#love losing dogs. love to bet on them. love to lose by their side.

[jessescatorccio]

love the type of male character that is just a losing dog

[alltheirdamn]

DECLINED | Mechanic!Joel x f!reader

*The Bet*

Summary: Joel makes you a bet during a night out. Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 3k Warnings: Pre-outbreak AU, mechanic!joel, established relationship, mentions of alcohol, banter, teasing, semi-public sex, unprotected piv sex, oral (f! receiving), edging, ROUGH sex, squirting, hair pulling, choking, cum eating, facial, light spanking, light face slapping, heavy kissing, explicit language, pet names (darlin', cowboy, babydoll), brat taming (kinda?) A/N: This is just pure FILTH. Eat it up, kids, I know you love it.

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Friday nights always meant date night with Joel. With Tommy babysitting Sarah and the work day done for you both, he insisted on taking you to his favorite bar on the outskirts of town. You were looking forward to a night alone, especially when you had a surprise up your sleeve. Earlier in the week, you came across a boutique in downtown Austin that sold very…niche t-shirts…and couldn’t help buying one. Putting the finishing touches on your makeup, you stepped back and admired your outfit. You had on the tiniest pair of cut-off denim shorts hugging your ass, a pair of worn black cowboy boots, and a fitted tank top with Cowboy Pillows written across your chest. It was perfect, and you knew it would drive Joel crazy. 

Joel stopped dead in his tracks when you came waltzing out of the house and toward his truck; the hand holding open the passenger door tightened until his knuckles turned white. 

Staring you down with a fire lit behind his big puppy dog eyes, Joel shook his head in protest.

“Absolutely the fuck not, babydoll,” he swore. “Take that pretty ass back inside and change.”

You stood before the truck with your arms crossed and the biggest pout forming on your lips. 

“Did you even read my shirt, cowboy?” You asked, moving your arms to reveal the words stretched over your breasts. 

“It’s very cute, darlin’, but you ain’t goin’ out like that,” Joel grumbled. 

“Why?” You frowned. 

“I ain’t tryna get arrested tonight. ‘Cause if one man lay eyes on those perky tits, I’m killin’ them.”

You strode toward him, pressing your body against his. His hands found their usual spot over the swell of your ass, his fingers prodding into the supple flesh hidden under the denim. You hummed as his mouth dipped to your ear, his teeth grazing over the shell as his voice dropped low. 

“Why don’t we just stay in?” He breathed. “Wanna take you right back in the house and fuck you ‘til you can’t walk.”

“You promised me a night out, Joel,” you whined. 

He made his way down your neck, peppering you with open-mouthed kisses before responding to your demands.

“Fine,” he muttered against your skin. “Get your sexy ass in the fuckin’ truck, and let’s go.”

He released you and climbed into the truck with a mischievous grin. Joel quickly pulled you across the bench, tucking you into his side as he pulled out of the driveway and toward the bar. You brushed your hand over Joel’s thigh, your fingers creeping up to the zipper of his jeans. He shifted in the seat, spreading his legs a little wider to welcome more of your touch. 

“You’re gonna get yourself in trouble, babydoll,” he warned. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied innocently. 

His hand shot out before you could drag his zipper down, bringing your fingers up to his mouth to place gentle kisses along each digit. 

“I’ll make you a bet,” he smirked, turning his head to look at you.

“What kind of bet?”

“No touchin’ each other tonight. The first person to do it loses.”

A giggle bubbled out of you as you considered his offer. Knowing Joel, he’d lose before you stepped into the bar. The idea of teasing him all night already had your thighs clenching tight, the friction of the denim against your aching clit nearly too painful to bear.

“What happens to the loser?” You asked.

“Loser gets to do whatever the other one wants.”

The truck slowed to a stop as the streetlight turned red, and you moved closer to reel him in for a deep kiss. If this bet was going to happen, you wanted all the attention before you set out to win the bet. Joel’s tongue brushed over your lips, coaxing your mouth open wider and deepening the kiss. You moaned into his mouth, tangling your hands in his hair to hold him closer. 

“You’re on, cowboy,” you grinned, pulling away as the light turned green. “Hope you’re ready to lose.”

“We’ll see ‘bout that, darlin'.”

The bar was mildly crowded for a Friday night. Most of the patrons were older men sulking around or flirting with the bartenders. Soft country music floated out of the jukebox in the corner, and you found yourself swaying your hips to the melody. Joel watched you as you danced, his eyes never leaving your body unless he caught wind of another man admiring you from afar. You laughed each time he scowled at them and upped the movement of your hips just to get a rise out of him. Watching him try to hold back from touching you was cute, his hand nearly crushing the beer he was nursing. 

After your third drink, the tipsy feeling started to settle in, and self-restraint was slowly phasing out of your body. Joel noticed the shift in your mood as you perched yourself on a barstool. You tried to hide the way you clenched your thighs, chasing the friction of the denim rubbing against your aching clit. Leaning in as close as he could, Joel lowered his head and chuckled. 

“Doin’ okay, babydoll?” He whispered in your ear, his mouth a breath away from your neck.

You shivered at the phantom touch; he was so close, yet not close enough. 

“Stop it,” you exhaled. “You’re not playing fair.”

“Not playin’ fair?” He questioned. “You ain’t been playin’ fair since you walked out the damn house.”

“Aw, poor baby,” you feigned sympathy. “Am I driving you crazy with my lil’ outfit?”

“You have no fuckin’ idea, darlin’.”

Scootching off the barstool, you tilted your head toward the vacant pool table. Joel’s eyes followed the motion, raising his brow at your silent invitation.

“Y’wanna play?” He asked. “Hope you’re ready to lose, darlin’.”

“You talk a big game, cowboy. You’re on.”

You grabbed a cue stick and waited for Joel to rack the balls and center them on the green velvet table. He grabbed his own stick and gestured to you to start. 

“All you, babydoll. Let’s see it.”

You rounded the table and leaned over to line your stick with the cue ball. Inhaling on the pull of your stick, you exhaled and drove it into the cue. The sound of the resin balls breaking shattered the music in the background, their triangle formation scattering across the table. You managed to sink two striped balls into the left corner pocket and rose to assess the damage. Joel stared at you, impressed, nodding as he lined up his stick with the cue. 

“Y’got stripes, babydoll. Solid’s are mine,” he mutters, his eyes trained on the ball. 

You watched, mesmerized, as Joel’s shoulder muscles moved fluidly with each extension of his arm. With a strong drive of the stick, Joel sunk the four ball into the right-center pocket. Giving you a cocky grin, he rounded the table again, this time directly facing you. He stared up at you, his eyes dark under the furrow of his brows. You bent over the table's edge, propping your face onto your hands and shimming your shoulders slightly. Joel’s eyes snapped up to your chest, fixated on the way your breasts pushed together.

“Not fair,” he gritted before sending his stick into the cue ball. 

The ball scratched on the table, missing the solid he aimed for. You smirked at him, sticking your tongue out as you skipped around the table to settle into position against the table. You eyed Joel as he moved to stand behind you, and you rewarded him with pushing your ass out further. Giving your hips a little wiggle, you sent a forceful shot into the cue, sinking the nine ball and ricocheting it against the twelve ball, sending it into the right corner pocket. 

“Damn,” Joel mumbled, tracking your body as you lined up for your third turn. 

“Didn’t think I was good, huh?” You laughed. 

“You’re good at everythin’, darlin’.”

The dip in his voice vibrated up your body as you pressed your legs against the table to line up for the next stroke. Joel leaned his hip against the corner of the table, folding his arms as he watched you aim your stick at the cue. 

“C’mon, babydoll,” he whispered, drawing your focus away from the shot and causing the cue ball to sink into the pocket rather than the fifteen ball you were gunning toward. 

“You play dirty,” you grumbled. 

Joel crowded you, his body inches from yours. You arched into the distance between your bodies, barely keeping your chest from brushing his. 

“I bet those panties are already soaked, huh?” Joel teased.

You gave him an innocent smile, ready to deliver the final blow to his restraint. Rising onto your toes, you kept your mouth close to his ear. 

“They would be if I were wearing any, cowboy.”

You pulled back to see Joel’s nostrils flaring, his eyes roaming down your body and back up. 

“Bathroom. Now.” He demanded. 

“But we’re still playing,” you whined, gesturing to the pool table. 

Joel’s hand shot out to your waist, dragging you to his body. 

“Fuck the game. Need you in that bathroom now so I can fuck that sassiness outta you,” he growled. 

“I’m not sassin’ you, cowboy. You’re just a sore loser,” you taunted. 

“I ain’t gonna ask again, babydoll. You either walk to the bathroom right now, or I fuck you on that pool table in front of everyone.”

“Maybe I want a crowd,” you shrugged with a coy grin. “Bend me over right here, cowboy. Show them who’s yours.”

“Bet you’d like that, huh? Have all them eyes on you while you scream my name and soak the table. Y’wanna show everyone how good y’take my cock?”

“Do it,” you smiled. 

Joel’s hand traveled down your ass, squeezing it hard enough to make you yelp before smacking it hard. A few heads turned at the sound, their wandering eyes scrutinizing you and Joel. Even though Joel could be all talk, you knew he wouldn’t actually fuck you in front of everyone, not when he was the most protective and selfish man there was. 

You were too turned on to fight it now. Turning toward the bathroom, you glanced over your shoulder and smiled as Joel watched you walk to the dimly lit hallway of the bar. You didn’t have the care to notice heads turning to stare at you as you passed, the excitement too strong as it coursed through your veins. You barely had a hand on the door when you felt a warm body pressed against your back, and Joel was quick to shove you inside the one-stall bathroom. With a quick turn of the lock, he had you pinned to the ceramic sink and his mouth crashing against yours. While you tangled your fingers into his messy curls, Joel worked at your shorts, tugging the tight denim down your hips and thighs. He broke away from your lips, staring down at your bare sex as you spread your legs slightly. 

“Fuckin’ christ, babydoll,” he exhaled. “Can’t believe you been keepin’ this from me all night.”

“Like what you see?” 

Joel wrapped two strong hands behind your thighs and lifted you onto the edge of the sink. You gasped at the shock of the cold against your bare ass, bucking your hips forward to search for his warmth. He lowered himself onto his knees, keeping a firm grip on your thighs as you settled your calves over his shoulders. Peering up at you between your parted legs, Joel gave you a wicked grin before brushing his nose up your inner thighs. 

“You know I won, right?” You questioned as his tongue pressed against your throbbing clit. “Technically, I should be calling the shots.”

Joel glared up at you, his pupils blown wide under the red lights of the bathroom. 

“Y’can call the shots all you want later,” he mumbled. “Right now, you’re mine.”

You cried as his tongue dipped inside you, his jaw working overtime to pull each pitiful sound from your body. He drew circles around your slick folds, purposefully avoiding your aching clit. You whined every time his tongue brushed close to it, that agonizing surge of pleasure coursing through your body. Music from the bar drifted into the bathroom, layering over the frustrated cries leaving your lips. 

“Stop teasing, cowboy,” you panted, bucking your hips against his tongue.

“This is what ya’ get, darlin’,” Joel spoke against your wet cunt.

“Please,” you begged.

He pulled away entirely, leaving you chasing the orgasm you never got. Spinning you toward the mirror, Joel worked at freeing his cock with one hand while pressing the other hand into your spine. You flattened against the sink, your hands pressed against the mirror. Glancing up, you met his eyes in the mirror, watching as his lips twitched into a devilish grin. That was all the warning he gave before he drove into you in one fluid stroke. 

“Fuck!” You cried, your head falling between your shoulders.

Joel’s hand wound around your hair, twisting it into a ponytail and yanking your neck back until you strained against his grip. 

“Nuh uh, babydoll,” Joel grunted. “Watch me while I fuck you.”

You locked your eyes with his through the reflection, watching as his face twisted into something carnal. He pounded into you with enough force to make the sink underneath you creak with the weight pressed against it. Joel kept a relentless pace, dismissing every whine and sob falling off your lips. He reached around you with his other hand, wrapping his hand around your throat and squeezing tight. You heaved in a breath as your vision blurred, the pleasure mixing with pain every time he slammed into you.

Your orgasm started surging up through your core, snaking into your bloodstream and becoming unbearable to hold back. You choked out a sob, your thighs quaking as the pleasure built inside your stomach.

“Joel,” you choked. 

“Y’need to cum, babydoll?” Joel taunted, driving into you hard.

His cock hit the right spot over and over again until he felt your cunt clenching around him. He pulled out at the exact moment your orgasm exploded through your body, liquid gushing out of you and down your thighs. Joel growled in approval, sinking back into you as the aftershocks sent tremors through your limbs.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he praised. “Keep takin’ my fuckin’ cock. I ain’t done yet, babydoll.”

His hand was still gripping your throat, his fingers applying more pressure to cut off your ragged whimpers. You clawed at the edge of the sink, entirely at Joel’s mercy as he wrecked into you harder…faster. He didn’t lie when he said he was going to fuck the sass out of you; you were helpless in this moment. 

But you fucking loved it.

“So. Fuckin’. Good.” Joel punched out each word through every thrust. 

Joel released your throat and wrapped both hands in your hair, using it to guide your hips back against his cock. You were so full of him and so sore, but you couldn’t deny the pressure swelling inside your stomach. You gasped for air as each thrust grew stronger, his cock assaulting you until you spasmed under him and let your orgasm rush out of you. 

“Fuck! Fuck… fuck… fuck,” you chanted, chasing the throbbing pulse inside your body. 

Warm liquid drenched his cock, the lewd sound of his hips meeting yours echoing around you. Joel pulled out suddenly, leaving you hollow and soaked. Wrangling you to your knees, Joel pumped his cock over your open mouth, grunting out your name as his release painted your tongue and lips. Bending down to eye level, Joel lapped up the cum dripping off your swollen lips before bringing his hand up to slap your cheek. He rubbed a hand over your face, smearing your makeup around, leaving you a fucked-out mess.

“Y’look so pretty like this,” he hummed, pulling you in for a hungry kiss. You whimpered into his mouth, his tongue intertwining with yours. 

“I love you, babydoll,” he sighed, pressing his lips against your forehead. 

“I love you too, cowboy,” you preened. 

You were used to him being rough—dominant—but this possessiveness was intoxicating. You wanted more.

“I think I should sass you more often,” you giggled. 

“You enjoy bein’ fucked like a bratty lil’ slut?” He smirked. 

“Love it,” you exhaled, dragging him back to your mouth. 

Joel helped you back into your shorts after you both took a moment to breathe. You turned towards the mirror and admired the complete mess that you were; your hair was mangled into knots, your shirt was askew, and your face was covered in streaks of mascara, smeared lipstick, and drool. A giggle bubbled out of you as you tried to tame down your hair and wipe away some of the makeup coating your rosy cheeks. Joel grabbed your hand, tugging you away from the mirror.

“Leave it,” he whispered. “Want everyone to see how filthy you are.”

“Seriously?” You gaped. 

Joel nodded his eyes, his eyes coasting over your body. 

“Seriously, babydoll. Need to show them you’re mine.”

“I think they already know,” you said pointedly. “I’m pretty sure I was loud enough to break the jukebox.”

He chuckled at your statement, tapping your ass and guiding you toward the door. Dropping his mouth to your ear, he softly kissed your neck before twisting the lock open.

“C’mon, darlin’. Let’s go home so y’can have your way with me.”

“I’m going to make you pay for this, cowboy,” you warned. “I'm going to have you on your knees begging for it.”

“I’ll happily worship you all night, babydoll,” he smiled, kissing your cheek before guiding you into the hall and out to his truck.

[chaithetics]

Late Night Mends

Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x reader

Word count: 2.1K

Warning: 18+ MDNI, mentions of anxiety, injuries, not a lot of spice, some fluff, not proof/beta read lol, does not contain spoilers for Monkey Man.

Note: Absolutely am in love with Dev Patel, he adores the world and fandom love! Also special mention to my friend @mittos who helped with this prompt/story ideas. Go and see Monkey Man if you haven't already! And if you have go and see it again! Also jaan is a Hindi term of endearment. Also can we take a moment for Dev Patel's side profile?! Comments, and reblogs are always appreciated as well! I hope you enjoy!

************************************************************************

It was late, extremely late. It had been a slow night but it was quickly becoming the latest it had ever been without his tired, bloody presence. It made you uncomfortable how late it was becoming, he never took this long to show up after a big match. You bit your nails as you couldn’t help but think about the possibility of where he was and scarily, what condition he was in. 

It was a risky field that Kid was in, especially when he was the losing dog for the overeager, sweaty crowd not to bet on. He took the punches and rarely complained about it, you’d only ever been to one of his fights before and never again. It was too painful to watch, you’d bitten each of your fingernails right down to the beds, and you swore that it gave you a few grey hairs. If you had any, each of them could be traced back to being his fault, you were sure. You loved him, truly adored him, but he certainly knew how to stress you out. 

You’re sitting down waiting for him to arrive. You don’t even realise that you’ve put your hand up to your face to bite your nails but now you know that you must’ve as you’ve been subconsciously biting them as you look out the window waiting, lost in your thoughts. You could think and use that as a distraction but no, the more you think or gaze off, the more you think about him, worry about him and overanalyse every little thing to be analysed, including what would need a magnifying glass to do so. You sigh and rub your face tiredly and also as another poor attempt at a distraction to take your mind away from him. 

It was a ridiculous thought, nothing could distract you from him, Kid lived rent-free in your mind 24/7, no matter what you did or wanted. And now was his prime time for filling your head. 

You rub your face some more and then look up, you can hear the door quietly open and the sound of gentle footsteps start to make their way to you. You look up as you try to glimpse the start of his lean shadow to confirm that he’s really, really, finally here. The light switch turns on as you see his arm stretch out and then he’s standing there in your doorway. 

You look up at him as he stands, he just looks at you for a moment. His gorgeous doe-eyes are wide, he looks exhausted and defeated but there’s a small smile on his face as his eyes meet yours. Ever since you’d known Kid, he had always been a man of few words, which seemed to balance out just how expressive his handsome face was. You liked that though, that his eyes truly were the window to his soul. You did like his voice though as well, you’d have no problem with him using it more. Sometimes he would talk though, about his sweet mother, the stories of Hanuman that his mother had told him and that had vividly stuck with and inspired him still. 

You quickly take him in, there’s sweat in his hair, a cut in his cheek, and his knuckles are bloody as always. You bite your lip as you look at him, chewing over your words so you don’t come across as either a scolding lover or treating him like a patient. 

“Your hands…” You finally say as he steps closer to you and you can see that he made some attempt to cover them with a bit of cloth but the blood is all over his right hand. 

“It’s fine.” He says in a soft whisper, his voice is melodic as always but a little hoarse and deep. He looks down at his hand he tries not to flinch when you take his hand and it’s further proof that no, it really isn’t fine. You sigh and move his hand to check his fingers, it causes discomfort but based on the movement you know it’s not broken at least. It was genuinely impressive that he was still alive, still functioning and not just with everything he’d been through as a young boy, but with the amount of beatings he’d taken at the club. That he’d somehow avoided major damage to his body, that his handsome looks were still intact, and also his teeth. That was a big surprise you had to admit. 

“Sit down.” You look at him with a look of concern, one that he doesn’t like. “Come on, I’ll clean it up.” You say softly.  He runs his right hand, his good hand through his damp but perfect locks and he sighs, sitting down, waiting for you to fix his wounds and to feel your tender touch. 

You’d had the first aid kit ready to go, sitting on the floor waiting for his entrance. You always used it, he always needed it. Your medical background certainly helped, some nights you’d crack a joke that that was the only reason why he was with you. The first time you made that joke his eyes widened at first, and he immediately stuttered to try and reassure her that that wasn’t the case. He didn’t realise that it was a joke. You’d kissed him to reassure him and he kissed you back so sweetly. Now when you made the joke he’d just look at you and give you a small, precious chuckle. You just want to make him smile, make him laugh, bring him joy, and make him feel safe. He deserved that at the very least, especially with his gigantic hug. 

His hand clearly had taken the worst of it, you hold it gently in yours, and his hand twitches for a moment. He’s spent most of his life being devoid of affection. He craved a gentle touch, to feel seen and safe in the company of another. He’d started to find that with you, in the way you looked at him, how you carefully held his hand in arms when cleaning an injury and wrapping it up. You somehow had never noticed it, he figured it was because of how attentive you were to his injuries, to him, and his lips quirked up into a secret smile you’d miss over the irony of you not noticing this because of how attentive you were being to him. 

“You were later than usual.” You say as you clean his bruised and bloodied knuckles. 

“I know.” He whispers as he looks up at you, he’s tired but there’s a small smile on his lips as he knows the scolding is incoming, just what degree is it going to be from you tonight, is the question. 

“I was worried, my fingernails are almost as bloody as your knuckles because of how much I was biting them.” You say as you try to clean his hand gently, noting how his hand occasionally twitches in response.

“Would’ve been quite a match.” He whispers before he looks at your hands, noticing your nervously bitten nails. His cheeks heat up as he can’t help but feel a little bit of guilt about causing you to worry so, he’s spent so much of his life without someone who cares about him like this. You sigh and roll your eyes at his response. 

“You’re going to be the cause of every single grey hair I have in this lifetime.” You say as you treat the knuckle wounds, making sure you’re gentle. “All I do is worry, you spend every night getting beaten, thrown off tables. It’s going to be too much one day. Something will go wrong. Then what?” Kid can’t help but look up at you, it’s a conversation that’s happened more than a few times. “What if it’s your spine or something? I won’t be able to fix that-” “It’s okay. It’s fine. I’m okay, jaan.” He says as he looks up at you, his big brown eyes are widened and he’s looking at you with his sad puppy dog eyes, he feels bad for making you worry so much. 

You sigh, biting your lip as you try to stop yourself from saying anything else. He’s too sweet and so you nod and finish cleaning and bandaging everything. After a moment, you cup his cheek as you look at his warm eyes and you go to get him some water to drink. He watches you and continues to as he drinks the water. You two have become quite good at playing a game of watching each other, almost like it’s a sport to observe the other. 

He looks at you, tilting his head which tousles the gorgeous locks he has a little. You sigh and run a hand through his soft brown curls, damp with sweat but somehow miraculously not blood. His hair has always been absolutely perfect. You feel bad for essentially venting your anxieties at him right as he’s come from a long night of work at the club. 

“I only scold because I care.” You say but you’re not sure if it’s him or yourself that you’re trying to convince more as you say the words, but it’s true technically. “It’s a form of doting really.” You say as you look at him as he adjusts in his seated position, looking up at you with his wide, doe-eyed orbs. Even if it was a form of doting, you could never stay mad at him for long when having to look into those gorgeous eyes. They’d melt away any troubles and you’re sure if awards were given out for best brown eyes, he’d win. You hated that he did this, that this was how he had to get by. That he had to take these awful, unhealthy beatings but you love him anyway.

He was freshly bandaged now, he moved his hand up and Kid started to slowly caress your cheek, he traced some invisible line so gently with the pads of his fingertips as he looked at you. His doe eyes were filled with adoration and peacefulness as he concentrated on your beauty. You let him, it was soothing and sweet and you had no reason to even consider stopping this. You were his and he was yours. 

Your eyes glance down at his fingers, and then you put a hand up to cup his cheek and look into the most beautiful eyes you could ever imagine seeing. After he feels your touch his eyes quickly close and he inhales. He isn’t sure if he’ll ever get used to the feeling of your fingers on his face, of how your hair feels against his skin, or your breath, but he knows for sure, that he’ll at least never tire of it. 

His fingers glide down do your mouth and he traces your lips as he looks at them. He tilts his head and before he can even move, you’ve moved your head to press your lips together. There’s something about how gentle his hands are with you, how they feel even after everything that has happened to him and that he does. How it just takes a glance at you for him to melt into a puddle. 

You put your hand back into his hair and run it through his curls as he kisses you back and the kiss deepens almost immediately. He cups your cheek gently as your lips move together in sync and you can’t help but start to tug his locks a little and his hand moves to your waist to hold you close against him. You continue to play and tug his hair as his lips move down your chin and jaw and he kisses your neck. You gasp out and tug on his hair a bit more as you feel his breath tickle your throat between his passionate kisses. You struggle to not let out a giggle as he does this and you feel your cheeks heating up as you tilt your head back so your neck is as exposed as possible for him while he kisses your throat and makes his way to your collarbone. 

He always gets like this, and so quickly. He just needs a little touch, the reassurance of you being there and he feels an all-consuming need to make up for the years of loneliness, the lack of affection, the lack of physical contact outside of a fight he was guaranteed to lose. He has you in his arms and it’s something right for once, if it was a game this would be a victory, some kind of peace.

[bruciemilf]

HAVe YOU thought about chubby baby Jason?? Like he's this sweet round cutie pie with curls? and slight freckles on his little button nose??

EVERYDAY.

You CANNOT convince me Bruce wouldn't dot on him 24/7. Pursuing him to actually leave his baby's side in order to do, you know... Anything else is a losing battle.

Additionally, Bruce's reputation as recluse is practically gone.

Baby Jason loves wobbling around the dog park, convenience stores, Gotham Academy halls when Bruce brings Dick his forgotten lunch.

It's not out of the ordinary for the billionaire to lightly jog after that screeching little cherub baby; It's the cutest sight.

Like a cat tracking down it's wild kitten. Or at least, that's how Clark Kent eloquently describes it in the newspaper.

Baby Jason is just as clingy to Bruce, thought.

He wouldn't hide in Batman’s duffel bag, in the Watchtower, otherwise.

It's the first time the league sees Batman actually, truly terrified.

"Turn this around."

"Batman, our mission cannot he annulled. I-- oh. Yes, Jason, I would love to see the bug. Yes. Pretty bug."

Jason coos, setting the little thing free, and makes grabby hands for his dad, who picks him up so fast Clark nearly misses it.

They just can't fathom how this sentient ray of sunshine is related to their Bat. But Bruce is a natural at it.

The only problem with Jason being here is that A) Jason is here.

B) Bruce cannot and will not stop kissing his chubby cheeks, which postpones a lot of their work. Not that they mind. Clark certainly doesn't.

Oliver, something furious and familiar smoking behind his mask, pulls Diana and Clark over.

" Okay. Which one of you did it?"

"Uh, what?"

" I'm not a toilet, so don't bullshit me, boyscout. Which one of you is responsible for THAT,"

He gestures to Hal projecting butterflies in the lunch room, so Jason can chase them. For once, Bruce doesn't look like he wants to burn him to dust. Clark tries not to let that bother him.

"WHAT."

"Amazonian, kryptonian, -- I'm not leaving options out. But my bet is on Diana."

[meidnightrain]

I BET ON LOSING DOGS❞ - aventurine

summary: even if you’d lose, you’d always bet on this doomed love no matter what

warnings: reader is gn, 2.1 penacony quest spoilers, angst, hurt/no comfort

notes: i love this song so it was only fair for me to write this out for aventurine, i’ve been in the mood for angst lately so this came to be. had to repost this two times because tumblr kept hiding my post from tags 😭

taglist(open): @akutasoda , @yvnaology , @tragedy-of-commons , @ryuryuryuyurboat

there’s a resounding silence that eats you up in the aftermath of it all. people would describe it as thick enough that you could slice it and plate it like a cake. not this time, it’s empty, like someone is missing, and that absence has torn a rip in the very fabric of your soul.

it was your fault anyway, for betting on losing dogs when this all started. you knew that this outcome was inevitable; for what else would a gambler love more than betting his all even with stacked odds? AVENTURINE was different—oh, so different—than all the other people that had tried to woo you before. with carefully calculated moves and a meticulous plan to win your heart, he had struck gold with you. but the two sides of him were in stark contrast, hiding the other vulnerable side of him that no one could ever see. that was, until you came along and tore down his stone walls like they were paper.  

and you would have done it all over again, betting on losing dogs even if it meant that your heart would get smashed into smithereens. he never needed to give you money or whatever luxuries he’d bribe others with to make a deal, for your heart would drop whenever you heard his name.

a bad ending was inevitable to this doomed narrative, an outcome far outweighing the positives. did it matter whether you’d get broken over and over again, trying to love someone broken? you’d rip out pieces from your heart and give them to him so he could fill the missing pieces of his. but you both still stayed anyway, despite knowing how this would all end, and you’d always call him your baby.

he was reluctant to love; it’s easier to bet it all when you have nothing at stake if you fail, but you were on the line. it would be a lie to say that he was fearless and always confident in his abilities, which would wiggle him out of any situation. sometimes, a blessing from the gaiathra triclops could only bring you so far, and he worried about when that luck would run out. he could never match the love you gave him, unable to leave this loop and cycle of self-hatred that had followed him all his life. how could AVENTURINE tell you, who treated him like he was the world to you, that he was only worth 60 tanba?

the air in the dreamscape always had this sickly sweet smell of soulglad that would tickle your nose and make you sick to your stomach. was that how you felt about this doomed love—feeling sick knowing that this could only end badly?

“i’m afraid that i’m going to have to bear this burden; this feeling of knowing something inside you is constantly missing. and that something is you.”

he doesn’t look at you; his expression is hidden behind the shadows, obscuring his face. some would compare him to a peacock, his train feathers in a dazzling display like the cards in his hand. but the feathers will eventually fade, like how luck eventually runs out.

“one day, it won’t be there anymore. i don’t know when that day will come, but i want you to know that i…will always love you.” 

“but i love you more than you could ever imagine, and that’s why that feeling will stay with me till the end of my days. it’s because you’re going far away, somewhere i can’t follow.”  

this time, AVENTURINE doesn’t offer you solace or comfort; he stands with such stillness that you could have mistaken him for a statue. no words, no movements, no comfort, no reassurance. he knows that his time is up; the very thing that he’s craved for so long has come, but at the price of your heart. torn between you and the freedom that he’s sought all his life, he chooses himself. so he chooses to walk out the door, with his heart in his throat and it’s like all of you leaves with him.  

the aftermath is silent and cold, unforgiving like the cool waters that would rain down from the sky of sigonia scarcely. it’s deep, and it’s bone-chilling, pushing your head down under the raging waves relentlessly as you sink helplessly into the water with no one to pull you out. the dreamscape is in disarray. the family and their loyal dogs scrambling to keep up appearances and re-opening the theme park despite its stage being decimated by his show, his performance, and the grandest death that he always dreamed of having.  

looking at the torn sky of this horrid nightmare, you can’t help but wonder why you bet on this failed dream when you’d know that you’d lose and pay for your place by the ring. perhaps it would have felt better if you could have looked into his eyes when he was down—one last time with those eyes that had pierced your soul and crumbled your walls. 

AVENTURINE would always win the gamble, even if it meant that he would lose the bet and everything else in the process. you had lost dismally for you’d always wanted him, even if it meant destroying yourselves in the process. and it wouldn’t have been as bad if he had been over you, looking into your eyes as you came right back to him like always. but this time, you were the one who let him slip through your fingers and you were left with nothing but your broken, bleeding heart and false promises of a home you could never return to. he told you forever, that was how long you’d be together and how long you’d call him your home. but forever was too short and the house was haunted now.  

and you’d cry thinking of all the words he’d said to you. his affirmations, his compliments, the whispered ‘i love you’ behind closed doors paired with a kiss, and the arguments that’d have your heart racing faster than the speed of light. and you’d cry even harder thinking of all the words you could have said but never did.

© AVENTURNE 2024. DO NOT COPY, REPOST, SHARE, TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD MY WORKS ONTO ANY OTHER SITE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION

[wood-white-writer]

"Didn't mean to make your heart Blue" || [5/...]

“Where I'll be looking in their eyes when they're down, I'll be there on their side. I'm losing by their side.”

— Mitski, "Bet On Losing Dogs"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live action) x F!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. 

It's been a few weeks since the events in Orange Town, and Luffy notices something that others do not. So, he decides to ask you.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, LA!Verse, No (fully bodied) Buggy this chapter, Luffy being the precious cinnamon we all love and must protect above all else, flashbacks about Shanks, past discussions, Luffy and Reader have a heart-to-heart.

A/N: I was initially going to write them going to the Baratie this chapter, but it became too long so next one for sho.

Taglist:@kurinhimenezu, @carpinchootaku, @ay0nha, @teh-vampire-bunny, @lokiscure, @internationalsuper-spy @detectivesparrow , @yuriwk, @notyuralycat, @angeli-fucking-cat, @machinema7k (If you want to be tagged for this story, just send me a message or leave a comment :))

You're sitting by the table in Party's bar, nursing a cold glass of rum against your cracked lips as you observe to the kid - Luffy - demonstrating his newfound Devil Fruit powers without any regard for poor Makino's furniture. 

You don't get him, at all. Then again, you don’t get kids. 

You've never thought of yourself as someone who easily got along with them ... or people in general. Shanks has always been the better-suited one for that kind of work. Whereas he is smiling and grinning at the kid’s mischief, you've barely offered him more than a glance at most.

Your crew has been positioned in Foosha village for the better part of the month, stacking up on resources and food in preparation for your next job. Incidentally, the Red-Haired Pirates also happened to be in town for similar excursions. You rarely see Shanks nowadays since you parted ways several years ago, but whenever you happen to come across one another, you share a drink on his tab.

While your crew is around and about, replenishing their strength and vigor for the work to come, you're content with just sitting here at your leisure. When you're not plundering or fighting or attacking Marine bases, you can't find it in yourself to do much of anything anymore. 

Nothing adds any purpose to your life save for what keeps you fed and clothed, which in the life of a pirate, simply means pirating.

"I've heard you had good fortune on your latest heist," Shanks says from where he's sitting opposite of you. "For your efforts, the Marines have granted you among the highest bounties in all of the East-Blue."

You hum noncommittally in response, not offering much to the conversation in terms of merriment. "The quality of the Marines has been in decline. It says more about their effort, or lack thereof, than mine."

"Do you know what they call you nowadays?"

"They call me a lot of names, you got to be more specific."

"'Cross-Hairs, the Beast of the East'. It's got a certain ring to it, don't you think?"

"Sure."

Shanks smiles the kind way he always does. Always has done.

"Gum-Gum Pistol!" 

The sound of yet another chair breaking has you rolling your eyes without even looking, and poor Makino ages ten years in seconds across the bar counter. 

"Luffy!"

"Sorry!"

Shanks laughs heartedly at the display, only to cut it short upon noticing Makino's even glare sent his way from across the bar. 

"You were careless," you state matter-of-factly and take another gulp from your drink. "You should've kept the fruit hidden more securely."

"Now, in my defense, I didn't think the lad would searching through my loot."

"Well, you should've." You slam your glass down, strong enough to leave a dent in the wooden surface. "What kind of captain leaves his loot undefended and unsupervised? Especially when it contains a Devil Fruit?"

Shanks doesn't argue with your statement and settles with taking a gulp of his own drink, letting your words simmer in his head. "You're right, I should've been more observant. Now, it'll be more difficult for him to achieve his dream."

"His dream? Of what? Becoming the King of the Pirates?" Try as you might, there's no suppressing the snort that escapes through your nose. "There's only ever been one King, and we all saw what happened to him. What do you think is going to happen to a kid who can't even swim?"

"Oh, come off it!" He gives you a playful nudge to the rib, which you reciprocate with a glare. He remains undeterred. "You mean to tell me you've never thought about finding the One Piece? Not even once?"

"I have no interest in whatever plunder Gol D. left behind." 

"Then, what does interest you?" He rests his elbow on the edge of the table and leans over to your side. "What is your dream?"

You grit your teeth under your lips, a flash of blue circulating in your head. "Dreams are for fools and children," you point your head to where Luffy is currently sitting, trying to put the chair back together with a half-empty tube of glue and little luck. 

"Come on, I know you better than that. Surely there's something in this world you want more than anything?"

"What I want is ..." You have half a mind to tell him the truth, whereas the other half wants to push the idea further down to the bottom of your chest. "Is another bottle of rum."

You raise your arm to Makino to gesture for another one, but Shanks is quick to lower it with a gentle shove of his arm. You flash him a scowl and brush off his hand, but unlike your crew or anyone else, he's not afraid.

"The point which I'm trying to make before you're completely pissed," he starts. "Is that no matter how much opposition one faces, it's that dreams are never out of reach if you have the will to reach for them."

He inclines his head over your shoulder, and you turn around to see Luffy successfully putting the chair back together. You don't know how he did it - it looked pretty busted minutes ago - but there it is, wholly intact.

And when the boy smiles, it's so vibrant and full of joy that it's almost blinding. He proudly runs over and shows the repaired chair to Makino, who proceeds to pat his head and hand him a plate of food.

"See?" Shanks grins. "Nothing is impossible."

"You can hardly consider putting a chair back together the same as achieving an impossible goal."

He shrugs. "Maybe not, but you won't know unless you try. All it takes is a little spirit."

You watch Shanks for a couple of minutes in silence, processing his mythic words, then shift your attention over to Luffy who's preoccupied with shoving an unholy amount of food into his mouth. If this is to become the future King of the Pirates one day, then it'll be an interesting future indeed.

"A little spirit, huh?" 

— — —

You're sad.

Luffy first notices it when you leave Orange Town, and it lingers throughout your voyage. 

For as long as he's known you, you've always been a person of relatively few words; never speaking unless you feel the situation requires it, and only acting when necessary. Even following the Kuro situation™, getting the Going Merry, and adding Usopp to his crew, he can tell that you're not all there anymore.

Not to be mistaken, you're not conspicuous with the way you behave. You still act like usual, talk like usual, however little, and commit yourself to your work on the ship, almost to an excessive extent. 

All in all, nothing’s changed about you. However, he’s gotten used to your face and general lack of expression most of the time, and though it doesn't seem to alter, he still catches onto the fact that you're sad. 

"Hey," he asks the group and props himself in the kitchen, legs crossed atop his seat. "Do you think she's any different?"

"Who? Your friend?" Nami asks, raising an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Well, I think she's sad."

"Doesn't look any different to me," Zoro supplies while polishing his swords on the table. 

Usopp's in the middle of munching a piece of loaf, and answers with his mouth still halfway occupied. "Dunno how she usually is, but she's kinda terrifying if you ask me."

"No, she's not," Luffy dismisses lightly. 

"What's her position on the ship, anyhow? How'd you come across her?"

"She's always been with me," Luffy answers without any thought. "And she’s a good fighter.”

Zoro — to everyone’s surprise — nods his head to this in concurrence.

Their Captain claps his hands together to get the subject back on track. "But anyway, I just think she seems kind of down now."

"How can you even tell? With eyes like these, —” Usopp puts both of his index fingers at the crow’s feet of his eyes and draws them back to imitate yours. It’s borderline shameful, truth be told. “— I can’t tell for shit what she’s feeling or thinking.”

“I just can.” Luffy shrugs.

“Has she said anything?” Nami asks. “Anything to make you ask?”

“No, not really.” He heaves a sigh and props his hand under his chin, contemplating. “But she's been different since we left Orange Town.”

"If you ask me," Zoro speaks up. "You should ask her about her relationship with that fucking clown."

"Who? Boogie?"

"Buggy," Nami corrects. "Didn't you notice that at the end? They have a history, it's obvious. They know each other, and I don't know what pirate customs are like nowadays, but I doubt you'd touch the face of an enemy unless there was something going on. Has she said anything about it?"

Luffy shakes his head. “No... but then again, she never does tell me much about anything unless I ask.”

The tangerine-haired girl blinks as if the answer to this whole predicament is obvious. She quickly comes to realize that, to Luffy, it’s not.

“So…” she prompts slowly.

“So…?”

She rolls her eyes at his inability to catch her drift. “Go ask her.”

It’s like the thought never even crossed Luffy’s mind in the first place because truth be told, it hasn’t. He lights up like a candlestick on the spot. “Yeah, I should just ask her!”

“Ask me what?”

The members of the Straw Hat pirates (save for Zoro) withdraw in various unique positions, having not heard you make your entrance before you speak. 

You’re standing in the doorway to the kitchen, eyebrow slightly quirked at the Baroque-esque scene in front of you. Deciding not to address the display, you simply ask, “Anything I should know about, Captain Luffy?”

Usopp doesn’t even dare to answer, because he knows you sure as hell don’t see him as a captain in general, much less your captain. He swears he notices you briefly look in his direction at the mention of the title, and a shiver runs across his skin. Like static electricity in the air.

“Oh, yeah,” Luffy turns to you, not an ounce of fear in his eyes as he pops the question. “Are you sad?”

You blink once, then twice, like the inquiry on its own is of unfathomable origins to you. “Do I look sad?”

The boy in the straw hat nods. “I think you do.”

“Then I’m not.” It’s not only an answer, but also a sentence that marks this subject as finished on your part. One that does not permit any subsequent additions.

You incline your head to the deck above. “We’re going to have company soon, likely Marines, and they seem to be in supply of heavy fire this time.”

———

The situation with the aforementioned opponents temporarily distracts the crew, yet Luffy maintains a close eye on you, taking note of anything that can point him to the source of the unknown problem. You talk relatively little with the other crew members, but you seem to have developed an amicable enough relationship with them compared to when you first met. 

Before, you could care less about getting to know them. Now, you’re actively going out of your way to ask Nami about her cartographic skills, even giving her tips for additions to her geographical detailing. You provide Zoro pointers on self-developed defensive techniques and ways to paralyze opponents in certain spots (which he seems appreciative of).

You even give Usopp a short nod when he tells you one of his fantastical stories, even knowing that they’re full of shit.

Luffy’s happy, but he still sees that you are not.

It’s all in your eyes. They’re hollow somehow, like the end of a barrel. He doesn’t know how he knows, only that he knows, and he’s known for a good while now.

So, that night, Luffy finds you in the kitchen by the windows, absentmindedly snacking on a red apple while you gaze into the dark nothingness outside. He also discovers that he’s subconsciously become quite observant of your habits as of late. 

For example, you specifically pick red apples above any other color when they happen to dock someplace, not even paying any mind to the green or yellow ones. Just the red ones.

“Hey,” he positions himself next to you on the bench, a piece of loaf tight in his hand. “Why are you sad?”

You turn your head just a fraction to the side to look at him, not annoyed, but not appreciative of the focus he’s settled on as of late. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? The Vice-Admiral looks a little weary as of late, after all. Are you sad about it?"

"Nope."

“So why do you insist that I’m sad?”

“Because you are,” he states like it’s obvious.

You huff humorously and return your attention to the window that supplies no real view. “How can you tell?”

“I just can.” He takes a generous bite of his food and continues talking, oblivious to the crumbles that fall while doing so. “When I’m sad, I—”

“Eat?”

“Well, yeah.” He swallows the bite down. “But I also like to talk about it with someone I trust. Shanks used to say that true friends are the kind of people you can share your heart with and not get hurt.”

This annoys you, that much he can tell. A nail digs into the apple you’re holding, leaving a crescent-shaped indent on the red skin. “Shanks said many things, and not all of it's true.”

This doesn’t deter him from pressing on the matter. “If you keep all the hurt inside, it’s going to turn bad. You know, Makino said that if you leave a piece of ham in the fridge too long, it’ll get sour and people can’t eat it.”

“Only you could find a way to compare this sort of thing to food.” You withdraw your finger from the apple and end up leaving it alone altogether. A minute or ten of silence waves between you, laced with unspoken questions and denied answers. “Tell me, Luffy, just how much did Shanks tell you about his past?”

He thinks for a moment, mimicking your movements by putting his loaf aside. “Just about his adventures with the Red-Haired Pirates, and a little about the time you served with him. Is it true you were strong enough to throw a three-hundred-pound man to the ground when you were thirteen?”

He swears it’s a snort that he catches leaving your throat, but it’s hard to differentiate it from your more-than-usual scoffs. “He exaggerated.”

“Really?”

“The man was two-fifty, at most.”

Luffy grins with genuine admiration, so much so that your face tilts back slightly, being overwhelmed by the mere brightness that is him. “Wow! You must’ve been quite a beast when you were a kid!”

He notices it again, the sadness that latches onto your eyes like insects to sour meat. Whatever brief smile adorned your lips moments ago disappears like it was never there at all. Thinking he said something wrong, Luffy prepares to apologize when you speak again.

Your voice is soft yet faint like you’re afraid speaking too loudly will make something bad happen. “It wasn’t just me and Shanks, back then, you know.”

The Captain of the Straw Hats thinks it’s almost unnatural of you to be this demure, but he doesn’t interrupt you.

“Buggy was there, too. It was the three of us, together.”

“Oh, yeah.” He remembers it now. “He did mention that in Orange Town. You served the same crew.”

“… He did, did he?”

“He said you and Shanks betrayed him, but I didn’t believe him.” Luffy knows you and has known you for longer than he’s known a lot of people in his life. You’re one of the few permanent people he’s had, and he knows with a certainty that you’re not the kind of person who leaves anyone behind, not without reason. 

Even if you did have a reason for leaving Buggy, it must have been a good one.

Your mouth opens and shuts several times in the span of a minute like you’re hesitating to talk about the past. You’ve never been one to talk about it, except to share some details about your time as captain, and even that was limited to the bare minimum.

Still, Luffy, being in no hurry for you to reach an answer, waits patiently by your side until you do decide to talk about it.

Talk about what he believes is the reason for your sadness.

“We were close back in the days,” you begin slowly. “Me, him, and Shanks. It was us against the rest of the world, and we were going to sail together to the end of the seas one day. It was our dream.”

“Then, what happened?”

You put your palm over both your eyes and rest your elbow on the window frame, heaving a sigh that resembles someone who’s spent too much of their life working and working and working without catching any breaks. Pure, simple exhaustion weighs you down, Luffy can tell. 

When you speak next, you sound tired too, and perhaps a little strained. He can’t see your eyes, and so, he can’t truthfully tell what you’re thinking now. “The thing is, I don’t know what happened. All I know is that he decided he didn’t want to stick around.” You breathe through your nostrils. “Our captain was gone, and so was the crew, but we three were still together, and I thought we were going to stay together.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No … We didn’t. I don’t know what happened, but one day when I was talking with Shanks about what to do next, Buggy came in, and it … He looked at me like … Like he hated me.” You exhale. “He did hate me, and I don’t know what it was I did, but he practically told me that we were done … And then he left. I never saw him again, up until Orange Town.”

Luffy doesn’t require your eyes this time to tell that you’re sad now because you are. You’re so sad that it’s destroying you from the inside, and even that is an understatement on its own. There are no tears trickling down your cheeks, no quivers or thickness to your voice, no nothing to base his assumptions on, but he knows.

He stays silent for a short while, doing nothing but look at you. You’re one of the strongest people he knows. He’s seen you fight; seen the strength you possess, the fire in your eyes. You’ve stayed with him ever since Shanks left Foosha Village, you’ve looked after him from the sidelines when you thought no one was watching. 

You’ve been with him throughout everything, and seeing you like this makes him feel blue on your behalf. You don’t express it yourself – you never do. You carry your weight with the same kind of strength you always do, never letting anyone see you beyond just that, and sometimes, he wonders if you’re lonely because of it. 

At least, now he knows why you’re so sad. You’re heartbroken.

He’s never been acquainted with the feeling himself, has never felt any particular inclination toward it, but he can tell it’s your heart that’s hurting now, and it’s not as easy to heal as that cuts he received on his chest from the butler.

His hat seems to itch the harder he thinks about it, as if there’s something digging at his scalp through his hat. He thought Nami patched it up for him. He tries to scratch at it, but for some reason, it doesn’t cease. Maybe he’s got lice? 

He ignores it. “It’s weird. Bunky seems to think you were the one who left him for Shanks.”

“I didn’t.”

“I know. You’re not that kind of person.” He says it so easily, without a smidgen of doubt or hesitation. You look at him through your peripheral vision, and your eyes slightly widen at his statement. “But, do you know what happened between them? Shanks and Bonky, I mean?”

“No, I don’t.” You admit with a shake of your head. You’ve tried to figure it out for years, and at some point, you decided to give up. “Shanks never told me, but whatever it was, it was enough for the stupid clown to leave for… He chose a childish rivalry over me.”

“Then, there you have it. It’s all just a big misunderstanding, so why don’t you just tell him if you meet him again?”

“You seem awfully defensive of the guy who destroyed an entire village and almost drowned you.”

“Yeah, but talking about him seems to make you happy.”

You freeze for a bit, snort, and turn your back to the window frame, leaning back and crossing your arms across your chest in silent resignation. “I tried to explain things to him back in Orange Town, and a fat load of good that did. Like I said, he hates me, and he’s sure as hell not my favorite person at the moment. If we do meet again, it likely won’t end any better than it back in Orange Town.”

“You know, –” Luffy takes another bite of his bread. “It didn’t sound like he hated you.”

“Hmm?” You raise an eyebrow, halfway curious and halfway skeptical. 

“He still remembers that you like red apples and that you hide knives in your shoes. Is that true?”

You raise both your eyebrows and look at Luffy like he’s just grown a second head. Without a word, you pull your left foot up until it rests on the bench, and withdraw not one or two knives, but four. Small and subtle, hardly enough to turn any heads, but in a flash, you throw it across the kitchen until it lands on a specific spot on the opposite wall. 

Bull’s eye.

“We used to have knife-throwing competitions,” you reminisce idly, staring at the knife lodged deep into the wall. “I was good, but Buggy was better.” Your lip tilts up an inch or two. “We made bets, and whoever lost would have to steal a bottle of whatever liquor we happened to find in the next town we docked at.”

“Oh?”

“I ended up snatching quite a lot of bottles, but once every blue moon, he would have to snatch one instead.” You smile. It’s an actual, genuine, honest smile this time, and Luffy can’t help but marvel at the sight. It’s a rare thing for you to smile like you’re doing now. It’s usually brief or sarcastic and never seems to reach your eyes. 

This one does.

He thinks you look pretty when you smile. It’s your smile, and it’s so warm that he wishes you could do it more often. He tells you as much, and a red color falls over your cheek. You promptly turn your face to the other side to save face, and it makes Luffy think.

When he thinks about his dream of becoming King of the Pirates, he can’t stop himself from smiling ear to ear. So, that begs the question: “What is your dream?” 

What makes you smile?

“My dream …” You reach for your apple and hold it against your face, the uneaten side of it shining against your face. “Is unattainable.

“I don’t think it is,” Luffy says without missing a beat and takes your hand in his, determined to make you see that. “I think that no matter how much stands against us, dreams are never impossible if you have the will to reach for them. All it takes is a little spirit.”

He doesn’t know where those words come from, but he’s heard them from someplace, and judging by your staggered reaction, you’ve heard them too. 

“A little spirit, huh?”

“Exactly! So, please tell me, what’s your dream?”

You look straight ahead into the room, resting your elbows back on the window frame without a word. He thinks you’re about to decline his question or ignore it altogether. However, he’s surprised to hear you actually answer this time, truthfully too.

“My dream was to sail the seas with him again.”

Suddenly, the itchiness on his head stops, and it stays that way.

[herlondonboy]

i bet on losing dogs, clarisse la rue

summary: based on this request. you’re in love with clarisse, but she’s in love with another.

warnings: unrequited love, ruegard, angst, no happy ending, swear word.

wc: 1.4k

clarisse was a drug. it didn’t matter what drug she was, though, you just knew you were addicted. you didn’t really know why she decided you were to be her friend. her group was small. a few siblings of hers, chris rodriguez, silena beauregard, and you.

you were nothing special, just an unclaimed camper that was good with your hands. if she had to guess, clarisse would have put you in the hephaestus cabin. you were one of the best blacksmiths and she was sure if you wanted to, you could make something far better than chameleon armour.

though you disagreed, you’d never say anything to clarisse. the thought of upsetting her or making her angry at you was always there. even when you tried not to care.

clarisse first picked you up a month after you arrived at camp half blood. she spotted you working away with an anvil and some metal. she asked you what you were working on and if it was important. when you said no, clarisse smiled then told you to make her a new dagger. did she ask nicely? no. did you make it anyway? yes.

clarisse had the kind of eyes that you could drown in. deep and brown, warm. you could never say no to those eyes. no matter how sharp their glare was.

she had the kind of eyes you could fall in love with.

you realised you were in love with clarisse not very long ago. about three weeks to be exact. you were sitting next to her during the bonfire. she was staring at silena, who had been whisked away by charles beckendorf. he wasn’t bad looking, but he definitely wasn’t your type. besides, you’d spent so much time with the hephaestus kids that charles felt like a big brother to you.

you could tell clarisse was upset at the fact that silena had left. if you weren’t so blind, you would have been able to piece together why. nevertheless, you watched her side profile as it was illuminated by the fire. you watched her jaw clenched and loosen. you soaked it all in.

how you were so close that her thigh brushed up against yours, how softly she was breathing. and you realised, you were in love.

now, normally when you realise you’re in love with your friend, you would distance yourself so they never found out until they crush wore off and you could be normal again.

that wasn’t going to work with clarisse. instead, you just refused to look at her. even when she was speaking. sure, it was rude, but you didn’t care. you weren’t going to ruin your friendship over a silly little crush.

there was one part of you, though, that thought maybe your wildest dreams would come true. that clarisse would confess to you. you allowed yourself to think this because you felt her eyes on you. ever since the campfire.

they followed you. every step you took, every walk you went on, until she finally caught you alone.

clarisse didn’t like talking about feelings. she didn’t understand them very well.

‘why would you feel sick to your stomach looking at or thinking of someone you love?’ she had asked one time.

you chuckled and shook your head. ‘you feel sick to your stomach because you don’t know if they love you too. you feel that way because you need to know, but won’t ever say anything.’

“y/n!” you heard, making you flinch and turn.

you felt ill. her crooked smile, how her hair bounced as she ran.

“clarisse,” you responded softly, already thinking of all the ways you could escape this conversation.

“i need your help.”

you looked around. “another dagger? i can’t do it today, but to-“

clarisse cut you off. you forced yourself to look at her face. you noticed how rosey her cheeks were.

“can you forge a ring?” she asked. you’ve never seen her so timid. so small.

you nod slowly.

the girl opposite you grins. “great. i-i made a sketch. can you make it as close as possible to it?” she shoved it in your hand and you opened the paper.

it was just like any other ring, only…

you wanted to throw up. you should’ve known.

“‘c heart s,’” you read aloud.

the red tint on clarisse’s face deepened.

she nodded slowly. “i think i really like silena,” you voiced your worse fears. “i want to tell her before charles does. at least then if she rejects me it’s just because she doesn’t like me, not because of some guy.”

“oh,” you said.

you wondered if she could hear your heart cracking inside your chest.

“i’m going to do it during the bonfire next week for chris’s birthday.”

you nodded, forcing a smile that you were sure looked more like a grimace. “i’ll get right on this then.”

“thank you,” clarisse smiled. gods, her fucking smile. “you’re a life saver, y/n.”

the way your name rolled off her tongue like it was made for her.

and just as quickly as she came, she left.

pushing the paper down into your pockets, you pushed a bit of steel into the fire.

-

chris’s party was tonight. you don’t feel well enough to go. well, that’s a lie. you’re not sick in the way that means you’re going to throw up, you’re sick because the person you love loves someone else.

the thought of it brought tears to your eyes. it was embarrassing. you’d allowed yourself to fall so deeply in love with someone that could never love you.

a sob wracked through your body as you lied, staring at the wall. gods, you loved her so much.

you were so in love with clarisse la rue.

the door to the hermes cabin creaked open you were still crying. then you saw her. she was blurry, but it was her.

you don’t know how much longer you can hold it in for.

“are you okay?” she asked. she was always soft with you. soft with you. not with chris, not with silena, not with her siblings. just you.

you shook your head as you sat up in bed, shoulders shaking as your tried to be quiet.

“are you sick?”

you just cried. clarisse didn’t know what to do, so she leaned forward and hugged you.

gods, you hadn’t touched her in so long. her skin was soft, just like how your remembered it to be.

“i love you,” you choked out. you were sure if she heard it because nothing changed. then you heard a timid ‘what?’

you cried harder thinking about how she was was just hours away from confessing to silena. “i’m in love with you,” you forced out. “but you’re going to confess to silena and i’ve probably just gone and ruined our friendship. but i thought… i thought i had a chance until you asked me to make a ring for you.” clarisse just looked at you as you wiped your tears. “it’s like betting on a losing dog. it was stupid. i’m stupid.”

clarisse shook her head softly. “i didn’t know,” she murmured. “if i had known…”

“you should go,” you murmured. “wouldn’t want to lose to charles beckendorf,” you joked, clarisse just looked at you. “i’m fine. seriously. go.”

when she realised you wouldn’t take no for an answer, she left and went to the party. your tears stained on her shirt collar.

you decided not to go to chris’s party. even if he was your friend. you just couldn’t be there when clarisse took silena away from the party. you couldn’t be there when clarisse gave silena the ring you made.

hours passed before chiron called quits on the party. instead of just returning to their own cabins, some decided a small after party in the aphrodite cabin sounded like fun.

“hey,” you turned to see clarisse with a weak smile.

you smiled at her, though it pained you to do so.

“i didn’t do it.”

it took you a minute to figure out what ‘it’ was but when you did, you frowned. “why not?”

“y/n, you’re my best friend. why would i go into a relationship knowing it was killing you?”

you shrugged.

“i can wait. until your crush is over.”

that hurt. she didn’t want to hurt you, but the only way she could refrain from hurting you was by liking you back. and she’s never like you back.

[strawberrystealer]

Bungo Stray Dogs- What I think they’d do if someone kidnapped you

Characters: Fyodor, Nikolai, Sigma, and Akutagawa

For some reason I think about this a lot sooo why not write about it!

Fyodor- 

Angry, upset, annoyed, all of those would be understatements

The pure rage that would fill this mans body once he gets the news-

If he saw like a letter or something thats like “Ayo we got ur bae come get them or they die lmaooo #livelaughlove” But a lot more sinister and stuff he’d go straight there and uhhh

Basically kill everyone there using his ability of course

He’d be so quick about it too, like drop everything he was doing and go straight there

Once he’s at the place in like the span of a few seconds everyone’s already dead and he goes over to you and idk takes off your blind fold or whatever they have on you

He becomes the softest man you’ve ever seen just for that moment cuz he doesn’t know what you’ve been through and he doesn’t want to cause you anymore pain

Once you two get home he’ll run a bath for you or something and stay by your side

He’ll make sure no one ever touches you again, he can’t ever risk losing you.

Nikolai- 

I bet he’d be like coming home all cheerful, ready to come mess with you or something and... you’re not on the couch.

Not in your room, the bathroom, anywhere

The smile immediately drops from his face and he gets worried

But then again he probably does this all the time so he texts you and you don’t respond??

Now he’s 10 times more worried than he was before!

Probably not a lot tho cuz he probably knows where you are

If thats the case then he just goes the the location and pays you a lil visit

Knocks on the door like a gentleman ofc 

But when they open it-

BOOM

“QUIZ TIME!!! Where’s my lovely little s/o?? Can you guess??” And he looks over and sees you inside the house.

Then he’d immediately kill move the kind gentleman into a burning fire! So sweet ik

He’d get to you and ofc be worried but once he finds out you’re okay he’ll be fine and back to his normal goofy self 

Unless you want the more realistic take where he cant stop thinking about it and thinks its his fault for weeks but is also trying to rid himself of emotions so ofc he cant be scared or guilty so he’s constantly battling himself on whether or not its his fault and if you still even like you because he might not have been there just in time to save you.

Sigma- 

He’d be so unbelievably worried 

He wouldn’t know who did it, why, how, or anything and he’d be just as confused as you probably are 

He’d probably have to ask for help, contemplate calling the cops but then realizes hes fr a terrorist he cant do that-

So he asks Fyodor for help and after a bit of pleading Fyodor gives him the location of where you and your abductor are

Once Sigma gets there, with some guns he’s probably scared to use, he sees the man that kidnapped you

Its gonna be like “if you give me ur casino ill give u your s/o” type of shit (super unrealistic but its all I can think of rn)

So obviously ur man isnt having that and shoots him

I mean he had no problem shooting that red haired girl (whatever her name is in the hunting dogs) so he probably wouldn’t have a problem killing some weak guy to get his lover back

Once he gets you safe he’ll keep asking if you’re okay alllll the time just because he’s so scared

“Darling are you sure you’re okay?? He seemed really scary... he didn’t hurt you did he? Do you need any bandages?”

Akutagawa- 

He looks completely unfazed

Like he’ll read some letter telling him to come get you or you die and be like “...Ugh not this again” 

He will get you though

And he is slightly scared but not really because he knows you’ll be fine once he gets you

When he gets to the place he doesn’t even knock on the door

He just punches a big ass hole in it with his ability and goes through it 

Also kills your abductor<3

Once he gets you he’s quiet

He’ll lightly hug you, glad your alive and the drive home will be silent

He’s considering weather he should be all “you’re so weak how’d you even get kidnapped” or “are you okay? ... He didn’t do any physical abuse to you, correct?” But both of them sound weird to him so he’s silent

When you get home he’ll prepare anything you wish

Tea? Dinner? Blankets? Anything, he’ll do for you

He does love you and he was very worried its just he has a poor way of showing it, thats all :)

[orchidsangel]

I BET ON LOSING (CHILI) DOGS [JASON TODD]

notes/cw - fluff, suggestive, wrote this bc jason canonically likes chili dogs, also mitski mother i am so sorry this is not at all what you had in mind when you wrote 'i bet on losing dogs', (pacing might be shit idk sorry guys, working on it i swear)

“I’m not eating it.” You say, as your boyfriend reaches over the console, and hands you the paper bag containing your lunch before sliding into the driver's seat of the car and closing the door behind him. 

“Could you just not be stubborn for a second? Like seriously, it’s a chili dog.” 

He takes the bag out of your hand, and removes its contents, placing them carefully on the dashboard and discarding the bag.

The inside of the vehicle now smells like fast food, and you grab a couple of fries, stuffing them into your mouth before continuing on with your justification.

“I’m not being stubborn. I’m setting a boundary!” You exclaim, reaching for more and dipping them in your milkshake. “And besides, I plan on getting full off of these fries.” you say, holding up another couple waving them around before eating them.

You reach for another handful when he grabs the container and moves them over to his side of the car, “can’t get full if there's nothing to eat.”

“Jason…if you don’t-” 

You make a move to grab them, but he just places them further on his side of the dash, “A chili dog babe. A chili dog.” 

“I hate them.” You huff out in frustration, giving up on the fries and leaning back on the headrest, letting out a long groan.

“You’ve never had one.”

“No, but I hate chili and hot dogs so if one plus one equals two…” You grumble, “then it would make absolutely zero sense for me to even try it.”

“Would you just- one bite. Please?” He’s begging at this point, and the look on his face shows just how badly he wants it. “I bet you’ll love it.”

And the little lilt in his voice when he says that breaks down any “boundary” you might’ve had. 

Here’s your big bad crime lord boyfriend practically on his knees over this, pleading for you to just take one bite, and you’re supposed to say no?

“Fine.” 

A grin spreads on his face and he hands you one of the chili dogs he’s holding before grabbing a few napkins and distributing them between the two of you. 

“And if I don’t?” you say, examining the mess of meat, chili, and cheese.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t love it.”

“Then I’ll make it up to you.” He says before taking a bite.

“Make it up how?” 

“If I tell you, you’re gonna lie and say you don’t like it.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh?”

“Would you just eat it already?” 

You pick up the chili dog and bring it to your mouth.

“Careful, it’s pretty big.” Jason says from beside you.

“Don’t worry, I’ve had a lot of experience putting big things in my mouth.” You say before biting down.

“Subtle.”

It’s an explosive mix of savory meat and spices, with hints of tangy sweetness. Not at all what you expected and not nearly as bad as you thought. The cheese and the onions on top compliment the flavors and when you’re done chewing you take another bite. 

“Good huh?”

You turn your head towards Jason who’s looking at you with smugness you’ve only ever seen him give Roy on your bi-weekly game nights.

You were enjoying the chili dog, and he knew it. 

Still, you couldn’t let him have that kind of satisfaction. “No, not really.”

“Uh huh.” He says reaching over the console and bringing his thumb to the corner of your mouth, wiping away some sauce that you must’ve missed when you were licking your lips.

You take another bite, and he gives you a look. “What? It’s not like I’m gonna waste it.” You scoff.

“Right.” He says before returning to his own.

And for a few minutes the two of you sit in a comfortable silence, chomping away at your respective meals and occasionally stealing fries from the other.

When you’re done, he takes the empty cardboard container and crumpled napkins from your lap, tossing them into the bag previously thrown to the backseat. 

“So, since I lost the bet…”

You hum happily at his admittance of defeat. 

“...I guess I have to make it up to you now.” he says, leaning over the center of the car.

“Glad you know.”

He closes the space between you and nuzzles his face into your neck. Feeling a warm tingle in your body, you close your eyes and crane your head upwards, allowing him more space as the nuzzling turns into soft open-mouthed kisses.

He nibbles the tender skin as he moves up and towards your ear, “Do you want me to run inside and grab another dog for you?” He whispers between bites, and the question catches you off guard.

“What, why?” You say, confusion lacing your words. 

He draws back a little, a familiar heat radiating off of him, “For later tonight, when I’m done making it up to you.”

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Little Sun" - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

[This is a work of fiction. Slapping your partner is physical abuse.]

SUMMARY: Nikolai left Ravka to gather whatever aid he can get for his home but he comes back because he promised you.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.2k

Apparently, Коля [Kolya] is short for Nikolai and it's the cutest thing I've heard in my life. Also, let me know if you're fine with just Cyrillic or do you want me to include Latinized spelling in the future.

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

Tolya and Tamar have a bet. Not a very dramatic piece of information if one knows a thing or two about the siblings. But it’s the nature of the bet, not its sole existence, that’s so interesting - it’s their longest unresolved wager:

The whole thing started when they noticed Sturmhond saying “Солнышко would love this” to himself. Most of the time it’s a whisper, a stray thought that somehow wriggled free out of his mind at a sight of a sunset, a panorama of a city or a treasure his crew found - if something is worth appreciation, the enigmatic “Солнышко” would surely want to see it. Judging by the softness with which the captain says those words, Tolya and Tamar are disillusioned that “солнышко” is merely a term of endearment for someone close to Sturmhond’s heart. What directly sparked their bet was whether this hopeless love is returned. Tolya, probably biased by the poetry he so eagerly reads, was convinced that they were witnessing a dramatic love story of a princess and a sea dog or something along those lines. Tamar, however, remained more cynical in her judgement - whoever the lady is, she probably doesn’t spare the privateer much thought, if she’s even aware of his existence. Little did they know, the answer awaited them on the other side of the Fold.

The sanctuary is never quiet nor is it ever boring. Although its population doesn’t impress, the determined freedom fighters rarely catch a break, keeping the beehive constantly buzzing. People coming to and fro, the noise of neverending chatter, footsteps echoing through the grand halls and in the middle - you, one responsibility away from completely losing your mind.

You’re doing your rounds, utilising the march between ‘checkpoints’ to talk with Dima, a quite hyperactive Fabrikator, about his new project. It looks promising but you’ve learned to expect nothing less from the boy. He’s tripping over his feet because his gaze is boring into you, looking for any sign of approval or disapproval, and not the tiles in front of him. 

The parchment rustles as you look through the blueprints. “That’s a lot of iron…” you say quietly. Pondering the schematic, you habitually rub your jaw. “If First Army is to use this on the battlefield, it needs to be lighter, so fewer soldiers have to man it. Some parts ought to be substituted with wood. Maybe these two?” You point to fairly small elements on the blueprint, which look to be part of the traction mechanism. Dima conceptualized a machine built on impressively complicated, codependent systems - one change is going to influence all the other parts, which in turn will circle back to the substitute and put a different strain on it.

Dima gasps. "My lady,” his voice is quiet, breathy.

Suddenly, the boy stops but you don’t think much about it. You stand beside him, still eyeing the blueprint in search of ways to save the more scarce resources without endangering the quality of the firearm. 

“I know it’s going to be difficult, Dima,” you forestall his complaint. “We also don’t want this whole thing to shatter after firing the first round but there’s only so much-.”

"My lady, he's back,” he interrupts you.

You look up at Dima with furrowed eyebrows. But the boy doesn’t meet your eye - instead, he’s looking away towards something, or someone, by the entrance to the sanctuary; a haunted glint hiding in his pupils. Confused, you follow his gaze to the door, only to feel your heart stop for a moment:

The blond hair, the elegant kaftan with aiglets and the insufferable, juvenile confidence written on his face.

"Мой Коля,” you say barely above a whisper. The world smudges and blurs as tears fill your eyes.

Not having much care about the stoic image you’re supposed to maintain, you shove the schematics back into Dima’s hands (he nearly drops them) and rush to the ghost who’s been haunting your thoughts for far too long, pushing through people standing in your path.

The phantom becomes flesh and bones only when you feel his arms wrap around you, pulling you tightly to himself. The scent of seaweed and resin lingers on his clothes as though he was born a sea dog and became a prince by sheer coincidence. You hear Nikolai take in a deep breath, his nose buried in your hair. This feels almost too good to be true but good enough to be a cruel joke.

A minute or two passes by and even then it’s difficult for you to lean away to look at his face - Nikolai seems absolutely unwilling at letting you go again anytime soon. Literally and figuratively.

"I was beginning to lose hope," you say quietly. Although his eyes remain just as mischievous as they usually are, a hint of softness hides inside them.

"You know me, солнышко,” he says with a grin on his face. The pet name makes your chest both tighten and burst with passion you have nearly forgotten. After a long period of emptiness and coldness, this scorching devotion is burning you alive. “I promised you I'd come back."

Only when his warm hand reaches to wipe away your tears do you realize you’ve been crying all this time. Even if you tried, there’s no way of stopping this - all of the nights you’d spent worrying and all the days you’d been yearning for him, they finally find their outlet in this longed-for reunion. You’ve imagined his tragic death so many times, you can hardly believe all of that was just an atrocity of your mind.

“Please, stop crying,” Nikolai whispers while relentlessly wiping your face, “or I’m going to cry too and I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of our guests.”

A chuckle of both disbelief and overwhelming relief escapes your lips. Even now, at such a heartfelt moment, he can’t help his humour but Saints’ did you miss it.

You sniffle. Absentmindedly, your fingers trace the smooth material of his kaftan. Not a cut or a burn on this textile, as though it beared to witness to combat. "You’ve been gone for so long, I don't know if I should kiss or slap you."

He gives you a playful, questioning look. "Can I choose?"

"Not a chance."

Nikolai gasps when he feels your hand against his face. The strength of the slap was nowhere near to the punch Alina threw at him not too long ago but considering who you are, it aches incomparably more. To a degree, he understands that he might, after all, deserve some of your anger. Aside from the misguided, love-fueled belief you’ve always had in him, you had virtually no reason to think he’s alive, mourning him each time you lay in bed alone - until now.

He doesn’t have a chance to form a response to your outburst as you grab both sides of his face and clash your lips against his. That’s something Nikolai can condone and he does so with a nearly obscene lack of hesitation or reluctance. His arms hold your waist in a tight embrace. The saltwater on his skin tastes like insufferable youth and fabulous adventures. For a moment, you let yourself forget about the pending civil war, thinking only about the warm, soft lips you’ve missed so dearly. Your Коля came back to you, so everything is perfectly fine.

At the same time, Tolya turns to look at his sister with a proud grin. “Told you,” he says nudging her arm but Tamar only scoffs and shakes her head.

[wayfayrr]

My love mine all mine

Continuation of I bet on losing dogs

It's my birthday so that means I get to treat myself by writing a continuation of my Roman Empire fic <3

It's a reverse Isekai but this time it's post the event that caused him to isekai, and he's got a bit more to deal with now - but he'll be fine because he's by your side, and he won't let anything change that there is so much lore going into this fic, so there might be more to come in this saga yet :3c

[masterlist]

I’m still here? 

No - no I’m not in Hyrule now, something feels different enough that I know that. If I was still in Hyrule then that ‘sky’ would be here if I wasn’t hallucinating him. Besides that though, something feels different, I’m not in as much pain although everything feels heavier. Almost - no don’t get your hopes up yet link.

Moving still takes a painful amount of effort, like my wounds are still there but now everything suddenly weighs triple on top of those. It was the shift from feeling floaty and detached to suddenly being forced back into a body, one that doesn’t feel like my own, that makes everything feel so undeniably real. Now it’s just a matter of opening my eyes to see what’s actually happened to me. 

The room I’m in looks so similar to [name’s] when we ended up here one time chasing the shadow, from what I can see lying down like this anyway. Don’t get your hopes up until you see them link. There’s a blanket over me too, the very same that they lent to me the first time I was here; the feeling of it over me makes it the fact that I can’t barely move somewhat more bearable as I let out a low groan. Which seemed to almost summon the person who’s probably responsible for taking me in. 

“[Na]-”

“link what the FUCK did you do?”

Wait, what do they me-

“how the HELL do I have memories of you being my best friend growing up now - I know I met you for the first time in hyrule. you aren't supposed to exist as a person here and yet.”

“[name] I don't -”

“I have the most vivid memory of everything. including having to pick you and sky up passed out on the street because apparently the two of you decided to go out on a bender or something - I don't know but I can remember it somehow.”

That rant seems to have cooled them off for now, not that they're mad just concerned… not that I'm not also. Those memories they mentioned too, I know what they're talking about; it's trippy. I have two sets of my life, one that I know is true and this other one that feels like a learned lie. A cover up. It feels similar to a backstory I learned to lie during espionage, but it's information about [name’s] world. Memories of a whole life lived here, like it's preparing me… or trying to adjust something new being forced into it that shouldn't be here.

“I don't - I think it's cause… I. You said sky is here too?” 

“Yeah, he's the reason I'm so certain these memories aren't real, he only got included when I found him when I went out to buy supplies for you. Something feels off about all of this, and I think you two have the answers I need.”

Did sky..? No he wouldn't have. Would he? 

“I think so too.”

“Can you tell me what you think it was?”

My voice is dead in my throat, I can't tell them what I did. They'll lose any respect they had for me won't they? I don't even know for certain if sky did the same… but I could have sworn he was there when I - I…He wouldn't have done that to himself, surely not. Even though I could've said the same for myself before everything.

“I… would prefer not to, if that's alright.”

“Okay link, I won't push you. Either way, it's nice to be back at your side even if it's slightly different than what I'm used to.”

That's all it takes to finally break my guard and for the tears to start flowing. I can finally rest, there isn’t any expectation of me here, no pressure to be the picture-perfect hero, no nothing. I can just exist here with my lover for the rest of our lives. 

“Can you tell me why everything feels so different now though?”

“Link, haven’t you been able to tell? You aren’t a Hylian anymore. Whatever you did, you’re a human now and you've got a whole recorded history here on earth. You and sky both. Speaking of him, he’s downstairs helping himself to stuff; been awake a lot longer than you have, should probably go check on him really. You feeling alright enough to come with me?”

Moving my limbs still feels different but now it isn’t impossible to move them and seeing the smile on [name’s] face from me just sitting up to move is more than worth the slight discomfort. Falling into their open arms is just another perk of it, being helped to my feet whilst being allowed to cling to them? It’s a dream come true. But despite this there’s something that doesn’t feel right, why is sky here… I’ll have to ask him myself. 

“S- why are you drinking all of my milk straight from the bottle sky?”

“...Wanna get drunk.”

“It's milk. You’re never going to get drunk off of drinking milk.”

With the two of them distracted by each other, [name] still letting me cling to their arm thankfully, I get a proper look at him. It’s sky, it’s really sky, but he’s human. All of his scars are the same asides from a new one on his neck and a few burns on his hands ones that look like they come from holding a sword. Fi must have tried to stop him. The strangest thing is seeing him with short rounded ears though - I can’t imagine what I look like to him. This has to be the first time I’ve seen him trying so desperately to get drunk though, he saw you do it. He’s drinking to forget, like you have so many times in the past. 

“What do you mean of course I will. Why do you think milk bars were so popular in hyrule?”

“But you aren’t hylian now sky. You’re a human now, and we don’t get drunk from milk.”

“You - we… don’t? Ah. Well. That explains a lot of things then.”

“Did everyone think that I was an addict? Oh my, that explains the ‘interventions’ each of you had with me. Even my boyfriends thought I was an alcoholic.”

The sigh they let out before resting their head against me could make me an addict, as ironic as that is. Although that does bring up the question of how everything is going to be so different now, we’re going to have to relearn a lot of what we’ve always known as fact. But it’ll be by [name’s] side. And I’ll do anything to keep it this way.

[sugar-grigri]

If you haven't done one before, could you do an analysis of Denji's use of sexuality as the only form of love he still has untouched?

Sex and love, two bets Denji wants to take

At first, touching breasts, getting close to a girl, was a way for Denji to fill something he didn't understand. Projecting his lack of relationships, and affection, into what was visible, represented on those posters and magazines, through all those sexual images. Denji is someone who reasons through his senses, his intuitions. For him, pure physical contact was love.

When he loses Pochita for the first time, Denji doesn't immediately place his feelings in the abstract. He's sad, having just lost his family, but physically, organically and symbolically, he remains in his heart, he is his heart. It's only afterwards, as Denji experiments, that he understands the ambivalence of relationships: things don't turn out as we'd hoped, we can even have bad experiences, be violated against our will even when we were convinced we'd get a reward, a pleasant, harmless act.

Proposing a carnal act is not necessarily an act of kindness; on the contrary, it's often a way of dominating and manipulating the other person. Falling in love and sleeping together isn't as simple as cooking and eating. It's a risk before it's a pleasure.

Then there was Aki and Power. The symbol of platonic family relationships. For whom Denji didn't realize his attachment until after their loss. To the point of understanding that losing someone isn't as simple to resolve as sleeping when you're sleepy. That it follows us without solution.

Denji understood this plurality of love, he also understood that sex, or one's own body, is a currency of exchange, as his dialogue with Yoshida had shown. A body can be bruised, sex can be non-consensual. These aren't just abstract concepts, Denji doesn't think like that; if he's understood them at all, it's through his own experiences.

In chapter 127, Denji catches up with Asa, subjected to the Falling Devil, who argues that life is only pain. What Denji is trying to do is reassure her, which is not easy for him as speech is not his strong suit. But he puts himself in her place anyway, and it's one of the rare times when CSM expressly and voluntarily helps someone simply to help them, without projecting anything behind it (he wasn't supposed to see Asa anymore).

He then talks about cats and dogs, because he knows that universally they are beings that bring us happiness. But he also evokes all his traumas: ice cream (Aki), cats (Power), but above all hamburgers (representing his mourning when he gave up control of his being to Pochita). Denji evokes them all positively, yet symbolically, they are all finely chosen elements that will evoke negativity.

But in the end, Denji says he's moving on to have sex one day. I know this isn't the right way to reassure Asa, but Denji wanted to help her, to comfort her, and he did it sincerely, because he can't change what he says if it's what he thinks. Wanting sex is what a teenager wants. It's also a desire for Denji not to compartmentalize growing up and not to pay attention to his needs.

Denji is attracted by what he can touch directly, by pure sensations. So it's natural that he only talks about sex. That's not to say he'll reduce his girlfriend to that, he just doesn't know what envelops the act, feelings, love. He's never had a girlfriend!

Denji was abandoned by his parents, dehumanized, having grown up with a demon, behaving like an animal. So he answers his questions with this latest experience, a sensation not yet acquired: the origin of humanity, his own, Asa's. If everyone's doing it, it must be good!!!

Sex is presented as two sides of the same coin in this part, as a kind of naive claim for Denji to move forward, to get out of his pain, but something that is constantly used against him, to manipulate him, that puts him in danger.

And once again, he begins to spot the danger, but can't fight it. Fumiko is the perfect example, a symbol of his sexual trauma to which Denji is completely subjected.

Denji is beginning to know that sex can be both positive and negative. But he also doesn't know how to discuss it, how to talk about it, especially to the girl he's interested in. As he thinks sex is something universally pleasurable so talking about it had to resonate in Asa as much as cats, dogs, ice cream. He presented something that was also traumatic in a beautiful light.

Denji wants a girlfriend, he wants to be loved and to love, yes. Even though love is rarely a pleasant experience, even a factor of despair.

Denji also wants to sleep with someone, yes something just as risky, or he consciously knows he can be used and manipulated for it.

Sex isn't Denji's way of being loved, it's like love, something as beautiful as it is traumatic. And Denji wants to experiment. Even if it means suffering. Because in suffering, there will always be pleasure.

CSM, the fruit of an act of love for Pochita and mourning for Denji, is above all the chimera of trauma.

Denji doesn't think he can get out of the trauma. He has experienced it so much that he now sees it as something necessary to experience. He doesn't confront suffering, he deflects it, even if it means suffering more.

How could Denji break out of this cycle?

By learning to trust.

And that's something he'll experience with a teenager who's distrustful, his opposite.

Both the attraction and the rejection of sex are normal reactions for two teenagers. But they are also two responses from the two protagonists to their own suffering.

Denji's obsession with sex is a desire to move forward, to tie the knot to the point of putting himself in danger. Asa's absolute rejection of contact is also symbolic of the fact that she no longer wants to suffer by connecting with others, even if it means suffering from her loneliness.

One is literally swept away by his suffering, while the other cuts off his own head to get some hope, accepting his suffering as necessary, even if it deprives him of his loved ones. And the result will be the same: solitude.

You can't throw yourself into someone's arms, just as you can't isolate yourself.

Loneliness will devour them if they don't bond with each other.

A relationship with someone you trust is enough.

[analoceits]

sides as mitski songs purely based off vibes.

patton - francis forever

"i look up at the gaps of sunlight i miss you more than anything"

roman - i bet on losing dogs

"ill be there by their side losing by their side."

logan - last words of a shooting star

"i always wanted to die clean and pretty but id be too busy on working days"

janus - goodbye, my danish sweetheart

"maybe when you tell your friends, you can tell them what you saw in me, and not the way i used to be"

remus - washing machine heart

"baby, though ive closed my eyes i know who you pretend i am"

virgil - first love/late spring

"so please hurry leave me, i cant breath please dont say you love me"

[dairy-farmer]

The idea of Tim losing a bet and having to walk around topless so that Dick or Jason can grope his tits is rent free in my head. More so if they do it at like the penthouse or their apartment, inviting friends over to play with Tim’s tits because it’s part of the bet Timmy. (Not cause his face is so cute and they want to show off their little brother)

And like just… maybe Tim has a crush on one of them (Roy) and is really blushy which makes Dick or Jason upset because part of this had been to get Tim into the idea of liking HIM that way. So when the friends leave Dick or Jason decide they want to show Tim how much they care for him. In anyway they can.

yesssssssssss i LOVE roytim!!!!!!!! the idea of tim's brothers doing a rigged bet so they can have tim at their mercy. tim loses, of course, because he was always going to lose. and when he asks what they want he's expecting them to make him go streaking naked. he's not expecting them to tell tim to man the grill during one of their 'boys night' parties.

tim has heard of the parties, they're jointly thrown by dick and jason at some stupidly expensive property jason bought a few years back. the parties are a fratboy's dream and exactly what dick and jason love. tim's been invited out to them but always found an excuse not to go because the guest list was dick and jason's friends and tim know if he went he'd be subjected to all kinds of dunking, jokes, and harrassment.

so tim doesn't go.

but then he loses a bet. a bet where his brothers grin like two cats that have spotted a canary with a broken wing struggling to fly away.

they want tim to man the grill for the barbecue they're going to have. which...okay. it's easy enough. tim makes a mean burger and if his brothers and their friends irritate him too much he can just char the shit out of their hot dogs.

but there's a catch. they want him topless.

they want tim to wander around the pool, tits out, topping off lemonade, handing out beers, and bringing out plates of hamburgers and hotdogs.

tim is MORTIFIED at the thought. but he doesn't announce that and he doesn't try to back out. because tim's not about to pussy out of a bet. not when it will get him ripped on for life.

so tim doesn't put up a fight and the day of the bbq arrives and tim is there, grimacing and making margaritas in some board shorts and his tits on full display. he's getting FAR too many appreciative glances and whistles.

tim's tits are small, barely handfuls with pink nipples. yet jason and dick's friends are acting like they're a pack of horndog teenagers who have never seen tits before.

garth and joseph are both respectfully averting their eyes whenever tim comes in close but tim can feel their eyes on his back. tim gets groped a lot, hands come up and cup his tits and pinch at the sides and tim's hands are full most of the time so he can't shoo them away from him.

jason stands behind tim while he's at the grill and putting cheese slices on the burgers, he cups tim's baby tits the entire time, squeezing them and cooing about how his baby brother has the cutest tits in the world.

dick is more annoying. tim can hear the clear click from his camera going off every few seconds and has to keep reminding himself to not dump the 7 layer dip over his head. every time he shoots a dirty look at him, dick just gives a happy little wave and wink.

tim has no problem with this being his punishment for losing a bet.

until roy harper arrives, in a thin muscle tee that puts those arms sculpted by god himself on display.

tim has a...thing. okay?

some people like tits, some like ass- but tim?

oh arms. arms all the waaaay.

and roy's are the finest in the game- bar none.

the definition in his muscles, the thickness of his forearms, the way his hands are bigger than tim's face-

god. tim has had fantasies about those hands, has covered his face and giggled at the thought of those hands picking him up by his little waist. has cum again and again over the thought of those thick, calloused fingers sinking into the heat of his little hole.

god. tim wants roy harper so bad and it's only the distance and unfamiliarity between them that has saved him from humiliation.

but then roy harper is there. he's sitting in a lounge chair with his arms behind his head, flexing his firm abdomen, and letting out a sigh of relief and showing off the thick red bush growing on his pits and peeking out of the top of his swim trunks.

he's wearing red sporty sunglasses but tim can still feel his eyes as they lock on tim. he knows they are because roy starts grinning that cocky smirk that makes tim weak kneed.

"uhhh timmy? the cheeseburgers are burning baby."

tim is thrown off by roy's prescience. he starts burning food so jason takes over. he keeps spilling drinks and dropping cups and straws and plates so dick tells him to have a seat maybe go for a swim because the heat must be getting to him. the whole time tim is stuttering and blubbering, red all the way down to his tits as roy stares at him. tim is using napkins to clean up some spilled lemonade when roy ambles over and starts helping him. he starts talking in that deep voice and leaning over to whisper things in tim's ear and tim can feel himself getting redder and...wetter.

roy slides next to him and a hand comes up to grope tim's tit and tim lets out a little squeal which makes roy's grin widen.

oh. oh tim is in so much trouble because he knows. there's no way he doesn't know. there's no way a single person at the party doesn't know how roy throws him off balance because tim had been perfectly fine with the pinches and gropes and he's been making burgers and running drinks like a well oiled machine....and then roy harper arrived.

yeah. tim has for sure been pegged.

roy stands there, groping tim's tits and cooing about how pretty and red tim is. tim tries not to hyperventilate and to press his legs together because his pussy is just buzzing with arousal.

the entire time, tim's brothers are glaring at both of them. angrily rotating hot dogs and pouting as they made screwdrivers.

timmy was supposed to blush and get flustered over his big brothers touching his pretty timmy tits!!!!!!

[moonsanoverthinker]

Some more TMA headcanons because I’ve thought of some more. Also apologies if this list is a little more chaotic than the other one x (Here’s the first list I make incase anyone’s interested)

Also if people have their own that they’d want to add feel free to because I love reading other people’s x

There’s probably going to be some spoilers for but I’ve tried to keep it as broad as possible :) x

Tim used to steal Jon’s pens - Not because he needed them he did it to annoy Jon

Tim once hid a plastic spider in Jon’s desk then pinned it on Martin

Gerry liked to make puns, Gertrude didn’t like Gerry’s puns - Or at least she pretended not too

Peters changed the locks multiple times but Elias just keeps finding his was back in

Georgie has that really nice kind of swoopy writing - I kind of feel Sasha did as well

Distortion Micheal likes the animated Alice in Wonderland film - Can’t think why… (If I had any artistic talent I’d draw him as the Cheshire Cat but I sadly I don’t have any)

Melanie used to make loom band bracelets - She never gave them to anyone but she’d use specific colours with specific people in mind

Elias likes to shout peoples names then not answer them when they shouted back asking what he wanted

Jon owns a few packs of some nice playing cards (Like the ones with cool pictures and stuff) but no one’s allowed to use them - He let Tim use them once but after he slightly bent the corner of one they became off limits to them all

Jon drinks black coffee because it seems like the mature thing to do

Tim drinks the super sweet coffees because they taste nicer and look pretty

Elias has one of them big spinning office chairs - He’s definitely done the James Bond villain spin

Daisy once told Martin she knew a great place to hide his body - She then proceeded to leave notes around the archives to remind him - Jon would also take the notes down

Not necessarily a headcanon but I just imagine series 5 Jared Hopworth in the garden with a necklace of various body parts and bones

Occasionally Basira would just look out to the fourth wall - I’m imagining it like fleabag style

During their travelling Gerry brought Gertrude a mug from a tourist shop - She kept saying she didn’t like it but once she was back in the archives she would use it all the time

Just Jon wearing some sparkly green nail polish

On the topic of Jon’s nails imagine him with those pointy acrylics - He’d either be in his element or he’d have the same vibe as a dog trying to walk in shoes

Both Micheal and Helen just pinging rubber bands at the backs of peoples head (I’ve got no real explanation for why they do it but then again neither have they)

Jon appreciates badgers - He got a little desk calendar with different pictures of them every month

When Martin was staying in the institute Jon gave him a blanket. He took the blanket with him when he started living at home again and started using it

Tim kept every card Sasha ever gave him

Sasha has a little pot of fake flowers on her desk

Jon pretends to he surprised every time Martin gives him a present - Especially if it’s an out of the blue ‘I saw this and thought of you’ present

Sasha and Tim went ice skating together one Christmas - They claimed it was as friends but Tim did give her flowers

Also some random side notes - Slight spoilers for series 4/5

Listened to 170 and immediately started crying at the end / The descriptions in 172 made me feel physically ill as someone who really doesn’t like spiders / Also I saw a thing on TikTok where someone took Gerry asking to be called Gerry and paired it with I Bet On Losing Dogs by Mitski and it was more upsetting than I was expecting xx

[creedslove]

Who of the boys would be more of a cat and who would be more of a dog person?

Rewatching Narcos currently andJavi P seeking justice for Murphys cat was the animal love I needed.

I know he says he’s not much of a cat person but the way he treated it.. cat man 🧐🫶

Featuring: Javier Peña, Joel Miller, Agent Whiskey, Dave York and Marcus Pike

A/N: aww this is a very good idea!!! I love it honey! Also, I have a feeling all the Pedro boys lean towards dogs, but that doesn't mean they won't go soft with a kitty 🐈

Javier Peña: Javi likes dogs better, there's no argument towards that, he grew up around dogs on his dad's ranch and he loves how strong and loyal they are, however, that doesn't mean Javi is insensitive towards cats, we all have seen how fierce he was to fight for the fact that cat was DEA as much as Steve and himself were, even if there was a tiny comical hint to it; Javier isn't a huge cat person, but he does have a soft spot for them, they are cute sometimes and amongst all the violence he has encountered through his life, he thought he would lose that empathy towards smaller things, but he was very wrong, so once he saw a stray kitty fumbling around the garbage to look for food and it made his heart break, he didn't know why exactly, but he was so tired of seeing the evilest side of people, it felt just too unfair such a tiny cute little creature starve on the streets, which caused Javier to feed the cat leftovers of his meals which quickly became a habit and now the cat is fat and he doesn't know what to do

Joel Miller: Joel Miller is 100% dog person and there's no argument about that at all, although after he grew up and had to take care of a house and a baby daughter on his own, he decided to have a no pet rule: money was tight and so was time, taking care of a baby, and then a toddler and then a child and then a teen was exhausting as it was, so he didn't have time for bullshitting with cats or dogs. In fact, getting a puppy was the only request Sarah has ever made him and he managed to remain strict and not let her have it. However, he knows his daughter pets all the neighbor's pets and he's okay with it. Now, if you have a cat, you can expect Joel getting into a grumpy old man mood™ he is just going to complain about the cat and he is going to swear that cat is up to no good, plotting against him because its so jealous of you. He will definitely have arguments with your cat

"get out of my guitar now!"

"meow"

"I swear... get off my truck or I'll kill you!"

"meow"

And well, sometimes it kind does seem your cat is teasing Joel by sitting on his truck hood or sitting on his beloved guitar; if Joel is reading some work papers on the kitchen table you can bet your life your cat will climb all the way just to sit ON the papers and make Joel's blood boil, and you'll de damned if that ain't the funniest shit you'd ever seen; but hey, sometimes after you went to bed, your cat nuzzles Joel's body and your tough boyfriend actually pets your cat, but it's their secret and neither of them will ever admit it 🤫

Agent Whiskey: our sweet Jack loves animals! He is a farm boy after all, and that means he absolutely adores every single living thing. Of course he likes dogs and cats like everyone else, but those aren't his favorites, if anything, Jack is the kind of man to have farm animals as pets as if it was the most normal thing in the world. As a grown man, Jack has his own ranch, and he keeps all the animals he likes there: he's got cows, horses (his big passion), pigs, chickens, goats, bunnies, dogs and a few cats in the barn because someone needs to catch those damn mice, since he hates killing any kind of animal, he leaves it for the cats to chase down the mice and if he finds spiders in the house he'll definitely just throw them outside. He loves birds and fish but he'd rather watch them out in nature than have them trapped in birdcages of fishbowls; he's not a big fan of frogs but he doesn't mind them at all and his biggest childhood trauma was when little Jack befriended a very cute little pig and the two of them became quickly inseparable, playing together and hanging out all the time, he even named his pig Hector™ until one Sunday morning he woke up to see his friend gone and later, mama Daniels had made pork chops for lunch ☠️ Jack cried his little heart out, refused to eat lunch and spent years without eating pork, until this day he feels kind of guilty to eat bacon or something, he doesn't kill any of his own ranch animals to cook, he just goes to the supermarket to get the meat

Dave York: Dave had always loved dogs from a young age, when he was little, his dog Sprinkles was his best friend and he still keeps old pictures of himself and his old friend in the back of his memory boxes. Once he grew up and he got into his... business... he realized dogs are the safest option for a pet; they are very rational, they can be trained and protect the house and the owners against threats or burglars. If his kids beg him for a puppy, he will never say no to them, but it will be frustrating to him that they will pick the cutest and fluffiest puppy over the one breed he thinks it's safer for the family, statistical saying. However, how happy they get will make him think of Sprinkles and soon enough he will become those dads who treat the family pet better than his own kids. He will definitely doze off on the couch and the dog will be curled up to him. Dave also admires the felines and mostly how neat and careful they are. They are silent and are able to sneak into a room without anyone noticing, exactly like Dave does when he's out working, he likes how cats are independent and always take care of themselves, however, the idea of having a cat never occurred to him, but well... never say never

Marcus Pike: that man is the human version of a golden retriever, so he obviously would prefer dogs. He has thought of getting a dog some time but he hasn't made up his mind yet, on one hand, he would like to have a puppy waiting for him at home so he won't be too lonely, but on the other hand, dogs are a lot of trouble and he doesn't know if he will be able to actually take care of it, not to mention dogs remind him a lot of the perfect image of a happy family, you know, a husband and a wife and kids, something Marcus would love to have but he hasn't been too lucky with it lately! He does like cats too, but the thing is: he is allergic to cats, and I don't mean just a slight allergy, I mean sneezing, coughing, red puffy eyes, stuffed nose etc, so cats are definitely a big no to him!