecks of dust in the air.

you had watched him with quiet contentment, observing the languid way he moved, graceful like a dancer moving in water. but then, you seemed to remember something; his lips pressed into a thin line, tilted to one side in anticipation. it made you hesitate— he always knew when you were about to speak before you even opened your mouth. he had come to notice, and appreciate, little things about you like that.

"were you smoking with shoko?" you had asked him. he tilted his head, eyebrow cocked up as he made a face. "no, i wasn't. why d'ya ask?" he huffed, watching from the corner of his eye with mild disinterest as the basketball, still rolling from his previous goal, bumped into the wall. cocky as ever.

(he wouldn't even look you in the eye when you were being dead serious.)

you reach a hand into his jacket, fishing around for something in his pocket; that gets his attention. who knows what trinkets and candy wrappers he has in there? and he'd hate for you to send him to his yearly checkup early again; the nurses always try to coddle him, and he has half a mind to charge for battery. nevertheless, he almost mistakes what you pull out for a lollipop stick. but it's not— it's a cigarette; a white papery hit of cancer with a dead cherry. certainly not a wise idea to keep that in his pocket among the other very flammable wax wrappers and the occasional flower petal, but who were you to judge? you, who's lips pucker like they've just tasted lemon juice when he eyes the unlit cigarette, utterly unamused.

he knows that you know it's his; the subtle glistening of pink around the end points to the gloss on his lips; he can practically taste it on his tongue. he wonders if you'd put the cigarette to your mouth too if you could have a sample of his lipgloss; then again, you could always just ask for a lip-to-lip taste, and he'd indulge you without a second thought.

you twist the cigarette butt between your fingers so that he can see the remnants of faint strawberry pink on the edges. he just rolls his eyes with a loud huff, leaning his weight back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pant pockets.

"yeesh. you're such a goody two shoes, y'know? how come shoko's allowed to smoke 'n i'm not?" he drawls, an arrogant lilt to his voice as he sticks his lower lip out. you can see a matte spot where the gloss had been transferred to the cigarette paper. you just sigh exasperatedly (he feels like a kid when you do that) and lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. his jacket bunches up in your lap.

you tap the cigarette to his chest a few times; it makes a soft thumping sound against the fabric, and for a moment he's grateful of the noise; it sounds just like the way his heartbeat picks up with each touch, but you don't hear it. he wonders if you ever will. maybe one day, when there isn't so much distance between you and he has the opportunity to tuck your head to his chest, right over his heart.

"it's not that i care about the lung damage, idiot. why were you smoking?" you asked, voice softening. and he absolutely hates when you do that, because it always pulls on his heartstrings and brings a flush to his face, the way you treat him. he thought that if you did it enough, he'd be sent to the doctor for heart palpitations instead of a sweet tooth.

he doesn't answer you at that. how could he tell you, when he knew all that'd result from it was a thorn in his side? you, being the rose. so beautiful but awfully prickly and unfairly sour like a lemondrop with a sweet inside. then again, he'd much rather have your interrogating care than lose you, like what had happened with the reason he was trying out smoking in the first place.

then, it happened— your voice went unbearably soft, like puffy white covers and featherlight pillows with silk covers on a saturday morning, looking out the window to see pink tulips against a cloudy blue sky as the sun streamed in. it almost made him want to clutch your hand over his chest and see if you could feel the way he was reacting. no doubt, it was filled with such patient tenderness; all-encompassing sweetness it made him want to cry. so he coughed to cover it up, averting his gaze and bringing one hand to his face to absentmindedly smooth down the strands of damp white hair hanging over his eyes.

"thinkin' about suguru again, are you?" you asked gently, tucking the cigarette back into your pocket—yours, not his—and reaching out to take his hand.

his lips parted ever so slightly, gaping like a goldfish. he knew he looked silly, and he should've been okay with that— because being vulnerable with you, out of everyone he ever knew (with maybe the exception of one) was easier than breathing; came more naturally to him than his gravitation to a challenge. the same could be said for sweets.

(maybe he'd have to re-evaluate his proclaimed taste, then. since you were more sour than sweet.)

but this time, he wasn't okay with it. it had been hard to talk about what had happened with suguru one year ago since— it formed a nasty lump in his throat, bitter like black coffee and the wrong mix of herbs. it made him feel weak. reminding him of his shortcomings, which, in his mind, shouldn't even exist in the first place. but you never had a problem ripping his problems from the shielded cavity in his gut, bringing them under the operator's light to dissect and solve like a surgeon. forget about forcing him to the doctor's— at this point, you should be the one in the white coat, not shoko. he thinks about what you'd look like with blue gloves on your delicate fingers for a moment too long.

"what's it to you?" he snaps back after what feels like three years of his life. his fingers tighten around yours for a moment before he pulls his hand away abruptly.

the frown that lingered on your face from then on had been burned into his memory.

and, well, that was his mistake. it spiraled from there— because he knew what it was to you, and he hated that. hated that you could see straight through him like a cloud blue stained glass window; without rose colored lenses like the ones he always wore (the ones he rocked, he thinks).

a crack of thunder overhead jolts him from his thoughts; he couldn't even get in there to dust the spiderwebs away before being jerked back into reality. he clicks his tongue in disappointment, watching as the skies pry themselves open and rain begin to fall in the way it only did over heavy summer showers. he wishes the sky would stop its weeping, but even the strongest has his limitations.

but it doesn't matter. he has one of those cheap plastic umbrellas he'd bought from a convenience store one day in a late march many moons ago, during the brightest blue spring of his life. and so, he didn't understand why he was lingering at the door, swinging the umbrella around his fingers by the hook on the handle, watching as the rain fell with increased fervor. there was no plastic button to keep the folds tied up, so it floundered around with each swing like a tulip bent by monsoon winds. maybe on the coast of some faraway land with windmills and fields of flowers. he wonders if he'll ever get to see the world with you someday— a fleeting thought that crumbles instantly when he conjures your pretty face in his vision, clear yet distorted like a reflection on a glazed pond, rippling water from the dragonflies that skipped over the surface.

you were definitely still angry with him, because you hadn't showed— normally, you'd walk home together. sometimes with shoko, if she didn't leave early. angry words echo in his mind, the image of your downturned lips swimming in his bright vision as he watches the rain streak down the window panes by the lockers. there's a fog settling over the grass outside that's sure to leave dew after the storm. he wonders when that'll be.

"why can't you ever take me seriously? can't you see i'm worried about you?"

"of course i can. but i don't need your damn concern!”

...

he'd been sorely mistaken, that was for sure. loosing his cool and snapping at you wasn't exactly something he took pleasure in, either way. he leans back on his heels, tapping his foot impatiently as he holds the umbrella like a cane against the floor. infinity could probably do away with the rain. another reason as to why he's not even sure why he's waiting here, or why he's holding an umbrella. perhaps to keep in case he has to offer it to some poor, shivering and cowering young maiden lost beneath the shading of a bus stop behind a curtain of rain droplets, with a charming grin and a wink.

maybe.

a shuffle behind him catches his ear; he turns his head, an unamused expression on his face as his eyes drift over the empty room to land on you. the shadows beneath your eyes are prominent, and your hair is unkempt. there are sleep lines on your face; you probably fell asleep in a classroom somewhere, which is why you delayed.

it was evident you weren't expecting to see him, though— with the way your eyes widened a little before they dropped again, nose bridge wrinkling slightly as if you'd caught the scent of something unpleasant. your eyes left his, and he felt a little disappointed as he watched them wander toward the window, where the current downpour was prominent. he didn't like the way it made his chest pang when your attention was anywhere but him, so he raised his hand lazily, tilting his head to catch your attention that he so clearly craved.

"yo. got an umbrella?" he calls, tapping the tip of his budget cane on the floor. the thud is the only sound for a while as your gaze wanders back over to him; reluctant.

"no, i don't. i didn't expect it to rain so hard today." you responded quietly, stepping over to him with a small sigh. almost a little resigned, he thinks. he can't be sure, though. he never is with you. doesn't know whether to expect his candy to be sour in the center or the other way around; but maybe he likes a bit of uncertainty every once in a while. (not with you, though. if it means arguing? never with you.)

his sunglasses are hooked around the collar of your shirt. he doesn't know why it takes him so long to realize, but when he does, he has to clear his throat in an effort to hide the heat on his face and do away with the blush. "here. take mine. i don't need it," he says curtly, offering his umbrella to you. he wants to snatch the shades from your shirt, but he doesn't want anything to go wrong, so he just eyes them warily, careful not to let his gaze slip past into anything you'd be pissed at him for.

you eye him, eyes narrowed as you raise an eyebrow, but you don't protest. your fingers brush against his for a brief moment when you take it, shaking it a little before opening the door and stepping outside, opening it up. it looks like a little clear plastic mushroom cap over your head; you're short enough to constitute as the stalk in his eyes. it's a little funny, but he has to stifle the laugh bubbling on his tongue lest you think he's making a mock of you.

he follows after you, slipping past to stand at your side with his hands in his pockets. you can't help but feel a little curious despite your prolonged anger (you like holding grudges, he knows), so you sneak a glance upward to satiate your wonder. you don't expect him to look as breathtaking as he does.

the clouds are light overhead; they're not a heavy blanket of gray anymore, and a small strip of light manages to push through, shining on satoru's pale white hair. you can make out the edge of his undercut against his neck when the wind picks up a little, the color of fluffy white clouds on a lavender sunset with the sway of yellow flowers beneath an expanse of a bright sky. there's a little cat hair on the collar of his jacket; you realize with a faint flush that it must've been from when you were holding his jacket for him in the gym. somehow, the cat you have at home found its way to satoru. you hope your pet has become a matchmaking fortune teller, for the sake of your happiness.

what catches your eye the most, though, isn't the cat hair on his dark jacket or the faraway look in his misty blue eyes; it's the outline of rain water around him, a product of his infinity, you realize. he's dry underneath the downpour, and it never ceases to amaze you. it's like there's a soft glowing halo against the backdrop of tangled wires, gray walls and pale green bushes— he looks like an angel boy, school bag hooked and hanging over one shoulder.

eventually, you manage to peel your gaze away, and he notices— looks down at you, pressing his lips together and running his tongue over them. he can taste strawberry gloss.

wordlessly, you start walking. and he follows suit, rain bouncing off of him; you catch yourself sneaking glances from under the roof of your clear umbrella between raindrops that slide down the clear plastic. sometime during the walk home, he had gone off and gotten himself a drink from a nearby vending machine— the red can catches your eye, and your fingers curl around the rubber handle of the lent umbrella as you watch him drink; the bob of his adam's apple before he crushes the can up and tosses it into a nearby bush, causing a brief scattering of leaves and a downpour of collecting droplets onto the pavement.

despite the rain, the weeds between the cracks in the sidewalk still stay strong; they have deep roots. much like the way you never fail to scowl at him for littering. he catches it— of course he does. he's been praying for a sign you're not still so hopelessly angry with him that you can't even bring yourself to have a civil walk in the summer rain together. after the scowl, though, comes the smile— the one that always makes him melt in his shoes, much like the sunshine after the rain.

and there it is at last, he thinks. the hard sour coating melts away on his tongue, draining the taste of lemon to reveal a sweet, genuine center. all it takes is time. your lips curve up, and you duck your head, hiding the small bemused laugh that leaves you breathless.

"what are you laughin' at?" he huffs, glaring down at you. but there's no malice behind it— if only you could feel the wave of relief that's washed over him, a crest of white foam that leaves behind still waters reflected in the pools of sapphire in his eyes. nothing like the hit of numbing nicotine he'd shared in the shade of an alleyway with shoko earlier that day— away from the sun; away from you. hidden from both. or maybe they were the same— to him, he couldn't differentiate.

"i'm not laughing!" you protested weakly, immediately wiping the grin from your lips, and he regrets speaking up. "just.. i dunno."

you walk in silence for a little longer, content to listen to the rain lighten up overhead. satoru kicks a plastic onigiri wrapper out of the way, splashing up a puddle as a frown dampens his face when the wrapping only clings to his shoes. he's fine with getting a little grumpy if it means seeing you smile again. and even better, you laugh again— so sweet, like the chiming of bells in the wind's melody.

"please don't do that again." your voice sounds so very small when he hears it again, and he looks down at you from beneath long white lashes, the corner of his lips quirked up. the shape of them is almost cat-like, you think. he doesn't even know what you're talking about— a vague idea, at best— but he won't do it. not if it means hearing you sound so pathetically... sad. he doesn't like it. it's far too bitter for his taste. let the black betta you both used to know indulge in dark coffee and bitter cologne— satoru likes things sweet, like the cream surrounded by tea leaf matcha in the center of his mochi and fluttering feeling he gets when you run your hands through his hair, fluffing it up to your heart's content.

(as long as your heart is happy, his is, too.)

"i won't. happy now?" he sticks his tongue out, making a face. but you both know he means it— he hates breaking his promises to you. you smile when you look up at him again with a small nod, and he feels his knees wobble a little. he just hopes you don't notice. "sorry for lying. i just.. don't like it when you're mad at me. and you look at me like that," he mumbles under his breath, bunching up the fabric of his pants between his fingers. then, after a moment, "geez, you're so dramatic. quit carin' so much." he really hopes you don't stop, and it makes him feel like the world's biggest hypocrite. the strongest, but so weak for you.

"sorry, can't. the day you stop crushing your soda cans and littering is the day i'll stop caring, 'cus that won't be my satoru anymore." you tease. and he laughs, throwing his head back so you don't see the red that spreads across his cheeks, dusting his skin like powdered sugar on top of a strawberry crepe. he always wants to be your satoru, so he figures he'll keep littering. a few money fines here and there mean nothing to his undentable wallet, or the erratic beating of his heart, trapped against his ribcage in a feathery blooming of flowers he only gets from you and your pretty smile underneath the layer of lemony sourness.

you walk along the road for a little while longer. the rain has lightened, but it's still going— incessant, dripping from the leaves of trees and the knotted black wires overhead. he still has his infinity up, which means he can't pet the cat the two of you spot on your way back, but he's perfectly content to watch you do it. you scratch its chin, smiling at the way it purrs and nuzzles into your hand, and he wonders if he'd do the same if he was in its position.

he's lost in thought when you speak to him again, shoes splashing against murky puddles in the backdrop of a never-sleeping city; tokyo's bright skyline always makes your eyes go round with wonder. you say something, and he chuckles, warm and velvety. and then you realize what's been off with him this whole time— he doesn't have his shades on.

you slip them off the collar of your shirt, smoothing down the fabric before you reach over and attempt to nudge his arm. you don't think it'll work, because he still has his infinity up— and your sleeves are already getting spattered by rain that leaves darkened wet spots on the cotton. but to your amazement, your fingers make contact with his sleeve, and you watch in wonder as the rain actually falls— soaks into that little patch of wet fabric that you're able to feel on his arm. that he's turned his infinity off in that one spot so you could touch him. you spare a glance up at him, only to find his head angled away from you. you might be hallucinating, but the tips of his ears seem red.

you don't linger on it before you're tugging on his shirt with a frown, getting him to look down at you as you unfold his glasses and offer them over to him. he takes them quickly, and you don't miss the way the rain stops falling onto his arm again, back to bouncing off the invisible shield that protects him from everything (but you, it seems). he slips his dark shades back over his eyes, obscuring oceans of pure blue that seem like they've trickled in from the purest snowcaps on the distant mountains dotted with old red tori gates and shrines with scrapped paint. but you can't stifle the smile that spreads across your lips this time— giddy and fresh and filled with youth, blossoming like sakura petals in a spring that seems so far away yet so close with his presence by your side.

you don't say anything for a while. you're content to watch the rain wash down the pavement and into the gutters, past cute little coffee shops and parks with ponds as the droplets from the sky scatter the water in part of a never-ending cycle; watering the surface of the earth and bringing life that would soon spring up as shroomcaps and fresh dew on the clean cut green grass. you wonder what satoru sees through his lenses— though, you already know. you've worn them plenty of times before, when he insists on having your perfume cling to the frame for long missions he's sent on alone, when he can't have you hold his jacket, or his hand, or scold him for sneaking a smoke when you're not watching. that, and the extra lemondrops he keeps in his pocket; gifts from you that he's fought hard for.

you're more prepared to not feel any interference of his infinity this time when you reach over, and this time you don't go for his sleeve—yanking him close to you by his hand and forcing him beneath your umbrella. you feel the way he freezes up for a moment, but his fingers fill in the gaps between your own like its the most natural thing in the world, palms pressed together in a little breathless hug that leaves no room for the humid air.

"don't waste your infinity on the rain, dumbass. you'll fry what little is left of your brain." you scold him, and he just grumbles and scoffs angrily under his breath, cursing you as he hunches over and ducks his head to fit under the umbrella to negate his height. his hair brushes against the plastic roof of the umbrella, and his lanky limbs are still awkwardly sticking out, but his fingers tighten around yours and his thumb rubs over your knuckles, still a little damp from your earlier encounter with the rain, and you can't help but smile a smile bright enough to wash away every last bit of cloud in the sky. his personal sunshine.

even though he still prefers sweet things, satoru's come to like the taste of lemondrops. sweet and sour go well together, after all. just like you and him.

its okay if it doesnt taste like anything to u as long as u enjoyed it :) thanks for reading !! the black betta in question is suguru btw my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[pilfappreciator]

Been seeing lots of Bruce x Reader content which is fine! Great even! But I've seen absolutely NOBODY acknowledged the existence of his fine ass muppet wife so I went ahead and DID IT MYSELF 😤😤😤

Bruce/Brandi x Reader

Includes: GN! Reader, polyamory, lots of MILF/DILF appreciation (as there should be), Vacay Lovers

🧡 Chances are you first met them while visiting Vacay Island. Bruce welcomed you with open arms and that charming attitude of his, got you nice and situated for your stay. Eventually he introduced you to his lovely wife Brandi and the kids

💜 The couple warm up to you pretty quick. You've got a great personality, you never hesitate to help them out around the island, their kids adore you (not to mention you're pretty cute)

🧡 These two are honestly couple goals. Literally soulmates. They're super devoted to one another and its pretty obvious to everyone around that they're meant to be. I mean they literally have a gaggle of kids so yknow they're in it for the long run

💜 THAT BEING SAID!! It'd probably be a while before you three actually got together

🧡 Bruce and Brandi only have eyes for each other (at least at first). Introducing someone new into the relationship probably wouldn't even occur to them unless they got to know that person really well, and even then there'd still be long discussions between the two about whether they're really ready for that kind of change. What it would mean for the relationship, how it might affect them, their family and business, ect.

💜 These two never half-ass things. Both are the type to pour their entire souls into what they deem important so if you're gonna be with them, then you bet your ass that it's gonna be for the long haul. The three of you WILL retire and grow old together okay they will PERSONALLY see to it

🧡 But eventually, after you've known them for a year or two and once they've both come to terms with how they feel about you?

💜 BABES PREPARE TO GET SWEPT OFF YOUR FEET

🧡 These two are the perfect team (comes with co-owning a business and running a family ig)

💜 After years of being the heartthrob of BroZone, Bruce is an expert at putting his natural charm and good looks to use. This man is constantly making time to come over and strike up a conversation. And I think it's universally agreed that the guy is not shy or subtle once so ever, so expect a lot of compliments/winks/charming smirks thrown your way. This man is fully leaning up against the wall beside you, giving you that signature Casanova Smoulder(tm), all while telling you how he and Brandy are planning to add french fries to the bar menu

🧡 "But it's supposed to be a surpise until then so let's just keep this between the three of us. Okay, beautiful?" He says with a wink, raising a finger and briefly pressing it against your lips

💜 You probably shouldn't get so flustered over French fries... unfortunately Bruce is sexy and knows it 😔

🧡 Brandi isn't as on-the-nose as her husband but that doesn't mean she's any less effective. She managed to snag someone like Bruce afterall so you KNOW she's got game

💜 Definitely gives you just as many compliments and praise but she's very like... very nonchalant about it?? Like the two of you will be mid convo and she'll just randomly go "wow you are literally so gorgeous haha. Are you sure you're single?"

🧡 You have about five seconds to respond before she's moving on and telling you all about how one of her sons keeps getting stuck in ketchup bottles

💜 It's kinda hard to tell if she's actually flirting with you. She's pretty laid back compared to her husband and at certain times she seems like a bit of an airhead, so whenever she says something nice, it tends to come off as a casual compliment...

🧡 But then there are times where she'll like? Brush a strand of hair outta your face, or wipe some food from the corner of mouth unprompted, or point out a piece of jewelry you have on by running her fingers over it?? Her skin grazing your own just the barest amount??? All while she's giving you that look??????

💜 This woman is sneaky as fuck ngl

🧡 Expect to hear these two gush about each other on the daily. They are CONSTANTLY hyping each other up whenever they're apart (they're in love what do you expect?), but when you've got the BOTH OF THEM in front of you??

💜 They are a well-oiled machine. You are absolutely getting tag teamed by this duo. By the time you leave their company expect to be red in the face and your heart skipping a few beats

🧡 You get invited to a LOT of family meals. Mostly dinners, but sometimes lunch and even breakfast too. And believe me, there is no such thing as a quite meal with this family. They have 13 chaotic kids who are always getting into shit so expect to come outta the whole ordeal with a few food stains on your clothes

💜 look out for Bruce Jr. cuz that kid will for sure try to start a food fight

🧡 Bruce and Brandi are always super apologetic about any messes that occur (they know first hand how exhausting their gaggle of kids can be), but then you just smile and seem genuinely unbothered? Maybe even amused by it all??

💜 "Babe what's their ring size?"

"Brandi, honey, pretty sure we have to at least take them on a date first."

"I'm just asking for a friend!"

"...Am I the friend?"

"You know you are, babe."

🧡 Yeah if these two catch you hitting it off with their kids and showing a genuine interest in their hobbies/interest/lives?? They are SWOONING, vows are being MADE, rings are being CHOSEN—

💜 If at any point you recognize Bruce from BroZone, or if Brandi brings it up in conversation in an attempt to boost her man's rep, then prepare yourself because Bruce will most definitely start putting on a show

🧡 Under normal circumstances he'd be wayyyy more hesitant. Performing anything from his past doesn't bring up the best memories... but he's willing to bust out a good bop if it earns him brownie points in your book (and it better considering that his wife is always telling him how hot he looks whenever he's doing his "boy band thing" lol)

💜 OUTINGS WITH BRANDi!! This woman is taking you shopping or out to the nearest cafe/restaurant that just so happens to serve your favorite, what do you know! Sometimes she brings you along to meet her friends, all of whom are well aware of your existence wink wonk

🧡 Will swoon and fan herself whenever you offer to pay for things, but like as a joke!

💜 (not)

🧡 Chances are the kids already know what's up with the three of you. Maybe it doesn't click immediately but Bruce Jr. notices that how his parents treat and act around you is the same as they treat and act around each other, he goes blabbing to his siblings and soon enough they're all in on it. They don't entirely understand the complexity of the situation... but they're aware that one extra parent potentially means more presents for christmas sooooo

💜 These little shits are mischievous as hell. They are asking you what your favorite color is just to subtly drop the answer while Brandi is out shopping for trinkets. You mention what kind of music you're into and suddenly Bruce is looking up playlists

🧡 You better believe all 13 of them have started a betting pool going about who will confess first, you or their parents.

💜 Brandi's friends might be in on this betting pool. The other vacationers too

🧡 Eventually (after lots of pining and a fuck ton of patiently biding their time), Bruce and Brandi decide to take the leap and invite you into the relationship

💜 They invite you to dinner. It is a WHOLE ordeal and they've been planning months in advance. The kids are off being babysat by one of Brandi's friends (both parties were suspiciously cool with this sudden course of action). Their business is put on pause with little complaint from their customers (again, suspicious)

🧡 You're immediately drowned in compliments the second you show up at the door. You could legit just be dressed in your pj's and they're like "wow those sweatpants really make your eyes pop 😀" sjsjskakaka

💜 You are being waited on hand and foot the whole time. Bruce is manifesting every ounce of romanticism he can— flower petals everywhere, candles are lit, he's got a ukulele tuned and ready for when he eventually serenades you. Meanwhile Brandi has cooked you a feast made entirely of all your favorites and is tucking little flowers into your hair every now and then. At some point she hands you a cute piece of jewelry she saw while out shopping the other day. Just a little somethin somethin that immediately made her think of you <33

🧡 Overall, dinner is going great! The three of you are having a blast in each other's company and it's refreshing to be able to have a conversation without worrying about rambunctious kids or another pink eye outbreak. The atmosphere is quite yet intimate. Their hard work is not going to waste. You are thoroughly wooed

💜 And just when dessert is about to be served—

🧡 "We think you're really hot."

"Wha— BRANDi! My song!"

"Hmm? OH, was I supposed to wait till after—?"

💜 Yeahhh they kinda fumble the confession ngl. You'd think they'd be smoother but they are both: 1) very excited, and 2) very nervous

🧡 Nevertheless, their point gets across. For a moment they kinda panic because of how quite you are afterwards, but really you're just? Absolutely flabbergasted?? These two hotties wanna date YOU??? FR??????

💜 Of course once you manage to form a coherent response (hopefully a positive one), the couple is literally over the moon

🧡 Brandi's flapping her lil muppet hands all excited like "OMIGOSH THEY SAID YES?!"

💜 And Bruce is just smirking and all like "of course they did, honey, did you seriously think they'd say no to the two of us?" all while simultaneously releasing the death grip he had on his ukulele (this man is a fraud)

🧡 Victory dessert follows shortly after. Your hands become absolutely useless for the next few minutes because these two are DEFINITELY TAKING TURNS SPOON-FEEDING YOU AJSHAKAKAKA

💜 The night ends with the three of you hanging out on the couch, either with Bruce serenading you and Brandi or the three of you just cuddling in a pile (probably both ngl)

🧡 Cue the next morning. The kids come back just to find you all fast asleep in the living room, you in the middle with their parents on either side

💜 Pictures are 100% being taken

I love these two a lot, could you tell?

Thinkin about doing a PART TWO!! Lemme know what you guys think 👀

[vivysnights]

TW: NSFW, fem bodied reader, use of f*ck, smut, exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, make up s*x, unhealthy dinamics (don't blame me Fyodor is a warning himself), possesive behaviour (if anyone treats you like that please run away) Fyodor might be ooc and whipped for the reader, teasing, both parts acting immature (communication is the key people), no use of y/n, breeding kink, After reading ep 117 please don't hate my pookiebear 😞

Word count: 6.6k (I don't know what came over me so enjoy)

Click here for part 1

✧₊⁺.𖥔 ݁ ˖. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖₊⁺✧

Yeah, I want it all (from you)

Bye, bye, baby

Bye, bye, bye~

⁀➴

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Don't you know who you're dealing with?

Um, do you think you'll buy me lots of diamonds?

(Yes, of course I will my darling)

⋆⭒˚｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Blurring the lines between real and the fake

Dark and lonely, I need somebody to hold me

He will do very well

I can tell, I can tell

Keep me safe in his belltower hotel

He's loving my look

And I'm loving all his strategic ways

I said "do you think you'll kill for me one day?"

(Yes, of course I will, my darling)

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Life was not easy—at least for you. Actually, the last few weeks have been a living hell. Well, the issue was your ex-husband. Fyodor. You tried everything you could to ignore him, but failed miserably. But why was he so stubborn and casual to the extent that it got on your nerves? Why, out of nowhere, was he talking to you about the weather and then suddenly asking you why you had eye bags? Or were you sleeping enough and well? Sometimes hiding your frustration was difficult. You nearly thought that he was doing all of it on purpose. That sneaky bastard. So, your day looked like this: go outside and accidentally run into your ex-husband, try to avoid him at all costs, hide, and fail miserably.

After that, go home and spend the entire day and night thinking about how to avoid seeing his face again. But he was appearing out of nowhere at the times when you least expected him. All of this was difficult because he was exceptionally smart and always a step ahead. And a little bit hot. He couldn't see your thoughts, right? If so, you would be in trouble. Because the last time he drove you into a corner, his body was incredibly close to yours that you could hear nothing but your own heartbeat.

Also, the 'worst' part was how he touched you so softly, just like how you liked it. Like after your exhausting day at work, when the only thing you craved was nothing but his touch, and how you two only breathed in each other's presence while clinging to one another. But whatever it was, only remained the past now. But the most absurd part was you getting nervous and not even making eye contact with him. Damn, why was it so hard? He shouldn't have any meaning to you or a place in your heart anymore. Look at him, already healed and living his life as if mocking you. So why did you feel so stuck and frustrated?

So you gave him indifferent answers like "Oh, I'm fine" or "Yeah, the weather is quite nice today. Isn't it, Mr. Dostoevsky?" Oh, so you knew how to push his buttons, didn't you? You naive doll. His eyes changed to the darkest shade of purple. Reminding him of something that he didn't want to remember or even acknowledge was on his mind like a disease: the fact that you two were indeed divorced. That you weren't his—at least on paper. Well, what else could he expect? By staying by his side like the cute, clever thing you are, you've eventually learned a few tricks too, but who knew that you would be using them against him? But then he smiled....Oh, that smile that you adored...But it felt rather cold.

So there you were trying to build up a wall between yourself and him, and there he was angry and in fight with his heart. And now the formality? Yes, it was laughable indeed. Of course, it was reasonable that you would not act...as you did before the divorce. It was normal, right? So he took a step back from you, smiled again, and said goodbye as if you were an old friend of his and like he was going to see you again.

And there you were, standing dumbfounded and trying to process everything while he was smirking and humming a song to himself and walking away from you like it was a normal encounter. Well, who knows what was going through his mind? Maybe he was up to some mischief? You didn't bother to think about it since your heart was beating abnormally fast.

But for now, seeing him wasn't the main problem because you had a wedding to attend—your friend's wedding. To be honest, you aren't the most excited person about this event. Maybe you've become numb to your feelings, or 'he' was just appearing from the darkest parts of your mind. Was it always like this? Even when he wasn't by your side, he was the only thing you could think about.

He didn't play some dirty tricks on you, did he? So, just to clear your mind, you put on your dress, apply your makeup, and get into the taxi in case it starts to rain on your way. It was a cloudy day. What lovely weather for a wedding, isn't it? The wedding was held in a luxurious place in the city. Affording a place that expensive must have been hard on them since they weren't that rich in the first place, which is none of your business, but going to places like that felt a little weird 'cause it only reminded you about those days you've wished to forget. After getting out of the taxi, gray clouds greeted you.

It was becoming clear that not bringing an umbrella with you was a bad idea. You began walking inside the building to take the elevator. A sigh left your lips. It felt like it was going to be a long night. It has been a long time since you went into a crowd like this. But it was refreshing to talk to old friends and have chats with people. It made you forget your worries and feel a little freer. The place was pleasant, just like how you liked it. You got some champagne and began slowly sipping. You promised yourself that you weren't going to drink more than one glass, so you were going to cherish this one glass of champagne well.

Your head hurt a little because of all the chatter and music. The lights weren't helping either. So you decided to get away from the crowd a little bit. Taking your only friend—a glass of champagne—with you to the nearest window close to the terrace, you looked outside briefly. Well, it was raining cats and dogs outside. Another sigh left your lips. The sound of raindrops falling down the window and the accompanying sound of thunder were putting your mind at ease, even just a little bit. At least it was distracting you from your thoughts. So you take another sip and try to come up with things that were nice about this place.

The place was to your liking, your friend was happy, you got your drink with you, and many people were there—many, many people, actually. It was crowded. Maybe if you stayed long enough, you got to eat a slice of cake. Many people you didn't even know greeted you, gave you compliments and kissed your hand as a compliment—a gesture to show their interest in you. Yes.....it was a wonderful wedding indeed. Your battery was low, so eating cake might make you feel a little better.

So you decided to take a slice for yourself. But as you passed through all these people with your remaining energy, one of them caught your attention. His back was turned to you, but you could tell who he was in an instant. He was a little far away from you, in a distant corner of the place. At first, you decided your brain was playing games with you, or maybe you were drunk, but your glass was only half empty. So you instantly took a turn on your heels and hurried in the opposite direction. Why in all of those people he was here? He wore a black suit, but he didn't have his jacket on.

He was holding it on his arm while his hands were in his pockets and talking to some businessmen that you were sure had enough money to buy an island on a random day because the city was too noisy for their liking. Also, the important thing here was that 'he' didn't even know the groom and wasn't that close to your friend to be invited to her wedding. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and your palms were sweaty. Your only choice was getting out of here without him noticing you. Luckily, the bride was close to you, so you could just say goodbye to her and make up a story to leave early.

You exchange greetings with the bride and groom and try to keep the conversation as short as possible. The groom asks you if you like the place or not. So absentmindedly, you say yes, and the words coming out of his mouth make you lose your composure completely.

"Man, Dostoevsky surely has good taste. If it weren't for him, we wouldn't be able-"

The bride squeezes his arm and tells him to shut up. "W-what?" Is the only thing that comes out of your mouth after hearing his words.

But your friend just laughs nervously and tries to change the topic and starts to ask you questions about whether the cake is to your liking or not and other things that you can't comprehend at the moment. So you just murmur a short "goodbye" to both and start to walk away as if you didn't hear 'his' name coming out of the groom's mouth just a second ago. Your steps become faster as the seconds pass. With a still half-empty champagne glass you still hold in your hand that you forgot to put away, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of your high heels in the corridor that led to the elevator.

Seeing him at the wedding completely caught you off guard. What was he doing in a place like that? Also, when did he become that close to the groom to the extent that he helped him to afford a place this expensive? He wasn't the type to help someone he'd just met.

Oh......That sly man..... he knew you would come to this place so he could tease you until the end. Yes, that must be it, or you were just overreacting and he didn't care about you. Well, thinking about the latter made your heart swell. While thinking about these things, your fingertip met the buttons on the corridor for the elevator.

After pressing it, your fingers brushed against the skin on your neck and began to scratch it. It was an old habit of yours that you hated because it would give away the fact that you were anxious. Most of the time, you would make your skin bleed and hurt for weeks. To avoid this, you pressed the button again, as if pressing it repeatedly would make the elevator move faster. The sounds of the raindrops, the faint noises of the people, and the music could still be heard from the place that you were standing. That stupid glass of champagne was still in your hand.

The feeling to facepalm yourself was quite strong, but the sound of the elevator's door opening prevented that from happening. You entered quickly, pressed the button, and waited for the door to close inch by inch. The relief of being able to go home was spreading through your whole body. But— when the sliding door of the elevator was just about to close completely, a hand stopped that from happening. You held your breath because last-minute interruptions never signaled anything good for you—it was what you believed at least. The sliding door of the elevator revealed the person you wanted to see the last—it was none other than Fyodor.

He was there standing, one hand in his pocket, the other hand pushing the door of the elevator further to reveal your shocked figure. When your eyes met, your heart stopped, your breath hitched, and he was just standing, looking at you like he was devouring you, devouring your presence. None of you talked for a few seconds, and the only thing heard was a distant thunder in the background. Then he opened his mouth:

"Good evening, my dear. Running off when it is raining this much and with a drink in your hand is such a pleasant sight to see."

Yes, you could die from embarrassment right this moment. Not just you failed to run away but also looked stupid.

"Mr. Dostoevsky, good evening to you too. But I'm in a hurry, so—"

He raised one of his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly in amusement.

"Well, surely I can see that you are in a hurry. But dear, I don't quite understand the reason why."

Oh, how he liked to ask questions that he knew its answers to. He knew exactly why, but teasing you was much fun for him. Again, you weren't making eye contact with him and now playing with the hem of your dress to distract yourself from the fact that you were again, fell right into his plan. So you just turn your head to the side to avoid his question and give him the impression that he never asked you anything in the first place. Now his patience was running quite low. He spoiled you a lot didn't he? There is awkward silence that you can't stand, so you try to look at him from the corner of your eye without him noticing.

But when you do so, he is already staring at you with his deep purple eyes. His hand finds your chin in a quick but gentle touch and turns your head, so now your eyes are directly looking into his.

"My, my, you are not thinking of leaving when it is raining this much and it is also a shame that roads are closed too."

He steps into the elevator and casually presses a button inside. So now you are alone with him in the elevator and incredibly close to each other. Your plan failed with the doors of the elevator closing behind him.

"W-what are you doing?"

A chuckle leaves his lips as if you said something funny. His hand moves away from your chin as he steps aside; his warmth is now gone.

"Well, you are not planning to stay outside in this weather? Am I correct? There are rooms available for guests to stay the night. Aren't they very thoughtful? So I'm taking you to one, to rest for the night."

Oh, you weren't a step behind but several. But you were so sick, sick of all of this. His teasing and plans were too much for you to handle at this moment. Letting your emotions take the lead wasn't a wise decision; you were trying so hard not to. Elevator's door open and he steps outside and waits for you to come to his side, but you don't and stand on your heels. He was not going to let you get soaked and sick in this weather, or do something careless given your emotional state, so he takes your hand into his, even though he is only wrapping his hand around yours, and takes you to the so-called 'guest's room'. No words come through your mouth while your mind is screaming. You start to scratch your neck again. You want to hurt him, scream at him, and make him understand your feelings when he looks this comfortable. Your eyes start to fill with tears from frustration.

When he lets go of your hand and opens the door for you with a card that he's taken out of his pocket.

"My dearest, I wish you goodnight."

He takes that stupid champagne from you, and the things he makes leave you confused. He wraps his hand around your wrist that is scratching your skin and removes your gloves in a calm manner and puts them inside his pocket. Now, without your gloves that completed your outfit, you feel a little cold and a little bit vulnerable. He leans in slightly, taking your hand to his lips and kissing it before lifting his head and meeting your gaze. When your teary eyes meet his possessive ones, a chill runs down your spine. He squeezes your hand lightly.

Shit, even like that, he wants to ruin you. but fuck your eyes sparkling with tears just because of him makes him want to eat you whole so that nobody but only him could see you. That bastards who don't know their places putting their hands on yours so carelessly boils him with rage. They all should know that you only belong to him. So he continues to plant kisses on your hand, and now to your wrist. He sucks into your skin and licks it after to ease its pain so deliciously that it leaves you confused.

You don't understand why he is doing all of this. His soulless eyes, filled with darkness, only stare into yours as you free your hand from his. He turns and walks away, leaving you on the edge of the door. He is going to throw away those gloves that those filthy sinners' lips touched. He is beyond annoyed; no, he is going to burn those gloves first, then those foolish men later. Perhaps after that he will be satisfied. Your heart and mind were racing and your lips open to say the words that was going to make Fyodor stop in his tracks.

"Fyodor, I hope that my absence eats you whole."

He stops from thinking what to do to these men to comprehend your words. You wanted to hurt him, hurt his pride, and show him his own vulnerability. Well, actually, you did that. He wasn't planning to turn in his tracks according to his plan. But fuck, somehow when you were involved in his plans, they always seemed to crumble. A sound to show his dissatisfaction left his lips. He was just going to plant the seeds in your head to get you to come back. Then his plan would proceed. You're really something else.

He drank the remaining champagne in his hand in one sip, and his eyes staring to one point left to meet your back that was now turned to him. You were going inside the room in slow motion. His quick steps towards you and your quiet sobs were the only thing that could be heard beside the rain outside. With force now you were now inside the room and the door was closed shut behind you, but the shocking part was a sound of thud next to the console table and couple arms embracing you. His hand was encircling your waist and pressing your body into his further, not letting you go from his grasp.

His one hand now going upwards while caressing where he could reach, he held your chin and lifted it to meet your face now that was wet with tears. Why he always had to look like a madman when you were around?

"You have no idea what you do to me, don't you?"

His tone was cold, so was his eyes. Now you looking up to him with your doe eyes and the hitching of your breath with your sobs was a sight to see. There was no way he could let another man see you like this. How could he? He would break any hand that could reach to you and make them drown in their own blood.

"My love..."

He tucked your hair behind your ear, exposing your neck to him. He lowered his head to your neck, breathed in your scent gently and pressed a kiss to your pulse.

"My heart..."

You could hear your heartbeat. He moved slowly towards your ear.

"Don't worry your pretty head over everything. I will get all of it figured out for you."

Like he wasn't the main cause of all of this. Was he asking for forgiveness now? A loud sob escaped your lips.

" 'm tired" of you

His hair touching the side of your face and his voice near your ear made you feel weak in your legs.

"I know"

He let go of your chin and held your wrist, guiding your arm as you turned your face to him. Now that your face was turned to him, he could take a look at you properly. He missed your warmth, your gentle demeanor, and you. His hand moved from your wrist to your hand, guiding it to his lips before kissing the palm of your hand. His other hand found your waist and pressed your lower body against his again. Your free hand gripped the front of his suit. Your sobs are now louder. He was waiting, waiting for a hint for your forgiveness and acceptance. He wasn't going to force himself onto you; he wasn't a sinful man like that.

"If you allow me, my love, I will make it all work between us."

You were shocked and speechless. Was he really asking you to accept him back into your life? It was still raining outside; the room was nothing but ordinary—a king-sized bed with breathtaking scenery outside.

"Don't you see, sweetheart? All of it was just for you today. Put your trust in me once more, as you always do, and don't think anything else."

You knew better than anyone else that when he promised, all the words came out of his mouth were absolute truths that had yet to become true whenever he talked to you. Because he would never lie to you about serious things.

"You are still in my heart and always on my mind. You are no good for me. I know that too, but—"

With a swift motion, Fyodor leads you inside and toward the wall by releasing his grip on your wrist and putting his other hand behind your back to quickly wrap around your waist. He pressed your back completely to the wall while pressing his whole body into yours. And he kissed you feverishly, rough with a sense of claiming. Your head was spinning. He kissed, sucked, and bit your lower lip. It felt so good that you were falling apart under his touch. So you held him like your life depended on him, you held his neck, deepened the kiss, and leaned to him more with desperation.

You were running out of breath but couldn't stop kissing him. You returned his kiss with the same desire. You could feel heat building up in your stomach. A moan vibrated through your throat. His palm found the back of your thigh, grasped it, and lifted it to press further into you as he slowly rubbed his groin into yours. A groan escaped his lips. His hand rose higher and higher until it reached the hem of your dress and up to the curve of your ass and caressed, squeezed it with force. When you two pull away from each other, there was a string of saliva connecting you two. His body felt warm against yours.

He was going to make up to you in every way possible. He was going to worship your body tonight, just as he did every day when he got down on his knees to pray to God. You looked stunning like that, his angel, your hair a little tangled, your eyes hazy and filled with desire. Your lips briefly connected again, and he encouraged you to part them so that his tongue could enter and explore your mouth. Not feeling his skin under your touch was unbearable, so you started to loosen his tie and pull him more while your other hand tried to unbutton his vest and shirt. He smirked against your lips before parting for a second.

"Eager, are we?"

You blushed and glanced away from him just to meet his eyes a second later while slightly nodding.

"Mmph"

Fyodor cursed quietly in his native language. You were just so his and obedient it made his dick twitch in his pants. He pecked your lips again and began sucking on the skin of your neck, opening the zip in the back of your dress and causing it to fall to the floor. You wrapped your hand around his neck and massaged his head while breathing deeply. Quiet moans escaped your lips and it only made the bulge in his pants bigger.

His lips on your neck leaving marks, an evident sign that you were his, and licking just to bite after to make you whimper was delightful to his ears. Fyodor began to lead you to bed, holding you impossibly close to his body. The back of your leg hit the edge of the bed, and he laid you gently on it, his eyes dark with a glint of lust, he was nearly fully clothed, he looked at you with pure hunger while you were only in your underwear and bra.

"Myshka, you only wore that dress just to drive me mad with temptation, didn't you? Oh darling, even when you are not aware of it, your mind desires to please me."

That dress was his anniversary present to you; you never got to wear it, though, due to circumstances you don't want to remember right now. Maybe you picked that dress unknowingly or maybe on purpose. Who knows? He began unbuttoning the remaining buttons while looking down at you. Your panties were getting wetter by the second under his gaze.

"So now tell me."

He slowly took off his vent and tossed it aside while maintaining eye contact.

"Did any man lay their hands on you while you weren't by my side?"

He was teasing you; you knew it, and he knew it well too. You couldn't just let any man touch you, no.

"Took of your bra."

So your hands moved to your back to remove your bra. He was staring at you intensely, his hands on the sides of your thighs, stroking them gently. When you took it off, he let out a pleasant hum. When your hands reached the ends of your panties, he stopped you with his voice.

"Keep them on, darling."

Fyodor began to unbutton his shirt and tossed it aside. His pale, lean, yet muscular skin was visible. The bulge in his pants is evident to your eyes. He leaned in while putting his body between your legs, parting them further.

"My eyes are up here pretty."

He loved teasing you and making you a blushing mess.

"Now tell me, did they touch you here?"

He kissed your clavicle tenderly and bit just to get a reaction out of you. A gasp escaped you.

"N-no" He licked it and continued to leave kisses alongside your breast, just to stop and look into your needy eyes once again. He leaned in and bit your earlobe before whispering into your ear.

"How about here?"

His hand cupped your breast and gave it a light squeeze. A sigh escaped you.

"N-never"

A hum vibrated through your ear.

"Yeah, just like that, keep being my good girl."

He leaned to take your nipple inside his mouth and giving it a light suck, his hot tongue was sucking the bud while playing with your other nipple, rolling it between his fingers to not neglect it.

He left marks there too. Your moans grew louder; your hand grabbed and tugged his dark hair, earning a growl from him. He continued kissing your skin down to your belly, your back arching into his touch. Your underwear was damp with your wetness, and your pussy was aching with the desire to be filled. Fyodor kept you steady with his hands to stop you from closing your legs against his body.

"Myshka, behave" It was impossible since it had been so long since you felt this way.

"'M sorry."

He lowered himself to lick a long strand of your clothed heatness. Your breathing quickened, and your hand closed your mouth to muffle your moans.

Fyodor looked up to you and sucked the fabric and started to push his tongue against your clit earning more whines from you. God, you were beautiful and all his to ruin. He could feel your hole twitching and your panty getting soaked with your juices.

His hand found the hem of your panties and waited for you to look at him.

"Then what about here, darling?"

You were desperate and craving for him; your answer didn't disappoint him.

"N-no Fyodor, never!"

His name spilling out of your mouth so deliciously made his member twitch in anticipation. So before he took it off, he prevented you from closing your mouth by taking one of your hands into his.

Then he took it off in one smooth movement, your juices glistening, your hole twitching with want, he hummed and buried himself between your legs, licking and kissing your pussy with fever. His nose bumping against your clit made you moan loudly. His face between your heat, his tongue working skillfully to tease your nerve endings, his lips kissing and slurping your arousal with sinful noises were starting to get you to the edge. Your free hand gripped his hair to make him go faster.

"A-ahh"

His other hand, keeping you down, opened your thighs even more. Your sounds only made his pants tighter. Fyodor started to move faster; your taste only made him hungrier; his hand on your thigh now started to caress your walls to find the spot that made you see stars. He began stretching you by adding a second finger, while his tongue lapped at your wet folds. He stretched you with his fingers, and he couldn't help but let a moan escape. All sensations were becoming overwhelming, and Fyodor felt your walls clench around his fingers.

"M-mh n-nnagh F-Fyo I-I'm-"

He knew you were close, so he found the spot that made you weak, bent, and rubbed his fingers to stimulate it continuously. You pulled his hair harder and desperately tried to move your hips against his face with need. You heard him groan; he added another finger, and you were beyond gone, cumming andcrushing down while moaning loudly. Your body squirmed as he helped you ride out your orgasm. You felt dizzy and gasped for air as your juices dripped down his chin. The sight was filthy and hot at the same time. He gathered your juices in his fingers, sucked on them with lust, and looked deeply into your eyes. The sight caused you to moan again.

"You taste divine, my dear."

Then he started kissing you with the same lust, tasting yourself on his tongue made you squirm again. Your hands caressed his back and you kissed him back. He lowered his groin and pressed it into your wet pussy, making you whimper into his mouth while grinding his rock hard member against you. He placed his hands on your hips to make you grind against him harder, earning a muffled moan from you. The heat pooling in your stomach once again, making the front of his pants wet with your juices, you hear him moan into your lips. Fyodor moves away from you, his belt clinking. He looks at you like he's about to devour you whole.

So you accept him once again. He takes his pants off alongside his boxers, revealing his cock, his tip dripping with precum. First, he makes you comfortable on the bed and puts your legs to his sides, revealing your pussy to him more, his behavior turning you on more and more. Your sight sends shivers down his spine, and he has to restrain himself from taking you right here and there. Your sweaty form, lustful eyes, and eagerness are only fueling the fire. He pulls you closer to him, making your legs wrap around his waist. He strokes himself a few times before looking back at you. Your walls are clenching around nothing and feeling empty.

He uses his tip to gather around your fluids to lubricate his dick then slowly circling your entrance with it while pulling cute noises from you.

"F-fyodor, please don't tease me anymore."

He chuckles coldly.

"What happened to Oh, Mr. Dostoevsky, hmm?"

He slowly pushes himself. A gasp leaves you, your walls sucking him in for more, leaving Fyodor nearly breathless, he growls.

"Mmph- Aah-ah—that—you know why."

He's halfway through, and your warmth is already intoxicating.

"Well do I?"

He was not foolish or sinful like those around him. He had a greater purpose. But now he was kneeling and worshipping your body. Maybe loving someone only led to sin in the best ways possible. You couldn't let him go; you know it is toxic. But damnit, he lets it happen. He spoiled you too much, didn't he? Now he can't predict anything—any emotions, to be precise. These are his feelings, but he is unable to understand or rationalize them. It irritates him if he can't control it or twist it to his liking. Oh, God, help his pure soul. He pushes himself all the way in one go, taking you by surprise with a whimper. Leaning down into you, he pushes you down into missionary, his elbows on the sides of your head, slowly pulling his cock in and out of you as your moans got louder.

He is in no better shape, but he was trying not to show it while gasping for air. Your gummy walls squeezing him tight and already milking him, your whines close to his ear making it hard for him to keep his composure. He starts moving faster, hitting your G spot along the way. Your hands on his back, scratching his pale skin, and your legs pulling him closer only feeding his possession more. He gazes into your eyes, thrusting faster and rougher. Your eyes were cloudy just like the weather and now they were tearing up, but this time with pleasure. You look back at him, your resentful eyes only turning him on more.

Oh, how he loves those eyes of yours. Picking up the pace, he leans in and puts more weight on you. While panting for more air, he thrusts one more time and places his lips near your chin and whispers:

"Myshka isn't my side of the bed cold? Don't you want me to come back to you?"

Your legs tightening and trembling around him, you couldn't see his face but only could hear the squelching sounds from where you two were connected and your moans with the sound of rain. A white ring was forming in the base of his cock while you were meeting his thrust feverently. As he sinks deeper into you, you could feel your climax approaching. Your mind clouded with pleasure, you answer him.

"Fuck Fedya, yes!"

Yes, yes, yes, call him like that again and fuck yes, he will destroy the world if you want. Yes, he will buy you a house fuck even with the one with a lake. Then again, he will fuck you as much as you want him to. Who exactly is he fooling? He is yours eternally, just as you are his for a lifetime. God must have been playing games with his mind. Oh, your eyes and how they look under the moonlight. Oh, how he likes it even more when they get all shimmery with tears all because of him. Since he is the only one who can bring heaven to you with such pleasure. All his, all fucking his.

That nickname, his name, coming out of your mouth only makes his dick harder and balls tighter. Chasing his own high with you, he speeds up and places his thumb on your clit, playing with it to push you over the edge. Thick tears making their way down to your face to his hair. He raises his head and with his thick Russian accent, he curses between his teeth once again.

"I gave you what you have wanted, didn't I, darling? So why are you crying right now? How petty."

Such simple and heartbreaking words coming out of his mouth as if he isn't the one who is actually acting petty. How laughable isn't it? But he can't let you see him this vulnerable. The knot in your lower belly threatening to snap anytime makes you desperate for your own release.

"You gotta use your words, pretty."

"I-I'm- aghhh- I'm coming."

Your toes curling, juices drenching the sheets, holding him close with your legs, your climax washes over your body once again. Your gummy walls clamping down on his shaft and welcoming him once more. He groans and pushes you into the mating press and chases his own high. He captures your lips once again and gives you a deep but sloppy kiss while pushing your legs more apart. If he fucks a baby into you, you wouldn't try to run away, right? Since you would carry the obvious sign that you belonged to him. So those trashy guys won't dare to lay their filthy hands on you ever again.

If they do, he will erase them from existence. He moans to your lips, the thought of you carrying his child, with full of his seed, pushing him over the edge as he thrusts again, spilling thick robs of cum inside you, his eyes rolling back. He pushes his dick deeper into you, ensuring that nothing goes to waste. You whimper and kiss him back as tears fall once more, this time from overstimulation. When he recovers from his high, he pulls his dick out and rolls to the side.

Gently pulling you into a hug to his chest, facing him, you hug him back and kiss his Adam's apple softly. You felt tired and sleepy; for a few minutes, you two just stayed like that.

"So Mrs. Dostoevsky want me to draw a warm bath for you?"

You were flushed and slowly drifting off to sleep. The only thing you could mutter was a quiet "mmhm" and a slight tilt of your head.

Rain was still hitting the windows, as if it were trying to sing you a lullaby. The last thing you heard before falling asleep was a faint chuckle, followed by a couple of arms wrapping around your body, enveloping you in a familiar warmth.

Well, you were gonna come back to him one way or another. He knew that; he was sure of it, of course, since he is smart, right? When you come back to him and accept his vulnerability, once again he will let it happen because you are his. He can't predict what will happen in the future with you because God must have created such a bond that even after everything, you are still drawn to him, and he will always accept his pure girl to his hell and cherish ruin his angel. He can't create heaven nor go to one, but he will do everything to bring one to you.

But now Fyodor wasn't sleeping, but rather watching how your little body was wrapped around his—all vulnerable and untainted—to his liking, of course. He squeezed your body slightly in a possessive manner, pressing his body deeper into yours. He will make all the ways back to him for you. He was going to make it happen. So you could return to him. Because you're his innocent wife. How foolish of you to believe that a simple piece of paper could end your relationship with him. He was certain that God created you specifically for him to hold, caress, and breed. Everything happened only so you could return to where you belong, as God intended.

A few disagreements aren't the problem when you are in his arms like this, being all beautiful and innocent. How pure and filthy, how separating and unifying. Even God had his favorites, so it is normal that you also have a little privilege for yourself. How magnificent, right?

Because you are still his, and always will be. He will make sure of it.

Taglist: @sssarrrra @fyology @literatureloverx

So just for you guys to know I’ve never touched a man in my life. I didn't even feel anything romantic towards someone but here I am writing fanfiction about a death author dude who is probably +500 years old in an anime and I'm calling him bbg and the love of my life. Huh 😮‍💨 life is really full of surprises. It was my first time writing smut so please be nice I tried my best okay? 🥺🙏 Also English is not my first language so if there are any grammatical mistakes forgive this pookie (me🥺). Hope you like it tho. Comments, reblogs are greatly appreciated 💜

[ryukatters]

jealousy, jealousy — k. bakugo ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊

Based off of this

cw: fluff, jealousy, this is so unserious im sorry i just can’t help it

Katsuki shouldn’t be surprised when people flirt with you. You’re stunning after all— no doubt about it. Let them stare— he thinks every single time he catches someone’s wandering eyes on you. 

And if someone tries to get bold because of what you're wearing? It’s alright, Katsuki can fight. “You can wear whatever you want, baby. You look hot as fuck, by the way.” is always the answer when you ask him if your outfit is too much. 

Point is, Bakugo isn’t ever particularly bothered by a few stray compliments or lustful gazes thrown your way. In fact, he welcomes it— let everyone acknowledge how hot his girlfriend is, because they’d never get a chance with you if Katsuki could help it.

Yet right now, he wants nothing more than to drag you back home and lock the two of you up away from the rest of the world— to keep prying eyes off of what’s his. 

“Can I get you anything else?” the waiter (whose name Katsuki makes out on his little silver name tag to be Aki) asks jovially, paying no mind to the fuming blond on the other end of the table. “Another drink, some dessert, my number?” 

You have the nerve to giggle before Bakugo cuts in with a rather terse, “Just the check, if you will.”

Katsuki can’t believe what he just saw and heard unfold right in front of his (literal) salad. Aki drops the check book in front of Katsuki before suavely picking up your dishes with a charming smile, not breaking eye contact with you. 

Bakugo’s never wanted to bash a ceramic plate over someone’s head so badly in his life. 

He places a couple hundreds on the tab before pulling out your chair and grabbing your hand. 

“We’re leaving.”

“‘Suki—”

The car ride back home is tense, to say the least. Bakugo breaks the silence a few moments after you step through the door of your shared home. 

“You had fun back there? A nice date with your new boyfriend, wasn’t it?”

“Katsuki, he was just being nice.” 

“So we’re just on a first name basis now? No spare “babe” or “handsome” for me, huh? ‘S just for him?” 

You bite back something between a cross of a sigh and laughter. It’s rare for your boyfriend to be so jealous, though you figure your waiter just happened to be a lot bolder than others for blatantly flirting with you all night while you were obviously on a date. 

“Baby,” you sigh, reaching out to comfort your boyfriend. He turns away from you with a huff, arms crossed. Katsuki is the biggest drama queen you know. (Though he would argue there’s only room for one drama queen in your relationship, and that you wear the crown.)

You simply click your teeth, sidestepping around him to face him. You run a hand across his firm chest appreciatively before wrapping it around his tie and pulling him down to meet you in a kiss. 

“I’m so lucky to have a big, strong, handsome man like you as my boyfriend,” you coo, buttering him up with dulcet words dripping in sweet honey.

He can huff and puff all he wants, but you know Katsuki can’t stay mad for long, especially when you sing praises to him like this. So you know you’ve won this battle the minute Katsuki slides an arm around your waist, returning the kiss with fervor. “Damn right you are.”

You giggle, threading your fingers through blonde locks. “He probably just wanted a big tip,” you joke, eyes crinkling in amusement at the way Katsuki’s lips automatically contort into a frown before smirking.

“If he wanted a big tip he should’ve been flirting with me,” he laughs gruffly, pulling you into a tight embrace before placing a kiss on your forehead. “We’re staying home next date night.” 

[peachyloveswriting]

ok but how about something a little wholesome and a dash of silly where reader is like literal golden retriever energy with the cod boys? like, they could be gone for 1 day and they come back and reader is like "oh my god i missed you 🥹"

GOLDEN RETRIEVER ENERGY --- Cod boys

SUMMARY: The COD boys with a clingy s/o :)just a bunch of fluff and cuddles that's all.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

PRICE

You and your husband Price don't always get to have missions together so when he's required to leave for a day or two you know there are dangers involved once he's out there. The whole time you worry for his well being and physical health and stress your own in the process. It's hard knowing he's out there and you can't be there to help. Thankfully he has his team to protect him and finish the job nicely but once he comes back it's suddenly like your a different person.

Laying in your bunk with a book in hands your eyes skimmed the page. The words were flowing through your mind like a trickling stream, not exactly sticking or registering in reality for that moment in time. The words were being read actively as you looked at them but no matter what Price just wasn't leaving your head.

The door to the room opens, Price huffing, he tosses his bag down beside the door and kicks it shut behind him. Just the smell of his room being around him again fills him with a warm feeling. Something he associates with you. A bright smile on your face as you leap onto his arms with a laugh and squeeze him into a tight hug. Your body against his is a living sense that proves he made it home in one piece. You hold him down. But for some reason you're not in his arms yet.

Looking at where you lay on the bed he furrows his brows and picks his boots off to walk over. "Love?" He coos. In your head it's almost like he just walked in, Ghost said they weren't going to be back for another three days and that was only yesterday. At this point you must've been losing it.

Not seeing you acknowledge his presence, Price frowned. Normally you would have engulfed him in a hug by now. Something must be terribly wrong for you to have not moved yet. He speaks out again, this time with caution on his voice. "Love? Is something wrong?"

Finally turning to look at the door your heart slams against your chest. Something in your stomach flips and suddenly your tossing the book halfway across the room and jumping to your feet just to leap from the bed into his arms. Your legs wrapped around his torso and head tucked away in the crook of his neck. "You're home!" You squeak with a bright smile. He laughs heartily, warmth spreading in his chest as he catches you against him his his hands under your thighs. "Yes, I'm home love."

GHOST

"I only have to get a few things. Staying in the truck?" He asked before he took the keys from the ignition. You nodded. "Yeah, I'll stay."

Nodding curtly he left the truck running and pushed open the door. Sliding down from the seat and turning around he raised his brows. "I'll be right back." With that he promptly closed the door and you watched him walk away inside the store. He was coming to pick up a few drinks and some teabags for back home. One of his few times off work.

You started talking to him romantically a few months back, first thing he told you was what he did for a living. You knew then that it would be difficult to form a relationship with him because of how often he's gone. As time's moved on though, he's taken you out on six dates and on every single on of them he had just returned home. This would make seven. He was taking you back to his house for dinner and drinks. You're more than happy to be here sitting in his truck happily waiting for his eventual return. You'll have to give it to him, he's very dedicated.

Never once during that time that he was away did he not call you at least once to see how your day was. Most men don't do that unless you tell them too maybe that's why you like this one so much. Come to think of it, anytime he's not away he's with you spending money on you and taking you on dates. True dedication. At this point the other men you were interested men were blocked and dropped the moment you started talking to him.

Jogging across the lot with his hood covering his head, Simon grabbed the door handle and snatched it open to jump and climb in. Spooked, you lumped and shouted. Shutting the door he looked at you with furrowed brows. The moment you realized it was just him you started to laugh to yourself.

"I scare you?" He asks as he leans over with a smirk and puts the bags in the floorboard at your feet. Nodding, you grab hold of his arm and press your face into his bicep. "Don't do that again." You said. He chuckles, a hand coming up to pat your head. "I will."

Sitting back up with a satisfied smile on your face, you speak. "Good- wait."

SOAP

You're first night at the safehouse and Soap and Ghost had already left you alone with the rest of 141, left to talk to Price. Gaz and Alejandro weren't bad company, no, not at all. But after a long, grueling, and ongoing mission this would be your first nights laying in an actual in weeks. Sadly it seemed like your boyfriend, John, wouldn't be able to join you. It was already sundown, the sun set hours ago and your aching body was calling you to bed.

After saying goodnight to the team that stayed behind, you trudged your way to the bedroom you claimed the moment you saw it and secluded yourself to the comfortable mattress. You wouldn't dare lay down though, knowing that if you did you might miss John coming back. Till then you'd be stuck by yourself in a cold bed without someone to talk you to sleep.

The house was dead silent when Ghost and Soap returned, both of they're sore and tired bodies cried out for sleep. The sleep settled in Soap's bones as he made his way back towards the rooms. "Goin' to bed already Johnny?" Ghost queried.

"That's right L.T." He hums as he slowly walks away. Ghost watches him with blank eyes before he sighs and walks into the livingroom by himself. John felt bad for leaving Ghost in there all by himself but the bed was calling him home and so were you. Making his way to the door he pushes it open to find you sitting at the end of the bed with your elbows resting on your knees.

Hearing the door open your head perks up, the moment you see him close the door a bright smile spreads across your face. "Thought you weren't gonna make it." You observed as you turned and crawled your way over the bed to where he stood. Taking his vest off he drops it to the floor, when he looks back down at you your waddling your way across the mattress. Soon enough your arms are wrapped around his waist and your head is pressed into his stomach.

"It's nice to see you again baby." He hums, his hands gently rub the back of your head. His heart beats rapidly in his chest while his stomach does flips at the sight of you. "Stop leaving me." You whine. Smiling at your words he chuckles softly. Warmth spreads across his chest at your words, it takes all of him not to baby you right here.

"Let me get comfy first love, cuddles in just a second." He says. Letting go of him with a frown you plop back onto the mattress and watch him take off the rest of his gear. His shoes are the last to go, the moment their off he tackling you into the bed pulling you close to him with a tired smile.

It couldn't get my h better than this.

KÖNIG

König was supposed to be coming back on leave today, at least that's what he told you the last like he called. He was telling you he had one last thing before he could come home. It wouldn't be much longer but you spent all night cleaning the house and running around. Your feet are buzzing with excitement even after twelve hours of cleaning. Though your back and arms are sore you continue to find ways to distract yourself from waiting.

At the moment you were in the garage cleaning out your car. You're leaned over in the back seat with all the doors open so the music from the radio can play loud enough for you to feel comfortable and in a good mood. The music was so loud though that the sound of the front door opening and closing went unheard.

König could clearly hear the music playing from the garage. That was his first clue that you were distracting yourself. In a way it brought a smile to his face, knowing that this time it was only a few walls between you. Happy to be home he dropped his bag on the couch and strode towards the garage door.

Standing up to set your bag of trash to the side you spot a large shadow standing off to the side. Startled, you jolt and spin to look at what you saw. It took a moment to register that it was only König but once you knew, you screamed.

Your heart leapt out your chest as you bolted to him and engulfed him in a tight hug. All the while you feet danced beneath you, happy to have him home. "König!" You cheer. Hearing you call his name with such excitement fills his chest with warmth. He can't help the bright smile that tugs at his lips as he looks down at you in his arms, your face pressed into his chest. He wouldn't trade this for the world.

[robinsegghead]

Danny's Daycare Part 6

[Master List]

"I’m going to feel really bad about all of this if he doesn’t turn out to be evil.” Duke sighed.

          Tim hummed in acknowledgement, still buried in his work and completely enthralled and enraged by what he had found. Or rather, what he had not found. “He has to be something - there’s nothing about him! Daniel Nightingale does not exist! There’s no internet presence, no pictures, videos, nothing! Nobody who comes into that kind of money is just a… a…”

          “Ghost?” Duke asked as Tim snapped his fingers to remember the word.

          Pointing at Duke, he nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! That! He’s like a ghost or something- I don’t trust it!”

          Standing up, Duke moved away from the batcomputer and towards the exit. “Have you ever considered that maybe he’s just a nice guy doing a nice thing?” He paused, no response coming from Tim. “Of course not,” he muttered. “That would require seeing the good in literally anyone.”

~~~

            Sunday was much less exciting. Danny went to the store successfully, drank his coffee without spilling it on himself, fixed his coffee maker, and notably; didn’t kill anyone or run into any vigilantes. Which, thank Ancients, honestly. Danny was not here to play hero again, but he was self-aware enough to admit that if he somehow befriended the birds and bats that he’d let himself get dragged back into it.

            So he stayed inside. 

            Monday was also quiet. Twelve kids between Mia, Ember, and Danny wasn’t too bad but he did get lunch delivered for all three of them. The parents later that day brought news of Joker’s death which had apparently reached the public. The article said nothing about murder (although it was obviously speculated at) and neither Danny’s name nor his face were in the article. 

            He didn’t sleep that night.

            Tuesday wasn’t any busier than Monday, but it felt hectic, and Danny wrote a physical note to himself to hire more help. So far he’d gotten lucky, good workers wouldn’t just keep falling into his lap, he’d need to look for it. There was more speculation about the Joker’s death (there were even more parties) but Danny kept his nose out of it. Not his circus. Not his monkey’s. 

            Except it kind of was, and he’d killed the monkey.

            Wednesday was fine, Danny learned a bit more about the Joker through the constant barrage of news. It was through this barrage that he learned more about Duke’s past and its relation to the Joker. Feeling a bit like a creep, Danny found as much information as he could on the Thomas’s, where they were, how long they’d been there, and what had happened to them. It was… distressing to say the least.

            Danny contacted Frostbite about working on a Joker venom cure.

            Thursday wasn’t special. Danny both liked and hated how slow his days had been recently. No one had tried to mug him recently (which was fine albeit boring), with help at the daycare he didn’t find himself quite as exhausted at the end of the day, and sleep continued to evade him with the exception of small bouts that came on randomly and without care if he was laying down or not. Some would call it ‘passing out’, Danny called it power napping.

            He was just waking up from another one of his power naps, this one taken only a foot away from his couch, when his phone rang. The number wasn’t one he knew, but the area code was Gotham.

            “Hello?” He answered, stretching his stiff arms, and rubbing the sore spot on his head from where it hit the edge of the coffee table at the… beginning of his power nap.

            There was a shuffling on the other end of the line, then a groan, and finally, a response. “Danny...? It’s… Miguel. Listen I… I-” There was a choking sound followed by a wet cough and Danny realized this wasn’t exactly the call he’d been expecting. Slipping on his jacket and shoes and grabbing a first aid kit, he left his apartment.

            “Where are you?”

            “25 th and Mundson… I’m…” He let out a shuddery breath and Danny thought he heard sniffling. “It’s bad man.”

            Danny had already begun his flight from the moment Miguel had answered. It only took a couple of minutes, Danny spent the entire time speaking words of encouragement, instructing him on what to do. Miguel had been stabbed in the lower stomach and was losing blood fast. Upon arrival, Danny was grateful to see the kid still kicking, putting as much pressure on the wound as he could, just like Danny had said.

            “Hey, Miguel, how we doing?” He pulled the shirt away from his stomach and checked the wound. It was deep. 

            Miguel groaned, head falling back against the brick wall behind him.

            “None of that, kid, talk to me.” Danny pulled out wads of gauze and pressed them into the open wound trying to staunch the bleeding.

            Despite his request, Miguel didn’t manage to say anything, only letting out more sounds of pain every few seconds. Once he’d gotten the gauze wrapped tightly against his wound, Danny wound his arms around the boys’ frame and pulled him into his arms. 

            “Thompkins clinic is only a couple of blocks away.” He murmured, booking it down the sidewalk. 

            Miguel made his discomfort known as he loudly groaned and cried into Danny’s shoulder. Guilt tugged at the half dead king. He’d been in tough spots, but honestly? This was a first. He’d never held someone while they bled out except himself and he was sure he would have been happier going his whole life without. 

            As the building came into sight he felt the prickle of hope just under his skin, only to been diminished by Miguel’s breathing coming to a stop.

            “Come on, kid. Please.” He grit out, shoving through the door.

            The receptionist stood up quickly, fear being replaced by resolve. She moved immediately, opening the door to the actual clinic.

            “Doctor!” She shouted, as Danny shoved past her and laid Miguel on the table. 

            “He’s been stabbed. He called me eleven minutes ago, I applied pressure and wrapped it eight minutes ago, it’s deep.” He barely breathed, forcing the words out as fast as he could.

            Doctor Thompkins and her receptionist nurse worked quickly, pushing Danny out of the room and trying to save Miguel’s life. Sitting in the waiting room was excruciating. With his advanced hearing he could tell when the doctor pulled out the paddles, when she zapped Miguel (Danny wincing at the phantom ((ha)) feeling of electricity coursing through his own body), he could hear when she demanded the nurse for more medicine, to wipe the area, to hand her a tool, and he could hear it all knowing he couldn’t help.

            He’d come to Gotham to help people. And he couldn’t. He sat in the lobby, paralyzed, unable to help one of the few people he’d specifically offered his help to.

            When the door opened almost two hours later, the nurse offered him a small smile and nodding for him to go to the back. He didn’t waste a second, breezing by her and directly to the bed Miguel laid in, covered by a blanket, vitals stable.

            “He’s going to be okay.” Doctor Thompkins starts, looking over a clipboard. “It was pretty serious, his heart stopped three times and we had to bring him back. If this were any other kind of clinic I would have had him transferred to a hospital via an ambulance the moment you brought him in.” She said pointedly, there was no real bite in her words. “I’d like to at least keep him over night, make sure he’s okay before he goes galivanting around Crime Alley again.”

            Danny nodded. “Thank you.” He paused, staring at Miguel before turning back to the doctor. “Sorry, uh, I’m Danny. Danny Nightingale.” He held his hand out to shake, blood still caked under his fingernails no matter how many times he’d tried to scrub it away.

            She offered a small smile. “I’ve heard a great deal about you Mr. Nightingale. He looks a bit old to be yours though.” She gestured to Miguel.

            “Oh, no.” He chuckled. “We’ve only met a couple of times, but I gave him my number in case he was ever in trouble. It came in handy tonight.” 

            Nodding, the doctor looked back at her clipboard. “Do you know about family? Anyone we can contact?”

            He sighed, Miguel’s phone heavy in his pocket. “I grabbed his phone but… I know it’s just him and his little brother. I don’t know where the brother is, but I don’t want him out there all alone all night. He might come looking for his brother. I’ll see if I can find any information in his phone.”

            She nodded again, hesitantly before turning away. “I have a couple of things to work on, but you’re welcome to stay here for a while.”

~~~

           Tucker had found Miguel’s little brother’s information in the phone and Danny had set out immediately. He had no idea how Tucker had done it, there was no phone number for his brother, no home address, but Tucker just gave one of his ‘you won’t understand even if I dumb it down for you’ sighs and Danny didn’t question it.

            He’d felt bad about leaving Miguel, but Doctor Thompkins assured him the boy wouldn’t wake until the morning and it would be more dangerous for Santiago (Miguel’s little brother) to be alone all night. So he’d left.

            He didn’t like what he’d found. 

            An abandoned office building on the edge of Crime Alley. Not just abandoned, caved in, likely from a bomb, half the building was missing, there was no roof, most of the second floor had crumbled away leaving the first floor open to the dangers of the night.

            “Santiago?” Danny called cautiously. “My name is Danny; I know your brother.” He hoped Santiago was here. Please don’t let him be searching the streets for his brother. Miguel had said he was only thirteen. “Miguel’s hurt, I’ve come to take you to him.” 

            His senses flared and his body moved on instinct, dodging the long piece of wood that swung at his head. Rolling forward and springing back up, he spun around to face his attacker. His attacker being a little kid. He wore a worn-down jacket, the zipper was open and broken, there were holes in the t-shirt underneath, his jeans were shredded around the ankles and his toes poked through the shoes that were holding on by the shoelaces.

            Raising both hands in a surrender motion, Danny sighed. “Santiago?” The boy’s look was guarded, but fear was clearly underneath, and he nodded once, barely. “I met your brother the other night, my name’s Danny. Your brother got hurt and I took him to Thompkins clinic, I came to bring you to him so you wouldn’t worry about him all night.”

            The two-by-four lowered slowly but not all the way. “’E may’ve mentioned ya.” His voice was so quiet, barely a whisper.

            Danny nodded encouragingly. “I want to help you- both- if you’ll let me. But that’s not what I’m here for tonight. I didn’t want you to be alone or go searching for your brother, so I came to bring you to him. And then, at least while he’s healing, I’d like to help you guys out, if you’ll let me.”

            And with the look Santiago gave him, he was optimistic that he could wear them down.

~~~

          As he’d learned in the past six months, Danny wasn’t just the king of the infinite realms. No- he was the king of hasty decisions. He already owned the apartment building he lived in and he’d been fixing up the empty apartments, but without much thought (or asking Miguel and Santiago’s opinions) he went online and purchased all of the necessary furniture to house two boys and set the delivery for the next day.

          “Mr. Nightingale-” Miguel started.

          “Danny.”

           Miguel ignored him. “Mr. Nightingale, tha’s too much. We can’t accept this. Why would you even want us to move in?” His balled his fists in the hospital blanket. Doctor Thompkins had thankfully stepped out to give them some privacy. “What do you want from us?”

           “Listen, Miguel,” Danny rubbed a hand across his forehead. “I don’t WANT anything FROM you. I want you both to be safe. I want you both to go to school. And I want you to only worry about grades and socializing and other kid things.” He raised a hand calmingly as Miguel geared up to argue. “And I know you aren’t kids- you’ve been through too much to be considered kids, but you are young, and you deserve to feel safe.”

           The brothers looked between each other and Danny.

           “I don’t want to charge rent; I don’t want anything from you.” He repeated. “I want to help you, remember? That’s what I do. That’s what people like me are made for. Helping.”

           Santiago, in a rare show of childishness, climbed onto his brother’s bed and into his lap, whispering something in his ear. The two shared a pointed look, a telepathic conversation happening between them while Danny tried not to watch. Miguel sighed.

          “So… how would this work?”

          Danny leaned back in his chair, hoping he looked less intimidating like this. “I own the apartment building I live in. I’d like to give you two one of the apartments to live in, rent free, obviously. I’d like to tutor you both so you can get into a good school before next semester, we could do that on weekends and in evenings. I would also like you to leave your gang,” Miguel opened his mouth, but Danny pressed on. “I can offer you a job that will pay much better than any gang will.” Miguel’s mouth shut.

          The three sat in silence for a moment after that, Miguel thinking it all through. “Why us man?”

          The Halfa shrugged. “Why not? I can’t help everyone, but I can help you two. You’re just as deserving as anyone else is and I have the means.”

          “This ain’t some weird sugar daddy situation, is it?”

           Danny actually laughed at that. “No, Ancients no! I already told you what I want. And it’s not anything weird or creepy or gross. I just want to help.” I just want to protect.

           “Fine.” Miguel mutters. “But no creepy shit! An’ you ain’t my dad!”

           He nodded, grinning. “Agreed.”

~~~

            Danny insisted they stay at the clinic for another twenty-four hours, both so Miguel could recover a bit more before walking around and so he could get the apartment set up before their arrival.

            First he contacted Ember and begged her to work the whole day tomorrow and be responsible about it, then he called Mia and told her he had a family emergency and would be out the following day but that she could call if she needed and to keep Ember in line. 

            After that he called Jazz because that’s what he did when he did something crazy.

            “Danny?” She answered.

            “I did something hasty again.”

            She sighed. “What is it this time? A restaurant? A hotel? Tell me it isn’t Phantom rela-”

            “What? No! No it’s- you know how I bought my apartment building before moving here? Well… I just invited a couple of kids who need a safe place to stay to live in one of the apartments and I’m kind of freaking out.” 

            She hummed, neither approving nor disapproving, just signaling that she was listening.

            He phased into his apartment and threw his bloody jacket on top of the trash can. “I’m giving them an apartment on my floor, paying for their school, and tutoring them on the weekends. They’re good kids, they just need help.”

            “Danny.” She sighed. “You can’t help everyone.”

            “I know!” He snapped.

            Neither said anything for a moment, allowing their personal frustrations to subside before continuing. They didn’t fight often anymore, but when they did… it could get pretty explosive.

            “I know, Jazz.” He started again. “I can’t help everyone. I know that. But I can help them. Isn’t that why I’m here? To help?”

            She chuckled. “I can’t believe we ever didn’t know your obsession… Remember I wasn’t particularly excited about the daycare in the first place?” He knew, she’d thought he was crazy. But she’d gotten with the program and helped out immensely. “Look, you’re an adult, and more importantly, I trust you, just be careful okay? You’re always doing these crazy last-minute things and it worries me. You’re stretching yourself so thin.”

            “I know.”

            “I’ll call in a family emergency at work tomorrow and come help you out. What do you need from me?”

            And that’s why he always called her. He felt the tension release from his shoulders as he went through a mental checklist of tomorrows to do’s. The apartment needed to be cleaned, furniture needed to be moved in, groceries, clothes, and books needed to be procured after that, and they’d need phones.

            She agreed to show up at seven in the morning to start cleaning the apartment. He could go out and buy essentials while she did that and the furniture would likely be delivered in the early afternoon so they could start moving it all in. They didn’t want to stress the boys out with too much stuff, so Danny promised to keep it to the essentials.

            “Well, I’ve got to get up bright and early to help my kid brother with another crazy scheme, so I’ll be going.” The teasing in her voice was palpable. “I love you, brother.”

            “Love you too, sis.”

            It was nearing midnight when Danny finally ended his call with his sister and looked over the furniture set to be delivered the following day. Two mattresses and bed frames, a couch, a table and chair set, two desk with chairs, and a tv stand (no tv, he was worried how the boys would feel if it was obvious how much he’d spent. He’d get them a tv soon.). For an exorbitant price, it would all be delivered the following day by two in the afternoon.

            Danny took another power nap.

            This one was longer than most and he awoke with a start as sunlight poured into the apartment. Dragging a hand down his face, he stumbled towards the kitchen. When had he last eaten? Didn’t matter, he didn’t have much. He didn’t eat much these days. Not for lack of trying, he was just so busy.

            Opening his fridge (praying there was some fresh fruit or something he could grab quickly) he was shocked to find a container of what looked to be chicken parmesan and a sticky note attached to the lid. 

             Don’t know how a twig like you took out the Joker, eat something. -RH

            There was another container next to it with some kind of stew.

             Okay, not a fan of chicken parm? Fine, but eat the stew. -RH

             There was a third container next to that, some kind of steak and potatoes.

             Do you eat? I swear they aren’t poisoned. -RH

             Danny chuckled. Only one person knew he’d killed the Joker, he hadn’t even told Jazz when she’d called after the breakout, which meant the Red Hood was breaking into his apartment and leaving him meals. Why? As a thank you? Danny stilled owed him a thank you for all he’d done for his people. 

            Reheating the chicken parmesan Danny let his thoughts turn from the Red Hood to his plans for the day. According to his phone it was nearing seven. He’d also gotten confirmation sometime in the middle of the night for the furniture he’d bought saying it’d arrive closer to two. 

            He scarfed down the food (he couldn’t remember ever eating something so delectable) and made his way down to let Jazz in. [SE7]  It had been a few weeks since they’d been able to have brunch, and he smiled when they made eye contact. Her hair was pulled back with a bandanna, her jeans were cuffed, and she wore an open jacket over a ratty old t-shirt. She looked ready to get to work.

            “All right, Mr.-fixes-everyone’s-problems-but-his-own, lead the way.” She arched an eyebrow, clearly still miffed that he hadn’t told her about buying and renovating the building.

            He brought her up to the fourth floor. “This is where they’ll be staying. It’s got two rooms so they won’t have to share, but it’s also on my floor so I can be nearby if they need an adult.”

            “Is that what you think you are?” She teased, lowering the bucket of cleaning supplies she’d brought along.

            Rolling his eyes, he opened the balcony window blinds. “I cleaned all of the open apartments when I bought the place, but it could use a thorough dusting and vacuuming. The furniture will be arriving around two, so we’ve got time. I also need to get to the grocery store to stock their cabinets and pick up some essentials, I was going to take your car. You good here while I take care of that?”

            She nodded. “You won’t even recognize it when you get back.”

            He wasn’t sure if that was meant to be reassuring. But he let her get to work anyway.

Danny didn’t drive much these days. He didn’t have a car and even if he did the likelihood of it getting stolen or broken into where he lived was high. He preferred to take buses or trains anywhere he needed to go but with how many bags of things he intended to get it just wouldn’t be convenient.

            First stop was the department store. He picked out a couple of outfits for each of the boys (he guessed at their sizes as best he could) and some packaged underwear and socks. He picked out bed sheet sets and comforters, a shower curtain, bathmat, bath towels, and kitchen towels. What else… they’d need dishes! 

Loading the essentials -cups, plates, silverware, a couple of pots and pans, knives, a cutting board, and measuring utensils- he stopped and considered getting more. Before he could go completely overboard, he cut himself off. He still needed to get groceries and toiletries and it was already nearing eleven.

            He picked out shampoo, conditioner, toothbrushes and paste, deodorant, combs, a hairbrush, and anything else he thought they might need. At twelve he made his way to the grocery store which he originally thought would be the cheapest part of the trip. Until he saw the prices of seasonings. Five dollars for a jar of garlic powder! 

            Not that Danny was terribly concerned about money, he’d basically been dared by Clockwork to find a way to use it all up without simply giving it all away, but when he thought about all of the essentials the boys would need… flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, half a million seasonings, as well as shelf stable snacks and some canned goods… the cost added up.

            Swiping his card without a second thought, Danny loaded up the car. 

            Jazz was right. When he got back the apartment looked…. Well it was the same, obviously, but it was so much cleaner, fresher, it had a lighter feel to it. Every speck of dust was gone, the carpets had been deep cleaned, the bathroom sparkled, and the kitchen was ready to be filled.

            It didn’t take the two of them long to unload everything from the car but by the time it was all put away (and they were both thoroughly exhausted) the furniture was being delivered.

            “Remind me again why we didn’t ask any of your many ghost friends to help us with this?” Jazz huffed, pulling the couch up the stairs as Danny pushed.

            He chuckled. “You were the one who said, and I quote, ‘We don’t need ghost powers, we are perfectly strong and capable humans, and we don’t want the neighbors to suspect anything’.”

            “Well that’s not even completely true, is it?” She huffed. “Just do it!” 

            Giving his best impression of a super villain’s laugh, Danny hesitated for only a minute before granting mercy, turning the couch intangible, and flying past Jazz with the furniture. She didn’t laugh, clearly exasperated, following him and muttering things under her breath while he flew back and forth bringing up the furniture. 

            Jazz began assembling the bedframes while he finished bringing up furniture. When he finally settled back into the apartment he felt like collapsing onto the couch and taking one of his power naps. The black spots in his vision went away with just a bit of blinking and he pushed away the thought. He didn’t need a nap, he needed to get this done.

            “Danny?” Jazz asked, cautiously, noting his momentary dissociation. “You okay there, brother?”

            He nodded slowly. “Tired. I’ve been pretty busy recently.”

            She eyed him skeptically but let it slide. He listened to her chatter on about work while they put together the beds ‘and it’s hard to believe he’s really dead but thank Ancients because that monster didn’t deserve to claim insanity even once!’, Danny trying to keep from wincing every time she speculated about the Joker’s murder/death.

            Just as they were finishing up Danny’s phone began to ring.

            “Hello?” He moved away from Jazz to get a bit of privacy.

            “Mr. Nightingale? It’s Dr. Thompkins. The boys are getting restless, and I’ve caught them trying to leave twice. I think it’d be best if you came down to get them.” Her voice was professional, but he could hear a hint of exasperation underneath.

            Giving a quick confirmation, he hung up. “I’ve gotta go pick up the boys, they’re getting restless. You wanna stick around? I was gonna order pizzas.”

            “How about this; you take my car to pick them up so Miguel doesn’t have to walk much, and I’ll call in pizzas which you can pick up while you’re out?” She reasoned from the floor. She’d sprawled out after they’d finished the last of the furniture and had apparently decided to become a permanent resident of the floor.

            “You got it, sis.” Swiping her keys once again he made his way out. On the short drive over he felt the anxiety begin to bubble up. What if they hated it? He didn’t know these kids that well, what if they were super overwhelmed and up and left? He wasn’t a father or guardian to anyone (except the entirety of the infinite realms but that’s beside the point)! He couldn’t take care of kids! Santiago was just thirteen! Being neglected at that age was what led to Danny dying at fourteen!

            The panic took over his senses and before he knew it he’d arrived outside of the clinic. Once inside, the nurse (the same from the night before) smiled and gestured for him to go on back. He made eye contact with Miguel and waited. Waited for something. Waited for him to change his mind about all of this. Waited for him to run. Waited. Finally, Miguel sighed. “All right. Let’s go, man.”

Prev. Next

[pearikp]

It's said that the only way to access Mhin's red choice is by choosing the Alchemist background, and that fact alone has me thinking about how the origin stories will actually impact the course of the game at full release. I wouldn't assume that you have to choose a certain origin to get a "good" or "bad" ending for a specific character, but (as stated by RSS directly) different origin stories will allow the main character to connect differently with each of the main five love interests.

Obviously, this isn't revolutionary, but I wanted to touch on which origins I think will be best suited for each route, based solely on scraps from the demo lol

For Kuras, I think the Alchemist and the Unnamed suit him the best. The former really comes from the fact that Ais' relationship chart suggests Kuras likes to ramble about alchemy, and because it has a lot to do with his role as a doctor, I would assume it opens up a lot of opportunities for him to connect with the Alchemist MC. I am more convinced of the latter based on the actual content of the demo. If you played the Unnamed origin, you may remember when the MC states that something about Kuras "nags" at them, "like a half-formed memory". This small line can obviously allude to Kuras not being human (and the Unnamed MC can pick up on it because of their sensitivity to the supernatural), or it could also imply that maybe this background gives the MC and Kuras a deeper sort of association with one another. I also encourage you to consider the dynamic of an excommunicated oracle in love with an excommunicated divine eldritch being.

It shocks no one that the Alchemist is probably the best route for Leander, and I maybe want to say the Hound could possibly be a good option in the future. The Alchemist can pinpoint exactly what about Leander's magic abilities makes him powerful, and obviously, this mutual connection will probably allow for plenty of unique interactions in his route. Sit on the fact that the MC had been mentored (manipulated) by an ex-Senobium mage, only to fall right back into the hands of another (pseudo-Senobium-affiliated) mage with sketchy intentions and big secrets... hmmm interestinggg... As for the Hound, I realize (admittedly upon limited playthroughs with this origin), that the dialogue never really changes for Leander's scenes. However, he is still an enigmatic socialite running a cult-gang, so surely the Hound will have some unique thoughts on Leander in his route and may eventually be able to see through this "nice guy" facade that Vere is so insistent he's parading around with? Just a thought.

As for my thoughts on Vere, I somehow have many and none at the same time. The one I'm pretty certain about is the Alchemist because they have unique dialogue acknowledging that Vere's collar is enchanted. I think the Hound may also work with his route, but I'm only basing that on the unique dialogue after the first encounter with Vere, wondering how he managed to pickpocket them without a sign, tell, or slip-up. The Hound has good social intuition, which is at least somewhat useful in dealing with Vere and his contradictory personality.

Ais comes naturally to the Unnamed, having an abundance of unique lines towards him more than the other characters. Not only does the Unnamed MC feel uneasy and hear unnatural sounds leading up to the Seaspring, but they also are the only one out of the three origins who has a distinct connection to "groupminds". The main character also notes that his tattoo (relating to Ocudeus) almost looks like it's moving. Similarly to Kuras, I like to think of the dynamic between a runaway ex-oracle crossing paths with a demonic being with cult-like worshipers... I predict the Hound will also suit Ais' route, based on how extensive their unique dialogue of Ais' natural leadership skills is. This origin is also the only one that actually details why his "gang leader" status contradicting the lack of an actual gang is so strange. The Hound comes from a more directly rugged life, and Ais takes an interest in the MC being feisty and defiant, so I'd guess that'll come into play somehow.

Back to square one on this whole overexplained talking point, Mhin obviously has some special connection to the Alchemist (or vice versa), if it wasn't obvious by the fact that Mhin's only red choice in the demo so far is only available with the Alchemist background. I think the Alchemist's unique connection to the Senobium through their mentor may come up, as Mhin's bio page says that they like the Senobium. The bio page also says they enjoy conducting alchemical experiments, which will connect the two even more. Once again, I think the Hound will also suit Mhin's route, based on little evidence and mostly just because Mhin and the Hound have similar vibes.

All of that said, I want to reiterate that I'm not under the impression that one origin will give you better or worse endings than the others, but rather unique choices and extra details based on their strengths. Regardless of how well one origin pairs with a LI, I will still probably be playing through each route with my own biased favorite (the Unnamed, if you were curious (I know you were not)). At the end of the day, it allows us to replay the game over and over to see what special changes and choices are available, so that will be very exciting.

[raineandsky]

#113

tw: kidnapping

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

“Um,” the villain says as he flicks the living room light on. “What are you doing in my house?”

The hero scowls. “Well, it’s not like I tied myself up and put a bow on my own head, is it?”

And in one of the villain’s own dining room chairs, no less. Couldn’t he at least bring his own? “I don’t know,” the villain says slowly, to the hero’s offence, “you might have.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I don’t know! Tell me what you’re doing in my house!”

“I don’t know either!”

“There is an alarming lack of information here, [Hero].” The villain steps forward to study the knot in the ropes on the hero’s wrists—just a plain, normal knot. Nothing extravagant, nothing telling. “How do you not know?��

“Well, unfortunately, [Villain], I have spent most of this experience unconscious,” the hero snaps a little harsher than necessary. “I woke up, like, five minutes before you got here.”

The villain tuts, moving his interest onto the comically large bow on the hero’s head. This would’ve been a perfect chance to laugh at him if it wasn’t somehow happening inside the villain’s house.

The villain’s just about to hit the hero with a barrage of questions—with the inevitable “I don’t know”, of course—when answers present themselves in the form of the supervillain.

“Ah, you’re home,” they say brightly. A pair of stout glasses are in their hands, generously topped up with what is undoubtedly whiskey. “How do you like your gift?”

The villain throws a glance at the hero. He looks as lost as the villain feels. “My gift?”

“You’ve been working hard recently, [Villain].” They offer him a glass and he takes it without question. “I thought I could at least acknowledge the positive impact you've had on our little business. On me.”

The hero scoffs but they both ignore him. “What…” The question’s going to sound insane, but this situation is insane enough to warrant it, the villain thinks. “What am I meant to do with a… person?”

The supervillain hums thoughtfully, casting a glance about the room. “Well, I was looking around your place and thought you could use a maid.” They laugh at the scrunch of offence in the villain’s face. “Oh, I’m kidding, [Villain]. Maybe they could be target practice, a pet, a plaything.” A sip from their glass. “Anything your mind can conjure.”

The villain tries to look at the hero like he’s thinking on it. The hero watches him back like he’s trying to read his mind.

The supervillain takes another swig of their drink. The villain copies them before they can notice that he’s avoiding it like it’s poison. It sure tastes like it; it burns the whole way down.

“Any ideas?”

The villain taps the glass to his chin with a tut. “A dog would be nice.” The supervillain snorts a laugh, and the hero’s desperate expression turns flat with horror. “I’m sure I can find a nice collar for him.”

“A shock collar, I hope,” the supervillain suggests with a grin. “Oh, I’m so glad you like it, [Villain]. You deserved a little something for everything you’ve done for me.”

This is more than a little something, but the villain doesn’t bother correcting them. “I love it. Thank you.”

“No darling.” A smile; soft, affectionate. “Thank you.”

The supervillain gives him a pat and sets their glass down on the coffee table. “I have business to attend to. I just wanted to see your reaction.” They make for the door, though the villain’s not convinced that’s how they got in. “I’ll see you tomorrow—keep me updated on how you train them.” And with a wink and one last smirk, they disappear outside and off into the evening.

The hero’s gaze snaps to the villain the moment they’re gone. “A dog?” he demands.

The villain carefully unties the bow on his head, collecting the ribbon in a giant red bundle in his arms. “Yeah,” he says brightly. “Are you going to bolt if I untie you?”

“You called me a dog. I’ll goddamn make like one the moment that door’s open.”

The villain shrugs nonchalantly. “Binds stay on, then.”

“Wait, no—” The hero’s voice is bordering on a cry. The villain doesn’t hate the sound of it. “No, sorry, I just— you want me to be your dog.”

“I do.” The villain smiles innocently. “My guard dog.”

That gives the hero long enough pause for the villain to take his knife to some of the rope. “… Guard dog.”

“You’ll be my bodyguard.” The first wisps break free under his blade. “You’ll work for me, cover my back, whatever I need you to do.”

“You want me to… defend you?”

The villain can’t help but smirk. The ropes split, freeing the hero’s hands. “If you don’t like it, [Supervillain] had plenty of good ideas.”

“No!” It comes out faster than the hero seems to have thought it. “No, I– I can do that.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” The villain sighs contentedly, giving him a mocking pat on the head as he gets back to his feet. “Good boy.”

(next part)

[all-too-random]

We Don't Waste Food

Sanji Vinsmoke (OPLA) x reader

Sanji notices that you haven't been eating very much.

TW: Reader is implied to be in the process of recovering from an ED. The type/reasoning behind it has purposefully been left vague. Mentions of thr0wing up/feeling sick. Sanji wants to help but may do so in a way that not everyone finds helpful. Also he's kind of pushy in the beginning.

A/N: This is a very self indulgent fic based on my own struggles. If it is something you relate to and this helps, I am glad you found some comfort in it/sorry you relate. If you dont, please be kind anyway :) Also this is my first ever x reader fic in 7 years of writing fanfiction.

"I'm full," the sound glass scraping against wood rang throughout the dining cabin as you pushed your plate out of the way, glancing nervously at your lap, "Anyone who wants my leftovers can have them." Luffy reached across the table, already grabbing for the food on the plate. Sanji's hand reached it first, though, and the blonde chef made eye contact with you as he pushed the plate back to your spot. "Y/N, darling," he said. He was smiling, but his stare portrayed a more serious expression, "We don't waste food." You crossed your arms over your chest, your eyes meeting his blue ones, "I'm not trying to be wasteful, that's why I offered it up. I knew someone would want-" He cut you off, smile disappearing, "You need to eat it yourself. It's your favorite, I made it just for you." You nodded once, acknowledging the effort he put in, "And it was delicious. But now I'm full." There was a certain bitterness to your words, causing Sanji to hesitate. The rest of the crew looked on silently, exchanging nervous glances at one another as the scene played out. You barely paid them any notice, keeping your eyes locked on Sanji as you shoved yourself away from the table and stood up. "We don't waste food. So someone else can eat it, I'm not going to."

Your boots thudded against the wooden floor of the ship as you stomped away, suddenly feeling the need for fresh air. You didn't stop until you were at the edge of the deck. The wind whipped your hair around and you watched the sky turn orange against the clear water as the sun set on the horizon. Tears pricked at your eyes. They rolled over your cheeks despite your attempts to sniff them away, so you gave up. You were alone, anyway. No reason to hide your tears out here. They just didn't get it, you thought. Although it's not like you had ever tried explaining it to them before. You never meant to waste food. You just couldn't stop it. No matter how hungry you felt beforehand, your appetite seemed to wither the second food was in front of you. More than half a portion made you feel sick, and throwing your meals up into the sea felt worse than just offering it to someone who would it eat.

"Nice evening, isn't it madam?" You whipped your head around, quickly trying to wipe the tears from your face. Sanji stood several feet behind you, smiling once again, but still with a grim aire about him. "Yes, it is," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady as you turned back towards the ocean, "Very peaceful." You could hear the heels of the chef's shoes clicking against the wood until he appeared right next to you, resting his elbows on the edge of the ship. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him looking at you, studying your features. "I'm still not hungry," you told him, and you couldn't decide whether or not it was a lie. You were hungry, or at least, you should be. But you knew no more food would stay in your stomach for long. Sanji chuckled, dipping his head down, "Well, I gathered that much, love. I just can't figure out why. Only a banana for breakfast and nothing at lunch, by all means, you should be starving." You looked at him, eyebrows crinkled in confusion, "You know what I ate?" "I keep track," he says, shrugging his shoulders, "Helps me with my meal planning. I thought for sure you'd have a good dinner tonight, especially since I made something I knew you'd love." "I did love it," you admitted to him, sighing into the wind, "I just... don't eat much. It's hard." "Hard to eat?" He raised an eyebrow at you, "It shouldn't be, we have plenty of-" "Not like that," you cut him off, waving your hand through the air, "I know we have food, I just can never hold much of it. When I was younger, I forced myself not to eat... and I must have gotten good at it, because now I can't. And I hate it, because I get so hungry only to push food away, and I feel so wasteful." You could feel tears threatening to fall again, so you laughed, trying to act like there was nothing upsetting about the situation whatsoever. Sanji, however, did not laugh. He looked at you with sad eyes, which was even more intense since the wind was pushing his hair out of his face, meaning you could see both of them. It was quiet for a moment, with no noise but the waves lapping at the bottom ship. Then, the chef let out a sigh, opening his arms. You fell into him, burying your face into his pin-striped shirt. His strong arms immediately wrapped around you, his chin resting gently atop your head. "Thank you for telling me," he said quietly, placing a kiss against your hair, "I'm sorry I pushed you so hard." "It's alright," you whispered back, allowing yourself to cry on him, "You didn't know." He squeezed you tighter, "Well, now that I do know, I'm still worried about you. The way you've been eating still isn't healthy. I'll start giving you smaller portions, so you don't have to feel wasteful. And when you're ready, I'll gradually give you more. Like baby steps. Can you agree to that, my dear?" Pain shot through the inside of your cheek as you bit down, thinking his words over. Recovery was hard, but Sanji was willing to help.... You nodded your head, accepting the offer, "Little, tiny baby steps." Sanji laughed softly, running his fingers through your hair, "Sure, little, tiny baby steps. Whatever it takes, love. Would dessert be a good start?" He raised an eyebrow at you, and you laughed, "Well, that depends... what kind of dessert?"

[gotham-daydreams]

I was wondering why didn’t Alfred do anything earlier, like before reader left and stuff

He did try! Though that may be communicated in a later part, I'll describe it more here.

As the reader was growing up, he did try to inform the Batfam (mostly Bruce) of events that were coming up, and that the reader will be participating in, but nothing much seemed to work. He did also try giving the posters to various members of the Batfam as well, but again- that didn't work out too well either. Though it is why he kept them at first, but that would slowly delve into something else.

For their first few birthdays he did try to remind the Batfam (again, most Bruce) that "hey, y'know this kid you have yet to acknowledge that's now part of the family? Yeah, they're birthday is coming up/is today. At least make an effort to show up and give them something nice, or at the very least wish them a happy birthday. Thanks :)" Though considering what happens in "Not Here", one can imagine that it was very effective, and didn't not work at all.

However! Out of everyone, Alfred did end up spending the most time with the reader, and was easily the most involved in their life. He was there when everone else wasn't, and even if he couldn't physically be there- he had his ways of knowing what the reader was up to anyway. So with all of this, he became yandere the earliest.

At some point he stopped his efforts simply out of his own greed. He wanted to spend time with the reader and be that caring figure that they could always turn to. He wanted to know the secrets that they shared with only the closest people to them. Alfred, above all else, wanted to be their family- and since he has the opportunity, why not be their only family? The only person that the reader will ever see and recognize as their family, and if he was lucky (and he very much was in this case), maybe even their father.

I feel like it is also important to mention that, once again, turning the whole family yandere wasn't intended on Alfred's part when he does set them up to be worried enough to look for the reader. His only plan and intention was to get the Batfam to worry and feel guilty, and turn that guilt into a desire to find you for one reason or another. Them becoming yanderes was just a side effect of that effort, but not necessarily an unwelcome one.

I mention it because Alfred has already been yandere for the reader for quite some time now. He's willing to bend the wills of the rest of the Batfam to get the reader back into the Manor, just because of what I mentioned before with communication. Alfred still wants to have a connection with the reader, and he still wants to talk with them- and only lets them go because he assumes that he will still get that, even if the reader isn't in the manor anymore. Which, while he isn't wrong, it still isn't in the way he had hoped.

So, because of that, he essentially sends out the Batfam after the reader because he wants to have a solid for of communication with them. He wants to speak to them and be able to reply- not this one-sided nonsense that he's had to deal with for months. And most of all- he wants to see them again. He misses them. So what better way to do that then to bring them home?

To which, all of this boils down to Alfred just becoming incredibly selfish at some point, one way or another. He did try at some point, but eventually stopped because of his own want to be the only person that the reader would ever recognize as family. His own greed and selfishness got in the way of his efforts, and now it's driven him to this point; sending out the Batfam on a manhunt for the reader, simply because he misses them and didn't get what he wanted.

I hope this answered your question!!

[yesimwriting]

I love ur felix fics sm!! ur one of my fave writers on here<<333 and no I don’t think itd b crazy to write for Nate!! I’d love to see how u would write him!! (Maybe grumpy x sunshine hehe)

hi!! this is such a nice ask :)) i'm so happy you like my felix fics

omg i love ur train of thought for a nate fic!! i've been thinking about that kind of dynamic for them, but in a really niche way

anyways let's have some thoughts on nate jacobs and sunshine/kind of sheltered reader!!

----

thinking about the moment in which you find out nate jacobs is your assigned partner for a project that's worth 35% of your final grade. if this was happening to you a year ago, maybe even two or three months ago, you might have been nervous for an entirely different reason.

but you're not that version of yourself anymore. you go out to parties now; you wear shirts to school that your mom buys for you the same way she used to buy you impulse barbies, with a wink as the cashier scans them, making you promise that you won't show dad what you got at the store; you're friends with maddy and cassie...you're on your way to best friends with maddy and cassie.

so you can't dismiss the gossip and the stares nate gets in the halls as a standard part of high school, not the way you used to. you can't just see him across the hall at his locker and mentally acknowledge that you get why girls talk about him the way they do. you can't just get paired up with him for an extremely long assignment and think oh, at least he's cute.

every story maddy's ever mentioned during sleepovers, everything she's teared up about after one too many drinks hits you at full force when your teacher reads your name and then his off of her list.

would she see this as a betrayal? it's not like you picked him and asking for a new partner is out of the question, a fact your teacher made clear at the beginning of the year. but maddy's loyal...fiercely loyal, and she expects that kind of commitment to be symbiotic.

you don't move, can't move until jules leans towards you, so close her hair spills onto your desk. "no fucking way." she whispers it in a way that'd make you laugh if this was about someone else.

you're silent, eyes finally pulling away from a brightly colored poster explaining the roles of each branch of the US government. you turn your head enough to look at where nate sits, the back of the room with a few other football players.

he's already looking at you. and when nate realizes you're finally staring back, he has the audacity to let the corner of his mouth pull into a smug sort of smile you're sure another version of you would have considered swoon worthy.

you're all instructed to use the last few minutes of class time to talk to your new partners, to make some kind of preliminary plan. nate's standing up and you're still recovering from the whiplash.

helplessly, you look over at jules who's clearly trying to get to the other side of the room before nate can get to you. she mouths a "sorry" that feels genuine, and points at the girl she's supposed to work with in a way that feels like over kill. you roll your eyes, picking up your pen and pressing the pad of thumb against its side to have something to do.

nate's in front of you before you know it. he's so tall it's a little intimidating when he's right there, especially with you still sitting. "you're everywhere now." a reference to the fact that you were both at the same party last weekend. you can still hear maddy's slurred i can't believe he's fucking here, before she dragged you out to the house's patio.

he's probably seen you more places. you're around maddy pretty regularly these days and from what you've heard, you wouldn't put stalking above him. he's probably a stalker in the way guys from the news are stalkers, calm and untouchable until they feel like the girl they're watching is moving on. then they snap and some news anchor reports that there were warning signs for months beforehand.

you're partially aware of your potential exaggerations, but you can't bring yourself to care. you've never really interacted with nate, but you want to hate him as more than the monster you hear about when maddy feels like ranting. you want to viscerally hate him. it's such an instinctual tug that you can't pretend it's all about morality. you're craving innate repulsion the way an elementary school girl wants the other half of a magnetic necklace with the word "best" etched into cheap metal. it's kind of pathetic, but then again...

"not last year, or last semester--"

he's baiting you and you're completely aware and you still can't help yourself. "what? it's illegal to make new friends now?"

your tone surprises you more than the fact that you interrupted him. you've never been overly shy, but you've also never been much of a fighter on your own behalf. maybe this is like the parties and barbie-style-bought-shirts, just another facet of the improved you.

nate seems surprised too, only he wears it like there's something funny about it. "no, you've always been friendly."

he says it like there's a joke in there that'd make the football players a few rows back laugh. it digs at you more than it should. he gets under your skin in a way that bugs. maybe that means genuine hatred is on its way.

you look up at him, eyes as unimpressed as you can manage. "so," the word is definite, intentional. "the project..." you're glad for the excuse to turn your attention back to your notebook, "i don't know if you want to work out a time to--"

"i'm leaving in like five minutes." you're about to point out that class doesn't end for another when he explains, "football game." ugh. another thing you can decide to be annoyed about. your homework schedule is now going to revolve around high school football. "can i get your number?" the idea of existing in nate jacobs's phone feels so wrong you can't immediately reply. he picks up on your hesitation, because he tacks on the one phrase that could get you to do anything, "35% of our grade."

you nod once, expression as blank as you can manage as you write out your phone number on the corner of a page. You tear off the bottom corner and hand it to him. "don't save my number."

it's so rude, your jaw almost drops, "what?"

"you're going to see maddy before the project's over, right?"

the implication immediately makes your stomach knot. you're not--you can't not tell maddy. she won't like it, but she can't hold a random partnering against you. and--and it's worse if you don't tell her, because then it's like you're sneaking around with nate. and it's--it's all for school.

"i'm not going to lie to her for you." it's so ridiculous, you can't even hold eye contact. his silence adds a second loop to the knot in your stomach. "why would i lie?" your own genuineness sickens you, you're backtracking immediately. "and--and it's just a dumb school thing, so she probably won't care that much."

"and you're sure she's going to believe that?"

"yes," the word is firm because it has to be. "because that's what it is."

"she gets paranoid."

no, no--he's doing this to get into your head and cause problems. "if she's paranoid it's because you're crazy."

"fine." he shoves the scrap of paper into his pocket. "save my number, don't save my number. tell maddy, don't tell maddy."

you sigh. "why do you care?" they're broken up...even if maddy takes it the wrong way, the fall out will be a you problem.

"she's going to think i fucked you to hurt her." you hate this--the situation, the conversation, the fact that you can't completely dismiss his train of thought. "who's known maddy longer?"

you're about to try again, to defend your friendship with maddy and call him crazy again when the static of the intercom speakers interrupts you. all football players are being called out of class to leave for an away game. nate gives you one last look before turning towards the door.

when jules slips back into her seat and asks if you're okay with everything, you nod and attempt a joke about catching fuck boy germs, but it doesn't come out the way you want it to. she still laughs, so you do too, but that's not as natural as it should be, either.

----

lmk if you like this concept/want more of it!! i had fun writing this :))

[wordy-little-witch]

Ya know what occurs to me?

Karai Bari is in the New World.

Crocodile and Mihawk only showed up after the establishment of the delivery service.

Buggy was in Paradise. Marineford would have been in Paradise, I think, or at least Buggy's crew still was.

He doesn't have conquerors to cross the calm belt.

So... to get to the New World and set up shop, he'd have to have gone through Fishman Island, wouldn't he? So he'd had to have gotten the ship coated.

He'd likely have had to face Rayleigh or at least he'd have anticipated it - maybe Shanks even mentions Rayleigh hanging around there, maybe even mentioning him having NEVER missed Shanks passing through....

So when Buggy goes when Buggy expects to be found and claims to be dreading it and is but is also so hopeful so scared so broken so hesitant he's got a few different courses figured for how this will go down.

Only.... Rayleigh isn't there. Shakky is. She just directs them to another coater. Buggy fights himself, wants to ask, doesn't want to beg, and-

Shakky answers the question he couldn'tdislodge from his throat. "Sorry, baby blue, Ray's just working on something real important. You know how it is."

He does. He does know how it is. Important, huh? That's fine. It's probably a job. It's probably not that big of a deal that dad master Rayleigh is preoccupied. Buggy shouldn't have expected the man to drop everything and come running why did he think that, Rayleigh never did it before, not even Shanks' assurance he'd leave a message for Rayleigh would change much, and fuck he can't afford to cry so-

So Buggy gets the ship coated. It's not as pricy as he'd worried. He navigates them down, can even bring himself to smile at the wide eyed wonder from the rest. It's nice. He's fine here - these are his people. He's okay, really, and he'll be able to let this go or shove it into that nameless box in his head and heart soon enough. He just has to ride the wave, you know-?

Only no. Not really. Because a newspaper lands in his hands. And his brain is racing.

Because Rayleigh wasn't at Sabaody at all. He was with Strawhat. He was training Strawhat. He showed up, after the war, so close to the conflict, to train the kid. Rayleigh is fast, but not that fast. He'd have to have left around a week before Buggy even arrived. Shanks had assured him Rayleigh was there when he dropped by ((two weeks ago)). He knew because his brother had wrapped him in his arm and tears were shed, voices were raised and hearts were broken, wounds torn open to drain the festering rot and the healing hurt, it hurt then, it hurts now, it will hurt and hurt and hurt, because Buggy had pushed the Big Top to her near limits just to reach the archipelago that his former guardian ex-father previous family that Rayleigh called home. Shanks had called him, said he'd dropped the message and Rayleigh had chuckled and nodded and Buggy wanted to see his dad because there were still so many scars that had to be seen and acknowledged and Buggy himself wasn't even fully recovered physically but emotionally he had to do it, had to take the step and try because vulnerability brought the best and worst of him out, because he lost a brother and gained him back and he wanted for his father, at least one of them.

But Strawhat was on that front page. And Rayleigh was behind him, smiling, warm, proud, happy, and - Buggy aches. He's angry. He's livid. A week or so, by his estimate, for Rayleigh to find him and get there to the war ground. A week or so because Rayleigh was old but he was still painfully fast. In a week or so, the older man hunted down a boy he'd possibly met once or twice in passing. A week or so and The Dark King showed up to bring another strawhat wearing monster of epic proportions under his wing, had made impressive time in finding the kid, making the plan, getting to the navy hq, getting out, and that's accounting for the article writing, printing, and distribution.

A week or so to find a bright little sunshine boy he barely knew when one he raised rotted in a cell for months on end.

Busy with something real important, he recalled Shakky saying.

His chest burned for a moment, hot and wild and unyielding - and just as suddenly, the fire was gone. He was tired. He was so fucking tired. His injuries throbbed, his head hurt, his scars itched. He sighed, set the paper aside and curled impossibly small into his chaise lounge with a teary chuckle as he gripped his hair and tried to silence the keen building in his chest. He cursed himself for it, bitter and angry.

After all, he should be used to being outshined, out classed and out loved by energetic boys with bright smiles in little wicker crowns.

Story of his life

He is unaware of the many eyes on him, of the people Plotting and Arranging things on their own time. Their captain is the best - uncommon, unexpected, temperamental though he is, he is everything everyone needs him to be because it's the only thing he knows how to do. They see the seams in his mask and performance, and they ache to pay back the pain left on their captain, their boss, their leader and friend. Buggy pirates stick together, freaks and weirdos united - and nobody is allowed to hurt their captain without some serious followup.

[caapsiizzereads]

Tell me that I’m all you want

Jamie Tartt x f!reader

Words: 3,8k

Warnings: language, angst, unrequited love (on both sides somehow)

Jamie Tartt coming back to Richmond was surprising news for everyone, including you, even though you learned about it a bit earlier than the others. You’ve only been working at AFC Richmond for a few months, so you haven’t actually ever met him, but his reputation precedes him. Fortunately, once all the legal bullshit is handled, he’s not going to be your problem to deal with.

Or so you thought.

Jamie has been back at Richmond for a few days now, and everybody fucking hates him. He can’t exactly blame them, but he’s trying his best here, and no one seems to give a shit.

Jamie comes in a bit earlier today. He wants to change and get out of the locker room before everybody else gets here. He’s tying his shoelaces when he hears the clicking sound of high-heeled shoes getting louder. He thought it was Keeley or, maybe, Rebecca, but instead he sees another familiar face. He doesn’t remember your name, but he recognizes you from the time you briefly met during the signing process. You’re like the club’s lawyer or something.

You didn’t expect any of the players to be in yet, so you’re a bit surprised when you see Jamie in the locker room. You knew that he started a few days ago, but you hadn’t crossed paths with him until now. Well, you weren’t exactly searching for him now either, you’re here to go over some stuff with Ted. So you nod at him in acknowledgment and turn towards the coaches’ office. There’s no one in there, though.

You turn back to Jamie, “Have you seen Ted?”

“I don’t think he’s here yet.”

“Shit. Um, can you tell him that I was looking for him when you see him?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Thanks.” You’re about to leave when Jamie speaks up again.

“Wait.” You turn around to look at him. “Sorry, I don’t remember your name,” he admits.

You don’t seem bothered by that at all. “Right. It’s (Y/n), I’m the club’s–”

“You’re the lawyer, yeah, I remember,” he smiles at you.

You nod at him, and then your attention is averted by Ted’s cheerful greeting.

“Miss (Y/l/n).”

“Ted!” you point at him with your finger, “you’re exactly who I’ve been looking for.” The two of you walk away to his office.

The next morning, you’re walking in the parking lot when Jamie catches up with you.

“Morning,” he greets you.

“Morning.”

When you get to the entrance, he holds the door open for you. Both of your hands are busy, one with your handbag and the other with a coffee cup, so you appreciate the gesture.

“Thanks,” you smile at him.

You’re about to leave for your lunch break when you hear a knock on your open door. You’re surprised, to say the least, to see Jamie standing in the doorway.

“Hey. Are you busy?” he asks coyly.

“I was about to go out for lunch.”

“Awesome,” he grins and lifts his hand, a bag of food from the nearby restaurant in it, “I was getting lunch for myself and I thought that I could get some for you too,” he says it as if it’s not the fourth time you’re ever speaking to each other.

You look at him suspiciously, “I’ll never say no to a free lunch, but what’s the catch here?”

“Nothing! I just thought that we could have lunch together.” What you hear is that he wants company, and everybody else here wants nothing to do with him. You decide to take pity on him, your fucking empathy be damned.

“Alright,” you gesture for him to come in. A wide smile instantly grows on his face.

He takes the seat in front of you and lists the dishes that he got. You pick the one that sounds the most appealing, and he hands it to you.

“So how’s your day going,” he asks between chewing, obviously trying to start a conversation.

“It’s fine, just the usual stuff,” you reply. It would be polite to ask him back. He’s obviously trying here. He’s been nothing but nice to you so far. You sigh, accepting your fate. “How is it going for you back in Richmond? Settled in yet?”

“It’s fine, yeah. Yeah…” You both know that it’s bullshit, so you just stare at him with a straight face, waiting for the rest to come out. “It’s shit. Everybody hates me,” he gives up and then proceeds to go on a thirty-minute rant about his life.

You find yourself spacing out somewhere around minute fifteen. It reminds you of a few dates you had, if you think about it. You’re being polite to a guy once, and the next thing you know, he buys you a meal and spends an hour telling you his whole life story like you are his therapist.

Once Jamie’s done talking, he looks at you expectantly, like what you’re about to say is going to determine his foreseeable future.

“Let me check if I got this right. You were loaned here for a year, and you spent the whole time treating everyone like absolute shit. Then you got called back to the club that you loved so much, yet you still left them in the middle of the season to do some reality show, violating God knows how many contracts, by the way. And now you’re back here because, for obvious reasons, nobody else wants you, and you’re surprised that you’re not welcomed back with open arms?” you try to keep your tone neutral, but the irony is still apparent.

“But I apologized!”

You hum to yourself, your eyebrows involuntarily rising, impressed with how ignorant a person can be.

“What?” The look on your face obviously doesn't go unnoticed.

“You don’t have any friends, do you?” you deadpan.

Jamie immediately gets defensive, “The fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“That you have no idea how human relationships work. You can’t treat people like garbage and then expect one “I’m sorry” to fix everything.”

Jamie opens his mouth again, and before the words are even out, you know that whatever he is about to say – it’s above your paygrade. You are not about to explain basic human decency to a 24-year-old. It’s a good thing that there is actually someone in this building who’s getting paid to deal with this nonsense, and that’s exactly where you send him.

“Can we… be friends?” Jamie asks before leaving.

“Yeah, sure,” you wave him off.

You said it without actually expecting anything to come out of it. But Jamie keeps coming back. Sometimes he brings you lunch or invites you out, and a couple of times he brings you coffee with a dessert before his practice. And all you need to do in return is listen to him talk (complain) about his day. You think about sending him off to Dr. Fieldstone again, but you like having your little treats, and Jamie seems to be satisfied enough with your company.

Then Ted pulls some “Led Tasso” thing. You have no idea what that means, and Jamie isn’t very good at explaining, but whatever it was, it seemed to help him fix the relationship with his teammates.

You think that now that Jamie is in his teammates’ good books again, his visits to your office will stop, but he surprises you by showing up again two days later.

Jamie’s visits do become less frequent, but they continue to happen nonetheless. Except now it seems more out of habit, or maybe even preference, than a lack of choices. And you’ve gotta admit, he’s starting to grow on you. You even find yourself expecting his little visits.

Sometimes he just sits in your office after practice, waiting for you to finish your work, so that you can go out afterwards. This makes your productivity drastically go down because the man can’t sit quietly for fifteen fucking minutes, but you don't have the heart to kick him out, so in the end, you just give up and leave work early.

During one of your lunchtime chats, you mention to Jamie that you bought a new couch, but the guy who was supposed to assemble it for you keeps postponing the date, and it’s getting on your nerves now. Jamie right away offers to help you with it, and after a little bit of convincing, you agree.

Jamie comes over to your place, it’s the first time you’ve met outside of work circumstances. Jamie is definitely not as good at building furniture as he had claimed to be, but two hours and two beers later, you still manage to put the couch together.

As a thank you for his help, you make dinner, and you spend the evening watching “Legally Blonde” (Jamie insists that it’s only appropriate) on your new couch.

That night starts a whole new pattern of you two hanging out outside of work. You spend time with Jamie Tartt. Outside of your work hours. On your own free will. And you like it! Now you have no excuses left for yourself. This little asshole has really become your friend.

It’s a Saturday night, and you’re out in the bar with the Richmond team. They won a match and decided to go out and celebrate, and Jamie obviously invited you too.

You’re sitting on the table with your feet resting on the bench that you’re supposed to sit on. Jamie’s sitting right next to you, his body occasionally touching your legs.

He makes some stupid joke, and it makes you laugh, not because it’s so funny but because of how dumb it is. He props his chin on your knee and looks up at you, grinning, pleased with himself for making you laugh. You look down at him, and without even thinking about it, you gently brush away a hair strand that’s fallen on his face. He smiles at you softly, which makes him look cute so you smile back at him and– Oh no. No, no, no, no.

You spend the next few days telling yourself that you’re just bored, that it’s okay, and it will go away. But weeks pass, and it doesn’t. You are extra aware of every smile Jamie gives you, every laugh you get out of him, every casual touch you've become so accustomed to. This is getting frustrating at this point. It’s just a stupid fucking crush, (y/n). Just get over it, for fuck’s sake.

You get a reminder of how fucked you are when one day Jamie tells you that he’s not happy about how things are between him and Keeley and he asks for your advice on how to mend things with her. Which is a totally reasonable thing to ask your friend. Because that’s what you are – friends. And you’re going to put your own bullshit aside and act like one.

You and Keeley are close enough for you to know that if you were to be honest with Jamie, you would say that she thinks of him a lot less than he thinks of her. But he obviously needs some closure there, so instead you advise him to just talk to her and apologize, while also reminding him that Keeley is with Roy now and he needs to respect their relationship too.

You mentally pat yourself on the back for handling the situation with dignity.

It all goes to shit on the fucking Valentine’s Day. You’ve never been a fan of the day, but this year is just something else.

Jamie invited you to go to some party with him, arguing that since you’re both single, you can go as each other’s “dates”. The implication there was that you come together and potentially leave with other people.

You didn’t have any better plans, and you recently bought a sexy red dress that you were waiting for a chance to wear, so you thought why the fuck not.

You knew that the dress was worth its money when, upon seeing you, Jamie not so subtly checked you out. “You look good.”

“Don’t I always?” you smirked at him.

You’ve been at the party for almost two hours, and you’re starting to think that Jamie has switched his plan to get a hookup to getting wasted instead, as he’s currently on his fifth drink. Another hour later, you all but drag him into a taxi. He’s talking nonsense and laughing at his own thoughts all the way to his place.

You lead him inside and make him sit by the kitchen island while you pour him a glass of water. He’s going to thank you for that tomorrow.

Apparently he decided to thank you for that tonight because when you turn back to him, he’s standing right next to you, and before you can react, his hands are on you and he kisses you.

He kisses you. And fucking let him. For, like, a whole five seconds you let him. Then your brain finally starts functioning properly again, and you push him away. He just stares at you, like he himself doesn’t understand what just happened.

“You’re drunk.” You harshly put the glass of water on the counter, “Drink this and go to sleep.”

You’re out of the house before Jamie says anything.

Jamie wakes up with a terrible hangover. You told him he’d regret it tomorrow, and tomorrow has come. Once he collects himself enough to get out of bed, he starts getting ready for practice. He enters the kitchen and sees an empty glass standing on the counter. That’s when the memories of the previous night come back to him all at once. Fuck, fuck, fuuuck!

It’s only after the practice that Jamie finally mans up enough to face you. Maybe ‘mans up’ is not the most fitting word because what actually happens is him standing at the doorstep of your office with his tail between his legs.

You look at him, your face unreadable.

“Hi,” he starts hesitantly.

“Hi.”

“Can I come in?”

“Since when do you ask?”

Jamie sits in front of you. You don’t say anything, so he takes it as his que to start groveling.

“I’m sorry. I was drunk, I didn’t think.” Obviously.

“It’s fine.”

“Are you mad?”

“I’m not.”

“Well, you seem mad.”

“Well, I am not. Can we just forget about it and move on, yeah?” It comes out a bit too harsh, but you really want for this conversation to end.

“Yeah, sure,” he sounds very unsure.

Jamie really didn’t expect you to be so mad about it. He fucked up, yeah, sure, but it was a stupid drunken mistake, surely you would understand. If anything, he expected you to say something along the lines of “I told you so” and tease him for it for another year. But it seems like you never want to speak about it again. Was him kissing you really that appalling to you? You would’ve pushed him away faster then. Why didn’t you? You weren’t that drunk. Unless… No. You can’t– You don’t– No way.

Jamie has never thought about you in that way. Okay, that’s a lie, he totally has. But you were right when you said that he didn’t really have any friends, and at that moment of time he really needed one a lot more than he needed a hookup, so he buried all the sexy thoughts about you and put all his efforts into befriending you instead. That was working out well for him until now.

One thing about Jamie, he always has everything written on his face. So when the next day he comes into your office with that weird look on his face, you know exactly what’s going on here. You pray that he at least won’t say anything because there’s only so much awkwardness that you can deal with. You stick with acting like nothing happened, and it seems to work because, thankfully, Jamie doesn’t say anything, and you keep talking as usual. Eventually, things go back to normal.

You know that Rebecca wants something from you when she knocks on the door before letting herself in to your office. This clue never fails because she asks you to be her moral support plus one to some charity event for rich people. She says you have a knack for dealing with pretentious assholes. You’d argue that it’s actually more of a professional skill. But either way, you have a weakness for beautiful women asking you to go to fancy events with them, so obviously you agree.

Little did you know.

You notice him for the first time around twenty minutes after you get there. A man, seemingly in his mid-thirties, very handsome. He’s talking to some couple across the room. You watch him for a while before he looks away from his companions and your eyes meet. You look at each other for a few seconds before he turns back to the couple. Throughout the next hour, your eyes find each other in the crowd four more times, until you finally get a chance to talk.

He introduces himself as Jason, and you chat for some time, getting all the small talk out of the way. The waiter approaches you, offering you another glass of champagne, but you decline.

“There’s only so much champagne a girl can have on an empty stomach,” you joke.

“Fancy a dinner?” Oh, that’s smooth.

“Right now?”

“I know a good place.”

“Lead the way then.” You hope Rebecca will forgive you for dumping her.

He offers you his elbow, and you readily wrap your arm around it. You wave at Rebecca on your way out, letting her know that you’re leaving. She smiles at you and nods approvingly, she’s glad that at least one of you is having fun.

The place is, in fact, good, and the dinner goes really well. So well that it turns into breakfast and exchanged numbers.

Jamie’s sitting in your office rambling about the upcoming match while you’re eating your lunch. He’s been speaking for about five minutes when he notices the unusual amount of enthusiasm in your reactions.

He gives you a suspicious glance, “You seem to be in a good mood today.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah.”

It looks like you think on it for a moment, before coming to the conclusion that you are indeed in a particularly good mood. Something along your train of thought makes you smile, but you choose not to elaborate and just prompt Jamie to go on.

A week later, Jamie comes to your office to wait for you to finish your work, only to find you already on your way out. He asks you where you’re leaving so early, and you smile at him mischievously and tell him that you have plans.

The next day, Jamie’s at your office the first thing after practice, ready to interrogate you about those mysterious plans of yours. You tell him that you met a guy at that event you went to with Rebecca and you’ve been going out with him. You sound pretty excited talking about the guy, which makes Jamie feel some weird type of way, but he brushes it off. He’s glad you’re having fun, however long that lasts.

It’s been two months since you first met Jason, and it just might be the happiest you’ve ever been in a relationship. Because that’s where you two are at right now – a relationship. No matter how busy he is at work, he always finds time for you. You go out on dates to all kinds of fancy places, he sends you fresh flowers for your office every week, and when he’s away for business, you get surprise dinner deliveries. Sometimes you even go with him, having already visited New York and Rome. There was also one time where you mentioned being tired of the constant London rains, so he took you to Sicily for a weekend. You have been over the moon.

Jamie met him for the first time when he wanted to hang out with you after work, but Jason beat him to it, as he was already waiting for you at your office. After that, Jamie saw him when he came to the matches with you or when he was picking you up from work. For some reason, Jamie found himself being unreasonably skeptical of the guy. But no matter how hard Jamie tried to find something wrong with him, he couldn’t. Jason treats you in the best way possible, he makes you very happy, and everybody else likes him: Rebecca, Keeley, even Roy shook his hand.

You and Jamie are hanging out at your place with your usual program of takeout, beer, and a movie. Except that Jamie hasn’t been paying attention to the movie for a while now, too preoccupied with other thoughts.

“So it’s serious, between you and Jason?”

You’re a bit taken aback by the question that seemingly came out of nowhere, but then you nod in answer, “Yeah, I think so”.

“Do you… like him?” Jamie can’t bring himself to use any other word.

You chuckle, and a soft smile remains on your face, “That’s one way of putting it.”

“Good, yeah. That’s good,” Jamie smiles at you. It’s not good. It’s not good at all. It fucking stings.

You don’t dump Jamie. You spend less time with him, yes, because now there is someone else you want to spend time with, but he’s still your friend. So why does he feel like he’s lost you?

He knows why. The same reason why when you happily tell him something about your relationship, Jamie feels a lump in his throat. The same reason why he feels a little too disappointed when you can’t hang out with him because you have plans with Jason. The same reason why he’s been coming back to your office this whole time. He is in love with you. He is in love with you, and he’s been too much of a fucking idiot to realize it before it was too late.

Richmond has won the last match of the season. They are being promoted back to the Premier League. That calls for a celebration. Everyone is rightfully cheerful, getting drunk, singing Richmond chants, dancing.

Jamie’s sitting by himself with a drink in his hand, and his eyes are fixed on you. You’re standing with your arms around Jason’s neck and his arms around your waist, your faces are inches apart. You murmur something to each other between smiles and kisses. You two look annoyingly in love.

Part of Jamie is happy for you because that’s what you deserve. To be valued, and appreciated, and loved wholeheartedly. Another part of him wants nothing more than to be in Jason’s place right now. To be the one being loved by you and to love you with all he has in return. To tell you every day how wonderful you are and to be able to make you smile like that.

He did it to himself, didn’t he? If only he wasn’t so stuck in his own bullshit to see what was right in front of him. But that chance is gone now, and all he can do is watch.

A/N: and I’m in the corner watching you kiss her oh-oh-oohh

A/N 2: i started hating this fic by the time i finished it...

A/N 3: will there be a part 2?? who knows…

[marvelslittlewhore]

Bonding

SUMMARY | You and Rafe have more in common than you both thought.

-requested by anon

PAIRING | rafe cameron x adopted!teen!reader

WARNINGS | drug consumption, yelling, arguing, hurt/comfort, soft!Rafe, fluff at the end

            ◃◦--------------●--------------◦▹

You have been living with the Camerons for a few weeks now, still getting used to yet another family who grantly took you in. You're related to them, but not by blood. Your so-called mother met your stepfather when you were just a toddler, both quickly bonded over the fact that they're drug addicts.

You were only 6 when you got ripped out of your home and thrown into the system, going to family after family, everyone claiming you were too much to handle.

Now you were a teen and the system surprised you one day when they told you they found some of your relatives.

"They live in the Outer Banks. Ward and Rose Cameron already await you with open arms." The social worker told you with a smile while you only sighed, slumping in your seat before her desk. Great, another family who are 'oh so happy' to get to know you.

Now here you were, sitting in your room at Tannyhill and it was just how you expected. Ward did seem like a nice guy all until the papers were signed and the social worker left. He showed you your room and since then you were just air to him. A charity case to show off at events or the country club, to let everyone know what a good guy he is and how generous for finally getting you out of the system.

You hated it. After all these years of being thrown back and forth from family to family, you were now stuck here, adopted by someone who doesn't even acknowledge your presence when entering a room.

At least his kids, or your new siblings you suppose, talked with you and showed you around the Outer Banks.

Wheezie is funny and very smart. You both had a movie night once every week or sometimes you would go shopping with her, loving to just listen to her rambling or gossiping about school, sometimes she even asked you for advice.

Sarah took you several times to the Chateau where you got to know the pogues, they're a chaotic group of friends but it's nice feeling included in something.

And then there was Rafe. You don't really talk much, just the usual small talk when you would go to the kitchen to get water or when he passed your room, peaking inside to ask if you want to join him by the pool.

            ◃◦--------●--------◦▹

One evening you got home late, stumbling through the door, high as a kite, and didn't notice Ward standing there with his arms crossed until you kicked your shoes off jumping in surprise when you turned to face him, placing a hand on your chest.

"Where were you?" he asked, his tone laced with anger.

"Out." you simply shrugged, about to walk up the stairs when Ward turned you around, grabbing your chin in one hand and examining your face.

He scoffed with a smile, letting you go harshly, making you stumble a little before he snapped at you. "You're grounded!"

"What?!"

"You heard me. For the next two weeks you won't leave the house except for school," he said crossing his arms.

"But I bet I still have to go to that stupid midsummer event, right? Have to keep up your reputation?" you laughed mockingly.

"What are you on about?"

"As if you don't know! I'm nothing but a charity case to you, a trophy you can show around and live on your act as the generous Ward Cameron, so no one knows what an actual asshole you are!" you screamed in his face, pointing a finger at him.

"You better watch who you're talking to you brat!" he shouted back.

"You're pathetic. Doing everything for another dollar in your pocket as if you don't have enough already!" you waved your arm in the air.

"Alright, you just earned yourself a month of being grounded! There are rules and as long you're under my roof and care you're going to follow them. Unless you want to end up like your mother, pregnant and as an addict."

"Fuck you!" You flipped him off, stomping up the stairs and to your room, slamming the door shut before throwing yourself on your bed burying your face in a pillow.

You never wanted to be here in the first place. You screamed into your pillow in frustration before the tears started to fall, sobbing quietly.

When you heard someone knocking on your door you ignored it at first, groaning when the knocking continued and shouted. "Leave me alone!"

It didn't stop and you sighed, wiping your face before going to answer the door. "I said leave- oh, it's you."

Rafe stood before you, hands in his pockets and lips pressed in a thin line. "Hey, I- uhh, heard what happened downstairs." he coughed awkwardly. "I just wanted to see if you're okay."

"Perfectly fine." you said with a sarcastic smile, about to close the door again.

"You want some company?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

You were about to turn it down but decided against it, nodding your head you stepped to the side, a silent invitation for him to enter.

You walked back over to your bed, sitting on the edge of it, and patted the place next to you. He sat down next to you, rubbing his hands over his knees.

"So, what happened?"

"I thought you heard it?" you raised an eyebrow with a small smile on your face.

"Yeah, okay, you got me." he chuckled. "You know, Dad gets angry fast, you shouldn't take it seriously."

"Don't worry, he's nothing but a clown to me." you both laughed.

There was silence for a moment before you sighed, looking down at your hands, fidgeting with them.

"I just feel so out of place, not only here. I feel like this everywhere. I know it sounds stupid...but...I just want to feel loved and appreciated. There wasn't a single family where I felt at home." You told him, tears already forming in your eyes again. "I know I can be a lot to handle, at least, that's what I've been told my whole life..."

The tears you tried to hold back started to flow down your cheeks. Rafe straightened, slightly panicking at seeing you cry. He reaches behind you, soothingly rubbing your back.

"Shh, it's okay. C'mere." he pulls you more into his side.

He continued to hold you while you soaked his shirt in your tears, but he couldn't care less right now.

"It'll be okay, and hey, don't you know how much Wheezie and Sarah love you?" he asked and you pulled back to look at him, wiping your tears away, sniffling.

He wanted you to know that there are people who love and care for you, himself being one of them. He related to you more than you'll ever know. Being the oldest he tried to be a role model for his sisters, failing miserably, but he still did so much to get his father's attention, receiving nothing in return, not even a pat on the back.

"Really?" you asked, eyes big and filled with hope.

He nodded. "Really, trust me. You're not out of place, you just need time and that's totally valid after all you've been through." he noticed the confusion on your face since you never really talked with anyone about your past. "I've done some research," he admitted and you nodded.

"Thank you, Rafe." You smiled, still sniffling a little.

"Don't mention it, kid." he smiled, reaching a hand up to ruffle your hair. "Now, how about we go and watch a movie? Wheezie had been nagging my ear off about some new horror movie."

"Sounds perfect. I'm grounded anyways, so I don't have any plans." You shrugged making him laugh again.

            ◃◦--------------●--------------◦▹

Taglist

For everything:

@lokigirlszendaya @buckymydarlingangel @superlegend216

[bookofbonbon]

i know i am - rafe cameron.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader.

Summary: For Rafe, it's always been you. He's just waiting for you to realise it too.

Word Count: 840.

A/N: It has been a hot minute since I've posted Rafe Cameron and this is OLD. So, so old and I just found it in the archives and thought I would post it because why not?

You feel him before you see him, goosebumps covering the length of your arms and, not because it’s cold – more attuned to the pretty blue-eyed boy who fills the space behind you than you cared to admit but, he didn’t need to know that.  You try to be subtle in the deep breath you take, he always smells so good, you think he’s your favourite smell – yet another thing he didn’t need to know but, the small laugh he breathes tells you that he already does.

“You know you can do better than him,” Rafe chuckles quietly at the boy trying but failing to win you a stuffed animal - you’d been hoping he’d get you the brown teddy bear with the blue bow tie – the boy you’re actually here at the carnival with.

You roll your eyes playfully at his words even though he can’t see you, you’d heard them a thousand times before, “you can’t say that to me. I banned you from saying that to me, remember?”

Rafe laughs loudly, warmly, the sound reverberating through you and you’re unsure of when you had leant back into him but, you don’t mind. It feels nice.

“Okay, then…” Rafe acknowledges, making a noise in the back of his throat like he’s thinking. “How about… he’s not right for you.”

This time you roll your eyes in exasperation, turning to look at him – all playfulness and amusement gone. The tip of his nose and apples of cheeks are coloured pink from the cold and, if it weren’t for the mild irritation, you now felt with him, you would’ve thought it was cute.

You look to the side, mulling over your words as your gaze focuses on an unknown couple, wondering whether or not you should say what you have on your mind. It had always been a carefully crafted dance with Rafe, always teetering toward the edge but never going over it and, not because of him but because of you. You had known him too long, loved him too long, what if things didn’t work out between you two? But then he gives you that cheeky half grin that you love so much, and you think maybe you are ready to go over the edge if it's with him.

“You only ever say that because you think you’re right for me,” you shrug nonchalantly, gaze finding him again and steeling yourself to appear more confident than you felt.

Time seems to stand still at your words, never had you said anything like that before, always brushing him off with a roll of your eyes and a push at his arm but not this time. Something shifts between the two of you, a maddening tension that had always knocked at the door but had never been invited in until now and you wonder if Rafe feels it too.

If your words have any effect on him, he doesn’t show it, at least not in the way that you’d like. The seconds feel like hours, each one sending a knife to your heart as Rafe doesn’t say anything. Instead looking at you with a tilt of his head and a light draw of his brows, eyes shining with something you can’t quite place.

Your heart beats wildly in your chest – you’re sure if he comes any closer than he already is, he’ll hear it. But he doesn’t say anything and, instead of coming closer, he moves further away and around you before disappearing from your view entirely and leaving you feeling like a fool. Whatever confidence you may have held, leaving with him.

Tears fill your eyes, a lump in your throat as you swallow thickly, sniffling lightly and pressing a hand to your forehead. You stay there for a minute, probably less but it feels much longer; only prompted to move by the feeling of someone’s hand around your wrist and pulling you around to face them. You mentally shake the last few minutes with Rafe from your head, knowing that it’s likely your date returned with that stuffed animal he promised but, to your surprise – it’s Rafe.

“I don’t think I am; I know I am” he smiles at you.

It’s easy and light, always so effortless in his charm but, it's not playful like it usually is. There's a sincerity and comfort in the way he looks at you.

His confession catches you off guard even though it shouldn’t. He’s always been so openly and shamelessly in love with you and, yet butterflies erupt in your stomach all the same. Sliding his hand from around your wrist to cradle your hand, he squeezes it softly before guiding it towards something he holds in his other hand – you look down in surprise when you feel something soft beneath your fingers – it’s the brown teddy bear with the blue bow tie.

“Just waiting for you to realise that I am, too,” Rafe grins with a cheeky wink before he disappears into the crowd, knowing full well now, that you do.

-

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Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

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