#wash drinks coffee right from the pot

[yorky-york-and-the-deltoids]

You ever wonder what the other freelancers would think of present day wash??

To see him go from happy-go-lucky to a tired war vet in the few years that have passed since the project imploded??

[evilminji]

Okay, so maybe it's just me? Projecting my new Tea Phase?

Cause for med reasons, no more energy drinks, only Teeeeeeaaaaa~☆

But honestly? Now that I am an adult and ACTUALLY KNOW HOW TO MAKE IT? Really digging it! Am enjoying the Teas. Mmmmmmm~ leaf broth. I like the fruity ones.

So! IMAGINE~☆ If you will:

Danny. 14 and his parents are LOUD AS FUCK (CRASH BANG SMASH BANG WHIIII-) dispite it being, once again, a school night. This has been going one For Years. That STUPID fucking machine. All God damned hours. Crashes and bangs and powertools. Explosions.

When will it ever end!

He's... he's honestly used it.

Unknowingly? This is is a skill that will come in handy later. Living and functioning while sleep deprived. Healthy? Fuck no. But it's USEFUL. He IS the ten year old downing Monster drinks in the parking lot before school.

It makes him a jittery weirdo. Twitchy. Too much caffeine, not enough sleep, his parents either blew up or TOOK APART the washing machine AGAIN. He... he never stood a chance. It's a miracle the indoor plumbing hasn't been compromised yet... AGAIN.

His blood is more sugar, caffeine, and guarana or whatever those other things in the can are, then actual human blood. He doesn't CARE. He just needs too get decent grades, graduate, and become an astronaut. It's... it's FINE. This is normal. They're FINE.

(If they weren't... someone would have noticed, right? Would have DONE something. Cared. So it HAS to be fine. His family's just weird. It's FINE.)

But THEN...

The Accident.

And his biology CHANGES. Green goo, wrapped vicious and loving, around his very DNA. Like Kintsugi of the body and soul. In green, Green, GREEN. It... it's a lot. Everything changing all at once. Maybe that's why it takes him so long to notice.

Why he thinks "oh, I'm just tired cause I'm running more then usual. Fighting and flying. Doing ghost stuff."

When... when honestly? Some part of him always kinda KNEW. From the very moment he stumbled out of the portal. The aftershocks. The pain. Sam and Tucker crying, scrambling to help him up the stairs. Sam tearing her bag apart looking for her cramps medicine. Because... because pain medication is pain medication.

"It's gonna be okay, Danny. Please. Please god, just take it! I promise it's gonna be okay!"

How do you look your panicked, crying, strongest-person-you-know best friend in the eyes and tell her... you can FEEL it dissolving in your throat. Like the pills were dumped in a human shaped pot of acid. That... that the pain isn't changing... and you... you don't think it's going too.

When you're scared. Might be dying. And you can already tell they think it's their fault. W... when you're all just KIDS. And all you can think is... you can let them know how bad... how bad it hurts...

They'd never be able to live with that knowledge.

Yeah. Yeah, Sam. Thanks. T... The pills helped a lot. He feels better. You really saved the day. He lo... loves you guys so much.

...

.....

He thinks about that moment A LOT. About how much he realized and knew, before the denial kicked in. Before he got so... Tired. Fresh of all that energy. And? You'd think he realize. The mood swings. The irritability. The headaches that disappear the SECOND he goes ghost. That he's in caffeine withdrawal. But? Nope.

He kinda blames the constant ghost attacks for distracting him.

But see... Sam? Doesn't drink tea. Goes against her diet. Tucker was where he GOT his illicit borderline illegal energy drinks. And his sister? Big on flavored sparkling waters. Which are gross to him.

His PARENTS drink a thick tar they insist is coffee. It might be liquid fudge. Zone knows its nearly the same consistency. It's horrifying. No thanks, he wants to LIVE.

It's? Ironically? Mr. Lancer and his constant detentions, that help Danny realize somethings up. Because Mr. Lancer shares. If he makes a cup for himself, he'll make one for you. It's how he was raised. And, yeah, the after school detentions? Those were herbal blends. No caffeine.

But...

But they tasted nice. Were warm. The classroom was quiet and as frustrating as it was? The tea itself? Was always... the one exception to how shit the situation was. So Danny finally broke down and asked about it. Learned Mr. Lancer knew a? Surprisingly LOT about tea. Huh.

Then one day he gets SATURDAY detention. Oh joy!

Bright and early. One of the few times he could be trying, desperately, to be sleeping through his parents cacophony. Catching up on his desperately needed Zzz's. Here he is... getting a handed a new cup of different tea?

Breakfast blend? And a bagel..

N...none hostile breakfast? A quiet space to catch up on his homework? No Dash? Just... just a quiet classroom, some tea, and the sounds on a peaceful morning outside?

......oh.

It's the best time he's had in school in... God, in YEARS. He gets so MUCH done. For once can concentrate. And? Actually, now that he thinks about it? Feels... awake? Or at the very least, not as sleepy. And being a Fenton, whom to the LAST are a genius if eccentric family, it's pretty damn easy to put two and two together.

Tea.

He felt more awake after having Lancer's breakfast blend tea.

He obviously asks about it. Then, after detention is done. Calm packs up. Goes home. Drops his back in his room. Goes ghost. And SHOOTS for the Far Frozen with his phone and an energy drink. Because clearly he's missing something and it's time to ask.

The good doctors of the Frozen are... gently horrified. Clawed hands steeples infront of their mouths as they try to tactfully figure out how to word "Great One, WHAT THE FUCK!?!? Why would you DO THIS TO YOURSELF!?" Because that... is not professional. Breathe. In, out, in, out. We can do this.

They get the most patient and restrained of their elders to... CALMLY, very VERY Calmly, ask some medical questions. Listen. Without judgements! Because they are medical professionals. Who do NOT want to scream, forever, into the void. Certainly not. So Calm! (They are going to BURN THAT CAN IN-)

Which! Huh. Yeah, that explains the constant exhaustion. He was poisoning himself. Kinda. Not so much the GHOST but the human half. Putting to much strain and too much trace chemicals, minerals, and buckets of sugar. General "mmmm :/ Don't Like THAT ™" energy from the Goo causing it too try and constantly burning it all out of existence. Endlessly.

The more he put in, the more there was to burn. The more there was to burn, the more tired he became. The more tired he became... well, the more he put in. It was a slowly lethal starvation cycle. Big Yikes.

The TEA on the other hand? Those are leaves. The good recognizes leaves and water. Other various plants, dried or otherwise. It ignores them as "fine" until they reach a "problematic" threshold, apparently? So... *blank look at the doctor*

*sighs in medical professional*

Tea? Good. Satan Can of Halfa Poison? Bad. Please drink tea.

👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

And it's like MAGIC. He's suddenly BACK, baby! Ha ha ha! Skulker you fuckin THOUGHT?! Oh it's 2am? Well SUPRISE bitch! He's bright eyed and bushy tailed! His grades are up AND he's beating you like a drum! He has ice breakers for old people discussions now!! The local Tea Shops have NEVER been so well protected.

He actually manages to graduate with not just decent grades? But GOOD ones.

And the second. The INSTANT. He is legally his own man? Has his important paperwork squirrelled away and the go bags safely WELL outside of Amity. It's time. He meets OUTSIDE the house, because he's not an idiot. He's been practicing his Clones and has them ready to grab his parents so he can get out of there alive. Jazz is on video call from Star city.

His parents... suspected. Not at first, but as goofy as they are? They aren't ACTUALLY idiots. They've been watching, going over old research. Trying, failing, to get in touch with the League to have THEIR team test their research. Peer review is critical after all. They... they had been so certain. Are still somewhat certain.

But their research doesn't exactly ACCOUNT for this "halfa" phenomenon. So, there is a very real chance they are missing something. The one thing the DO know? Danny is their son. Stuck in some eternal mortally wounded state or not, he is a hero. And they weren't there for him.

They can't change their beliefs on a dime. But they've clearly missed a great deal. And refuse to fall to academic bias. The very thing that got them LAUGHED AT for decades. Mocked and belittled. This is their life's work. By God they WILL find out the truth.

It's? Better then he could have hoped. Not perfect. But better.

He helps set up safeties and a security check point at the portal. Both sides. He's kinda a big deal these days, mom, dad. Ghost scientists eager to work with them. A whole TEAM under their command. It certain endears ghosts to them a whole lot more. Then?

Copy of the blue prints, go bag turned into normal bags, Danny's off to college.

Bounces from major to major. Nothing really capturing his interest. As he aged, he's need less sleep. Gotten stronger. Grown into his father's height and grandfathers build. Tucker keeps calling him a dorito. Danny retaliates with Ancient Egyptian Cyber/Pharoah Twink allegations. According to SAM they are both dumbasses.

She's not WRONG... but hey D:<

Eventually? A really niche botany seminar run by Pamela Isely catches the attention of Tucker, who forwards it to him n Sam. Nice ™. It's being held in her Murder Park! Cool! Obviously they have to go. So off to Gotham they go. And? When they get there? Sam is APPALLED.

She may HATE landlords as much as the next activist.... but LOOK at all these run down, foreclosed, rotting buildings! Beautiful gothic infrastructure! Those could be businesses or homes! Danny, busy with signing them up, makes the mistake of tuning her out as she rants in fury. She does this some times. Needs to vent. Uh huh, you're very right. You should contact somebody. I agree. Mmmhmmm.

Hey, Sam, Ms. Isely needs your-....

Sam?

Oh FUCK ™.

By the time the Seminar come around? Sam has violently kicked in the door of more then a feel reality offices. Owns QUITE a few buildings. Danny is sweating. She... she's doing the THING again. The "gimme your Ghost Crew, I KNOW you have a highly specific Ghost Crew, don't you DARE lie to me or I take your knee caps, Danny" stare.

>.> Sam you can't keep doin- *stare intensifies* Yes Ma'am. *Pulls out Fenton phone* and so? Here come the renovation crew. The ONLY honest building Crew in all of Gotham. They cut no corners. Can't be threatened. Gangs, villians, and even local government office try to arrange... accidents on the build sites.

Nothing. Nada. In fact, it turns out more dangerous for THEM then this crew of outsiders!

Wtf!

Then? After these two College age weirdos finish Poison Fuckin Ivys HIGHLY SUSPECT biology seminar? Manson fucks off to who knows where! Leaving what HAS to be "the muscle" behind. Cause I mean? Look, at the guy! He's huge! And what does he do?

Goes building to building. Rents them out to low income families. Honest, hard working shop keepers. And? Eventually decides to settle smack dab in the middle of Gotham, in the shadow of Wayne fuckin tower, spitting distance from the Space museum..... and open? A tea shop? The FUCK?

"The Zone".

In a weird shade of green. With little ghosts, wearing crowns, because and I quote "it's funny"? Certainly crazy enough for Gotham. But like, it's loud as FUCK here. Crowded. There are gas attacks and shit. It'll never las-....

It stays untouched for MONTHS.

Sometimes being the ONLY building near it to be untouched. Gas NEVER getting in. The damn place a BUNKER. And? Despite looking like it's two floors? It's three. You enter and your actually on the second floor. No one's even sure where the fuck the guy LIVES, since he never seems to leave.

Not only THAT. But it... it's like one of those old school apothecaries. Big ol bank of drawers. Guy'll mix up your blend for you right as you watch. Tea nuts are actually risking COMING to Gotham to try his stuff. Writing articles. Apparently he has some pretty rare shit in those drawers.

Some UNKNOWN shit, according to one guy on ViewTube.

There's this whole debate on if it's Ultra Super Rare or that means it's just super cheap knock off crap. Some of them he won't make for people, even if they ask. There's a rumor it's for Meta's with specific diets. Or alien blends. But no one can verify that. Cause like?

Anyone who tries to cause trouble?

Can't fucking FIND the place. And if you're already inside? You just... drop. Stone cold unconscious. It's definitely magic but no one knows if it's HIS or Manson's? You know? He won't talk. Gets annoyed when harrased.

Which off course!

Leaves Only ONE gentleman for the job. An elite special forces trained expert. Polite, dignified, enjoyer of fine Teas. Alfred "Why do you chucklefucks keep forgetting I was in the Queens Service and a Registered Badass" Pennyworth.

After all! He DOES have the days shopping to do.

@babbling-babull @the-witchhunter @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @lolottes

[gilverrwrites]

Meet Cutes Uglies Ft. Bruce, Dick, and Jason

GN!Reader, ≈500 words each

CWs: Mild/nonexplicit threats of violence, slut-shaming (but not really), swearing.

Bruce

The chances of bumping into a celebrity not once, twice, thrice, but four times in one day are low, but not impossible as you’re finding out.

It was kinda cool realising you’re stood behind him in line at the coffee shop, but not spectacularly cool or anything. Almost everyone you knew had a story about meeting Bruce, or another member of the Wayne family out in public so you weren’t overly excited. You just kept your head down, scrolling through your socials and wondering whether his drink was the iced cold brew, the fudge brownie hot chocolate, or the three pump vanilla no foam cappuccino. Your friend Jade was right, he is far ‘hunkier’ than the media gives him credit for, his piercing eyes really are that blue, and he smells good too, like bergamot and cedar.

It became somewhat more exciting when you'd headed to the library on your lunch break to return a book, only for him to already be there, chatting-up the librarians no less. Your friends were not going to believe this. He must sense you staring at him because he turns to look at you, when you make eye contact you smile, wondering if he might recognise you from the morning. He did not smile back.

Upon returning to work, the rest of your shift had been gruelling, job after job being piled onto your shoulders with minimal time to get them all done. You hadn’t even had the chance to tell your co-workers about your unlikely encounters with Gotham’s richest man. By the time you got off for the night, you were exhausted, the thought of having to cook dinner and wash the pots once you got home looming over you like a rain cloud until you decide to grab some take-out on your way home instead.

You’re barely out of the doors of Big Belly Burgers, a handful of fries hanging from your lips when you see him for the 3rd time. Bruce Wayne, on the sidewalk across the street, engrossed in what seemed to be a very intense telephone call. Weird.

You don’t have to wait long for the fourth encounter, it happens just a few blocks from your home. He’s much closer this time, a little too close for comfort maybe. You hadn’t seen it coming, one moment you’re rifling through your bag, looking for your keys, the next you’re suspended a few inches from the ground by a pair of strong hands fisted into the collar of your jacket. Instinctively you paw at him, one hand wrapping around his wrist, the other bunching up in the fabric of his sweater for faux support.  

You think for a moment you’re being mugged, until the familiar smell of wood and citrus hits your senses. Bruce Wayne is pressing you against the cold, damp wall of an alleyway, handsome face marred by its stern expression.

“Who are you?” He demands. “And why are you following me?”

>[Continued]<

Dick

The only thing worse than the feel of the uneven, filth-trodden pavements of Blüdhaven against your bare feet, is the thought of putting the torturous pair of dress shoes you’d worn last night back on. Perhaps you should have asked your hookup for something to wear, but that would almost certainly guarantee your having to see them again in order to return it and you’d happily walk barefoot across Tartarus before you let that happen.

Careful to avoid stepping in anything less than savoury, you keep your eyes glued to the floor, so focused on the things below you, that you don’t notice the things in front of you. The person in front of you, until you plough right into their admittedly firm chest.

The person in question reeks of stale alcohol, his shiny hair is a mess, there’s a shadow forming on his striking jawline, and the half-undone shirt he’s wearing is clearly wrinkled and stained from the night before. A fellow walk-of-shamer.

You stare at each other for a long moment before you realise you had bumped into him, therefore you should be the one to speak first.

“Oh, uh, sorry.” You murmur, voice hoarse.

“No problem.” He replied, far too chipper for his current predicament. His eyes rake up and down your body, and you might be vexed by it if you had not just been doing the same to him. “Why aren’t you wearing your shoes.”

“They hurt my feet.” You shrug, taking a cautious sidestep around him as you speak. “Just want to get home, they were slowing me down.”

That should be the end of it, but the sound of his dress boots tapping against the sidewalk follows you down the street. You can’t be certain, but you were pretty sure he’d been walking in the opposite direction prior to your collision. You cast a glance over your shoulder, and sure enough, he’s just a few steps behind you, offering you a striking smile that almost makes the grey morning feel brighter.

“Proposal?” He asks, and you stop to listen. Possibly because you’re genuinely intrigued, probably because your brain isn’t awake enough to tell your heart that you shouldn’t talk to strangers. “If I can get you home without you having to use your feet, will you go out for breakfast with me?”

“You’re really asking me out during a walk of shame?” You snicker, impressed by his audacity.

“We don’t shame in 2024, I prefer to call it a stride of pride.” He informs you, and he has a point. “Besides, might be fate that we walked into each other this fine morning, gotta give it a chance, right?”

“Right.” You agree, but your raised brow and puckered lips might suggest some scepticism. He doesn’t seem put off however, still beaming that brilliant smile at you. “And how do you plan on getting me home?”

“Easy.” He shakes his head, conveying his confidence as he beckons you closer by curling two fingers towards himself. You follow his direction and before you can comprehend what’s going on he’s crouching before you, threading his body between your legs and lifting you on his back, piggy style.

“So, where do you live?”

Jason

The coffee shop is that perfect level of busy that's not overwhelming but isn't too quiet as to be unsettling. Your drink is the ideal temperature, and the evening sun is seeping through the windows at just the right angle to warm your skin and add a golden glow to the atmosphere. By all accounts, this should be the perfect, relaxing moment, except… this book sucks.

You’d thought after years of recommendations from friends, many critically acclaimed adaptions, and its general status as a must-read classic that it was high time you picked it up, but you were about two-thirds in and thoroughly not enjoying yourself.

“Excuse me.” A low voice draws you from the pages of the book. You hadn’t noticed the 6ft+ mountain of tattooed muscle casting a shadow over your table until you looked into his eyes. Oh wow. You don’t know why he’s approached you, but whatever it is; he can have it. “Are you reading Lady Liatris?”

“I am.” You confer, lazily tilting the cover to show him, despite your reading choice already being apparent.

“Nice to meet a fellow bibliophile out in the wild. What do you think of it so far?” He smiles at you, reaching out a hand, your heart sinks as his strong fingers wrap around your own for a handshake.

“Well….” Handsome, well-read, confident enough to approach you, and you were about to blow it with your brutal honesty. “I haven’t finished it yet, so I won’t commit, but so far I am not impressed.”

“What?” He actually flinched. “No way. Where are you up to?”

“I just finished the bit where Claude professed his love for Florance at the flower show, which was the drollest thing I’ve ever read, and it went on and on for far too many pages.” It was probably impolite for you to be venting so quickly to this stranger, but you just couldn’t help it, the words just kept coming. “Not to mention its total lack of realistic feminism, you can’t just unveil your fencing champion to secretly be a woman and call it a day, every other woman in this book is either a two-dimensional gossiping villain or a two-dimensional love interest for the male side characters.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” The mystery man shakes his head at you in disbelief as he situates himself in the chair across from your own. “First of all, it was a product of its time, and is widely considered to be one of the greatest pieces of feminist literature despite its origins, secondly, did you not read any of Evie’s subplot?”

The conversation continues that way, back and forth. He emphasises his points with big sweeping, passionate movements of his arms. He nods his head and purses his lips when you make arguably good points and grits his teeth when he disagrees with you. Neither of you notice when the sun goes down, or your drinks going cold until the barista informs you both that they’ll be closing in a few minutes.

Shit. You’d been debating classic-lit with this guy for at least 2 hours, and you didn’t even know his name. The sentiment appears to be shared because he offers you a comically confused frown as he puts his jacket back on and offers you a hand standing from your seat.

You exit the café into the cool night air together. You’re not sure if you should ask his name and invite him over, or say goodbye, fortunately, he removes the need to decide by handing you a napkin with his name and number jotted onto it in black marker. Jason.

“Call me when you’ve finished the book.” He instructs, and then he gone.

[emotionoitme]

trouble

trouble - coldplay

part 3 of don’t call my name

warnings: angst, hurt + arguing but it’s steamy, drinking and clubbing, some violence (she gets grabbed and threatened but nothing happens), guard dog carmy bark bark, carmy throws hands & brief mention of blood. comfort sex, sappy and sweet but hot, it’s unprotected what else did you expect from me, dirty talk, some drama with claire i’m sorry 

wc: 9.0k

a/n: so…i told everyone this was going to be 3 parts when it actually needs 4. i fear i am just too much of a yapper. i love these two and think i needed to do the story justice. so stay tuned for ch4. hehehehe. hope u enjoy!!! (it is going to get angsty) 

playlist

carmen berzatto is a shitty communicator. 

this we know to be a fact. 

it’s just, sometimes when there are a thousand thoughts swarming around his head, it’s easier to not say anything at all. that makes sense, right? 

the girl wakes up the next morning to find herself alone. the plush king sized bed almost mocks her with emptiness.

she knows that carmy is a hard worker. a michelin star kitchen doesn’t just run itself. still, it might be nice to get a note, or text, or anything that would reassure her last night wasn’t just some fluke to to him. 

the silence of the apartment is almost deafening. she trudges down the stairs and walks to the kitchen, pouring herself what was left in the coffee pot from carmy’s early morning. 

she feels lethargic, sore, and a little stung from waking up alone. no text or anything, she thinks. 

but there was still time. maybe he was just really busy today. she pushes away the negative thoughts and slaps both of her cheeks lightly, trying to wake herself up. it would be a good day. he would text her or call her when he got a break. and they would talk about it. she puts a smile on her face at the delusion and hops back up the stairs to get dressed for work. 

the girl tries to busy herself when she gets there, picking up extra slack from coworkers and bustling around to finish projects. trying to not check her phone. 

she goes on lunch break with no text from him. 

gets off work at 5 with no text from him. 

throws his sheets in the wash and remakes his bed with no text from him. 

eats dinner with no text from him. 

watches a movie at 9:30 with, you guessed it. 

she throws her phone back onto the bed angrily, the false wall of positivity built in her mind beginning to crumble. she’s tired and annoyed, so she shuts off the movie and buries herself in bed, trying to push thoughts of him out of mind so she could sleep. 

she tells herself that they can talk tomorrow. but then, tomorrow comes and it’s the same nothing, almost like she didn’t even have a roommate. 

three silent days go by until the girl decides she’s had enough, and plans to wait up for him and have a talk. maybe he just wasn’t a texting type of guy, she tries to comfort herself. 

she grabs her book and a throw blanket and camps out on the couch, waiting for him to get home. 

it’s close to midnight before she hears keys jingling and the lock turning. her heart drops inexplicably but she remains nonchalant and continues reading her book until she hears him take a few steps inside. 

she turns her head, watching him talk on the phone as he slides his shoes off. he doesn’t notice her in the dim light of the living room, and his brows are furrowed, hand running through his messy curls. 

“yeah. yeah, i’m- i know….sorry again,” a pause, “okay. i’ll see you saturday. bye, claire.” 

her eyebrows shoot up at the name, the sinking feeling with in her stomach increasing tenfold. this motherfucker. 

carmen makes it halfway into the living room before he notices her on the couch, slightly startling at her presence, mumbling a “shit”

her face feels hot, but not in the good way she had grown accustomed to the past few weeks. 

“hey,” he greets softly, eyes looking tired, shoulders slumped. 

she just glares at him and goes back to reading her book. 

he says her name. she ignores him.

the man lets out a small scoff, stepping closer to the couch, hand on his hip. 

“what, you, uh, ignoring me?” 

she glances up at him and there’s a small smirk on his face, like he thinks it’s joke or something. 

she opens her mouth to say something mean, but stops herself. takes a deep breath. recenters. 

she slams her book shut and turns to face him. 

“i’m going to bed.” 

the man’s small smirk drops, watching as she shoots up from the couch and starts heading towards the stairs. he grabs her wrist to stop her. 

“hey,” he says, firmer this time. 

she whips around and pulls her arm back. 

“what?” she snaps. 

his brows furrow at her tone of voice. he pauses for a second, eyes raking down her face, taking in her expression. 

“why are you acting like that?” he asks. 

the question does nothing but make her feel angrier. 

“because you’re being fucking confusing,” the girl exclaims, her throat growing tight.

“how am i confusing?” carmen replies with a surge of annoyance, “you woke me up the other night with…” his eyes dart down her frame, “half your fuckin’ clothes on.” he tries to sound angry, but his voice betrays him a bit. truthfully, it was like his prayers had come true when he opened his eyes to find her straddling him in underwear and a tiny little top that barely kept her chest contained. 

“yeah cause i thought you were into me,” she frustratedly sighs, “but you’re just…using me to get over claire.” 

the allegation wasn’t rooted in fact. but that’s how the girl felt, and she confuses the two in the moment. 

“don’t say that.” he snaps, “that’s not fuckin’ true in the slightest.” carmen had been done with claire for months at this point. if anything, he had been trying to use claire to get over his roommate.

“it’s been three days since we-… and you haven’t said anything,” she sighs, rubbing her forehead, feeling a headache come on. 

he knows his, and feels guiltier than she could even imagine. but he also knows she’s leaving in a few short weeks, and doesn’t want to fall any deeper than he already has for her. 

“i got busy at work.” he defends. it’s a shitty excuse, but as usual, it’s the first to come to mind. 

her eyes brows crease further. 

“you have a phone.” she chides.

“i just…i didn’t think about it,” he lies, “i’m sorry.”

she scoffs and shakes her head. 

“god, you’re so-,” another sigh, “you know, whatever, carm.” she turns from him and begins to walk up the stairs. 

he hates how his eyes glance down to her ass, peaking out from beneath a pair of short shorts. 

god he’s a fucking loser, he tells himself. 

carmy calls her name again. she ignores him. 

-

the girl slams her bedroom door behind her and throws herself onto her bed. she tries to fight the hot, angry tears that stream down her face, telling herself it doesn’t really bother her. telling herself that he’s just another stupid guy, and she can find better. this does nothing to ease the burning feeling in her chest, though, a pair of soft blue eyes flashing in her mind. thinking of the way he was rough with her while still being gentle, kissing her face and calling her sweet names. thinking of how he held her and wiped her tears and assured her that things would work out. 

fucking asshole! 

she grabs her duvet and pulls it over her head, wrapping herself tightly and burrowing into the pillow. she tells herself that she won’t make the mistake of giving into him again. wouldn’t ever grace him with her lips or fingers or sweet moans again. 

she tells herself that she doesn’t need him. she could easily find someone else that would satisfy that same feral craving she had for carmen. 

in fact, tomorrow would be friday, and she hadn’t gone out in a long time. she decides on calling up a friend and making a friday night plan to go out. drink, dance, and prove to herself that there’s better for her out there than carmy. 

the girl aggressively rubs her face of tears and shoots up out of bed, grabbing her phone to send the invitation to a girlfriend. her phone pings with a quick response, and the girl confirms her plan for the following night, already envisioning what to wear. the thought of seeing carmy tomorrow night before she goes out makes her stomach churn. the thought of seeing him at all makes it churn, actually. 

she tells herself that she only has to stick it out for another month or so. then she would go back to california and things would be normal. no more stupid boys. no more heated touches. no more whimpers being greedily devoured by hungry kisses. 

she tells herself that’s what she wants. 

it doesn’t feel genuine in the slightest. 

the following morning she rummages through her closet and picks out a couple of skimpy options. she studies herself in the mirror, holding up the various items up in front of her nude body, wondering what carmy would think of the outfits. she quickly tries to push the thought out of mind. she doesn’t care what he thinks, she reminds herself. her eyes fixate on the finger-shaped bruises scattered about her hips. she thinks of how they got there. 

her day at work seems to go impossibly slow. the girl finds herself thinking of carmen constantly, caught between hoping there would be a text from him when she would check her phone and hoping she would never hear from him again. 

her mind frequently flashes to the way he handled her a few nights ago. how he kissed her obsessively. how he held her up once her legs had given out. how he relentlessly plowed into her and called her a pretty girl and told her she was made for him. 

the thought simultaneously makes her horny and angry, something that she had never experienced so vividly until now. she wanted to slap his face, but at the same time she wanted to kiss him and grind against him and beg for him again. 

it’s entirely confusing. 

by the time 10 o clock rolls around, she begins to get ready, meticulously styling her hair and applying her makeup. she opts for a sultry, smokey look, accentuating her eyes with dark shadow and liner, glossing her pouty lips with a clear lacquer. the girl tries to hurry the routine, anxious to make it out the door before carmen gets back. 

she strips her clothes off and slips into her club apparel, then decorates her look with rings, bracelets, earrings, and a necklace. as she slides her thigh high boots on, she hears the front door open, then slam closed.

“fuck,” she harshly exhales. looks like she would have to see him after all. 

carmy racks his keys onto the hook and steps out of his shoes, taking a deep breath at the relief of being home. it’s not until he notices the light coming from upstairs that the relief is replaced with a sense of anxiety. 

he knows he needs to fix things between him and his roommate, if he could even refer to her as just that anymore. he had felt like a jackass all week, but apologies were never really his strong suit. he didn’t even know where to start. 

the man empties his pockets out onto the credenza, then begins to make his way into the living room. he stops in his tracks when he hears the click of heels descending the stairs. 

as he turns his head and catches sight of her, he fights to stifle a groan. 

she comes down clad in a tight top and mini skirt, length of her legs emphasized by black thigh high boots. his eyes rake down her body, admiring the curve of her figure and the appealing fit of the clothes. he wishes that she would dress like that all the time, but he doesn’t tell her that, instead just opting for a casual, albeit slightly strained “hey.”

she looks at him, but doesn’t reply, instead sauntering over to their bar cart and pouring herself a shot. he realizes the top is backless, and clenches his jaw a bit, trying to recenter with a deep breath. 

“you, uh…you look nice,” he clears his throat. 

she throws back the shot and shivers. 

“thanks,” her response comes dryly, walking over to grab her purse, “i’ll be back in a few hours.”

carmen feels his brain stutter, processing what she said, his eyebrows furrowing. 

“wait you, uh, you’re going out dressed like that?” he can’t help but feel a bit protective, even if she is pissed off at him. the girl scoffs. 

“i can’t really go to the club in sweatpants, carm.” 

he rubs a hand over his face, trying to keep calm. 

“you could, uh….at least put a fuckin’ jacket on or something though?” he tries to suggest kindly. his tone betrays him. 

“yeah?” she turns towards him, “why the fuck do you care?” bite in her tone. 

his eyes fall over the multiple hickeys that litter her neck, then flicker over her face, realizing how striking her features look accentuated by dark makeup. she looks angry. a little hurt. he wants to say something soothing. 

“cause i-fuck,” hand threading through his hair messily, “because i know how guys think.” 

nice. real soothing. 

“yeah? n’what do they think?” she challenges. 

that anyone would want you. that you look fucking hot wearing those tight little clothes.

carmy opts to not respond so directly, and walks closer to her. 

“i just don’t want you to get… hurt.” his tone is firm, jaw set tightly. she lets out a sardonic laugh at this. at the fact that he’s her biggest source of hurt at the moment.

“what, you think it’s funny?” he barks, “you could get fuckin’…picked up or drugged or something.” 

she rolls her eyes. 

“that’s not gonna happen. i’m going with a friend.” she snatches her purse off the credenza, fumbling through it to make sure she has her id. he takes a few steps closer. until he can smell her sweet perfume. 

“well, let me drive you guys then.” 

she shakes her head. 

“no. we’re getting a cab.” zipping up her purse and hanging it over her shoulder. 

“fuck, then call me when you get there. and when you’re leaving.” he snaps a bit, becoming a bit fed up with her attitude. 

“not gonna fuckin’ call you, carmy,” her face scrunches up in anger, “i’ll probably end up going home with someone, anyways,” she fibs, locking eyes with him, unintentionally leaning in a bit. 

“you what?” he angers, moving even closer to her, their faces mere inches apart. 

she can feel the shot she took now, eyes darting down to his lips. fuck his deodorant. the smell of it makes her want to give in.

“‘mgonna find someone tonight,” her tone lower now, lids low, “‘n they’re gonna fuck me better than you ever will.” 

he scoffs, blood boiling at her words, shaking his head, eyebrow twitching. 

“yeah, uh, that’s not gonna fuckin’ happen.” his hand comes to wrap around her hip, squeezing. his face comes closer, lips nearly ghosting hers.

“yeah?” she challenges, actively fighting to keep from diving in, eyes locked on his lips.

“yeah,” tone firm, “tell your friend you’re staying in tonight.” 

she doesn’t know why she feels so turned on. still pissed off, yes, but mostly aroused. 

she rolls her eyes and lets out a laugh to hide this, but he can tell. he can always tell by the slight flutter of her eyelids and the way she’ll part her lips. he knows that she likes when he talks to her like that. 

the girl channels all of her strength and steps away from him, opening the front door. 

“see you tomorrow,” she chimes, walking out. he calls her name as she walks away, but she ignores him. he tells himself he’s too proud to chase after her, but really he wants to do nothing more. 

as she makes her way down the hall, his eyes rake down her exposed back, settling on her shapely ass. 

this girl was going to drive him fucking crazy. 

-

carmy berzatto (2hrs): you make it there? 

missed call from carmy berzatto (1hr)

carmy berzatto (30min): call me if you need a ride home. 

the girl shuts off her phone, shoving it back in her purse and strutting to the bar counter. sure, now he cared enough to send a text. 

jealous motherfucker. 

it had been a girls night out until her friend went home with an ex boyfriend, leaving her all alone at the club. she leans over the counter, pushing her hair over her shoulder. her feet are sore from the boots she had picked out, coupled with an hour or so of nonstop dancing. 

the girl had planned to leave as soon as her friend did, but made the mistake of passing through the main room where they were playing 2000s music. she couldn’t just not dance to 2000s. 

the bartender works quickly to accommodate the numerous orders. she feels the drink she had been sipping on affecting her, comfortably bathing in the multicolored lights of the club. it was packed with people, and she had been noticing eyes on her all night. 

the girl feels a hand on her lower back, and she turns to meet the eyes of a tall man.

“hi,” he says.

“hey,” she softly replies.

he was admittedly handsome, and his muscular stature didn’t hurt to look at either. 

“can i buy you a drink?” the man asks. 

the girl softly smiles and nods. he raises his hand to flag the bartender. she was planning on getting a water, but since she wasn’t paying for it…

the stranger makes small talk with her, the two having to practically yell into each other’s ear to hear over the bass of the music. jobs, what part of town they live, compliments. not that she really cares about any of it, though she tries to. 

as he leans in to ask if she’ll dance with him, he places his hand on her waist. she tries to ignore how it doesn’t feel right. 

he’s cute, she tells herself, and i needs to stop thinking about carmy. 

the girl takes a long sip of her drink and nods softly, taking his hand and leading him to the dance floor. they squeeze through the crowd of bodies, and she turns to face him, hand on his chest. he places a hand on her lower back, and they begin to move to the beat. she takes another long sip of her drink, closing her eyes, coming closer to the man, swaying her hips. his deodorant doesn’t smell as good as carmen’s does. doesn’t comfort her like his does. 

she takes another sip, and she circles around, moving her hips, facing away from the man. the music resonates through the whole building, lights flash and change color, making her movements feel dreamlike. he places his hands on her hips. 

she wishes that she liked how it felt. 

the man presses his hips into her backside. she imagines it’s carmen, and the thought makes her bite down onto her lip. her head falls back against his chest. she thinks of her roommate’s strong arms. his tattoos. the way his face scrunched up when he fully engulfed himself in her. the girl lets out a breath. her skin feels hot and sticky in the muggy club air. she takes another long sip of alcohol, feeling lips on her neck. they feel strange and unfamiliar. it doesn’t set off that tingling sensation in her lower stomach. she groans out of frustration. 

“mmm you like that don’t you, pretty girl?” the man slurs into her ear. 

the name makes her heart drop, and all of the sudden she feels like she needs to throw up. she shoves the stranger’s hands away and stumbles forward, pushing her way out of the crowd. the floor feels like it’s tilting on an axis as she cringes at the feeling of other sweaty bodies touching her. she gets shoved into by a big group and loses her drink. 

it’s suddenly hard to breathe. the girl feels her throat tighten, her chest burning, wiping hot tears away. she fights and pushes and weaves through the crowd until she finally breaks free, making a beeline for the glowing red exit sign. the girl shoves the door open, almost tripping over the frame, and stumbles out into the cold night. 

the frigid air helps alleviate some of her nausea, skin rising in goosebumps. she trudges along the brick wall and leans her back against it, focusing on taking deep breaths. her hands run through her messy hair, pushing it out of her face, closing her eyes, trying to stop the steady flow of tears. 

this night was supposed to be fun, but all she wanted to do was go home and sleep this booze off. all she wanted was carmen. 

her hands fumble through her purse, grabbing her phone. she drops it, muttering a “shit,” and crouches down to pick it up. she squints her eyes at the light of the display, struggling to navigate to the uber app. she enters her address, cursing internally when she sees the friday night surge prices. instead, she exits uber and finds her contacts, hovering over the number of a cab company. her eyes glance towards carmen's contact, right below. 

she doesn’t want to call him. he was being an asshole, and she hates how easily he was able to get under her skin. so she dials the contact for the cab, listening to the line ring. and ring. and ring. almost infinitely, then a automated voice of “your call cannot be completed.” 

“fuck,” she curses, terminating the call. 

her eyes fixate on his name, pausing and contemplating. 

she rolls her eyes and dials it. the line rings twice and gets picked up with a raspy greeting and a “y’okay?” 

she stays silent for a second, not sure what to say. he says her name. 

“did you know that you are-” she hiccups, “s-so mean?” it’s the only thing that comes to mind. 

“are you drunk?” he asks.

“no. m’not” she argues, wiping a stray tear. 

“you sound drunk,” he retorts, “where are you? i’m coming to get you.” 

“you’re so fucking…rude. ‘nyou think you can just do whatever you want because you’re so-” hiccup, “hot… and big…you irritate me, carm,” she slurs into the line. she opens her mouth to say more, but he cuts her off by saying her name sternly. 

“you at prysm? tunnel?” 

“yeah. that one.” she hiccups again. 

“tunnel? okay, stay right there. i’m getting in my car now.” 

“ok but i’m still mad at you,” she murmurs, leaning against the cool brick. he scoffs, and starts saying something about her bad attitude, but she cuts him off by hanging up, harshly exhaling and closing her eyes tightly. the tears continue falling, so she just tries to focus on her breathing. 

a cool breeze causes her to stiffen, wrapping her arms around herself, shivering. it’s uncomfortable, but grounding. her head stops spinning so much as she begins to breathe deeply. the tears come to a steady stop, but the aching in her chest doesn’t. she wishes carmen would hold her and kiss her head. 

around fifteen minutes pass before she hears the back door of the club open. the girl keeps her eyes shut, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t bother her. though it seems she’s not so lucky tonight, unfortunately. 

“hey, you,” a deep voice says. she snaps her eyes open to find the same tall man she was dancing with earlier standing in front of her. 

she just stares at him silently, crossing her arms in front of her to help provide some modesty. 

“listen, i think we get along well. and you’re really hot,” he explains drunkenly, “why don’t i help you get home?” 

she feels icked out, trying to refrain from rolling her eyes.

“m’not interested, sorry. i have someone coming to pick me up.” 

the man scoffs. 

“you were plenty interested earlier when i bought you a drink,” taking a step closer to her, “c’mon. don’t be a tease.” he has a smirk on his face. she feels her heart begin to pound against her chest. 

carmy was right, it was a mistake to come out. she tries to take a step away from him, blocked by the hard brick wall. 

“seriously, i’m not interested,” she tries to sound assertive, “my boyfriend will be here any second so just leave me alone.” she hopes he can’t read through her lie. 

“your boyfriend?” he asks, smirk turning into a grin, “you’re a naughty girl, aren’t you? someone should fucking straighten you out.”

her heart drops to her stomach, and she feels sick all over again. she steps forward to shove past him, and he grabs her waist, slamming her back into the wall. 

“don’t fucking touch me!” she yells, grabbing his wrists and digging her nails in. he doesn’t let go. tears begin to stream down her face, heart hammering against her ribcage. she sees headlights from down the street and prays that it’s carmen, continuing to struggle against the man. 

the car speeds up to the curb and jerks to a stop, door flying open. she shuts her eyes tightly and digs her nails in hard enough to draw blood, giving a final attempt at trying to get his hands off of her. 

the girl is suddenly released as the man is jerked backwards by his shoulder. her eyes snap open and graciously land on the person she’s been wanting to see the most. 

everything happens so fast—watching in a haze as carmen practically decks the guy in the face, sending the stranger stumbling back, gripping a bloody nose. 

“you muverfuckr!” he slurs, words muffled by a dripping hand, lunging forward again. carmy shuffles back, then throws another jab square in the face. the man falls backwards onto the ground, sitting on the concrete, looking entirely disoriented. the girl gasps, feeling partially sobered by the scene. 

she watches as the stranger’s blood drips onto the pavement, then darts her gaze over to carmen. his eyes look crazed, jaw tightly locked. he begins to stalk towards the man, clenching his fists that were spotted with red. 

the girl reaches out and grabs his arm. he turns to look at her and his features immediately soften, taking in her tear-soaked cheeks and swollen lips. without thinking, he grabs her arm and pulls her into a tight embrace, arms wrapping around her in a protective bear hug. she clings to his shirt, and cries. he kisses the top of her head. 

he smells so good. smells so safe. 

“s’okay. i got you,” he soothes, “you’re okay.” the man says this as a reassurance to himself as well, rubbing her back, feeling his throat tighten and eyes water a bit. 

the stranger lay flat on his back now, clutching his bleeding nose, mumbling incoherently. 

carmen pulls back from the embrace, but keeps an arm wrapped tightly around her, ushering her to the car. she stumbles a bit, holding onto him securely. she wishes the tears would stop, but they don’t. she feels so scared. so relieved. so fucking grateful. 

he gets her into the car, shutting the door and walking around to the driver’s side. she doesn’t want to look at him when he gets in, so she hides her face in her hand, elbow leaning on the arm rest. he doesn’t say anything for the duration of the drive home either. 

she feels embarrassed, tired, and still a little mad at carmy. the whole reason she had wanted to go out and meet guys in the first place was because of his stupid situationship with claire. it was like it made her go into defense mode. 

they had been driving for about 5 minutes, before she feels a dull throbbing in her head, stomach growling, alcohol in her system making her crave greasy nasty salty food. 

she raises her head from her hand, looking at carmen. his eyebrows were knit together tightly, jaw clenched. she leans her head against the headrest as she stares at him lovingly. she loves how protective he gets over her. how strong he is. how blindingly handsome. 

but she’s still mad, of course. 

he catches her gazing at him in his periphery. he looks over, features softening as he catches her eyes momentarily.

“what’s up?” he asks, voice low.

she just looks at him. her lip pouts a bit. 

“you hungry?” comes his question, perfectly timed. 

she allows a soft smile to grace her lips at the accuracy of his guess. 

“mmhm,” she nods, “a burger sounds really good right now. and french fries.” 

he lets out a quiet chuckle, nodding his head, glancing at her again. 

“let’s get you a burger and french fries, then.” 

he turns his signal on and moves to make a quick left, pulling into a drive-thru after a few minutes.

they sit in line waiting for the order to be cooked. she glances over at his face. she wants to kiss him, a little. 

“d’yknow what the ultimate hangover food is?” she asks softly. 

he turns to face her, eyebrows raised in question, a look of amusement on his face. 

“an all american breakfast,” she murmurs with a smile.

“yeah?” he asks, “like…pancakes?”

she nods, biting her lip with a smile. he lets out a soft laugh at this.

“and bacon and eggs. and hash browns. fuck,” her eyes are closed, like she’s imagining it in front of her. this makes the man laugh a bit harder, hand coming to smooth over his face. 

“good answer,” he tells her once he stops smiling as much. 

“what’s yours?” she asks, gazing at him a bit longingly. 

“my what?” 

“your hangover cure food.”

“uh, probably…saltines?”. 

the girl lets out a laugh. 

“the alcohol upsets my stomach,” he admits. 

she laughs harder, burying her face in her hands. 

“you are so cute,” she amuses. 

he fights the heat that rushes to his face when she says this, and they pull forward to the pick up window. 

the girl takes her first bite into the greasy burger that carmen insists on paying for, and it makes her feel more human than she has all night. 

-

carmy parks the car in his assigned lot, then gets out to assist his roommate out of the car. the food helped her feel much more grounded, but she still has to cling onto his arm to be able to walk straight through the building. 

neither of them say anything. this lasts until they get back to their unit, and carmy locks the door behind them. he watches as the girl stumbles out of her shoes and crashes onto the couch. she throws an arm over her eyes and tries to push away the nausea that comes with laying down. 

“thank you,” she murmurs into her arm after a moment.

“mhm,” he responds, “told you to call me when you needed a ride, though,” shrugging off his jacket.

“i did,” she argues.

“no, you called me… way after you needed one. and you stood outside waiting for me,” his tone grows harsher.

if she wasn’t so nauseous, she’d roll her eyes. 

“i was trying to get away from all the guys that were trying to take me home,” she retorts. she means it to be teasing, but it’s clear he doesn’t take it that way by the peak she steals through her arms. 

“y’know, you-,” he scoffs, “i’m glad you think it’s fuckin’ funny because i-fuck…i was worried about you” he throws his keys onto the table, feeling angry, feeling scared. 

she throws her other arm over her face. her cheeks are hot with embarrassment. her throat suddenly feels tight at his words, like she’s going to cry again. she doesn’t say anything out of fear of her voice breaking. 

carmy chides her name, stalking over to the couch. he stands over her, expectantly waiting for a response, jaw clenching with annoyance. he nudges her arm. she moves it, revealing her tired bloodshot eyes. 

“can we not do this tonight?” she begs hoarsely, “m’so drunk.” 

“you fucking scared me,” he exclaims, grabbing his hair, “what would’ve happened if i didn’t get there in time, huh?” 

“i know,” she sobs, tears now freely flowing, hiding her face in her arms again. 

his heart breaks a bit, watching her cry like that. but he feels so angry that she put herself at risk like that. 

“you-” he stops. takes a deep breath to recenter. “you’re right. let’s not do this tonight.” 

she peaks at him through her arms, feeling completely pathetic. she watches him turn on the small lamp by the couch. he drapes a throw blanket over her before turning to walk upstairs. 

tears continue inexplicably trailing down her cheeks, as her deep breathing begins to lul her into sleep. 

an hour passes. 

she shifts to try and get comfy to no avail. 

30 more minutes. 

everything was so uncomfortable. 

she sits up quickly and shoots off the couch, beelining for the stairs, desperate to get the crunchy makeup and scratchy clothes off. 

she falls up the stairs in her sleepy scramble, knocking against the wall loudly. slowly stands up, holds onto the rail, and exhales before continuing to ascend much more carefully. 

as she walks down the hallway, she unashamedly begins to strip out of her clothing, leaving a trail that leads to the bathroom, telling herself she would take care of it later. she feels sick and lethargic, needing a shower immediately. 

the girl leaves the bathroom light off as she draws a cold shower and steps in right away, drenching herself in the frigid water. she tenses, letting out a sharp exhale, feeling almost immediately soothed. 

it’s as if the water washes away everything bad from the night. she meditatively goes through her routine, cleaning herself. cleaning away everything that happened tonight. cleaning away the man who touched her on the dancefloor, outside of the club. 

the shame and embarrassment that begins to seep in as the alcohol wears off doesn’t wash away as easily. she needs to apologize, she knows that.

the girl dries herself off and wraps her hair in a towel as she walks back to her room, feeling more of a pep in her step following the refreshing shower. she bends down to pick up the strung out clothing she left behind, feeling like she was going crazy because her underwear was nowhere to be found. it would just have to wait until tomorrow, she supposes. 

she’s moisturized and laying in bed, trying to fall asleep. tossing and turning. taking a deep breath. softening her face, muscles. thinking of nice things.

drifting off. mind flashing back to the man grabbing her and slamming her against the brick wall. thinking of what would’ve happened had carmy not come to her rescue. 

her eyes snap open. she sharply inhales and sits up, hanging her legs over the side of the bed. it was going to be impossible to get sleep like this, heart beating way too fast to try and relax. 

she just wants to feel safe. 

without a second thought, she stands and begins walking to carmy’s room. 

she knows he’s pissed off at her. knows he’ll probably tell her to get out. even so, she’s so desperate to get some sleep. so desperate to ease the anxiety that had been festering inside of her all night. 

his door is closed, and she hesitates for a moment before twisting the knob and slipping inside. 

it’s dark—the curtains drawn when they usually aren’t. he lay shirtless on his side, facing away from the door, clutching a pillow in his arms. 

the girl peels back his sheets and slowly slips into bed, resting her head on the soft pillow. she stays there for a moment before scooting closer and laying her face against his back. he’s so warm, and his skin smells safe. her eyes fall shut. she feels him shift. 

carmen wakes up unexpectedly to the feeling of warmth behind him. he knows it’s her without having to look. when she had noisily stumbled upstairs and into the shower, he went to go check on her—almost knocked on the bathroom door, but refrained once he heard soft cries from within. 

he feels her face nuzzle into his back, and he reaches his arm back behind him, wanting to feel where she lay. he touches her hip.

“hi,” she greets softly. 

“hey,” he returns, voice raspy, “y’can’t sleep?” 

she scoots closer to him, hand splaying over his back. 

“just a little… freaked out still…” she whispers. her tone wobbles. 

he shifts at this, and turns around to face her silently. in the low light she can make out the worried furrow of his brows.

she feels guilty for being the subject of his worry. 

“i’m sorry,” the girl confesses, biting back tears. 

carmen’s brows crease further at her apology, immediately wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his chest. she tucks her face into his neck, shutting her eyes tightly, smelling his skin. 

“y’got nothing to be sorry for,” he plants a kiss atop her head, “wasn’t your fault.” 

“it was my fault,” her voice breaks, “should’ve listened to you,” her arms come around his neck, and she presses her body flush with his. 

“it wasn’t,” he asserts, “that guy was a fuckin’ creep.” his tone is hushed. his arms wrap around her as if he��s scared of losing her. 

“are you still mad at me?” she asks. her breath tickles his neck. 

“i wasn’t mad,” he admits, “just scared.” 

“me too,” matching his hushed tone. “thank you carm,” she whispers, pressing a kiss below his ear, “feel so safe with you.” she shuffles closer, pelvis pressing against his. 

“you are,” he buries his nose in her hair, “always.” hiking her leg over his hip to bring her closer. 

the girl kisses his neck again. and again. pulls him in closer. his smell is completely addicting, and with the angle of her leg she can feel his erection growing against her core. she hopes he can’t feel the wetness that begins to form beneath her shorts. 

his big palm spreads over her ass and squeezes, desperate to hold every inch of her. 

the girl deeply exhales, bothered by how easily he’s able to rouse her. 

the man harshly exhales at the repeated feeling of her bites and licks and kisses, holding onto her with an urgent desperation. trying to wrap around her as if he were keeping her from the world. 

the room becomes hot, and the two shuffle the duvet off. 

carmen calls her name, trying to break her attention. he wants to apologize. wants to confess his shortcomings. wants to look in her big eyes and tell her he’s not enough and never will be. but she ignores his beckon and continues enthusiastically biting and sucking and kissing, hand pressing against his chest. 

he forces his eyes to stay open, weight of his bottled apology heavy on his tongue. 

“hey,” he tries again, voice strained from the pleasure.

“can you put it in?” she breathes into his neck.

“fuck,” he groans, surprised by her forward request, feeling himself pulse against her wetness. 

“please,” she whines, hiking her leg further up onto his hip, trailing her kisses along his jaw, up to his cheek.

he squeezes her ass again, fingers slipping under the fabric of her tiny shorts. her skin was so soft. so hot with arousal. 

“let me play with you,” he strains, “get you ready f’me.”

the girl makes a sound of protest, kissing his face more, hand coming to his neck. 

“m’ready,” she whispers earnestly “wanna feel you so bad,” another kiss, “please, carm.”

he lets out a strained breath and removes his hand from her ass, shoving his boxers down just enough to free his erection. she moves her thigh higher up his hip, and carmen slips his fingers beneath the fabric covering her core, hastily pulling it to the side.

“yeah,” she exhales desperately, edge of her lips touching his, trying to watch him press his cock into her opening. 

carmen pushes forward, sinking into her tightness. he lets out a groan at the way her wet heat engulfs him. the girl releases a sound of appreciation, her nails indenting the skin of his shoulder. 

he takes a deep breath and begins slowly rocking his hips, turning his face to catch her lips in a hungry kiss. he greedily swallows her sweet noises, catching the edge of her shirt and bunching it up over her chest, exposing her breasts.

“please,” she breaks the kiss to plead, not really even knowing what she was asking for. 

“i know, baby” he groans in between kisses, “gonna take care of you.” rolling his hips, hiking her leg further up his hip to bury himself to the hilt. 

she wants to cry at how good it feels, eyes scrunched shut and mouth falling open in pleasure, releasing her first breathy moan. 

carmy swears he could cum at the sound of it, hand grabbing her ass again, pulling her impossibly closer. his forehead comes to hers and he begins slowly thrusting into her, completely drunk off of her. her smell, her wetness, her whimpers. 

“y’so fuckin’ cute,” he growls, “can’t get enough of you.” his admission sends a fluttering sensation throughout her chest, arching further into his touch, beginning to hungrily rock her hips to try and match his thrusts. 

the man grabs her hip, holding her still. 

“slow down,” he commands softly, catching her lips in a deep kiss, continuing to gently thrust into her. 

she complies, savoring the sweet, lazy rocking motion as he holds her tightly. it feels far more intimate than what she’s ever experienced with him, even though the two weren’t even fully naked. it was needy and frenetic, yet slow and gentle. 

carmen buries himself deeper, beginning to thrust up into her at an angle. he kisses her with frenzy, tongue swirling around hers, swallowing each and every noise she makes. the room grows incredibly hot, their skin sticky, each trying to apologize to the other using their bodies. 

carmy snaps his hips forward, and the girl releases from his lips with a loud cry. her nails dig into his shoulder. it’s so good she feels like crying again. 

“y’such a pretty fuckin’ girl,” he growls, “love how you feel, y’know that?” 

her droopy eyes meet his. she loves the way it sounds from his mouth. loves everything he does. 

“i’m all yours carm,” she gasps, savoring the deep, satiating feeling of his thick cock.

“yeah?” he asks breathily, “all mine?” grabbing her ass, pulling her in time with his thrusts. 

“y-yeah,” she cries, eyes tightly shut, “yours. i love-ah,” she’s interrupted by a punctuated thrust, losing her words, head falling back, breathing heavily. he feels so good.

“what d’you love?” he asks, leaning forward to kiss her exposed neck, “huh?” 

“love y-how you make me feel,” she cries. 

his chest flutters. he bites and kisses the skin of her neck. he wishes she would’ve said something different. 

“what else, hm?” a kiss, thrusts speeding up, “what else d’you love?” 

“love-fuck, right there,” she whimpers, “i love-ah,” trailing off as if she can’t even think straight. 

carmy smiles into her neck, giving her skin a final bruise before pulling away to catch her lips. 

“tell me,” he growls, grabbing the side of her thigh and continuing to upwards. 

her eyes fill with tears. she’s scared to say it. 

“i-,” an gasp, “i love you, carm.” she catches his gaze as she says it, and watches how his expression softens. how deeply he looks at her. the man dives into her lips again, kissing her with a ferocity she had yet to ever receive, groaning into her mouth. 

“fuckin’ made for me,” he growls in between kisses, “love everything about you,” pulling her leg further up, “perfect fuckin’ girl.”

he rolls over her and lifts her hips up, continuing to thrust into her. 

the girl wraps her legs around his back accommodatingly, dizzy from his words and the pleasure. she slips her fingers down to circle her swollen clit, feeling as if she teters right on the edge of climax, overcome with a white hot pleasure. 

“love you,” she cries, nails scratching down his back, “iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou m’gonna cum” she babbles. he smiles down at her, almost overwhelmed by a feral need to claim her. 

the man deliberates throwing caution to the wind and cumming inside of her. he knows she wouldn’t mind. he rationalizes the logistics of making her a mom in his frenetic state, drinking in the sight of her flushed cheeks, her wet eyes, her open mouth. he decides he’s in love with her. decides he wants her to be his forever. he watches her cum. watches her eyes roll back and her body start shaking. listens to the sweet harmonic moans that spill from her lips. 

“there y’go,” he coaxes, “such a good girl,” kissing her swollen lips, “fuckin’ in love with you,” heightening the pace of his thrusts, feeling himself approach the brink of orgasm. he seriously considers cumming inside of her, telling himself he would if she asked. he looks at the girl for confirmation, but she’s too far gone. he begrudgingly pulls out, shooting thick ropes of cum onto her stomach with a groan, missing her warmth as soon as he leaves. 

carmy rolls off of her, grabbing her face and pressing a firm kiss onto her cheek, collapsing on the bed for a moment. he feels spent.

the girl pants, trying to catch her breath. carmen nuzzles into her neck, wrapping around her tightly, kissing her tenderly. they bask in the afterglow, cherishing the presence of each other, an encompassing silence following the heavy words exchanged.

she’s the first to speak. well, complain. 

“there’s….cum all over my stomach.” she rasps. he smiles into her neck. 

“shower?”

quiet, for a moment. 

“i can’t move.” 

he kisses her bruised skin with a lazy smirk and sits up to grab her a washcloth. 

-

when the girl wakes up alone the next morning, her heart drops a bit, finding the bed next to her empty once again. she shuts her eyes immediately, hoping to be swept away by sleep so she could postpone the disappointment. 

that is, until she hears noises from the kitchen downstairs. and smells the bacon. 

the girl groggily pushes herself up out of bed, stalking down the hallway. she gets halfway to the stairs before realizing she’s completely naked, stopping in her tracks, turning to carmy’s open door, eyes falling on a t-shirt on the ground. she quickly grabs it and slips it over her head, then continues to curiously make her way downstairs. soft music comes from the speaker in the kitchen, and she slowly descends the stairs to find carmy deftly working over the stove. the whole house smells incredible. 

she slips behind him to get to the coffee pot, sliding her hand along his back as she passes. 

the man turns his head.

“hey,”  he watches as she retrieves a mug from the cabinet, graciously taking in the sight of her wearing his shirt. 

“good morning,” she smiles, “smells so good in here.” 

as she stretches to get the mug, the hem of the shirt lifts ever so slightly over the curve of her ass. he clears his throat.

“nice shirt,” carmy says, turning back to tend to the bacon. 

she lets out a soft giggle, pouring her coffee. 

“yeah?” taking a sip and leaning against the counter, “figured it would be better than coming down naked.”

his brain stutters for a moment. he turns to catch the smirk on her face. 

“i, uh…. i dunno about that,” he responds, small smile on his face. she shoves his arm playfully and he breaks into a grin. 

“no work this morning?” she asks, grateful for the unusual saturday morning presence. 

“no, i, uh…m’taking a personal day,” he replies, turning the heat of the stove off, “had some stuff i needed to get done.”

“good,” she replies with a nod, “you deserve a day off. i didn’t take you for much of a breakfast guy, though” she comments, tilting her head slightly. 

“i’m not, really,” he plates the bacon over a paper towel, “but i, uh…thought some all american might help with your hangover.” 

she feels a pang in her chest, eyes glancing over the assortment of pancakes, eggs, hash browns, and bacon. everything she had told him last night. 

“carm,” she whines, “that is so kind. you didn’t have to all of this for me.”

the food looked delectable, plated beautifully and piping hot. 

“i wanted to.” he begins to pick up the plates. 

she puts her coffee down and helps him set the table.

when she takes the first bite of her bacon and eggs she practically moans at the taste. 

“fuck,” she locks eyes with him. 

“yeah?” he watches her with amusement.

“yeah,” she breathes, nodding, “that’s…wow.” 

he can’t help but grin, hand coming to rub over his face. 

“good?” 

“yeah.” she nods, “really fucking good.”

he feels his skin heat at the way she says it, having no idea why watching her enjoy his food was so deeply satisfying (and maybe just a little arousing).

“try the pancakes,” he tells her, pushing the syrup closer to her. she nods enthusiastically, slathering the pancakes the maple syrup and taking a big bite. 

the girl groans, and her head falls into her hand, savoring the taste. she doesn’t think she’s ever had pancakes so good. 

“i could kiss you right now,” she looks back up at him. he lets out a breath of amusement and his cheeks warm with her praise.

“i’m glad you like it.” 

“no, seriously, i’m…going to kiss you.” she tells him, putting a hand on the table and leaning over it. she grabs his shirt and pulls him in, kissing him firmly. 

the man lets out a soft groan of surprise, enthusiastically reciprocating. she tastes like maple syrup. 

when the girl pulls back, he grabs her face and pulls her back in, wanting another sweet taste. it’s better than any pancakes he’s ever made. 

carmen loosens his grip on her face and she slowly pulls away, pressing a last kiss to his lips before sitting back down. she gives him a mischievous smile and continues eating her breakfast.  

-

“go sit down,” she tells him, taking the pan from him, “you already cooked, let me clean up.”

“we can do it together,” he compromises, “it’ll be faster.”

she shakes her head, making a pile of dishes in the sink and turning on the hot water.  

“no. go sit down and relax,” she demands, beginning to scrub. 

she feels arms wrap around her waist, feels lips on her neck. 

“so bossy,” he chides in between kisses, pressing his hips against her backside. she lets out a slow breath, leaning into his touch. her eyes flutter as she feels his hand creep under her shirt, splaying over her stomach. she’s not wearing anything besides his oversized shirt, and her skin suddenly feels hot from his touch. she arches into him slightly, and he bites her neck.  

it feels very domestic, fighting over who would clean up the kitchen. it feels domestic wearing his shirt and being pressed up against the counter by him, skin littered with his bruises, lips intertwined with his name. 

carmy begins to lift the borrowed shirt up, kisses trailing up to her ear, hand coming to squeeze her breast. 

the girl releases a soft noise, completely distracted by her task of washing dishes. her head falls back against his shoulder, and she leans into his touch. 

carmen thinks of telling her to strip the shirt off. thinks of hoisting her up onto the counter and eating her out until she cums. touching her until she cries.

he pushes the shirt up further. 

knock knock knock 

they both startle and look to the front door. carmen checks the time, and his heart drops a bit. 

he pulls away from the girl and runs a hand through his curls.

“who is it?” she asks him, observing his look of stress. 

“it’s, uh….fuck. just wait right here, okay?” his hands fall from his hips and he stalks to the closet by the front door, pulling out a scarf she doesn’t recognize. 

he opens the door halfway, and she hears a familiar woman’s voice greeting him. 

her face gets hot. her chest feels tight. 

“claire,” he greets quietly, thrusting the scarf forward, “here.”

“ugh, thank you, carmy. i’m so forgetful sometimes.” 

“no problem. i should, uh-”

“it smells good in there,” claire comments, peaking in. 

carmen steps back, eyes darting over to his roommate. she stands with her arms crossed, leaning against the counter, staring at him.

“i’m uh…cooking breakfast,” he turns back to claire, “so i should probably get back to that. i’ll see yo-”

“-i was thinking we could talk?” she cuts him off, “can i come in?”

“i don’t know if that’s…,” carmen hesitates. he glances to his roommate to find her walking behind him towards the stairs.

claire’s eyes follow the girl, taking in her attire. carmy watches her expression slightly falter. 

his roommate stalks up the stairs. was walking behind him in plain sight a little petty? maybe. but she’s sick of carmy never saying exactly what he means. she undoes the hair tie holding together her messy updo, walking to her room. 

she quickly grabs a change of clothes and rushes into to the bathroom to shower, feeling the overwhelming need to leave the apartment. 

the front door slams shut, and she hears his steps ascend the stairs.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 21

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

It isn’t until you hear the front door that you leave your bed. Much of the morning you’ve spent listening to the buzz of your mom and Steve’s murmurs. They’re plotting their surprise and you’re left to suffocate in anxiety. You can’t think of anything they might be planning. 

You get up and gently open your door. You tiptoe into the hall and peek into the kitchen. No one’s there. The bathroom door is closed and you hear your mother’s cough from inside. That reassures you somewhat.  

You continue down the hall and stop by the front door. Once more, the drone of Steve’s deep timber cuts through the walls. You lean over to peek through the window beside the door, tugging the edge of the curtain back with a single finger.  

Just at the threshold of your mom’s lot, Steve stands with his broad back to you. You glimpse two figures on the other side of him; blonde, primped, and pretty. It’s Marge and Callie from the HOA. They hand something to him and he examines it as he bends his neck. Their voices drift in through the screen but the words are obscured by distance. 

Marge plays with the perfect flip at the bottom of her hair and Callie pushes out one hip. You wonder if they’ve hand delivered their first rebuke. Oddly, their interaction doesn’t seem tense. 

The women preen up at Steve and finally walk off. He watches after them, shifting on his feet, then turns and marches up his walk. You get a better look at what’s in his hand as he diverts and stop on the other side of the low fence. You strain to keep sight of him around the trim of the window. It’s a tupperware container. He dumps it in the bin and grimaces, letting the lid fall back down heavily. 

You back up as you hear the bathroom door. Your turn and sniff, rubbing your temples as you drag your feet along the hallway. She emerges in a cloud of hairspray and perfume. You crinkle your nose at her. 

“Morning,” you babble dumbly. 

“Would you hurry up,” she sneers, “we gotta be going soon.” 

“Right, sorry, mom, I was just--” 

“Just putting something on,” she snaps. “Steve’s gone to get dressed then he’s back to drive us.” 

She brushes past you roughly and you peer after her as she goes into the kitchen and pours what’s left in the coffee pot into a mug. She tuts and shakes her head as she drinks tediously around her painted lips. The makeup and hair suggest that jeans really aren’t an option. 

You return to your room and scour your dresser and closet. You don’t have much more than handmedown jeans and tee shirts. Like everything else about you, clothes are an afterthought. You only have that dress. 

You change into the polkadot dress. It doesn’t fit any better than last time. It’s too hot for a sweater as a sheen already settles over your forehead. You peek out before you cross the hall. You think your mom is done in the bathroom. 

You brush your teeth and wash your face, going through the basic steps of your routine. You never do very much. You wrangle in your hair as best as you can but you still feel inadequate. You step back into the hall as your mom’s footfalls stomp closer. 

She’s in a green satin dress. The forest tone is muted but the cut is elegant and the fabric expensive. You haven’t seen her in anything that nice since before her diagnosis. Together with her hair and makeup, and the necklace around her neck, she doesn’t look sick at all. 

“Oh, mom, you look pretty,” you say. 

“Yes, yes, move,” she elbows into the bathroom, “I have to touch up.” 

You nod and your cheeks pinch. You flit back to your bedroom and search the little basket in your top drawer. You find the silver bow pin and weave it into your hair. It’s better than nothing. You shrug. You don’t have any other jewellery really. 

You close your door and wait in your room as your mom snaps and slams around in the bathroom. Her footsteps thump down the hall then click back up in heels. She sounds like she’s pacing. She only stops as the front door opens and you hover on the foot of your bed. 

Your mother holler’s your name and you stand up. You come out and scurry down the hall. You pick out the brown strappy sandals that don’t really go with your dress. Your other option is sneakers and you don’t think she’d be very happy about that. 

“Well, you two look lovely,” Steve praises as he stands just inside the door. 

You murmur a thanks and look up. He’s wearing a blue suit and his hair is combed and style neatly. Your eyes round as you look between him and your mom. You’re underdressed to a painful degree. 

“Ready to go?” Steve asks as he checks his watch, “we gotta be there by ten.” 

“Ready,” your mother chimes. 

Steve backs up and opens the door as he steps out onto the porch. He holds it as your mom struts through and you follow as you cross your arm over your stomach and rub your arm. He beams at you as you try shrink into nothing. 

You follow your mom up the walk and to Steve’s car pulled up at the curb. As you stand at the passenger side and Steve strolls up behind you, your mom leans in and lowers her voice to a harsh whisper, “pull your dress up.” 

She pinches the strap and you look down. You gulp and try to adjust it to cover more of your chest. You really don’t know when they got so... big. You turn away as Steve passes and goes around the back end. As you tug on your dress, he glances over and you make a face, caught in the adjustment. His cheek ticks and he quickly looks away and strides up the other side. The door unlock with a click. 

“Alright, ladies,” his opens his door, “today’s the day.” 

You get into the backseat as his declaration rings in your ears. The day? What day? You lift yourself and push your skirt under you as it catches behind your bum and you drop down, your chest bouncing with the motion and you once more tug on the flimsy fabric. 

Your eyes are drawn up as Steve fixes the mirror and you meet his eyes in the reflection. Can he see you? You quickly avert your gaze out the window and pull on the seat belt. Your stomach is roiling like a steaming pot. You don’t like surprises. 

🏠

The large metal letters above the romanesque entry read ‘CITY HALL’. You walk behind Steve and your mom as they enter through the double doors. Their pace is urgent and they are quiet with anticipation. You do your best to keep up though you wonder if they even remember you’re there. 

The twists and turns past the plaques that delineate different departments and arrows the point to others has you disoriented. Why are you here anyway? It seems like important stuff for adults. Well, you are an adult too. 

You join a queue inside an office with windowed walls. You hadn’t been paying attention when you entered. You crowded your mom and Steve as you try to stay away from the person behind you. The line moves slowly as the clerks behind glass call numbers out to bring up the next person. 

“Rogers, Steve,” Steve declares as he steps up and pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket, then recites your mother’s name. 

“Oh, yes, the Judge will see you in private chambers,” the man in the booth says, “your witnesses?” 

“Got one, the other is on his way,” Steve tuts and lifts his wrist, checking the time, “he will be here by ten.” 

“Alright, you just want to go to your left and curl around this desk. You’re in Chamber Three,” the clerk directs and hands back the paper, “congratulations.” 

Steve nods and backs up. As he turns, your mother clings to his hand and he slowly closes his fingers around hers. He glances back as you follow, careful not to tread on his heels. You furrow your brow. It sounds like... 

“Surprises,” Steve chuckles as he stops before a door marked with a number three and lets go of your mom, “we’re getting married.” 

Your mom steps into the open doorway and you stop just outside as Steve lingers by the frame. You gape up at him, speechless. He smiles and rubs your arms. 

“We’re gonna be one big happy family,” he says, “I’m gonna take care of you and mom.”

[softshuji]

𝟎𝟔:𝟏𝟏𝐀𝐌 | 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐔

Title: Smile for me

Summary: Rindou knows he's not getting any younger, but old insecurities are hard to fight- luckily for him, you're there to kiss them better. Link for masterlist here!

cw: afab!reader, talks of insecurities, pet names (kitten, princess), Ran being a stellar big brother, Rindou getting embarrassed easily and being a simp lol, some brief kissing and mentions of sex (nothing explicit), he's literally so cute and sexy I can't stand it. Reblogs appreciated!

Rindou is perturbed.

He’s used to waking an hour before you, 7AM with the sun still making a haphazard climb over the windowsill, all the weak and watery light he watches fall over the crest of your sloping shoulder from behind, his cheek pressed to your hair. He hopes you don’t notice, the alarm of his phone buzzing and snoozed, five minutes he thinks he can spare to spend here, you unaware of how his arms tighten around you, the shaky breath that comes from his dry lips and all the love he never mentions that he wishes was easier to talk about to you. 

You stir, slide a hand along his muscled forearm, the slight frown of your scrunched eyebrows loosening, a breath blown between parted lips and you settle again into sleep as Rindou untangles your legs from under the warm covers.

He hates it, this moment right here. It’s a visceral lump that sits in his throat when he pulls the covers back over you, slides your hair to the side to kiss just under your ear, your cheek, a finger that comes up to touch at you, a stray eyelash he pretends he’s lifting, because it’s easier when you can’t see. 

‘Mhm Rin,’ you murmur and stir, turning over to reach to where he should be, the indent of him in the memory foam where you hope your hand can feel the smooth muscle of him, soft hair and warm breath, the ridges of his shoulders where your arms want to come around. 

He watches you, bashfully, hiding a smile and embarrassed somehow, this many years later, knowing all there is to know about you, the wounds you’ve cleaned that even Ran hasn’t seen, the fights and arguments that led to the two of you walking out, coming back, kissing and apologies you’d never doubted were just there, days that started out tense and ended with the two of you with your foreheads pressed together.

He hates shutting the door on you like that, sprawled on your stomach, holding the duvet close to your chest, your face turned towards the sun that slips in through the slat in the window, a gentle breeze that pushes the curtains inwards, the peace he is leaving behind that he’s never sure he’ll live to see again.

When he pads to the bathroom, unceremoniously in fact, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, the tufts of his hair sticking up one side, tired eyes lined with shadows that drag down his skin, it is knowing that fact, that it could be the last time, that he’s not lucky enough to maintain what he loves and needs so much in any way that doesn’t mean pain.

He does need you, and he’d spent so long denying that fact, the cold and dark nights made warmer by drinks and drugs and parties that never really meant anything outside of those singular moments in time, when his mind is just so far away from the bottle or the glass or lines on the flat tables.

You like this routine of his though. Coffee made for you that sits in the pot till you wake, despite his absence, warm towels pulled from the dryer, leftover dishes washed and dried, the diligence he hopes is able to communicate what he can’t, a kiss left lingering on your lips, a “see you later kitten” that never feels sufficient enough when he leaves and his car backs out of the driveway. He stops every morning before driving off, a last look at the house, at the window where the blinds sway in the breeze, a secret pang in his heart when he remembers he’s left his heart in your palm.

But something else is on his mind right now and it bothers him with a lance of sharp pain when he sees the crease along his cheek that he swears is a little too new for his liking.

He runs a finger along his cheek, along his chin, golden honeyed skin that stretches taut when he frowns at his reflection in the mirror, a minor razor graze nicking along his jaw and the hard slam of his heart cracking along his ribs when the mark along his cheek doesn’t fade. 

‘Huh?’ he says, leaning forward, towards the mirror that fogs with his breath, a hand braced on the porcelain sink, the purpling strands of his hair pulled back by a baby blue headband. Yours, obviously. He’s long since lost the stubbornness of being insecure and uptight about these things, the fabricated fragilities that became too tiring to have when he realised it made you happy to break down those barriers he was so determined to keep. That being said, Rindou knows he’s not as young as he used to be, that the days and weeks of life have caught up to him, whether he’ll admit it or not. It’s been years since you met and the days and weeks of new love have long gone, leaving a soft and peaceful security in your wake.

His finger trails along the crease, a curve like an eyelash along his cheek, cupped around his mouth, the wisp of shorter hairs kissing at his cheekbones as he frowns, confusion and uncertainty slipping over his skin.

He avoids covering it up despite this, the ample tubes and pots of various skincare that neatly line your medicine cabinet stay untouched, but he gingerly touches his cheek, lets a finger trail along the crease even still, wondering if you’ll notice when you kiss him goodbye, sitting up in bed now, the pastel lilac duvet slipping off your shoulders. When the sun brushes against your skin, he halts at the door, the telltale marks and bites left on your neck and chest that leave a thick and dizzying desire in his throat. 

He is quiet when he meets Ran an hour later, a sullen type of silence that even Sanzu cannot coax from him, all pointed glances and chewing lips and half hidden behind his hair, as if Ran cannot sense the uncertain and tenuous scowling that he hates he’s still doing this many years later. 

Ran slides his chair along, feet propped up on the table, a glass of something dark held between two fingers, deliberate glances from the side of the viridescent violet of his eyes now falling on his Brother who sits back with his arms tightly folded over his chest.

‘So….’ he starts, and leans back in his seat, an eye trained on the way Rindou shuffles further into the leather, haunches and hackles rising on instinct, the turn of his eyes fixed on the mahogany table. ‘Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or not?’

Rindou stiffens, turns his cheek away, the flash of his eyes burning luminous as he sinks into the chair and really, it’s silly, he knows this and he hates that he cycles so often around to this behaviour, with Ran, with you, the same vulnerability that’s too terrifying to show despite all you have seen together, as if he is any less just because he feels.

Ran sighs, blows a forceful gust of minty breath between his lips and raises an eyebrow in deliberation. ‘Maybe I can help, whatever it is,’ he says. ‘Did you have a fight or something?’

Rindou churns the words, grinds them between his teeth, soft whispers that take effort, that take the force of him chewing them out from the lump in his throat, all the insecurity that he loathes, that has him stiffening under his Brother’s weighted stare. ‘No, nothing like that.’

‘So? What was it then?’

‘Nothing, just forget it.’

‘Not going to happen Little Brother.’ And Ran grabs the arm of Rindou’s chair, pulls while his foot hooks under the leg, Rindou moving closer despite his ambivalence, and Ran almost chuckles when he audibly hears him scowl, tut under his breath in defiance, feet planted on the floor and dragging across the plush carpet.

He softens a fraction here, a soft and gentle squeeze of his heart, the lump in his throat that seems to scrape against his thoughts when he realises the resistance is so futile because it’s always been like this, Ran pulling him along, coaxing the words from him in a way he’s never given gratitude for before despite how much he cares. 

He has a memory, a vague flash of an image behind his eyes, the two of them running, huddled together, Ran coaxing Rindou to show him the cuts and bruises from his overzealous moments during fights, a soft and subdued “you’re such an idiot” that was always laced with affection, a plaster and bandage that Ran was always so quick to have on hand for his little Brother, food that he never ate so Rindou always had more.

‘You’re going to laugh,’ he says and hates it, weak and shamed as the sun climbs over the buildings, the whir of the heating that permeates the otherwise silent room, a raucous laugh from Sanzu that resonates through the gap in the door.

‘Yeah you’re right I am.’

‘See, I knew it-’

‘I’m kidding!’ A beat and Ran turns his chair, stretches his long legs under the table, sitting upright now and turning entirely towards his Brother who blows a wisp of wisp of hair from his forehead. ‘I’m not going to laugh.’

A beat, again, Rindou sharing a glance, a narrowing of his eyes through the individual strands of his hair, conflicted thoughts and fears bouncing around in his head before he uncrosses his arms and flexes his lithe fingers on the arms of the chair.

‘Well?’ Ran says and slides the glass along the table, a faint and chiming click as it meets the decanter. 

Rindou knows of course. With Ran, it’s always been a lot harder to tell than it has with him. Ran hides many things well and there’s the assumption that he’s so high above, so far removed, impossibly perfect in all things, that there can never be anything wrong with a man like him who has so much and wants for so little.

But Rindou’s the only one who has been there during those moments between. Gels and creams that Ran diligently applies, as if he can make himself something more than human, nights spent with the three of you sharing confessions by the fireside that the others have no knowledge of, moments in which Ran is not a Haitani, neither of them are, moments in which they are just brothers setting aside their burdens for the promise of light.

He looks at him now, tired eyes that still shine with mirth and exuberance despite himself, despite how exhausted he is and pretends not to be, the weight of all he has seen and shouldered for the both of them, the rock he has carried so that Rindou can stretch his hands a little further, be a little more, worry a little less and his heart fills with something that tastes like gratitude, this many years later when the two of them have grown out of petty jealousies and hurts that never mean anything.

��Well- it’s just- it’s this okay?’ And Rindou turns, towards the floor to ceiling window, the weak and watery sunlight now dancing over his skin, a hand moving to pull back his hair as he glowers still, chewing haphazardly on his lip in anxiety. He lifts his other hand, touches at the crease in his cheek and points, as if accusatory, at the sharp indent of the skin, a little removed from the dimple in his cheek he’s still so embarrassed by.

Ran frowns, shuffles forward in his chair, eyes narrowing and searching, a slight shake of his head that has his earring tinkling, his rings catching the light as he rests his chin in his palm. ‘I don’t understand, what are you referring to here?’

‘What- what do you mean?’ Rindou points again, a finger zeroing in on the sharp crease, the curve towards his mouth he’s spent the last hour trying to hide behind his permanent scowl. ‘It’s this- this stupid wrinkle right here, I don’t understand how it got here.’

Ran pauses, the light slipping across his eyes, a slow and calculated smirk spreading across his lips as he reaches for the decanter again, deliberate movements that mirror the rise and fall of his eyebrows over the glass. ‘Oh…I think I understand now.’

And he takes a sip, eyes lifting from the glass to Rindou now settling back into a scowl, arms folded again, the crease hidden behind the wisps of hair falling over his forehead.

‘So what is it?’ he asks and purses his lips.

Ran smiles, genuinely, casts a glance towards the window where the sun makes a steady climb over the buildings, a swath of shadow that looms bright over the floor, the sparkle of buttery sunlight falling on his skin as he arches, catlike on the chair and leans back with his eyes closed. ‘Ask your wife when you get home. She’ll know.’

‘What does my Wife have to do with it?’

‘Just ask her, she’ll tell you.’

Rindou slows, as he usually does when you’re mentioned. Erratic heartbeat calmed by the thought of you, a soft and tentative quirk of his mouth that comes unbidden at the image of you, at the mention, at the concept and he finds he can’t help it, that it’s impossible for his body not to betray him like this. So he worries less for a time, touches it tentatively throughout the day, a self conscious glance at the mirror every so often, at his phone screen before it illuminates with the picture of you, his thumb catching on the screen before it fades to black once again. Ran sees, and Ran knows and it’s less subtle when he pats Rindou’s back at the end of the day, a ‘drive safe’ that he leaves pressed to his Brother’s jacket like a charm, and all the worry of being his only family, of knowing he’d die for him at a moment’s notice.

When he returns, a tired and subdued “I’m home Princess” that you hear over the sound of the splash of water slipping down into the bubbly froth of your soak, your chest flutters, as it usually does when you meet the sultry cadence of his voice every day. You wonder if it will ever not be like that, if you’ll ever not feel a better, newer version of yourself with him, a caterpillar shaking off its chrysalis, if there will ever come a point where his hands do not feel safe and strong and perfect on you. 

‘I’m in the bathroom Rin,’ you say as he comes around the corner, his jacket held over one arm, sock-clad feet in a matching pair of fur slippers. You’d say it was cute but you know he did it for you anyway. There’s little he doesn’t and you feel spoiled sometimes, unworthy, undeserving, when you find he’s constantly stepping out, stepping in for you, things he does that he never asks for payment for. 

‘The water’s still warm, come in baby.’ You lift your arms, and he flushes despite himself, when the water makes a beeline for the dip in your breasts where the bubbles rest, wet skin that’s shiny and luminous under the low lighting, a candle that has the shadow of your cleavage splashed on the wall. 

‘You don’t mind?’ And he shrugs his shirt off, his back flexing as he tosses it- and his pants- into the laundry basket, the black swirl of ink swallowing the light, and you press your thighs together on instinct, at the heated flush that crawls along your spine every time. 

It’s rather unceremonious when he sits in front of you, his back to your chest, breasts pressing against his shoulder blades, a drawn out sigh spilling past his lips when he leans into you, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair, light scratches against his scalp, lips ghosting over the swell of his muscled shoulder. And you don’t mind at all, the weight of him against your body, the need for support that he’ll never ask for, the give and take that has you drawing out his fatigue with your kisses pressed to his skin.

‘How was your day?’ You lather shampoo in your hands, fingers wrinkly from being submerged for so long, and run them through his hair, down to the tips, a gentle massage of his scalp that has him biting back a groan as he settles against your chest. 

‘It was okay, the usual.’ He keeps it clipped, firm, enough, because he likes hearing you more, the soft and sweet lilt of your voice he keeps close to his chest, in his heart for safekeeping, tucked away behind the guns and blood, the countless deaths he’s seen and caused. 

‘Just okay?’

‘Just okay.’ A beat, a long and pregnant pause. And then- ‘Actually…’

‘Yeah?’ You pause, your hands braced on the showerhead, warm water slipping over the soft and bronzed swell of his shoulders. ‘Close your eyes- I need to rinse.’

His eyes flutter shut, a warm sigh, a flush on his skin that isn’t just the water. He lifts his hands, massages your thighs splayed on either side of him, calloused fingers inching dangerously close to that patch of sensitive skin and it feels…nice to be touched like that for the both of you. He thinks of how easy it is to be taken care of by you, how the need is never shameful, never something he feels guilty for wanting, how he’s taken care of and loved so perfectly and maybe it has changed him in some way, down to the fibre of his bones, a lighter, softer version of him that he reserves just for you. 

‘Mhm, yeah, Ran wanted me to ask you something- said you’d know the answer,’ he says, over the splash of water, bubbles receding now to where they cling at the sides of the tub. 

‘Go on.’

There is water splashing over his eyes and he lifts his hands momentarily to push his bangs back, his forehead glistening with soap, the suds clinging to the soft and inviting swell of his shoulders and you resist the urge to kiss- to bite- to sink your lips against the toned muscle. 

'Mhm, you know…lots of things don't you princess?' he says, a hand now splayed across your thigh on the right side again, thumb grazing the soft inside, shiny skin now covered with a wet and tantalising sheen. 

You suck in a breath, your hand juddering, stuttering against the roots on his scalp, a soft massage and rake of your nails along the fine wet hairs. 'Y-Yeah? I know some things baby, what is it you need exactly?' And his thoughts are far away, long and lithe fingers grazing the back of your thighs as he lifts them to squeeze at, the imprint of his hands leaving a rosy red on your skin and you shudder, your arms brushing his as you run your hands through his hair and squeeze the ends. 

And then he turns his head, a hand braced over the lip of the bathtub, wet hair now splayed across his shoulder and points to his cheek, where the offending crease now curls at the side of his mouth. ‘Can you tell me what this is? It’s been bothering me all day, and Ran said I should ask you and that you’d know and I hate seeing it and-’

‘Rindou.’

‘Yeah?’

You soften, a hand moving from the water to cup his cheek, water slipping down your forearm, off the crook of your elbow where the soap suds gather and cling before dropping with a plink. He sinks, unbidden against your palm, eyelashes kissing at his cheek from where you run your thumb across his cheekbone, eyes flitting and fluttering closed as a soft sigh spills past his reddened lips. 

‘You are very cute, do you know that?’ you say and your fingers drift to the back of his neck, a light trail of soft touches, the water-roughened pads of your fingers skimming across his neck, the spill of ink on the dip of his throat, Adam's apple sliding and shifting under your touch and he makes a choked sound, something between a gasp and a cough, clearing his throat in a way that does little to hide the creeping embarrassment in his chest.

‘If- if you’re just going to make fun I’m going to-’

‘Shhhh,’ you say, a slight lean forward that has your nose bumping his, a slight pull of your hand to bring him closer, your breath now ghosting over the soft cupid’s bow of his shell pink lips, glistening and pearly under the light. ‘I’m not making fun of you, but you really are quite special aren’t you? I’m so lucky to have you.’

He swallows, presses a chaste peck to your lips that he knows will lead to more, as if often does, and his hand comes to hold your chin, fingers that grip your jaw just right, your hair falling over his knuckles and clinging, as you do, to the fibre of him. He wonders if the charged moments like this will ever feel less electric and he dreads that one day it might feel like a chore to kiss you like this, to hold you in his hands with the rough fingers grazing a line along your sensitive neck and it aches inside when he thinks of ever not having you, of ever not seeing you again.

‘I don’t understand what you mean, don’t you think it’s serious? It means I’m ageing doesn’t it? I’m getting old.’ He hates that there’s a waver in his voice then, a tremble that seems to reverberate with the lump in his throat, a horrible and terrifying insecurity that now lays itself bare before you.

You click your tongue, a soft smile that tugs at your lips and you stroke his cheek, thumb moving over the crease back and forth. ‘It’s a smile line silly. That’s why Ran wanted you to ask me. It’s what happens when you’re happy a lot.’

‘A smile line? I don’t understand, don’t most people hate them?’

‘Well I don’t. I’d rather you be happy, and to know you’re happy, makes me happy too. To know that you like your life with me, makes me feel very lucky.’

‘Oh. But it makes me look older doesn’t it?’

You tilt your head to the side, a slide of your hair against your skin, your chest now close enough to brush his, the goosebumps prickling across your arms. ‘No, it doesn’t. And y’know what Rin, so what if it did? You are all the more handsome and sexy and gorgeous to me, and that won’t change if you get older. I’m not getting any younger either.’

It grates on him that it hurts inside, that it makes sense. But it does, really does. When he thinks of how many smiles he fights watching you sleep, watching you dream, kisses pressed to your forehead, to your cheeks and the back of your hands where he grins when you flush and look away and the concept of running home to you hasn’t changed in all these years. He thinks, after this long, the excitement might have worn off if you’d been anyone else, if he’d been any less in love and any less willing.

‘But you’ll always be pretty to me,’ he says, matter of factly, and unaware of how the heat rises to your cheeks so overtly, as if it’s the simplest thing to believe, as if it’s an irrefutable fact. Because it is to him. 

‘And you’ll always be the most handsome, sexy, beautiful man ever to me too.’ And damn him, for how your voice wobbles now, how the tears gather on your lashes so easily, pulled so freely, how it aches and stings your chest with so much love to see him so earnest, the flecked hue of his eyes where your reflection shimmers under the candlelight. You press a soft kiss to the crease and his eyes widen, an almost apprehensive stiff frown that bleeds into love when your lips touch his cheek again on the other side. 

He pulls you first then, your chin still in his hand, a heated press of his lips to yours, slotting so softly, a perfect fit that has you eliciting a small gasp, and his tongue touches yours tentatively, shyly even, a bare and wispy brush that has you leaning further into him. And when you break, the thin line of saliva does too, a string that falls onto your chin. 

It’s an hour later when the two of you are back in bed, glowing with the aftermath of sex and now huddled under the covers, you on his chest and him winding the ends of the duvet around his fingers. There is much talking in those moments, a little after, when he glows and giggles and laughs and pulls you close enough to feel the warmth of you on him, when time is everlasting and waiting in the palms of his hands, when the two of you are infinite.

You get a call from Ran a day later, a quick and quiet ‘thank you, for everything you do for him,’ and you bask in the unspoken love and understanding the three of you share, the golden thread that ties you all together. You know they’re long past it now, days of green and simmering jealousy that always permeated every sarcastic word. You know that’s part of growing up, and they have and it’s easier now, when they are old enough to appreciate each other and hold tighter to the memories they share. 

Maybe you are right, Rindou thinks as he dresses for work in the morning, leaving the sleeping you in the warm confines of your soft and perfumed bed.  Maybe it’s not so bad. 

Does it bother him that he’s shrugged off this old version of himself for you? The old him that found fault often, that ran headfirst into cynicism because it’s what he knew, what he was used to, that was gruff and aggressive and awkward because it hurt to be anything otherwise. Does it bother him that you’ve changed him enough for it to be so visceral?

It should, and yet it doesn’t. He likes it in fact and maybe, just maybe, he finds himself not biting back the smile when he kisses you before setting off, a lingering press of his lips to yours, that tells you everything he can’t.

a/n: hi, this was actually a present for my dear @tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang (i am so sorry it came so late but I hope you like it anyways) between writing and trying to find a new job, it's been tough to find the time and motivation, but I enjoyed writing this, I kinda cried like a few times y'know, as you do lol. Enjoy everyone!

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @mxnjiros @prettyiolanthe @sugusshi @snakegentleman @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @bejeweled-night-33 @ranscutedoll @the-travelling-witch @orchid3a @rottingreveries @qiiuusoup-xo @hoetani @sinfulseashell @welcome-to-the-internet-it-sucks @obitohno @sweet-seishu @burnishedcrown @saintokkotsu @nikokopuffs @sin-and-punishment @deskaisers @mochimiyaas @bertholdts--butt @theaonlax @blackfire2013

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Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Reader

summary: You’re in Jackson with Joel and Ellie after Salt Lake City and the loss of somebody you failed to protect haunts you and leaves you wondering if the wound will ever heal—and how you’ll ever go on if it never does.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. child death, reader takes the life of a child. (TW) implied panic attack, implied SI, reader has a moment where she contemplates taking her own life, NO ACTUAL ATTEMPT. angst, soft, caring Joel. no age specified for reader, no physical descriptions of reader.

word count: 3.7k

2024

Late Spring

Jackson, Wyoming

You’d woken up early that morning, right before sunrise.

Eyes fluttering open, you blinked furiously into the darkness of the bedroom. Your bedroom.

Your bedroom in an actual house. One that didn’t have crumbling, dusty walls.

One that was an actual, real place to call home.

As you tried to move, the strong arm around your waist tightened and held you firmly in place.

Turning your head, you saw Joel’s face just inches away from yours. He was still fast asleep, his bare chest slowly rising and falling with each and every peaceful, tranquil breath he inhaled and exhaled through slightly parted lips. He’d finally stopped mumbling in his sleep.

You’d been in Jackson with him and Ellie for just about a week or so now, and you still hadn’t quite gotten used to it—waking up in a soft, warm bed with his arms around you.

Maybe you would never get used to it.

Being careful not to wake Joel, you slipped out of his grasp and sat up. Swinging your legs over the side of your shared bed, you planted your two feet on the cold, hardwood floors and stood up, doing your best to move around without having to turn the lights on so as not to disturb his slumber. You quickly but quietly searched around, using both of your hands to feel for the thin, cotton white tank top and dark gray pajama bottoms that had been discarded, strewn somewhere across the master bedroom the previous night by none other than Joel Miller himself. He had gotten rid of them as he’d hovered over you, tossing them carelessly over his shoulder so that he could spend the next several hours learning every single part of your body, almost as if he’d been getting to know it for the very first time.

It took you a minute, but you’d finally found your clothes, tugging them on before padding your way into the bathroom where you flipped on the lights and began running the water in the sink to brush your teeth—hell, even having a clean toothbrush and real toothpaste were sweet little luxuries that were also taking some getting used to.

You finished washing your mouth and splashed a bit of cool water onto your face, drying it off with a hand towel before turning off the sink as well as the lights. Leaving yours and Joel’s bedroom, you made your way downstairs into the kitchen. Joel and Ellie were also early risers, and they would be up within the hour. Since you were up, you figured it would be nice to have a hot breakfast ready and waiting for them.

First thing was first, you started an instant pot of coffee for yourself and for Joel, although truth be told it was mostly for Joel, as the man refused to drink anything else in the mornings. As it brewed and the dark brown liquid dripped slowly into the glass pot, you moved over to the refrigerator and pulled open the door. The sight of a fridge stocked with real, proper food was almost like a fucking dream. You reached for the small basket of farm fresh chicken eggs that you’d picked up from the community’s market earlier that week when you and Ellie had gone food shopping. You set it down on the counter and looked through the wooden cabinets, grabbing a large, white porcelain bowl to scramble up the eggs in. You held it in your hands, an odd feeling washing over you.

Oh yes, this would all certainly taking some getting used to, all of it of it would take some getting used to—having shelter, running water, food and clean clothes. Not spending every goddamn fucking day fighting just to survive.

You glanced down at the bowl you gripped in your two hands, and felt your heart squeeze painfully inside of your chest.

Any normal person would have been relieved to be in this safe haven. Happy, even.

But not you, because all that you could think about was Lily, and how she wasn’t here.

2023

Early Fall

Midwest United States

The bite mark was on her shoulder.

It was still fresh, but the clock was already ticking like a time bomb.

You knew that. She knew that.

Everyone in that fucking basement knew that.

“Please,” Lily begged you, clutching fistfuls of your jacket. “Please.”

“No,” You choked out, feeling like someone had just punched you in the gut, knocking all the wind out out of your lungs. You turned back and looked over your shoulder at Joel, who stood there with his jaw clenched tightly, his dark brown eyes fixed on the dirty floor. Beside him, Ellie was wringing her hands together, fighting back her tears. You turned back to Lily, somehow finding your voice again. “No. I can’t do it. I won’t fucking do it.”

You blamed yourself for this.

The house the four of you had chosen to occupy for the night hadn’t been completely cleared out. You should have known better than to even think about cutting corners, you should have checked every goddamn room from the ground up, twice. If you had been more thorough, you would have realized that there had been a clicker down in the basement, silent and still, that is until Ellie and Lily had gone off exploring the entire house in such of possible supplies and garnered its attention, riling it up. It had gone after the girls while you and Joel were upstairs, and although Ellie had managed to shoot it dead in seconds, the damage had been done—the clicker managed to sink its teeth into your twelve year old sister, infecting her.

“Please, please don’t let me turn into one of those things,” Lily sank down, falling onto her knees in front of you. Letting go of your jacket, she clasped her hands together in a pleading motion. “Please! I don’t want to turn, not like mom and dad did. Not like Sam did. I need you to end it here, right now before it’s too late.”

“No!” You bit out the word once again through gritted teeth, white hot tears burning your eyes. “I won’t do that.”

Joel stood there, not knowing what to say or what to do.

Hell, there was really nothing he could say or do, was there?

Lily was infected—it was already a fucking death sentence.

And while he understood that she wanted to go out her way, he also understood that you couldn’t even fathom having to do the unthinkable. That you couldn’t even think about putting a bullet in your kid sister.

“I don’t have the guts to do it myself,” Lily said, her voice trembling. “I barely know how to use a gun. Please, you have to do it for me.”

You stared at her desperate face, the first of every single fucking tear that you would ever cry for the rest of your life finally slipping out of the corner of your eye and trickling its way down your cheek.

It was what Lily truly wanted, but how could you take her life?

The child that you’d raised yourself for the last ten years. Life could be so fucking cruel in a world like this one, but this, this was something else.

Still, what other choice was there?

It was either end it now, or abandon her in this old, crumbling house, leaving her all by herself to lose her mind.

Lily didn’t want that, and if her one final wish was to die on her terms, then you had no other choice but to fucking grant it for her. It didn’t matter how hard it was going to break you.

She didn’t have another option, and neither did you.

“Okay.” The agreement finally left your lips shakily. Your heart slammed hard against your chest wall, and your entire body had gone ice cold. “Okay.”

“No!” Ellie screamed, shoving you out of the way so roughly that she almost knocked you over. She grabbed Lily and hoisted her to her feet, wrapping her arms around her. Ellie held Lily protectively against her side, eyeing the spot where she knew you kept your gun tucked in the waistband of your jeans. “No, please, there has to be something we can fucking do!” She thought back to Sam and how what she’d done with her blood and his bite wound hadn’t worked to save his life. She held Lily tighter, knowing nothing else could be done and that her name would only be added to the growing list of people that she’d lost.

“Ellie,” Joel said her name softly, the softest that anyone had heard him say it since she’d come into your lives.

Her brown eyes met his and a tear escaped her.

“Fuck,” she whispered, devastated.

“It’s okay, Ellie. It’ll be okay.” Lily placed a hand on her arm. As she did so, everyone caught a glimpse of the way it’d twitched. “I don’t have much time left,” she said, nudging Ellie. She turned to face her, and offered her an encouraging smile. “Keep on going, okay? Do it for Tess. Do it for Sam. Do it for me. Do it for the whole world. Promise me that you’re gonna make it to the Fireflies. Promise me that you’re gonna make it to the very end. Please.”

“I promise I’ll make it to the end,” Ellie whispered, pulling her into her arms one last time.

Joel looked at you as you took out your pistol with a trembling hand.

“M’so sorry,” he whispered, gently touching your shoulder. He then turned to Ellie and beckoned for her with his hand. As much as Joel didn’t want to leave you to do this alone, he knew he had to get Ellie out of there and out of the house. “C’mon.”

Helpless, Ellie meekly nodded her head without protest.

“Joel, be sure to cover her ears,” You instructed him quietly. “Even outside she might still be able to hear it.”

Joel gave a small, tight nod of his head. He walked over and gingerly touched Lily’s cheek in his silent goodbye to her before taking Ellie’s arm. “Let’s go,” he murmured, pulling her over towards the stairs. A few seconds later, the two of them were gone and the door of the basement shut closed with a loud, aggressive slam that you knew had to have come from Ellie.

Swallowing harshly, you went up to Lily. Taking her into your arms, you pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. It felt abnormally warm, a sure fire sign that the infection was running rampant inside of her—that she was running out of time.

“I’m sorry ,” Your voice broke in the middle of your apology. You held her close, your hand cradling the back of her head as she nuzzled her face into your neck, inhaling your scent deeply for the very last time. “I’m so sorry that I couldn’t keep you safe and sound like I promised I would.”

“Look at it this way.” Lily’s arms tightened around your waist. “Nothing or no one will ever be able to hurt me ever again. I’m gonna be safe up there in heaven with mom and dad and the three of us are gonna be watching over you. And Ellie and Joel, too.”

It was unbelievable. Here she was, fucking twelve years old and about to die, and she was trying to comfort you.

You held her even closer, nearly smothering her as the two of you began to cry in each other’s arms.

After a few minutes, Lily pulled away from you.

Her twitches were becoming more frequent with each second that ticked by.

“Please, let’s just do this before it’s too late,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her jerking hand.

You rigidly nodded your head, your legs feeling like jello as you took several steps backwards, leaving about six feet of distance between the both of you.

You lifted your arm, aiming the barrel of the gun at your little sister.

“I love you,” Lily offered you a feeble, watery smile.

“I love you too,” You whispered back to her before your finger finally pulled the trigger.

You closed your eyes, your heart sinking deeply as you tried to forget the way that she’d been gone before her body had even hit the cold, hard ground of that basement.

Instead, you tried to think of something else. But you just couldn’t.

Lily should have been here with you. With Joel, with Ellie. Her family.

Not dead, buried in a shallow grave somewhere in the middle of fucking nowhere.

She would have been so happy here in Jackson.

Safe.

She would have been safe.

“She’s gone,” You told yourself, willing the fact to get through your thick skull once and for all.

As the image of your sister’s sweet smile came into your mind again, something in you finally snapped, like a rubber band that had been pulled too tight for far too long.

“She’s gone!” Your scream tore itself from the back of your throat. “She’s gone! She’s fucking gone and she’s not coming back!”

Taking the bowl in your hands, you flung it across the kitchen with all your might, watching it as it hit the wall and shattered into pieces. You turned back towards the cabinet, both hands reaching for anything and everything you could get your hands on—plates, bowls, glasses. Once the cabinet had been emptied out, you went for all of the dishes and appliances on the counter, throwing and breaking everything in sight. When you’d finally run out of items to destroy, you sank down to your knees right onto a pile of broken glass. As you did so, you noticed one particularly large shard of glass with a pointed, jagged edge.

Picking it up, you grasped it so tightly in your trembling hand that you began to bleed as it sliced into your palm.

Was it even fucking worth it?

Being alive without her?

What was the fucking point?

The guilt of what happened to Lily would eat you alive for the rest of your life, especially here in Jackson, where you were living the very same life that you had wanted to provide for your sister for so many fucking years but never could.

Your eyes glazed over the sharp point of the glass, and then flickered to the thin, delicate flesh of the lower portion of your forearm—a gun would be so much quicker, less messy. It would be painless, and a hell of a lot better than nicking a vein and letting yourself bleed out on the kitchen floor.

But if the opportunity presented itself, why not take it regardless of the method?

Still clutching the glass, images of Joel and Ellie suddenly flashed in your mind.

They were family.

Your family.

As much as you wanted to put an end to the pain, you knew with every fiber of your being that Lily would want you to stay. If not for yourself, then for them. Because that was the kind of girl she was.

So good, so sweet. Full of hope.

Everything had blurred and your mind was lost in such a thick haze that it took you a minute to realize that Joel was shouting your name—the sounds of your screaming, of glass and porcelain breaking, it had woken both him and Ellie and they had ran down the stairs in a panic.

Ellie gasped your name and started towards you, but Joel grabbed her and held her back when he realized she was barefoot. “Careful, the glass!”

“Joel, fucking do something!” Ellie demanded, her eyes widening in horror when she saw the glass in your hand and the way that you’d been looking at your wrist in something of a trance.

Joel hadn’t been wearing any shoes either, hell, he’d barely managed to tug a shirt on over his head and it was inside out, but he quickly and carefully made is his way over to you. He crouched down beside you and immediately took your arm, giving it a shake so you would drop the shard of glass.

His warm touch brought you back to earth.

“Joel?” You squeaked out his name, your heart pounding.

You felt tears prickling at your eyes, and you opened your mouth to let out a sob, but nothing came out. Your cries were lodged in the back of your throat and you felt stuck in your lungs. You suddenly felt like you couldn’t take a breath and started to hyperventilate.

“Hey, hey, hey. Breathe. Look at me,” he said. He palmed the side of your face and gently, but firmly forced you to meet his gaze. Your eyes were wide, pupils dilated. “Look at me, I’m here. We’re both here, me and Ellie. We’re right here. Breathe for me darlin,’ just breathe.”

You frantically nodded, as if to tell him, I’m trying.

It took a minute or two until finally, your gasps for air slowed down.

When they finally did, you began sobbing uncontrollably.

“Oh baby. C’mere,” Joel murmured. He pulled you up to your feet and moved you to a spot that wasn’t covered in broken dishware. He held you against his chest, stroking your hair.

Ellie joined in, and they both just held you in silence until your wails of agony subsided several minutes later.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized through little hiccups. “I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t fucking be sorry,” Ellie immediately stopped you, her hand rubbing at your back. She pulled back and looked at the blood stain on Joel’s light gray t-shirt. “Oh shit, Joel. Her hand, look at her hand.”

Joel looked down, alarmed, but he remained calm. “Ellie, go upstairs into our bathroom. There’s a first aid kid under the sink.”

She nodded and whirled around, bolting out of the kitchen.

In the blink of an eye, she’d returned with a small white tin box with a red cross etched onto the lid. She handed it to him. “Here.”

Taking it in one hand, Joel used his other hand to guide you over to the kitchen table. He sat you down and then pulled a chair out for himself, taking a seat across from you.

“She going to be okay?” Ellie asked, worriedly.

“Doesn’t look too deep, at least not deep enough to need stitches. It should be okay,” Joel stated as he opened up the first aid kit. “Ellie, mind if I have a minute alone with her?” He saw her open her mouth to protest and gave her a look. “Please.”

She huffed, but nodded. She touched your shoulder lightly and left the room, though both you and Joel were positive she’d stick around out in the hallway to eavesdrop.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered hoarsely, breaking a silence that had fallen over the two of you. “I’ll clean this mess up—”

“You think that’s what I’m worried about?” Joel asked, placing your hand in his lap as he poured hydrogen peroxide onto a wad of cotton. He picked it up and gingerly started cleaning your wound. He sighed, shaking his head. “Funny thing is, I knew you’d snap sooner or later. But truth be told, darlin’ I didn’t think this would be the way you’d let it all out.”

You stared at him. “What do you mean you knew I’d snap?”

Joel looked up from your cut, his gaze meeting yours. “I know you like I know the back of my own fuckin’ hand,” he reminded you. “And I know what you’ve been carryin’ around after what happened with Lily. That feelin’ you’ve been bottlin’ up for months now. I know what it’s like to carry that kinda burden on your shoulders. It’s heavy, and at some point, you ain’t got no choice but to put it down.” He paused. “Only, I was hopin’ you would do so by talkin’ to me, not destroyin’ the kitchen of this house.”

“I don’t know what happened,” You admitted, softly. “One minute I was down here getting ready to make us all breakfast, and the next, I just fucking lost it.” You chewed anxiously on your bottom lip. “I just kept thinking about how Lily should be here with us. And how she would be, if I hadn’t failed her.”

Joel frowned. “You didn’t—”

“I fucking did, Joel. I failed at protecting my sister. I failed at keeping her safe, alive.”

Letting out another sigh, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against your forehead. He spoke, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Baby, you can’t keep blamin’ yourself for somethin’ that was out of your control.”

“But it was in my control, Joel. I should have checked every goddamn crevice of that fucking house, because if I had, Lily would still be alive. She would be here in Jackson with us, living the life that she always deserved to live.”

Joel leaned his forehead against yours. “Look, I know that nothin’ I say is goin’ to make it better. Nothin’ I say is goin’ to bring her back and m’sorry,” he said. “But you need to know that it wasn’t your fault. You did the best you could. I know that her bein’ gone hurts. Trust me I know that feelin’ all too well.”

Another tear slipped down the side of your face and he reached up, lightly brushing it away with his thumb.

Of course he knew the feeling.

The scar on his temple was a testament of how well he knew that feeling, of how he knew exactly what it felt like to want to end it all after losing someone so precious.

Only, he had actually tried to end it all.

Joel’s voice broke into your thoughts. “I need you to know that you’re not alone, baby. You ain’t gotta carry your grief alone. You’ve got Ellie, and you sure as hell got me. We’re both here to help you through anythin’ that you need, alright? We’ve got you—I’ve got you.”

“I know you do.” Your voice broke once more and you swallowed back another sob.

Joel brushed his lips against yours. Sitting back into his chair he lifted your hand and inspected it thoroughly. “Don’t think there’s any glass in it,” he observed. He started bandaging your hand with a roll of gauze from the first aid kit.

“Thank you, Joel,” You murmured as soon as he had finished patching you up. “And I’m sorry. Not about the mess, but about what I thought about doing.”

Joel reached out, cradling the side of your face. His thumb grazed the soft skin of your cheek. “I need you to stay, baby,” he whispered, his own voice thickening with emotion. “Me and Ellie, we both need you to stay. You understand me?”

You placed your hand on top of his, nodding as your eyes met his once more.

“I’ll stay,” You promised him.

[piastriesque]

stuck on us fa14 x reader

⤷pairing: fernando alonso x reader

⤷warnings: none

⤷summary: fernando struggles after you both broke up

⤷word count: 731

note: sorry for any mistakes!

Fernando sighed. Why did he have to wake up just at that moment? He knew that even if he succeeded in falling asleep, he wouldn’t return to that pleasant dream. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to recall the scene. The man sighed once again. He stared at the left side of the bed. The mattress didn’t bend from the weight of someone's body. He moved a little closer, as he usually did, to kiss you good morning. Unfortunately, there was no familiar face resting on the pillow. Nor was there a trace of your scent. The only noticeable, albeit subtle, smell was that of washing powder. He still couldn't get over the fact that for some time your face had only haunted him in his dreams.

After he finally managed to get out of bed, he decided to make himself a coffee. You didn't like coffee, you preferred tea. Even so, you only drank a glass of water in the morning because you had read that one shouldn't drink caffeine right after waking up. You were selective regarding healthy habits, but you stuck to that. In the morning, you cooked breakfast together. Now and then one person would cook to surprise the other, but you usually got up at a similar time. Then you ate together, discussing your plans for today and joking around. Sometimes he was the only one who ate if you had to get up early that day because you weren't able to swallow anything before 8 am. In this case, he made sure you took food with you to work. Sometimes… Damn, Why was he doing it again? Why did he keep bringing it up, why did he keep thinking about it? Who cares what you had for breakfast? He certainly shouldn't anymore. Maybe at that very moment, you were having breakfast with your new, stupid… You were probably smiling brightly while… Ugh.

After morning coffee and breakfast, Fernando was about to take a shower. He was choosing what to wear. He was just about to grab a random black T-shirt when he saw one with an Aston Martin logo. It wasn't his, but yours. It was a little too big for you. You wondered if he purposely picked such a size, but he always evaded the answer by laughing. (It didn't matter now, but he could admit that he did it on purpose. He knew you would look great in it.) Why didn't you take it with you? What should he do with it now? Fernando sat in an armchair and stared at the T-shirt for some time, immersed in his thoughts. He finally got up, threw it in the closet, and went to wash up, hoping the hot water would clarify the situation.

Fernando headed towards the living room in search of something, unfortunately, as soon as he crossed the threshold, he forgot what. He stood in the middle of the room and looked around with the false hope that he would remember why he had come here. Instead, he thought about how empty the place seemed after you moved out. All the decorations, the flowers in pots and vases, the hair ties you left in random places, after a while ceased to attract his attention, they were something ordinary to him. Now that you took them with you, he realized how positively they contributed to the atmosphere of the house. Sure, it was still nice and well-kept, but it wasn't a home. Just a house.

The Spaniard wondered what you were doing now. At this point, he regretted that you were a very private person, and he couldn't check social media to find out anything. If the situation were reversed, you would have no problem learning something about him from the internet. He wondered if you were thinking about him too. At least occasionally. Even if you didn't miss him, maybe, at least out of curiosity, you occasionally looked at his Instagram. Or perhaps you've closed the chapter completely and haven't looked back.

Isn't it strange that someone who at one point was in every nook of every word, every page of your story, is now just a previous chapter? It seems that the only thing that is forever is change. He laughed lightly at what cheesy sentences were coming into his mind.

“Happy anniversary, I guess,” he said to himself.

[pitchsidestories]

To Rome with Love II Valentina Giacinti x Engen!Reader

masterlist I word count: 2083

a/n: based off this lovely request. Valentina is really underrated in our opinion . <3

The afternoon sun made the Italian pitch and the players which were on it appear golden.

It only seemed fitting because your team, the AS Roma was celebrating a big win with the home crowd when you heard a Norwegian voice you were all too familiar with: “Great game, big sister!”

“Ingrid!”, you shouted surprised, turning around, before jumping into the arms of your little sister.

“Hi.”, she beamed at you, while pulling you into a tight hug.  

For a moment you closed your eyes letting the scent which smelt of home wash over you. “It’s so great to see you., you mumbled, behind her you spotted her girlfriend, so you added with a wide grin on your face, you too, Mapi.”  

The defender laughed warmly: “Good to see you too.”

“Will you stay overnight? And do you want to join our team party later?”, with a hopeful tone you asked them. 

Happily, Ingrid nodded:” Of course we do.”

“We never say no to a party.”, the tattooed Spanish woman continued mischievously smiling.

“Great, so I can finally introduce you to all my teammates.”, you hummed delighted.

Excited the midfielder clapped into her hands: ”Please.”

At night when the heat of the day was slowly cooling down, was the time when Rome, the ancient city really came alive. Buzzing from that glorious win the Roma team was meeting in a popular club and your teammates were eager to get to know your sister and her girlfriend.

The first who came up to the three of you was Manuela who talked not only through her mouth but vividly with her hands as well: “ So this is the more famous little Engen sister, nice to meet you!”

“That big mouth is Manuela.”, you introduced the Italian midfielder to your family, rolling playfully your eyes at her.

Politely Ingrid replied:” Nice to meet you, Manuela.”

“And you already know Emilie from our national team. Next to her is Laura, we both joined Roma last summer.”, you explained.

Mapi winked at the Austrian: ”Oh, we do know Laura already.”

“Why didn’t you take Keira with you, Mapi?”, Laura responded, throwing an eyebrow up.

The defender waved it off: “You know your girlfriend. She prefers to visit you alone.”

“Yes, okay, you’re right about that.”, Keira Walsh’s partner admitted, her smile growing bigger as she thought about the English Barcelona midfielder.

Meanwhile, Valentina who you didn’t saw coming until she wrapped her muscular arms around you, whispered a bit impatiently  into your ear:  “Don’t you want to introduce me to your sister too?”

You could feel your cheeks redden as you gestured towards Valentina; “Girls, this is Vale… Valentina.“

You noticed Ingrids curious glance in your direction but she only smiled politely at your teammate; “Nice to finally get to know you, Valentina. My sister said you really helped her settle in when she moved here.“

“To be fair, it wasn’t as hard as expected. She’s almost a full Italian now.“, Valentina replied with a laugh.

Offended, you raised your eyebrows at the real Italian; “Almost?!“

“Almost.“, she confirmed, smirking unimpressed about your remark.

Your sister interrupted the two of you, tilting her head with curiosity; “What is still Norwegian about her?“

Without missing a beat, Valentina answered; “The way she drinks her coffee.“

“I love to do kokekaffe while she just uses her beloved espresso machine.“, you rolled your eyes.

Nodding, your sister agreed; “Good coffee just takes time. I’m on your side on that.“

“I’m not.“, Mapi interjected with a shrug and an apologetic smile towards her girlfriend.

Valentinas interest was piqued; “Bet you love espresso too, Mapi.“

“I do. I love my moka pot for that. I even got it tattooed.“, the Spanish defender told her excitedly. She shrugged out of her cardigan and showed the tattoo on her bare arm to Valentina.

Her eyes glinted as she examined it; “Oh my god! I love it!“

Satisfied with the reaction, Mapi smiled; “It’s pretty cool, right?“

“Yes, it is.“

While they continued their conversation about coffee-themed tattoos, you felt Camelia impatiently drag on your arm; “Come on, time to dance!“

She took your hand in hers and led you to the dance floor. On the way, you waved over to your sister; “You too, Mapi and Ingrid!“

“We’re coming too!“, your sister yelled back.

You gave her thumbs-up; “Perfect!“

Mapi only grimaced at her girlfriend; “Dancing?“

“It’s fun, love.“, Ingrid replied and dragged Mapi along with her. You quickly lost them in the dancing crowd but you were distracted anyway by Valentinas hands on your hips and her mouth close to your ear; “You’ve danced with half of the team already. Now it’s my turn.“

“Do you still have energy for that, Vale?“, you smirked, turning towards her.

Valentinas eyes searched for yours in the dim light; “You’d be surprised by how much energy I still have.“

The rasp in her voice made you shiver for a second but you concealed it by smirking at her; “You can show it to me now and later.“

“Oh I will.“

Biting your lip, you changed the topic; “Let’s dance.“

“Sure.“, she shrugged, pulling you closer as you two started moving to the rhythm of the music.

A few meters away from you Ingrid asked her girlfriend interested:” Who do you think my sister is dating in her team. She hasn’t told me yet.”

“Oh, it’s pretty obvious.”, Mapi said with a mischievous smile lightening up her face.

Glancing at you dancing with her, your sister observed: “Definitely Valentina.”

“See.”, the defender agreed.

Twirling around the dance floor, Ingrid thought out loud:” Bet the whole team already knows about them.”

“Probably. I mean look at them.”, the Spanish woman pointed at your direction, where Valentina got suspiciously touchy for a teammate.

Your sister smiled as she confessed: “Valentina is taller than I thought.”

“I think she’s the perfect height for your sister.”, Mapi replied.

“Agreed.”

“It’s cute. But not as cute as we are.”, with these cheeky words out the older woman kissed the younger Norwegian.

“Of course not.”, Ingrid laughed.

Gingerly the defender apologized:” Sorry.”

You two have seen the girlfriends looking at you from across the dance floor, that’s why Valentina stated amused:” Your sister and her girlfriend are gossiping about us.”

“You’re right.”

The Italian looked at you in confusion:” I thought you didn’t tell your sister about us?”

“I didn’t.”, you quickly reassured her.

She exhaled deeply before offering:” Do you want to leave?”

“Yes.”, swiftly you went up to Ingrid and Mapi.

Clearing your throat, you wanted to know from them:” Will I see you two for breakfast tomorrow?”

“At your place?”, your sister asked.

“Yes.”

The Barcelona midfielder promised: “We’ll be there.”

“Can’t wait.”, you told them beaming.

Knowing how exhausting an important match day could be, Ingrid hugged you: “Good night, y/n.”

On the following day, the sunlight already graced your bed, you enjoyed the warmth on your skin and from your girlfriend who was laying next to you. She could already sense that you were awake too.

Besides being already more awake than you Valentina’s voice was still full of sleep:” Morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning.”, you mumbled, slowly opening your eyes, catching the sight of the sheepishly smiling Italian, like every morning since you two became a couple you softly kissed her lips.

After she replied to your kiss, the forward padded your thigh: “Time to get up.”

“Five more minutes in bed, please.”, you sighed dramatically.

Amused by your theatrics which was usually her job on and off the football pitch, Valentina gave in: ”Okay, fine.”

“Those mornings with you are my favourite part of the day.”, you confessed your head placed onto her chest.

You watched your girlfriends mouth turn into a slight smirk while she replied; “They are my least favourite part because soon I’ll have to share you again with the team.“

“Sorry. So you prefer the evenings?“, you chuckled.

Valentina tilted her head like she had to think about the answer; “I do. Although you look really cute after you woke up so you might convince me to like the mornings more.“

Lazily, you grinned up to her; “You look cuter with your curls all messed up.“

“Five minutes are over. Time to get going. I have to fix my hair.“, Valentina ended the conversation, carefully shoving you off her upper body and sitting up.

You were about to pout and convince her to stay in bed but your sisters voice echoing through your apartment startled you.

“Hi, we got the goods.“

Her voice was clearly coming from your kitchen and you could basically see them putting down a bag with delicious pastries on the table.

You exchanged a panicked look with Valentina; “Shit!“

Cursing under her breath, your girlfriend jumped out of your bed and sprinted to the adjacent bathroom; “You deal with them. I’ll be fixing my hair.“

“Okay, no problem.“, you replied while you slipped into your clothes and opened the bedroom door to greet Ingrid and Mapi; “Hi, lovelies!“

Your sister however seemed to look right through you. She raised her eyebrow; “Are we too early?“

You shook your head innocently; “No, you’re right on time. Do you want a cup of coffee?“

“Sure.“, Ingrid replied and sat down while you got to work.

You set four cups of coffee on the kitchen table; “Here you go.“

“Thank you.“, your sister smile while she wrapped her hands around the warm mug and breathed in the smell of the freshly brewed coffee.

You sat down next to her, taking a sip from your own mug; “You’re welcome.“

You barely even noticed Mapis disappearance from the kitchen until two simultaneous screams interrupted your peaceful morning. You and your sister immediately got up to see what had happened and found both of you girlfriends standing in the open bathroom door.

“Don’t scare me like that ever again!“, Mapi scolded but even she had to laugh about the situation.

Valentina grimaced; “Why would you even come into the bathroom?“

The Spanish defender shook her head; “Because I needed to use the toilet. Oh my poor heart.“ She theatrically put a hand to her chest.

“Have you ever heard of knocking?“, the Italian asked, rolling her eyes.

“I didn’t know you’d be here but I should have guessed you’re. You Italians are not subtle at all.“, Mapi grinned.

Valentina grimaced, more offended than confused; “Excuse me?!“

“We knew it straight away actually.“, Ingrid joined to discussion with a nonchalant shrug.

The Italian seemed surprised by your sisters observation skills:”How?”

“The way you talked about and danced with eachother.”, the defender answered promptly.

Slowly Valentina shook her head:” No one else in our team knows.”

“Oh, trust me they do, we asked Laura.”, Ingrid disagreed amused.

Thrown off by that your girlfriend asked: “Excuse me?”

“Laura told you that?”, you added equally confused.

Self-assured Ingrid nodded: “She did.”

“Oh wow.”, you mumbled.

To sum up the situation your sister concluded: “So they know. Everyone knows.”

“Why did you two kept it a secret anyway?”, Mapi lifted one eyebrow curiously while looking at both of you intensely waiting for a reply.

Turning red Valentina stated honestly:” We didn’t.”

“But you didn’t say anything either.”, Ingrid countered immediately, her face showing a little bit of disappointment that you didn’t share this important information about your life with her while she was willing to tell you everything straight away after it happened.

Trying to cheer her up you changed the topic to something more light-hearted in nature:” But now that all know, don’t you think it’s time for breakfast? Hopefully the coffee didn’t get too cold.”

“About time!”, Mapi grinned.

Smiling, you promised them:” No more waiting.”

And you meant it, it was no more waiting for the closest to show them who you fell in love with in Rome. When you joined the club in the summer it was Valentina who played the best tourist guide with you, showing you the beautiful sights of the capitol of Italy and the best restaurants in town. Life never tasted as good as in Rome.  

Over a glass of wine, on a late summer’s evening, she asked you if you wanted to be her girlfriend, there was only one obvious answer to it.

Now, Valentina hugged you from behind, whispering hopeful into your ear:” That was quite an eventful start into the day I hope for a calmer evening.”

[arvandus]

A Cup of Affection (Part 1)

Pairing: Barbatos x f!reader

Content warnings: cisfem!reader; short-coded reader (or tall Barbatos, you pick!); reader's hair is able to be tucked behind the ear/brushed aside, but no further description provided; a lil’ steamy toward the end but no actual smut (that’ll be in part 2 *evil laugh*); reader loves sweets/sweet drinks; not proofread (watch me edit spelling/grammar errors later after this has been reblogged....)

**MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT FOLLOW OR INTERACT**

(divider credit goes to @benkeibear)

It was the worst thing he could have ever heard uttered from your lips.

“I think I’d actually prefer coffee today, if that’s okay.”

Barbatos stared at you dumfounded as if you’d grown a second head.  You flustered under his gaze, your fingers fidgeting and eyes dropping.

“I mean, if it’s not too much trouble,” you stuttered.  Your next words came out in a rush.  “Don’t get me wrong, I love your tea! It’s just... I used to drink it all the time back home, and I’m feel a little nostalgic for it.”

Ah, you were so cute when you got flustered... Barbatos could feel his resolve fracture just the slightest, and he tightened his mental control, like sealing a crack in a teacup.

Diavolo laughed.  “There’s no need to worry.  Barbatos’s coffee is just as divine as his tea. I’m sure it’ll be no trouble at all.  Besides, he just went to the market yesterday and restocked the kitchens.  Isn’t that right?”

Diavolo looked at him expectantly, innocence in his eyes, and yet Barbatos knew better.  The corners of Barbatos’s mouth quirked just the slightest in stiff acknowledgement as he made mental notes to increase the young lord’s workload for the next day or two....

“Yes, young master.  Although, had I known the coffee would be offered to guests, I would have purchased more of a selection.”

“I’m sure whatever you have is fine, Barbatos. I’m not very picky...” you reply encouragingly with a warm smile.

Barbatos stared at you for a moment and returned the expression with more warmth than he’d given the young prince.  “You’re very gracious, Y/N.”

Diavolo clapped his hands together excitedly.  “Lovely!  With all of this talk of coffee, I believe I’d like one as well. It’s been some time since I’ve enjoyed a cup.” 

How quickly one’s control over a situation can shift...

The butler bowed low.  “Of course, my lord.  I will prepare it immediately.” He straightened his stiff spine and stared at you, although he kept his gaze at the space between your eyes so as not to give away the heat he’d undoubtedly feel when looking directly into your dark pupils.  “Is it safe to assume you enjoy your coffee like you enjoy your tea?”

You giggled, the sound of it making Barbatos’s skin tingle.  “You mean more sugar and cream than coffee? Yes, please.”

Great. Just great.

Barbatos’s smile remained firm, yet he could feel its fakeness in the way the muscles at the corner of his mouth cramped. He hoped you couldn’t see it.

With a bow he retreated. As soon as he was out of your line of sight, his mask vanished, transforming from smile to frown.

You wanted coffee.

There was only one, large, glaring problem.  The only coffee in the entire castle was Hell Coffee. 

It was Diavolo’s favorite, his enjoyment of the acidic, bitter taste a constant, warm reminder of Barbatos’s fatherly affection. He only requested it when he required reassurance after a particularly difficult day, when Barbatos’s honest feedback and praise on a job well done weren’t enough.  Barbatos had no need for any other type of coffee, especially since he himself was renowned for his teas and cakes.  No one ever, in their right mind, would request coffee when offered Barbatos’s tea.

With each step, the calm butler began to lose more and more of his composure until he nearly slammed the door open upon his entry to the kitchen.

The three Little Ds in the room startled at his entrance. One stirred a large, steaming stock pot, one washed the dishes, and the other was chopping vegetables.

Little D Two, who stirred the pot, saluted him.  “Hi, boss!”

Barbatos glared. “Out.”

The Little Ds wasted no time in rushing through the door. But before Number Two could make it, Barbatos’s sharp tone caught him.

“Not you, Number Two.  You stay.”

Number Two began to visibly shake, his small hand scratching at his head.  “A-Are you sure, boss? You look like you wanna be alone...”

Barbatos did not have to repeat himself; instead, he pinned the Little D with a stern look.

The Little D began to return to the center of the kitchen where Barbatos stood.

“Close the door,” Barbatos ordered. Little D obeyed and then returned to his side.

Barbatos put his hands on the kitchen island and stared down at its wooden, weathered surface.

“She wants coffee,” he muttered.

“What was that boss? I couldn’t hear ya...” Number Two replied, inching closer.

“I said she wants coffee.” Barbatos repeated as he looked up, his brow furrowed in frustration.

“Who does?” Number Two asked.

Barbatos clenched his jaw for a moment before averting his gaze and answering.  “Solomon’s apprentice.”

He’d hoped referring to you by your title would ease the wildness of his pulse, give him the much-needed distance between his head and his heart.

It did not.

Number Two perked up. “Well, that’s no big deal! We have coffee, don’t we?” He began shuffling through the cupboards. “Where is it, where is it. Ah, here it is!” He held it up in victory and placed it in front of Barbatos.

Barbatos glared daggers at it.

Why would anyone ever invent such a thing, anyway?

Hell indeed...

“We can’t use this,” he muttered.

“What?? Sure we can! It’s Hell Coffee, we make it all the-Ohhh.”

Number Two grew very still and Barbatos’s jaw clenched.

The silence stretched an uncomfortable length of time as Number Two fidgeted.  Finally, he drifted in front of the butler, hovering above the busy countertop.

“So, you, uhhh-”

“Shut up,” Barbatos ordered through clenched teeth.  “Not another word.”

But Number Two didn’t know the meaning of the word. “I mean,” he continued, “it can’t be that bad, right?? Some people like it bitter...”

“Well she doesn’t. You do recall how she takes her tea, do you not?”

Two fidgeted some more, his nervousness worsening. “Ah, right. Good point. But how bitter can it get, really?”

“I’d prefer not to find out,” Barbatos replied.  “No, this will not do. There must be another way.”

“Can’t we just drown it out with cream and sugar?” Number Two asked as he began rummaging through the fridge.

“The purpose of Hell Coffee is to communicate fondness, Number Two.  The magic of that cannot be undone so easily.”

‘There wouldn’t be enough sugar and cream in the entire Devildom to drown out that bitterness...’ Barbatos thought.

Panic curled his fingers into fists, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.  Time was wasting. He had to return to you soon or you and the young master begin to grow suspicious.

But then, Barbatos had an idea.  “Tell me, Number Two.  What are your feelings towards the apprentice?”

“Huh? My feelings? I mean, she’s nice and she helps me out once in a while...” The Little D answered distractedly as he continued to rummage through ingredients.

“Perfect,” Barbatos replied. “You will make it, then.”

There was a loud thump as Number Two hit his head on the inside of the fridge.  He popped out, his little black hand lifting his hat to rub a sore spot. “Me?!”

“Yes.”

“I can’t make Hell Coffee!”

“Why not?”

“I’ve never done it before!”

“It’s not difficult.”

“But what if it comes out awful? I don’t even think Hell Coffee is supposed to work on Little Ds!”

“All the better reason for you to be the one to make it. Come now. Diavolo requested a cup as well. I shall make the first, and then I will guide you through the steps so you may make the second.”

----

Diavolo talked, but you were having difficulty focusing on his words as you felt the minutes tick by.

Perhaps you’d made a mistake...

In all honesty, you weren’t sure what to expect. All you knew was that Hell Coffee was the only coffee available in the castle, a little nugget of knowledge that Lucifer had given to you when he’d told the story of Diavolo attempting to make him the coffee himself.

As soon as you learned that little tidbit of info, your mind immediately went to Barbatos. Sweet, handsome Barbatos.  Barbatos who’s presence made your skin hum, who’s soft smile and deep chuckle made your gut twist in the most lovely way.  Barbatos who’s eyes seemed to read you like a book every time you looked into them, and yet gave away nothing short of amusement in return.

He was such a tea enthusiast that you’d never questioned the lack of coffee on his elegant and detailed menu. But now the thought of Barbatos making you Hell Coffee wouldn’t leave your mind.

After all, how else were you supposed to find out how he felt about you? Ask him?  Like a normal person?? Definitely not; the very idea was laughable.  You’d rather take his rejection through small sips of coffee rather than hear the words uttered from his mouth.

Because that’s what you were certain would happen. The acidity would be mild, the beverage more sugar than coffee. It wasn’t like the royal butler harbored any feelings for you, right? Sure, there was respect and friendship, but that was it.

So then why.... why were you so nervous? Why did hope flutter in your chest like a trapped bird?

Silly.

Anxiety twisted deep in your stomach, crushing your appetite and making your small desserts taste like ash.

But a moment later, he appeared, an ornate silver tray in his steady gloved hands, with two delicate teacups of steaming dark liquid.  He set the tray down and began to prepare them to yours and Diavolo’s liking. The close proximity made the delicious scent tickle your nose, and you inhaled and let out a happy sigh.

Barbatos was unmoved, his eyes kept to the teacups as he handed Diavolo his beverage first, and then yours.

Diavolo thanked him with a happy smile and took the first sip and winced.  “Ah, as bitter as ever Barbatos.  Glad to know you haven’t tired of me yet.”

“An impossibility, young master,” he replied smoothly.

You watched the exchange as you carefully brought the beverage to your lips and sipped.

Your heart sank instantly, the sweet tang clinging to your tongue.  It crushed your hope, silenced the unspoken confessions and washed them away to a place where they’d be left to slowly die.

“And how do you like yours?” Barbatos inquired, his neutral smile hiding any emotions worth noticing.

Or, as you’d just now discovered, where none lurked.

He respected you it seemed, had some basic level of fondness since the coffee still tasted of coffee, of course.  But it lacked the sharp, bitter bite that you’d hoped for, the one you’d experienced whenever one of the brothers made you coffee at the house.

You forced a small smile even as you felt your disappointment coalesce in your throat like a stone.  “It’s delicious. Thank you, Barbatos.”

Barbatos gave a polite nod and his posture eased ever so slightly. His satisfaction of your reaction to your bland, sugary cup only drove the painful truth home further, a nail into your heart.

Barbatos didn’t love you.

----

Diavolo stared at the empty teacups in thought as Barbatos began clearing the table.  “She seemed... disappointed, didn’t she?”

Barbatos glanced at him and then averted his eyes.  “Did she?”

“She certainly left quickly enough after the coffee.”

“I’m sure she simply has many errands to run,” Barbatos replied.  “The brothers and Solomon keep her nearly as busy as me.”

Diavolo stared at him for a long moment, then let out a gentle hum.

Barbatos graced his unspoken need for further attention with a lengthy side-eye.  “Yes, young master?”

Diavolo’s mouth quirked up slightly at the corner.  “Nothing... I just... I was certain that her cup would have been more bitter.”

Barbatos straightened up, the tray of now used dishes in his hand, his own mouth quirking up in return.  “I’m sorry to disappoint.”

Diavolor raised a challenging eyebrow at him.  “You do know I can tell when someone is lying to me, Barbatos.  Even you.”

Barbatos’s smirk vanished as quickly as it came, his walls up instantly.  “I have not forgotten, my lord. As such, perhaps you should cease pursuing this topic.”

“Have it your way...” Diavolo muttered.

Barbatos bowed. “If you’ll excuse me...”

He turned towards the castle, his eyes downcast on the half-drank cup of coffee you’d left behind.  As he began to walk back, Diavolo’s quiet voice followed him.

“You’re making a mistake.”

----

Diavolo’s words lingered in Barbatos’s mind following him into the next day, and the day after that.  It haunted him endlessly, making its appearance at the most inopportune times.  While balancing the budget, monitoring Lord Diavolo’s progress on his pile of paperwork, while running errands... he was far too busy to be so, so.... distracted.

Barbatos whole-heartedly disagreed with the young prince’s assessment.  In fact, in all honesty, Barbatos hardly ever made any mistakes at all, at least not anymore. He was far too careful for such reckless behavior.  Which was why Barbatos had a million and one reasons not to confess his feelings to you.  Between Devildom politics, his duties, and your mortality just to name a few, the cons far outweighed the pros... or so he tried to tell himself.

Even so, he couldn’t deny how you watched him when you thought he wasn’t looking, or the way your smile brightened in his presence... or the way you always managed to find a reason to cross paths with him at least a couple times a week...

Barbatos shook his head to himself.  No.  Best not to go there...

And yet...

‘You’re making a mistake.’

----

The truth of those words didn’t fully solidify until he ran into you at the market a couple of weeks later. Barbatos had already noticed how he seemed to be crossing paths with you less than usual. He already suspected you were avoiding him, putting distance between your heart and him.  He’d accepted it, a consequence of his own choices.

That is, until he saw the look in your eyes; the way you couldn’t quite hide the hurt fast enough behind your smile, the way your lips curled in artificial joy at seeing him.  Your words were brief and cordial, but he could tell you were eager to disentangle from his presence.

He’d watched your retreating back with his breath lodged like spikes in his lungs, the longing to grab your wrist and pull you back to him making his fingers twitch.

Barbatos had hoped that preventing an impromptu confession with cursed coffee would have allowed him to keep you at arm’s length, to keep his affections for you separate from yours.

But this felt less like separation and every bit like entanglement.  You weren’t just drifting farther away from him like two separate objects with nothing but empty space between. It felt more like ripping, a tearing of intertangled roots. It was painful and left an ache in his chest where your presence had made a home.

Perhaps the young lord was right....

----

Even so, Barbatos was as stubborn as he was prideful.  He filled himself with distractions to ease the pain, waiting for time to work its magic and ease the empty longing for both of you.

Another two weeks passed before Diavolo took matters into his own hands.

The prince entered the kitchen to see every single surface filled with extravagant desserts and warm breads. Little D’s were at every counter and stove, while Barbatos stood at the island in the center with a piping bag in his hand, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Are we having a celebration?” Diavolo asked jovially.

“No, young master,” Barbatos replied.

“Then what is the reason for the feast?”

“I have been making modifications to my recipes to perfect my menu.”

“You mean the menu you’ve already perfected three times this week?”  Diavolo crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.  “This wouldn’t have anything to do with one particular sorcerer’s apprentice, would it?”

Barbatos’s hand flexed on the piping bag and a large glob shot out onto the cake he was decorating.  He glanced briefly at Diavolo.  “Of course not.”

“Then I’m guessing that it’s just a coincidence that you’ve chosen her favorite color as your decorating inspiration....”

Barbatos blanched and his eyes looked up from his work to take in the state of the kitchen.

Damn it, he was right... cupcakes, cakes, tarts, danishes, marbled bread, muffins... everything he’d made was somehow tied back to you.  Colors, flavors, textures... it was as if he’d gotten lost in his thoughts and his hands had written out apologies in the form of desserts rather than letters.

“Perhaps we should talk about this...” Diavolo suggested.  His amber eyes took in the exhausted Little D’s.  “Okay, break time everyone!”

A roar of cheers erupted throughout the kitchen, and a swarm of dark little bodies vacated the space in record time.

“Young master, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t override my authority within the kitchen,” Barbatos chided as he eyed all of the unfinished work.

“My dear friend, work them any harder, and they’ll all go on strike, and then where will we be?”  Diavolo closed the door behind him and made himself comfortable against the island, a pastry in his hand.  Barbatos returned to piping the decoration onto the cake that was nearly complete.  “You should talk to her, Barbatos.”

Barbatos froze and finally let out a heavy sigh in defeat as he set the piping bag down. He braced his hands against the weathered edge of the counter. “I cannot.”

“Why not?”

“It is not so simple.”

“Isn’t it?”

Barbatos chuckled.  “I sometimes envy your youthful, reckless optimism...”

“You’ve been sulking ever since that day with the hell coffee.”

Barbatos scoffed and straightened his spine in reproach. “I do not sulk.”

“Like a teenager with a broken heart ,” Diavolo pressed with an arrogant tilt of his chin and mischief in his smile.

Barbatos narrowed his eyes.  “If you have enough time to watch me so closely, then perhaps you can explain to me why you’re still so behind on your work.”

“Maybe I’m too distracted watching you clean the castle top to bottom and baking enough sweets to satiate even Beel’s bottomless gut.”

His words got under the butler’s skin and so he started straightening up the space, gathering crumbs of dough and flour into piles, wiping up blotches of icing from the wood grain.  “It is work that must be done my lord, nothing more nothing less.” Then he muttered, “A teenager? Really? You do realize I’m far older than you.”

“Yes, and how many of those years have you been alone?”

“I am not alone, young master. I have you, I have the Little Ds...”

“You know what I mean. When was the last time you fell in love?”

Barbatos froze, his vision blurring. He blinked and it refocused.

Yes... how long had it been?

“Look,” Diavolo said, “all I’m saying is that perhaps this is one area that you’re a little bit... rusty in.”

Barbatos was silent for a long moment, before giving a soft sigh and turning to lean against the counter the same as Diavolo.  “My lack of a love life isn’t the issue.  I can’t afford to jeopardize your position as prince by allowing myself to become emotionally involved with a human. And not just any human, but Solomon’s apprentice.  Many demons still haven’t forgotten how he’d singlehandedly opposed the Devildom centuries ago. I am your most trusted confidant, and as such I must err on the side of caution in all of my dealings.”

Diavolo’s eyes widened.  “Is that why you’ve been doing this?”

“I am your butler first and foremost, young master. You will always be my top priority.”

Diavolo blew air out of his cheeks and leaned his head back to stare at the intricate ceiling.  “I see. I appreciate the concern, friend. However, I believe, in this instance, it’s important that you put a little more faith in me to be able to keep the nobles in line.  Regardless of their opinions, I am the law of this land, and my position is final. Besides, she’s already intricately tied up in Devildom affairs considering she has pacts with all of the brothers.”

“All the more reason to be cautious,” Barbatos replied.

“Screw that,” Diavolo scoffed.

Barbatos gasped.  “My lord!”

“After all you’ve done for me, what kind of a prince would I be if I let the fear of the masses take away your chance at happiness?” Diavolo said firmly.  “You deserve to be happy too, Barbatos.  Now please, for the love of my father, get out of this damn kitchen and go apologize to her.”

Barbatos stared at the prince with wide eyes, before bowing low. “Yes, young master.”

Before Barbatos crossed the threshold, Diavolo called out with a chuckle in his voice. “You should ask her for coffee when you get there...”

Barbatos gave a soft laugh.  He had a feeling he wouldn’t have to.

----

For all of the inspiration and reassurance Diavolo had provided, Barbatos could feel his resolve slip more and more the closer he got to the front door of the House of Lamentation.

Would you turn him away? Run away to your room and allow the brothers to host him instead?  What if you weren’t even home? What if you were with Solomon?

A sharp stab of jealousy reared its head and he forced it back down.

That certainly wouldn’t do him any good, now would it?

He walked up the steps and rang the doorbell as he held his breath.

A silent prayer of gratitude and dread echoed through his mind as you answered the door. You froze when you saw him, eyes wide, your breath caught in your chest.

“Barbatos,” you said dumbly.  “What are you doing here?”

You clamped your mouth shut as you realized how rude you sounded, and all Barbatos could think about was how cute you were...

“I...” he started, and then froze.  He couldn’t say the real reason for his arrival, not on the doorstep where anyone could hear.  “I came to inspect the House of Lamentation for any infestations.”

Your shoulder slumped slightly in disappointment.  “Oh. Okay, come in.”

He bowed graciously.  “Thank you.”

As he stepped into the large foyer, you fidgeted nervously.  He stared the gesture and fought the blush that threatened to creep across his pale cheeks.  “Where are the brothers?” he asked.

“They aren’t here right now. Diavolo called them to a student council meeting.”

Barbatos’s eyes widened.  “Oh. I see...”

He wasn’t sure whether he should thank him or punish him...

He stared down at you as his heart pounded wildly.  “So you are by yourself then?”

“For a little bit,” you replied with a small smile.  “I must admit the quiet is nice once in a while...”

Barbatos’s own lips curled gently.  “Then I promise I’ll be brief.”

“W-would you like some tea?” you asked expectantly.

Barbatos hesitated, Diavolo’s words once again coming alive in his mind.

Ask her for coffee.

But Barbatos forced the suggestion aside.

“Yes, tea would be lovely.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.  Make yourself comfortable.” You retreated toward the kitchen, and Barbatos sat in a nearby chair.

----

Tea, tea, tea.....

You opened the cannister that sat on the counter and stared at it with wide eyes and an open mouth.

Empty.

No, that can’t be right... you always had tea.

With your brow furrowed, you rummaged through the lower pantry.

Nothing. Not a single tea bag.

No, no, no....

Dread started from your toes and crept up like invisible fingers brushing against sensitive skin.

You had hoped to make this as painless as possible; give Barbatos his tea, allow him to do his inspection, and then send him on his way.  But already things were going awry.

You hummed to yourself with a furrowed brow as you dug out any and all drink options.  Water, milk, juice, soda... none of those seemed suitable for Barbatos.

You went back to the cupboards, moving items around as you searched.  Your hand wrapped around a familiar bag and you pulled it out with trepidation.

 Coffee.

You stared at the bag of Hell Coffee with narrowed eyes as if it was the reason for the lack of tea within the kitchen.

No.  Absolutely fucking not. You’d already made that mistake once before and you’d regretted it ever since.

Panic filled your veins and you fought back the burning sensation in your eyes.

There had to be something....

Your eyes spotted the upper cabinet that was so often out of your reach. It often housed excess demonus when Lucifer’s own cabinets were full in his office.

Maybe... just maybe....

Who knows, maybe Lucifer had received some tea as a gift from Barbatos and put it up with the rest of the demonus?

You grabbed the stool that had become your best friend within the Devildom-sized kitchen and stepped up.

----

Barbatos sat and fiddled with his clothing, adjusting the uniform repeatedly. It felt awfully tight today, the house feeling particularly warm.

The minutes ticked by, time stretched, and Barbatos grew more and more restless. He checked the time.  The tall grandfather clock chimed its gong.

Finally, Barbatos got tired of waiting.  Perhaps you’d run out the back door, leaving him alone in the house...

He chuckled to himself.  You would never....

He stood up and made his way to the kitchen.  When he pushed through the double doors, he froze as he stared at the sight before him.

The kitchen was chaos, cupboards open and various contents spread out on the counter.

And you, you were on a stool, precariously balanced, as the upper half of your body vanished inside a high cabinet.

“No, no, this can’t be happening...” you muttered, unaware of Barbatos’s presence. He could hear the anxiety laced in your tone, the tension tight around your vocal chords. You were desperately searching for something.

It was almost comical, watching you stand on your tippy-toes, and it’d been so long since Barbatos saw you up close, that he paused to cherish the view. His eyes followed the curves and lines of your body, his lips slightly parted.

That is, until you started to wobble...

You could feel the balance shift, felt the scrape of the wood beneath your feet give way to nothing.

That split second of panic, of knowing you were falling, was interrupted by strong hands and lean arms wrapping around your waist, catching your weight against a firm, tall body.

The impact of your body against Barbatos’s forced his own back against the closed lower cupboard, but he held firm, keeping your feet from touching the floor. Your arms were around his neck instantly, survival instinct forcing you against him as if he were a tree.

Time felt frozen for a moment as your heart pounded with adrenaline.

You knew immediately who’d caught you. After all, there was only one other person in the house with you.

Not to mention you could smell the scent of sugar clinging to his uniform, could smell the tea on his breath as his own heart pounded beneath yours.

You were torn between embarrassment and desire, your eyes closed as you clung to him.  But then you remembered the hell coffee from weeks ago, recalled that neutral smile he’d worn when you drank it, and your heart broke all over again.

Slowly you loosened your hold around his neck and pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes.

“I... thank you.”

His green eyes stared back, his skin flushed, although you were sure it was due to the haste in which he had to have moved to catch you. Barbatos held you for a moment longer than he needed to before slowly setting you down on unsteady legs.

“You’re welcome,” he replied.  Then his eyes looked up past your head at the kitchen behind you.  “Might I inquire as to what’s happening?”

You opened your mouth hoping to find a believable lie there, but there was none.  Only simple truth came forth, clumsy and blunt.  “We don’t have any tea.”

“Oh...” Barbatos looked down at you.  “So you’ve decided to reorganize your kitchen.”

The emotion pounding in your chest finally gained enough strength to work their way up your throat and brim your eyes with tears.

“I... I only have coffee. And, and water, and juice, and soda, and...”

Barbatos watched the panic overtake you and he took your hand in his, his thumb gently rubbing across the back of your hand.

“Coffee will be fine.”

What he had hoped would assuage your fear only seemed to heighten it, causing the tears to finally break loose, running wet tracks down your cheeks. You refused to look at him, instead focusing on the details of his uniform.

“B-but... I only have Hell Coffee....”

Realization dawned on Barbatos’s face, and then his expression softened.  “I see... then let us make some.”

He began to step to the side to go around you but you clutched his hand tightly, halting his retreat.  “No, you don’t understand. It’s...” Barbatos waited patiently as you found your words. Finally, your voice came through soft and timid.  “It’s going to be too bitter.”

A soft smile spread across his lips.  “I think in this case I am willing to make an exception.”

Confusion furrowed your brow as he led you over to the counter with your fingers intertwined.  “I... I don’t understand.... I thought...”

“Y/N, I have a confession to make... and an apology as well.”

A few minutes later and the sound of laughter is filling the kitchen with the scent of coffee in rich in the air.

“So you really bullied Number Two into making it??” you laughed.

Barbatos gave you a reproachful look.  “Bullying is a strong term, Y/N... but yes, I suppose I did.”

“Well now I know how Two feels about me, I guess...”

“And you know how I feel about you, too,” Barbatos replied with a small smile.

“Wellll,” you hummed, “Yes, but...” you stared at the two cups of fresh coffee sitting in front of each of you. “I still want to try it...”

It was Barbatos’s suggestion to make each other’s cup, to assuage any lingering doubts.

“Then let us proceed,” he replied.

With your eyes locked you both picked up your cups and took a tentative sip.

Sharp, deep bitterness greeted your tongue and your face soured.  Barbatos’s cup seemed to be no better, as he attempted to stifle a cough.

“Oh...” he mustered.  “Oh goodness, that’s...”

“Truly awful,” you replied with a chuckle.  “In the best way, of course.”

“It really is, isn’t it?” he laughed.  He took another sip and you watched in amusement as his winced.

You sipped yours again as well, and forced it down with your eyes squeezed shut.

“Do... do we have to finish the whole thing?” you asked.

“It’s customary to do so... not finishing it implies you’re unwilling to fully accept the other person’s affections.”

You frowned into your cup with a pout.  “Silly Devildom customs...” you forced another sip.  “Blegh.”

Barbatos grinned, his cheeks warm as he watched you.  “Perhaps, however...” he said, “we can call a truce.”

“Don’t toy with my emotions, Barbatos,” you teased.

His expression sobered from one of amusement to calm affection.  “I promise, never again.”

Your skin felt hot and you averted your eyes down into your cup.  His hand came forward, and you felt him tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I am truly sorry for deceiving you,” he said softly.  “It was a poor decision and one I’ll always regret.”

Your gaze returned to lock with his, and suddenly you’re keenly aware of his close proximity and of the emptiness of the large house.

Barbatos’s hand lingered gently on your jawline, his fingers tucked behind your ear.  His eyes flickered to your lips before returning to your eyes again.

Then he closed the distance and kissed you, his lips soft and tender against yours.  You melted into it, melted into him, your fingers twining into the jacket of his uniform.

He pulled away slightly and you stared at each other. Then he kissed you again, his lips firmer, more confident.  His hand went from your jaw to your waist, pulling you close against him as your arms wound around his neck.  The desire written into his touch, his lips, emboldened you to open your mouth slightly and swipe your tongue against his lips.  Barbatos’s lips curled into a smirk against yours, a deep chuckle vibrating in his chest. He acquiesced to your silent plea and opened his mouth, his tongue meeting yours.

Your body awakened at the warmth and taste of him, the acrid coffee still sharp on his tongue.  You pressed yourself harder against him, and his body pivoted until you were pinned between himself and the counter, your coffee cups long since forgotten and growing cold while your body grew hotter.

Finally, Barbatos broke the kiss, his forehead pressed against yours as his hands tightened on your hips.  “You’re going to make me behave improperly if you continue to torture me so.”

He was taller than you, much taller; you barely came up to his shoulder.  It made the buckle of his belt press against your stomach.

And below that...

Heat pooled in your core, desire heavy in your gaze.

“Oh no, not improper,” you teased, your hands on his hips in return as you looked up at him with pleading eyes.

Barbatos chuckled as he cupped your cheek. “What a troublemaker... however,” - he forced his body to separate from yours - “I would like to perhaps court you before repurposing your kitchen.”

You pouted your lip in disappointment, and Barbatos stared at the gesture with flushed cheeks.  His thumb came up and brushed against your protruding lower lip.  “Don’t do that,” he chided.

You grinned and playfully nibbled at his thumb, trapping it between your teeth.  His eyes darkened. He leaned in to kiss you again, but your words halted his approach just as his lips started to brush yours.

“How about dessert?” you asked against his mouth.  “Our coffee was so bitter, we deserve something sweet.”

Barbatos froze and gave a frustrated chuckle.  “Is this how it’s going to be from now on?”

You grinned.  “Maybe...”

“Hmm,” he hummed. Then he leaned closer to you until his lips brushed your ear.  “Sounds like fun...”

Your legs felt like jelly, your heart pounding so fiercely you were sure it was going to jump from your chest into his.

But then Barbatos pulled away, putting distance between you. “Fortunately for you, I happen to have a wide variety of desserts waiting in the kitchen at the castle. So,” he extended his hand to and bowed, “if you’ll accompany me...”

You smiled and took his hand. “I’d be happy to.”

“Wonderful. Let us take a shortcut.”

Barbatos opened a doorway out of thin air, and with your hand linked with his, guided you through.

Part 2 (link coming soon!)

[bella-rose29]

Domestic Sweetness - part 3

the final part! this was originally going to be about 1.5k and then last week I sat down and wrote 2k words oops...

word count: 3.7k (wtf)

warnings: swearing? mentions of periods, I think that's it??? lockwood hurts himself again but idk that that counts as a warning tbh

mini series master list

lco master list

You were just waking up when the doorbell rang. 

Huffing, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and winced at the cold air meeting your skin. The doorbell rang again, a little more insistent this time, and you yelled down the stairs. “Alright, I’ll be there in a minute!” Frantically pulling on a grey hoodie and zipping it up, you searched for some trousers that were comfy but didn’t look like they had just been pulled out of the wash, and then nearly fell down the steps as the long legs caught and tangled around your feet. Biting back a groan at the pain you were in you plastered on a smile and opened the door.

There was nobody there. 

At least, there was nobody stood on the front step - Anthony Lockwood’s body could be seen running down the street, his coat flapping out behind him as he sprinted. He skidded to a halt for barely a moment before he was running again, this time back towards where you stood in the doorway with an expression of confusion on your face. “Sorry!” he panted from where he stood slightly hunched over and grinning by the gate. “I made a thing but I left it at thingy’s house and- yeah. Back in a tick!”

He was off again, somehow running even faster than he had before, and it took your brain a while to catch up. “Right…” you muttered. Perhaps it would be easier if you went and laid down in the warm instead of standing in the doorway. Lockwood could let himself in and besides, your cramps were killing you. You thought about making a hot drink but the effort of it felt too much, so you curled up on the sofa by the window with a blanket and the remainder of the heat from the hot water bottle you had prepared earlier to wait for Lockwood. 

~~~

When Lockwood finally made it back to your house, huffing and puffing while balancing the retrieved cake box and thermos, nobody answered the door. 

He couldn’t see your family car parked on the tiny strip of land called your driveway, so he assumed that it was only you in the house and rang the doorbell again, pressing the button down with his nose since his hands were full and he didn’t want to drop anything. Waiting a full minute and a half (he could just about see his wristwatch from his position), Lockwood decided he would just open the door. Your parents had given him a key to the house a while ago since he was over there so much, and he knew that you wouldn’t mind him making himself at home. After struggling a little to balance everything (he spilled some tea on himself and cursed rather loudly), he kicked the door closed behind him and called out to you once more. Moving towards the kitchen at the back of the house he peered in the living room on his way past, halting abruptly upon seeing you curled up asleep on the sofa, blanket covering your body while a hot water bottle threatened to drop from your loose grasp. He smiled, exhaling softly in content at the peaceful expression on your face, and headed for the kitchen again. 

He spent the next five minutes sorting things out for when you woke up. The thermos of tea was placed on the side table next to where you lay, and the cake he’d baked was on the side in its box ready for when you wanted something to eat. He boiled the kettle to refill your hot water bottle too, because when he’d gone to readjust it in your arms he’d realised there was barely any heat radiating from it. 

On returning to the living room for the final time, fresh tea in the pot and sitting on the coffee table, Lockwood carefully clambered onto the sofa behind you, making sure he didn’t knock you with any of his limbs. You sighed in your sleep, letting out a small grunt when Lockwood accidentally elbowed your head, and he pressed a small and lingering kiss to the place of injury once he had settled. He pulled the blanket up and checked that the hot water bottle wouldn’t scald you, then wrapped his arms around your body and pulled you into his chest. His fingers threaded through your hair, lightly massaging your scalp, while his other hand was firm around your waist to stop you from falling off the sofa. 

“Lockwood?” Damn, he’d woken you up. 

“Hi, darling. You alright?” he whispered, pressing another kiss to your head. You mumbled a response that he couldn’t quite make out, but before he could ask what you’d said you were snoozing again, nestling further into his chest and bringing an arm up to rest on his stomach. 

He could spend the rest of his life like this, he was sure of it. Sure, the position was slightly awkward, and he was certain that his shoulder was far too bony for you to be comfortable, but it was just the two of you. Under this blanket (Lucy had crocheted it for you and then made you swear not to use it because she would practice and make you a better one, but you had proclaimed that it was your favourite thing ever and had promptly shrouded yourself in it), nothing else mattered. Not the Problem, not his debts, not the threat of Relic men or other agents wanting him dead. Not even the wash that he’d put on before he’d left and would have to hang out later. Maybe he’d get lucky and George would do it.

He was basking in the peace of the living room when he felt you shiver. You tried playing it off as snuggling further into his chest, but Lockwood was far too attuned to your behaviour now and he lifted your head up so that he could look you in the face. “Are you cold, darling?”

“…No.”

“Hmm, very convincing,” he snorted, pressing a kiss to the end of your nose. “I can put the fire on if you like?”

“You really don’t have to, Lockwood.”

“Consider that I want to? Besides, we both know how good I am at setting fires.” His grin was wide, and you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up.

“If you’re sure. I’m really not that cold.” You didn’t help your case much by immediately shivering again, and when you looked up at Lockwood again he could see that you knew it. “Ugh, fine. Put the fire on.” Lockwood clambered out from behind you and unceremoniously landed with a thump on the floor, teetering backwards for a moment and threatening to fall on the coffee table. “Fucking hell, Lockwood, you couldn’t have done that in a better way?”

“It’s not my fault I’m built like a baby giraffe,” he replied, pushing himself upright again by bracing a hand on the coffee table. “I think I’m having another growth spurt too; my limbs feel longer than normal.” He stuck a leg out in front of him to inspect it.

“You sure you’re not just having another aftershock from a weird dream about long limbs?” Lockwood let out an outraged scoff as he crouched in front of the fire.

“That was one time! And the only reason I had aftershocks was because of how vividly I dreamed that my arms and legs were three foot longer than normal! It was like I was having… phantom limbs or something.” He shuddered at the memory. “Anyway, you should try getting off that sofa from the position I was in! I doubt you could do much better.” He built up the kindling and added some bigger logs, then picked up the box of matches from the mantlepiece where it was hidden among birthday cards for a family member.

“I probably could,” you mused, wrapping the blanket tight around your body. “I am not the one built like a baby giraffe.”

“That’s true. You’re more of a-” Lockwood paused, striking the match and watching it light. “More of a…”

“Are you planning on insulting me, Lockwood? You’re taking a long time to answer.”

“I would never insult you, my love. How dare you accuse me of such a thing?!”

“You totally would.” You had barely finished talking before he was sighing in defeat.

“Yeah I would.” You snorted, the sound making the corners of his mouth twitch upwards as he turned back to see you sat upright on the sofa. You looked ridiculously comfy in your oversized hoodie (he thought he recognised it as one from his drawers back home) and the blanket bunched up around you like a- “Hedgehog.”

You blinked, squinting at him in confusion. “What… what about them?”

“You’re more of a hedgehog.” He pushed up off the floor, satisfied that he could leave the fire now, and brushed his hands together to rid them of wood shavings. “You’re sat in a little nest and if I poke you in the stomach then you’ll probably stretch your arms out and spike me with a stick.”

“A stick?”

“Yeah. Well, you don’t actually have spikes because you’re a human being not an actual hedgehog, so… I imagine,” he grunted at that point, attempting to clamber onto the sofa again, “you would just pick up the closest sharp object and- oof!” He doubled over, whacking his forehead on the hard back of the sofa while his knees buckled, and his arms contorted in painful ways so that he didn’t land his full body weight on you. 

He tried to be mad, he really did, but it was oh so difficult when he glanced to the side - face still smushed into the back of the sofa - and caught sight of the grin spread across your cheeks. “I hate that I can’t even be angry with you,” he said, although it was significantly more muffled than normal. 

“You walked into it, Lockwood, calling me a spiky hedgehog. What was I meant to do, not hit you in the stomach?”

“That would have been preferable, actually.” He peeled his cheek away from the fabric, manoeuvring his limbs carefully around you. “Then I wouldn’t have damaged my beautiful face.”

“Your beautiful face?”

“Don’t say it like that,” he replied, a scandalised tone to his voice as he slid an arm under you. “Do you not think my face is beautiful?!”

“I think your face is perfectly average.”

“Rude.”

“Giraffe Boy.”

“Double rude.” He finally finished settling down again, pulling the blankets over the pair of you and letting his free arm sit on top. “Wait. What does me being giraffe-like have to do with my face?”

“I dunno,” you responded, peering up at his face and bringing a finger up to brush away some soot that had somehow made its way there. “I’m tired.” Lockwood dropped his outraged act, softening under your touch on his face and letting you work away the soot. 

“Understandable. Have you done much today?” You shook your head, studying his face for another few seconds before deciding you were satisfied with your work. 

“Stayed in bed, mostly. It’s not one of my work days so I slept in, and then I couldn’t move much so I figured I would stay there.” Your hand moved back towards your chest, curling up against Lockwood’s collar. “You been busy today?”

“Baked a cake.” His voice was quiet as your other hand started tracing patterns on his arm over the blankets. He had the grey hoodie on that he knew you so desperately wanted to steal, and while getting the fire ready he had pushed the sleeves up.

“A cake?”

He hummed his confirmation, and when you looked up at him again he had his eyes closed. “It’s in the kitchen.”

“You… you baked me a cake?” He couldn’t see you, but he heard the slight wobble in your voice and mistook it for worry.

“You don’t have to eat it, not if you don’t want to. I know I’m not the best at baking so I would totally understand if you thought it might kill you and avoided it.” He moved his trapped arm a little higher, frowning at the weight of you pressing uncomfortably on his shoulder, and finally rested with it behind your neck. His fingers absentmindedly twisted in your hair, gently threading through the strands of it in time with your patterns on his arm. 

When he hadn’t heard any reply he cracked open an eyelid, and almost started at the sight of you fighting back tears. “Darling, what’s wrong? You really don’t have to eat the cake, I know what happened last time.”

“No, it’s not that, Lockwood.” You paused. “Although, if it’s going to make me need four gallons of water then I would rather not.” He laughed a little at the memory of his last attempt at baking and your subsequent reaction (“It’s very… dry. Are you sure there’s anything other than just… flour and cocoa powder?”). “Just, you didn’t have to do any of this, Lockwood. You’re stupidly and annoyingly nice.”

“And that’s… making you cry?”

“I’m on my period. I’m hormonal.” Your glare was enough to make him back off. He didn’t feel like dying today, not when he’d finally decided he wanted to stay alive.

“Fair enough, love. Did you want some cake?”

“Did George help?”

“…No.” You wrinkled your nose before realising he was watching you, and then your expression morphed into something sheepish. “It’s not as dry this time?”

“Just a little bit, then. I haven’t got much of an appetite today, but you did bring it all the way here.”

“Give me a few minutes, then. Oh, thank you,” he said as you swung your legs sideways and sat up to let him off the sofa. 

He had just made it into the kitchen and got two plates out of the cupboard when the phone rang, the shrill sound of it piercing the air and making him jump. “Do you want me to get it?” he called, taking the lid off of his cake box and smiling proudly at how intact it was. 

“No, I’ve got it!” Lockwood located the cake slice in one of the pots on the counters, carefully cutting pieces of cake for you both. Faintly he heard you talking on the phone, your voice quiet from fatigue. He finished up in the kitchen, washing the cake slice, securing the lid back on the tupperware, and picking up the plates. You were in the hallway, smiling softly while whoever was on the line chattered away. Lockwood moved into the living room, placing the plates on the small side table next to the sofa you had been sitting on, and headed back into the hallway, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. 

You frowned for a moment, your gaze slowly drifting to Lockwood, and from where he had rested his head against the frame it took him a moment to register it as confusion, not anger. You were at a funny angle, the whole world tilted while he stood there and watched as the crease between your brows grew and your eyes flitted over his face, trying to work out what was going on. 

“Who is it?” he whispered, gesturing with a finger to the phone. 

“Grandma,” you mouthed back, frown not disappearing. Lockwood had never met your grandma, but he knew that the pair of you were very close. He was just about to ask another question when you opened your own mouth. “Did you get a name?” You said out loud, still staring at Lockwood, but this time with more realisation than confusion. Lockwood heard a response being given, but not what it was, and his curiosity only grew when your face split into a large grin. “Anthony Lockwood?”

“What?” He had said that out loud, snapping his head upright to stare quizzically at you, but in his defence he had just been mentioned in a conversation he only had one side to, and the other half was a lady he had never even met before. 

“Yeah I know him, Grandma. Do you not remember me telling you about his agency?” He flushed a little at that; normally when someone brought up his work he would plaster on the charm and act as though he were made for fame, but it was different with you. You called him a baby giraffe and hit him in the stomach, and laughed when he walked dead into a lamppost. You didn’t care about the fame, and you talked about him to your family. “Yeah, that’s the one. I- oh, was that Alfredo?”

Lockwood frowned now, vaguely recognising the name but not knowing where from. An agent he’d met recently, perhaps? No, that didn’t seem right. 

“How’s he doing? I know he was sick last week.” A cousin? Or family friend? Maybe the name of your grandma’s latest beau? “Oh, did he? Huh. Wouldn’t have thought a chicken would do that, but if he’s better then that’s great!” A chicken? Alfredo was a chicken?? Why did that sound so familiar to Lockwood? And why couldn’t he remember why it was familiar? “Right. No, of course. How’s Sally? Oh that’s good. I was worried about her last time I visited. No, Grandma, I’m not gonna come visit you now, I- yes, I know you live just down the other end.” You sighed, pressing the hand that wasn’t holding the phone into your forehead. “No I’m not dragging him down the street so you can verify that he’s the same guy you spoke to on the bus, it’s cold.”

Realisation hit Lockwood with more force than a freight train. “Wait,” he said, pushing off of the doorframe and taking a step towards you. “Is your grandma called Ethel?”

You moved the phone away from your mouth, covering the bottom with your hand. “Yeah. Did I not tell you that?”

“Maybe. I don’t remember. She sat next to me on the bus here. Told me all about her pets and how her granddaughter never stopped talking about my company.” He was grinning now, revelling in the flush on your face. 

“I just like to keep her up to date, is all.”

“Sure. Up to date with one specific agency,” he chuckled, stepping closer. You stuck your tongue out at him and put the phone back to your ear, gracefully flipping him off at the same time. 

“Hm? Oh, the line broke up a little, sorry. What were you saying?” Lockwood leaned back against the cabinet the phone sat on, holding his arms out for you to step into while you finished up your call. You gave up ignoring him after a few seconds, sagging into his hold and letting him support some of your weight. He could tell that being on your feet for so long was draining you, and he hoped he could find some painkillers somewhere in the mess that was your bathroom cabinet. “Lockwood? He’s right next to me. Did you want to- oh, okay.” You laughed, and Lockwood felt the vibrations in his chest. “Yeah, I’ll let him know. Alright, well I should go. I’ve got cake to try and tea that’s sat going cold, so I’ll speak to you tomorrow? I love you too. Okay. Bye, bye.” You put the phone down, the little bell tinkling for a moment before going quiet again. “She says you’re welcome any time, by the way. Seemed quite desperate for it,” you laughed. Lockwood laughed with you, a soft hum in his throat, and noticed that you were relying more heavily on him to hold you up. 

“Do you want to go and sit down, darling?” At your sleepy nod, Lockwood slowly stood upright again, keeping his arms around you so that you didn’t topple over backwards. It was awkward, the walk back to the sofa, the two of you shuffling across the hallway like zombies, but once back under the blankets and with plates of cake in hand Lockwood felt you relax once more. You would be falling asleep on him very soon and then he wouldn’t be able to move anywhere, but he didn’t mind. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots on the bus.”

“You were too busy talking about your wonderful, incredible, gorgeous girlfriend, by the sounds of it.” You were cautiously lifting a forkful of cake towards your face, studying it for a moment before putting it in your mouth. 

Lockwood would have given some smart reply to your comment, but he found he was more anxious for your judgement of his baking. He was practically vibrating while he waited, watching you chew with an impassive expression. You swallowed, and Lockwood held his breath. “Much better than the last one! Consider me impressed, Lockwood.” He beamed, making you smile in response, and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple before starting on his own slice.

“You’re not just saying that, are you?” You shook your head, shovelling in another forkful of cake. 

“I’m not, I promise. It’s actually surprisingly good,” you replied once the cake had gone down. Within a minute the rest was gone, your plate back on the table and your body nestled into Lockwood’s side as he finished his own cake and laid back down again. 

He could feel your body slowly giving in to sleep, and shifted his shoulder under your head before you gave up resisting and fell unconscious. “Sorry,” he muttered, repositioning you against his body so that he could comfortably lie there for a few hours while you slept. “There. Comfy?” He felt you nod against his chest, the top of your head bumping the bottom of his chin, and he smiled softly. He closed his eyes, savouring the smell of your shampoo mixed with the slight musty smell of the blankets and sofa, and the warmth of your body on his and the heat from the fire. 

You murmured something against his chest, quiet and slurred with sleep, but he caught it anyway. 

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

tag list:

@strawberryloveyyy, @chameleon021, @genderfluid-anime-goth, @cottagecore-babe, @anthonylockwoodandco111, @a-taken-url, @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @aysha4life, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @lady-ashfade, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @magicandrosewaters, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @reggiepeterss, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whistle1whistle, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12, @zoom1374, @asyouwish-fromcabin3, @rhysand-devorak, @a-candle-maker, @h0lyheck, @apple-bottom-jeans6, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlitcanvas, @cielooci, @35-portlandxrow, @laumire, @isimpfor-everyone, @furblrwurblr, @midnight--raine, @anniemay4557

@neewtmas, @bobbys-not-that-small, @avdiobliss, @demigoddess-of-ghosts, @maraschinomerry, @lewkwoodnco, @uku-lelevillain, and of COURSE @oblivious-idiot for the request

as always, if there is anybody who wants to be added to my lockwood tag list, then please go here!

[specialagentlokitty]

Rachel green x male!reader - perfect together

Hiii, how are you doing? I wanted request a Rachel green x male reader story in which she starts dating Monica's and Ross' younger brother (he'd be the youngest Geller being 21) and Ross is jealous that his ex is dating his little brother. Just write it if you like the idea lol, thanks! - @benjibing 💜

You were still fascinated by the city, even though you had been there for nearly a year, there was still so much you hadn’t seen or done.

You didn’t have much free time to start with, most of it was spent working and trying to get through your course work.

Which was why you spent a lot of your time swapping from staying with your brother to staying with your sister, just couch surfing between their places until you could get a place of your own for a good price.

It was how you met all their friends, got to hang out with them every now and then, and it was how you caught the eye of Rachel.

Normally she would have just looked right past you, saw you as nothing more than a friend, and at first she did, but when she came to you crying her eyes out over everything that had happened between her and Ross, you just held her as she cried.

You didn’t defend your brother, you didn’t offer any sort of advice or force her to talk about it, you just sat her on your couch, holding her and letting her cry into your shoulder.

That’s when she began to see you different, and it just kept going from there, she noticed how polite and respectful you were, you were a proper gentleman around her.

Maybe that’s why she was standing in front of you now, after having a rough date, extremely drunk, a slight grin on her face.

“Rachel, what brings you by?” You asked.

You stepped aside to let her into your apartment, closing the door as she entered.

“I think you should go on a date with me!” She beamed.

You laughed a little bit, placing your hand on her shoulder.

“I think you’ve had a little too much to drink.”

“No! No come on!”

Smiling softly, you placed your hand on her shoulder, guiding her to your room, getting out some spare clothes you set them down on the bed.

“Get changed, I’ll come through soon, then we can talk, yeah?”

Rachel huffed a little bit nodded her head.

You didn’t go back into the room that night, you closed the door and left her in there while you slept on the couch instead.

You woke up early to make breakfast, and set her plate down as you picked up some of your papers while she padded through.

“Water and headache medicine are on the table next to your breakfast, and I washed your jacket because I have no clue what you spilt on it but it was gross.”

“I want to say tequila but at this point I’m not even sure…”

You laughed a little, looking up from your papers.

“Do you remember why you came here?”

Rachel thought for a moment, trying to figure out through her hungover state why she came to her apartment but she shook her head.

You nodded, sitting down at the table with your coffee as you set your papers down.

“Do you know why I came here?” She asked.

“Yup, but I’m not going to tell you. I’m not sure if you want to know why.”

“Oh god… what did I do…?”

“You came in, told me something, then I sent you to bed and that was that.”

Rachel looked up at you.

“What did I say?”

You just grinned a little bit at her, but refused to say anything.

“Keep thinking, maybe it’ll come to you.”

Getting up, you took her empty cup, taking it over to the coffee pot.

“Oh god…”

You looked over to see her looking mortified.

“(Y/N) I am so sorry! I.. I just… oh god.. I’m just going to go…”

Walking over to her, you set her cup down and you took a few steps away from her.

“So you remember?”

She awkwardly nodded her head.

“I’m flattered by your statement, and dont get me wrong Rach, you are absolutely stunning, you’re so beautiful and anybody would be lucky to go on a date with you. But I’m younger than you, you’re my sisters best friend and my brothers ex.”

“No! No I know! Oh my god…”

You smiled softly at her.

“You deserve somebody who will treat you right Rachel, my brother clearly isn’t that guy, but there’s so many other guys out there.”

“I know.. it.. it’s just hard.. you think somebody is the right one and then it all messes up… or.. or they’re just not a good person…”

“You’ll find that person.”

Rachel nodded her head.

She hasn’t ever been turned before, and she had definitely never been turned down in such a polite and respectful way, but she understood.

“If you still want me to go on a date with me, then ask again in a few months, think about this. Because you’re amazing Rachel, I just want you to know if this is what you want or not.”

So she thought about it, for months, sitting in the idea of asking you out on a date.

She was so used to people asking her that she had never considered the possibility of her having to ask somebody.

But here you were, giving her full freedom with it all.

You were leaving ever choice in her hands, letting her decide where all of this was going to go.

Finally she had made up her mind, she made her way back to your apartment and knocked on the door, waiting for you to answer.

“I think we should go on a date.” She said.

You smiled brightly, grabbing your jacket from behind the door and your keys, pulling your door shut behind you.

You swung your jacket on, and you held your arm out to her.

“I know just the place, let’s go.”

“Like right now?”

“Are you busy?”

“Well no… I.. I just thought maybe you needed time to think about this?”

“Nope, no thinking needed. How does Italian sound?”

“You thought about this?”

You led Rachel down the stairs and opened to door for her, then returned your arm to her once you were both out in the street.

“Of course I have, I mean I’d be pretty stupid if I didn’t.”

That’s how you two started seeing each other.

What started as just a few casual dates turned into a blooming relationship that nobody else knew about.

Rachel didn’t want the others to know too soon, she was worried about what they would think, especially Monica and Ross, and you were okay keeping it on the down low.

You just liked being with her, so if she wanted to keep it hidden you were okay with that too.

It just meant most of the days she spent her time at your apartment if she could, usually on a weekday claiming she was working late.

Today was one of those days where she told everybody she was working late, and she walked into your apartment to find you fast asleep on the couch.

Laughing a little, she set her things down, kicked her shoes off and padded over, laying herself down between you and the back of the couch.

“Try again…” you mumbled.

You moved your arm, wrapping it around her, letting her manoeuvre herself so she was laid on your chest instead.

You smiled as you felt her press a kiss to your jaw, and you lifted your head a little, leaning down so you could kiss her properly.

After a moment you pulled away, placing one hand on the small of her back, the other on her head, gently messaging her scalp.

“How was your day?” You whispered.

She let out a noise of annoyance.

“I swear if it could go wrong today it did! I mean it was ridiculous! How hard can it be for somebody to order one specific fabric!”

Rachel began to ramble about her day, and you lay there listening to her.

When she was done, she let out a heavy sigh.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry, I get it. You had a stressful day, you know? You have to get it all out of your system, rant about it, yell about it, whatever you’d like.”

“God you’re so perfect…”

You laughed a little bit.

“I’m far from perfect Rach, but you on the other hand are absolutely divine.”

Rachel buried her face into your chest, and you snickered a little, pulling the blanket from the back of the couch to cover you both up.

“But, you have tomorrow off, and so do I, so you know what that means?” You asked.

“I have to go home?”

You hummed a little bit.

“Nope, it means that there’s a fair going on that has our names on it, what do you think? We can eat that weird food the sell, and you can watch me fail horribly at winning you prizes and then give me kisses out of pity for my terrible aim.”

This made her laugh a little bit.

“Well, I just can’t say no to watching you embarrass yourself for me.”

You grinned proudly.

“Of course you can’t, I’m adorable!”

“Oh yeah you keep telling yourself that.”

“Ouch, wow. Who thought my girlfriend would be so mean to me.”

Rachel smiled, resting her head on your shoulder instead, and you smiled softly, closing your eyes.

Both of you fell asleep there, neither of you had the effort to get up and move, which was a mistake on both your parts.

You hadn’t heard your door opening, but you did hear the hushed voices, and Rachel whisper yelling at somebody.

“Darling, I feel like whisper yelling isn’t as affective as actual yelling.”

“(Y/N)!”

You opened your eyes and turned your head to see her stood there with your sister.

“Oh…”

“Seriously? My best friend?” Monica asked.

You grinned sheepishly and sat up, watching as Rachel paced back and forth, running a hand down her face.

“I would say sorry but I’d be lying.”

“Is this where she keeps sneaking off to?”

“Oh my god Mon please! Please drop it!” Rachel begged.

“I just found you asleep with my brother! Don’t you remember what the other brother did?!”

“Of course I do Mon! But I.. I mean (Y/N) he’s.. he’s different.. he makes me happy..”

Monica looked between you both.

Rachel walked over, sitting next to you and you wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, letting her lean into your side.

“Like it or not Monica this is happening, I love you, you’re my sister, but you can’t control who I date. I’m going to keep seeing Rachel.”

“I know because you’re as stubborn as anything…”

Monica looked at you both and she grinned a little.

“Tell me everything!”

“Yeah, that’s my cue to leave.”

You stood up, giving Rachel a quickly kiss, and you took Monica’s jacket from her as you left the room.

You didn’t want to be part of whatever gossip they were going to do.

You went for a shower, changed into some clean clothes, made them both breakfast, and began to sort through your work.

“Mon we’re going to the fair! You want to come or can we actually go alone?!” You called.

“No I have work!”

You made your way back into the living room.

“I’ll drop you at your apartment, come on you two gossip birds.”

You took them back to their apartment and sat on the back of the couch while you waited for Rachel.

The door was opened and you grinned a little at your brother.

“Hey big bro, what’s up?”

“I was actually looking for Rachel, is she here?”

You nodded your head, standing up as he walked further in.

“She’s in her room right now.”

“Thanks, why’re you here? No work?”

“Day off actually. I’m dropping Monica off at work first though.”

Ross nodded and you both just stood there chatting away.

Rachel’s door opened and you looked over to see her coming out in a dressing gown, holding up a white and a blue dress.

“Honey, which dress should I wear?” Rachel asked.

“Honey?” Ross asked.

“Ross?!”

“Oh crap…” you whispered.

You quickly walked over to Rachel, and you stood in front of her, your back hiding her form from your brother.

He looked furious.

“Ross…”

“You’re dating Rachel?! My ex?!”

You turned to Rachel.

“The white one looks perfect on your darling, go get dressed, I’ll talk to him…”

She nodded her head, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade.

“Good luck…”

She went back in her room and closed the door.

“Look Ross, I get it okay, you’re pissed, I’m dating your ex. But I never asked her out, okay? She asked me, I gave her that choice, and you have no right to be pissed at her when you cheated on her.”

“We were on a break!”

You shook your head.

“Nah, you cheated on her, even if it was ages ago, you still did it. You can’t be getting all pissed at her for looking for something new. Come on man, you know I’ll look after her.”

“She’s my ex! You’re my brother!”

“I love her Ross! Okay?! I love her, and I’m going to do right by her unlike you!”

Ross stormed over and he stood right in front of you, fury in his eyes.

“You can’t see her.”

“You don’t control who she or I date Ross. I don’t care if you’re okay with this it’s happening. You want to hit me? Go for it. I don’t care.”

He clenched his jaw, and you heard Rachel’s door open again.

Looking over, you immediately smiled softly at her, eyes lighting up with pure happiness when you saw her step out in the dress you chose.

She looked a little nervous.

“You look so beautiful…” you whispered.

Walking over, you placed your hand on the side of her face, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

“Absolute perfection…”

“Really? It’s not too much for a fair…?”

“No, no it’s perfect.”

She smiled gently at you, rushing over to Monica’s room for something, and you turned to Ross.

He still seemed furious, but his face softened up a little bit.

“Hate it all you want Ross, I’m sorry but this is happening.”

Rachel walked out of your sisters room with her, and you walked to the kitchen to get a bottle of water.

Ross made his way over to Rachel.

“You’re dating my brother?! Seriously?! Just to get back at me?!” He hissed.

“What?! No!”

Rachel stepped back from him.

“Ross how dare you! How could you even think such a thing!”

Rachel began tearing up a little at the accusation.

“I would never use your brother like that! I’m with him because he.. he’s so different from all the other men! He actually cares, and he loves me for me!”

Rachel took a deep breath, wiping a few tears from her face.

“I would never use anybody, how dare you say anything like that.”

Rachel stormed away from him, and she tapped your shoulder.

Turning around, you saw her face and immediately wrapped your arms around her, letting her bury her face into your chest.

You looked over at Ross, narrowing your eyes a little as he stared at you in jealousy.

He was never okay with Rachel dating other people, he thought he still stood a chance, but now he realised he didn’t. He didn’t stand a chance against you, you were everything Rachel deserved and more

[thebunnednun]

Good neighbors Farmer! Bakugou Katsuki x Reader (Part 2)

64.media.tumblr.com

Another special thanks to @bakugotrashpanda for the prompt/drabble. Check out their works if you haven't! They even reblogged the first part!

Okay, fangirling done.

Art is done by: This lovely user here!

Got a little twist ending here. Also, shoutout to @elarakive for picking up the stardew valley ref.

ON WITH THE SHOW!!~

______________________________________________________________

The next morning, you wake up with a renewed sense of purpose. Bakugou’s words linger in your mind, giving you the confidence to take him up on his offer to help around the farm. You decide to surprise him with a hearty breakfast before joining him in the fields. 

You whip up a batch of fluffy pancakes, fry some bacon, and brew a pot of strong coffee. Today is no different. You spot him coming up the path, his muscles rippling under the early morning sun, and you can't help but smile.

Sometimes, when he's working hard, he'll lift his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead, giving you a tantalizing view of his abs. On those particularly hot days, you make lemonade to bring him when his shirt inevitably comes off, just to see his appreciative (if reluctant) smile.

As Bakugou approaches, you open the door, greeting him with a bright smile. "Morning, Bakugou!" you call out, catching his attention. He looks up, surprise flickering across his face as he sees you approaching with the tray of food. 

He grunts in response, holding out a basket filled with fresh vegetables. "Had too many again," he mutters, avoiding your eyes. "Figured you could use 'em."

"Thanks," you reply, accepting the basket. "Would you stay? I made pancakes.""Thought you might like some breakfast."

He hesitates for a moment looking over your features in the soft morning light. He sets down his tools and walks over, his expression softening just a bit. "You didn’t have to do that," he says, but you can see the appreciation in his eyes.

"I wanted to," you reply with a smile. "Besides, I figured you could use a good meal to start the day."

He pauses before nodding. "Fine, but just for a bit. Got work to do." He takes the tray from you and sets it on a nearby table. "Well, thanks," he mutters, his tone gruff but his eyes warm. 

"Well don’t just stand there. Sit and eat with me."

You both settle down, and as you eat, you chat about the farm, your cottage, and everything in between. (The latest gossip from the village.) You cherish these moments, even if Bakugou pretends they're no big deal. His rough edges soften ever so slightly when he's around you, and you've come to appreciate the subtle ways he shows he cares.

 For a guy with rough hands he does have good table manners. 

After breakfast, Bakugou insists on washing the dishes and you insist on helping him with the chores. At first, he protests, but eventually, he relents, giving you a small smile. "Alright, but don’t expect me to go easy on you," he warns, throwing you a pair of gloves. 

"I wouldn’t dream of it," you reply, pulling on the gloves and getting to work.

Throughout the day, you find yourself working side by side with Bakugou, his presence a comforting and steadying force. You help him with the crops, tend to the animals, and even manage to fix a broken fence. Despite the hard work, you find yourself laughing and joking with him, enjoying the easy camaraderie that has developed between you.

As it becomes midday, you both take a break, sitting on the porch and watching the skies in deep shades of blue and white. Bakugou hands you a cold drink, and you take it with a grateful smile. “Hey,I’ll be right back,” you decide to surprise Bakugou with a picnic. Having packed a basket with sandwiches, fruit, and, of course, a jug of lemonade, you make your way to your cottage knowing that he’ll follow close behind if you don't hurry. 

Racing back, you now spot him near the barn, his shirt already discarded and tied around his waist. His skin glistens with sweat under the sun, and you can't help but admire the way his muscles ripple with each movement. Gathering your courage, you call out to him. "I'm back! Got a minute?”

He straightens up, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "What now?" he asks, his tone a mix of curiosity and exasperation.

"I thought you might want to take a break," you say, holding up the picnic basket. "I brought lunch."

His eyes soften for a moment before he masks it with a scowl. "You didn't have to go through all that trouble," he mutters, but you can tell he's touched.

"It's no trouble at all," you reply, gently tiptoeing back on the path towards your cottage where there’s a blanket you've spread out on your oak porch. "Come on, take a break. You deserve it."

With a reluctant sigh, Bakugou drops whatever he’s working on and eventually joins you on the blanket. He plucks a sandwich from the basket and takes a bite, his eyes closing briefly in appreciation. "Not bad," he admits grudgingly.

"Pretty good, actually."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his compliment. "Glad you like it."

"You did good today," he says, his voice soft and sincere. "Didn’t think you had it in you."

You laugh, nudging him playfully. "Guess I surprised you then."

"Yeah, you did," he admits, looking at you with a warmth in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat.

There’s a comfortable silence between you, and you find yourself leaning a little closer to him. "Bakugou, can I ask you something?" you say, breaking the quiet.

"Sure," he replies, turning to face you.

"Why do you come by every morning with food?" you ask, your voice soft and curious.

He looks away, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. "Told you, I have too much," he mutters.

"But there’s more to it, isn’t there?" you press gently.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, alright. Maybe there is," he admits. "I just... I like seeing you. Talking to you. Makes my day a little brighter."

Your heart swells at his words, and you reach out to take his hand. "I like seeing you too, Bakugou," you say softly. "More than you know."

He squeezes your hand, his grip warm and reassuring. "Guess we make a good team," he says, echoing your words from the previous day.

"Yeah, we do," you agree, smiling up at him.

Before the midday sun could make you feel any sleeper, you began to pack up the remains of your picnic. Bakugou helps you clean your porch again and mumbles something about having you over for dinner one night. After dishes, you’re back on your porch, staring up at the sky. 

You’re perched on the white railing while Bakugou sits in your rocking chair, his hand resting gently on your back in a rare display of tenderness. You tease him about being worried for you, and he snarks back, "I just don’t want to hear your whining if you fall."

You try to shove him playfully, but your balance slips, and you end up tumbling backward into his lap. "OH! I-I’m sorry!" you exclaim, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Bakugou inhales sharply at the sudden impact but quickly adjusts you so you're nestled comfortably against his chest. "Dumbass," he mutters, his voice a mix of annoyance and concern. "I told you, you were going to fall."

Before you can stand up, he starts rocking the chair gently, his arms holding you securely. The unexpected intimacy sends a warm shiver down your spine, and you relax into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

For a while, the only sounds are the creaking of the rocking chair and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. Bakugou remains quiet, his gaze fixed on you, as if he's contemplating something deeply.

"Why do you do this?" he asks suddenly, his voice uncharacteristically soft. You looked up from where you began gently raking your nails down his muscular arms with one hand and playing with the thick fingers of his right hand to see his vermillion gaze fixed on you.

"Why do you keep feeding me?"

“How ironic.” You turn to look at him, his expression unreadable. "Because I care about you," you say simply. "And I like spending time with you."

He looks away, a hint of pink coloring his cheeks. "You're a real pain, you know that?"

You laugh, reaching out to give his hand a gentle squeeze. "Yeah, but you don't mind too much, do you?"

Bakugou's grip tightens on your hand for a moment before he lets go, standing up abruptly with you in his arms. "Come on," he says, setting you down into a standing position, his hands resting firmly on your waist. "I still got work to do."

“Mhm,” you nod and as you follow him back to the fields, you can't help but feel that something has shifted between you. And it’s not just that little spring in your tummy. As Bakugou resumes his work, you stay by his side, ready to lend a hand or simply enjoy his presence.

In the hours that follow, this new routine becomes your favorite part of the day. Whether you're helping him with a stubborn animal or sitting on his truck as he works on the engine, the time you spend with Bakugou is something you cherish. And though he grumbles and complains, you can see the softness in his eyes, the way his guard lowers just a little more each minute.

That evening, as the sun sets and paints the sky in hues of orange and pink, Bakugou walks you back to your cottage. The air is warm, filled with the scent of blooming flowers from your garden and the sounds of crickets beginning their nightly chorus.

"Thanks for today," you say softly as you reach your door. "I had a great time."

"Yeah, well," Bakugou mutters, scratching the back of his neck. "Don't get used to it."

You laugh, knowing that despite his words, he enjoys these moments as much as you do. "Goodnight, Bakugou."

“It’s Katsuki,” he corrects, his eyes shifting nervously to his pockets. You almost question him before realizing this is one of his tells—one of the ways he tries to cover up his anxiety. Placing your hands on his chest to get his attention, you find those sharp eyes focused on you again.

“Katsuki, I had a wonderful day with you. Thank you,” you say softly.

His face remains stoic as he analyzes you, from your head down to the boots you wore specifically for him today. He hesitates for a moment, his expression softening slightly, before leaning in and pressing a quick, awkward kiss to your cheek. 

"Goodnight, [Name]," he mumbles, turning and walking away briskly before you can react.

As you watch him retreat, a warm feeling spreads through you. The day had been perfect, and despite his rough exterior, Katsuki had shown a side of him that few got to see. You touch your cheek where his lips had brushed, a smile tugging at your lips. 

"Goodnight, Katsuki," you whisper to yourself, already looking forward to the next time.

Epilogue:

The warm afternoon sun bathed the fields in a golden glow as Bakugou trudged through the tall grass, baskets in hand. The Bakusquad had been insufferable all morning, teasing him relentlessly about his plan. They had even followed him, hiding in the tall grass to watch the spectacle unfold. He could hear their muffled giggles and whispers, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to turn back and scold them.

"Get a move on, Bakugou! We wanna see some action!" Kaminari's voice called out from somewhere behind a hay bale, followed by a chorus of snickers. “Yeah Lover-Boy, go get your lady!” Mina could be heard snickering behind the old oak tree in your yard.

“Come on man, the worst she could say is no.” Sero’s voice could also be heard nearby and it would have been comforting if it wasn’t filled with giggles. 

"Shut the Fuck up," Bakugou grumbled under his breath, his cheeks flushing a light pink. Already feeling flustered, Katsuki wondered if it was too late to back out. But, knowing that the dumbasses he called friends wouldn’t let him out of this, he opted to continue his walk to your property line.

Seeing the familiar fence post of your yard, he took a deep breath and continued towards your cottage, his heart pounding hard in his chest.

As he approached, he saw you tending to your garden, your back to him. You were humming softly, completely oblivious to the spectacle about to unfold. Dressed in a strawberry colored sunhat and cute overalls that barely covered the swell of your ass when you bent over. Bakugou had to look away for a moment before you sat up again.

Looking back at you, he felt a surge of affection and determination. Taking one last breath, Bakugou squared his shoulders and marched forward, determined to make this moment special despite the peanut gallery hidden in the grass.

"Hey, [Name]" he called out, his voice gruff but tinged with something softer. You turned, a smile lighting up your face as you saw him.

"Hi, Katsuki! What brings you here?" you asked, wiping your hands on your apron and walking over to him.

He held out the two baskets, his heart racing. "I brought you something," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "In this basket, there are some flowers for you to plant in your garden. And in the other, more produce. Figured you could use it."

Your eyes lit up with delight as you took the baskets from him. "Katsuki, this is so thoughtful! Thank you!" you exclaimed, glancing at the vibrant flowers and the fresh vegetables.

He shifted awkwardly on his feet, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, there's something else," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a deep breath and looked you in the eyes, his expression serious.

"I, uh... I want you to be my girlfriend."

There was a moment of stunned silence, broken only by the rustling of the tall grass and the stifled giggles of his friends. Your eyes widened in surprise, and then a radiant smile spread across your face.

"Katsuki, I'd love to be your girlfriend," you said softly, stepping closer to him. "I care about you a lot."

He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, a relieved smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Good," he said, his voice rough but warm. "Because I care about you too."

From the tall grass, the Bakusquad erupted in cheers and applause, popping up from their hiding spots. "Way to go, BakuBro!" Kirishima shouted, grinning from ear to ear.

"About time!" Mina added, clapping her hands. Kaminari and Sero were pulling her back into the hiding spot as Katsuki looked like he was about to throw his wrench at them, again. 

Instead, he rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the smile that spread across his face. Katsuki reached out, taking your hand in his, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Come on, let's get these flowers planted," he said, his voice filled with affection.

"One thing though."

"Yeah?" Katsuki replied, raising an eyebrow.

Taking off your sunhat, you used it to shield both of you from the prying eyes of the Bakusquad still lurking nearby. Leaning in, you caught him off guard. He started to pull back instinctively, but you grabbed the cuff of his tank top and kissed the breath out of him. The world seemed to stop for a moment as your lips met his, a tender yet passionate exchange.

When you pulled away, you smiled sweetly as if nothing had just happened. "You missed last night," you teased, your voice a playful whisper.

A half-smile, half-smirk now rested on his face. "Damn, girl," he muttered, his voice low and rough with a hint of admiration.

"Come on, let's not keep the flowers waiting," you said, taking his hand and leading him to the garden.

As you both worked side by side, planting the flowers in neat rows, the Bakusquad's presence was forgotten. Katsuki's occasional gruff comments were softened by the way he would glance at you, his eyes filled with a rare gentleness.

"You know," he said after a while, his tone thoughtful, "I never thought I'd enjoy doing stuff like this."

You looked up from your work, meeting his gaze. "It's nice, isn't it? Doing something simple and peaceful together."

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, it is."

The two of you continued planting, your hands occasionally brushing against each other, sharing quiet conversations and comfortable silences. The setting sun cast a warm, golden glow over the garden, making the moment feel almost magical.

When the last flower was in the ground, you both stood back to admire your work. Katsuki wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "Looks good," he said, his voice filled with pride.

You leaned into him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Yeah, it does. Thanks for helping, Katsuki."

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, a rare and tender gesture. "Anytime," he murmured.

As you both stood back to admire your work, Katsuki couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him. This was his life now—a mix of hard work, tender moments, and the support of good friends. And you both knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful, blossoming love.

"Want some lemonade?"

______________________________________________________________

THAT WRAPS IT UP BABY

At the time of this being posted, 5/22/2024, there is a poll ongoing for what, you, the lovely readers, would love to see. Be sure to cast your votes!!

Make sure you check out the a03 account by the same name. Everything I have posted here is there in chronological order. I also have a few Buggy the Clown x Reader's posted in the masterlist! Give it a read if you please!

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Seen you soon my loves!!~ <<33

[togamest]

-> They find something in the other’s trouser pockets/etc. right before putting it into the washing machine. (x) | 891 words. notes: gn!reader, established relationship, reader drinks coffee with creamer. reader and kakucho are both employed. kakucho calls reader "love", "darling".

Adult life was really beginning to seem like an endless supply of dirty laundry.

You awaken from your slumber to an empty bed; Kakucho has been awake for hours already, being an early riser. The glow of the lamp downstairs glows faintly, the lamp on the lowest setting so he didn't wake you. You spot the laundry basket next to the stairwell, overflowing, while also catching the clothes strewn about on the floor. Guess it's laundry day.

Rolling out of bed, you ignore the need for clothes as the chilly air hits your bare thighs and instead search for body heat, following the warm light down the wooden, creaky stairs and into the kitchen. His head lifts, red and white eyes meeting your own with a soft smile as he takes a sip from his coffee. A book is in his lap, something philosophical, but you don't have a mind to pay attention to it as you shuffle over to the coffee pot, pouring yourself a glass.

"Sleep well?"

You shrug. "Better if you stayed in bed."

He murmurs a sorry, love as he stands, the floorboards creaking under his footfalls as he approaches you, grabbing the creamer from the fridge on his way and handing it to you. It's your favorite; pumpkin spice, reminding you of one of your favorite seasons.

You can feel Kakucho's broad chest against your back as you stir the sugar and additives into your coffee, watching the spiral clouds of creamer turn the dark roast into a lighter brown. His arms wrap around your middle, a kiss pressed against your temple. You hum, leaning back against him as you take a sip from the coffee, your eyes sliding shut as the warmth floods through your system.

You get to chatting, as you always do; the morning debrief, Kakucho likes to call it. You lean back against the counter, sipping your sugary concoction as he talks about how long he'll be at work today, what he's doing, about the happy hour later that he wants to take you to so you can meet his coworkers—

And before you know it, he's dressed, packed up, and pressing a kiss to your lips as he ventures out the door, telling you he won't be home late tonight. He'll make sure of it.

You laugh as the door shuts behind him, knowing he's a liar. Kakucho was never one to come home on time; and it was nice, having the house to yourself the few days during the week he went into the office. Working from home together was lovely, but having your space was even better.

Nevertheless, the first thing to tackle was the giant pile of overflowing laundry you'd wandered past in your search for caffeine.

Placing your coffee down, you venture upstairs, grabbing the basket first and, before throwing the clothes into the washer, you check all the pockets. You'd run into this issue before, where Kakucho had failed to remove his earbuds from his pants once, and they somehow managed to survive a washer and dryer cycle.

Unfortunately, it happened again, and they weren't so lucky. Your face had been bright red with shame as you'd gone upstairs to his office, handing him the broken earbuds worthlessly as he let out a whistle, taking them from you. There was no anger in his eyes, only surprise as he placed them on his desk, reaching up and pressing a kiss to your cheek. Not your fault, I can get another pair.

Still, you didn't want to make that mistake again as you rifle through the pockets of his sweatpants that had been discarded on the ground last night.

There is something in his pocket, but it's not his earbuds.

It looks like a note.

You unfold it, and in his messy handwriting, it begins with a cute i love you <3 on the paper. There's more, talking about how amazing you are and how you always keep the house clean and how he's so proud of you for being who you are; how you work so hard and someone will notice, he swears it, and if they don't then they're clearly blind. It's a sweet gesture, not out of character, but the tenderness in the chicken scratch writing has your eyes going glassy with tears.

He knew you'd had a hard few weeks. You'd ranted and raved to him about your job, about how you're not happy but no one else seems to be hiring so you're stuck. How you're getting more work than you should be handling due to your role, how frustrating it is that you're doing managerial-level work without the title because they can't be bothered to pay you more.

Seeing the person you love most include a note, possibly on purpose, in his pants he knew you'd pick up on laundry day to rifle through before cleaning so he knew you'd see it...it made your chest feel light.

You do text him about it, later. Did you write that note in your pants last night so I'd see it? you ask him, straight to the point. He texts back almost immediately with several crying laughing emotes, and then says of course, darling. needed ya to know i love ya even if no one else does <3

It's the little things, you know?

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disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

© kakuchari 2023-2024

[lionlena]

Headcanon: How do they cook for you? (Pedro Pascal characters) 🥕🧑‍🍳🍓

🍳 Joel Miller

Joel is not the best cook. Of course, he had to learn how to cook for Sarah, but he always kept things simple.

He is a supporter of one-pot meals. What he cooks for you is really delicious, but simple. There is no culinary madness about it. That's why Joel prefers it when you make dinner.

But it doesn't bother you anyway. Especially since Joel loves making breakfast for you. Whenever he can, he will get up earlier and make you a delicious breakfast: scrambled eggs, pancakes, waffles... Everything you like.

And if he finishes making breakfast and you're still asleep, he'll bring you breakfast in bed. He will kiss your forehead and whisper, "Get up, baby girl. I made you coffee and breakfast."

From time to time, Joel will also take you to your favorite little restaurant. This way neither of you has to cook and you can enjoy your time together.

🍽️ Oberyn Martell

Cooking is the last skill he needs, which is why he can't cook. As a prince, he never had to worry about this. Food was always served to him on silver trays. Even when he was a warrior, he didn't have to worry about it.

Of course, if he and you find yourself in a wild desert, he can easily hunt something and roast it over a fire. He would never let his Queen starve to death.

However, you can't count on Oberyn to stand in the kitchen and prepare something for you.

On the other hand, you don't have to do this either. Just tell the servants what you want and your dish will be brought to you after a few minutes.

Oberyn loves to surprise you and organize picnics for you. By the river, in an oasis in the desert, in the gardens... Once he even organized an evening picnic for you on the roof of the palace.

🌮 Javier Peña

Cooking isn't something he's great at. But he is a specialist in making drinks.

For most of his adult life, Javier learned to eat out or buy home-cooked meals.

However, it's not like Javier can't cook anything. There are a few special dishes that his mom taught him to make. And although Javier may feel insecure about his culinary skills at the beginning of your relationship, the longer you are together, the more willing he will be to prepare these dishes for you.

If you cook, you can always count on Javier to wash the dishes and clean the kitchen. After all, he doesn't want your beautiful nails to get damaged.

You just have to sit on the couch and enjoy the drink he prepares for you.

🥞 Jack Daniels

This may come as a surprise, but Jack is very good at cooking. All because he was a mama's boy when he was a kid. He loved helping his mom in the kitchen and cooking with her.

Now he loves cooking for you and you can't help but admire how Jack transforms in the kitchen.

It's so cute to see him without a stetson and jacket, with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and wearing an apron with the "Kiss the Cook" written on it.

Sometimes you just can't help yourself and hug him from behind and then steal a piece of carrot or sausage. You then hear his scolding voice: "Sugar, don't steal... Remember your manners."

But you know he's actually smiling and it doesn't bother him at all.

But what Jack does even better than dinner is... Cakes and desserts! You've never eaten such delicious muffins, desserts, croissants... Jack always watches with a wide smile as you eat these sweets, knowing full well that you will reward him later...

🍴 Dave York

Dave doesn't cook, he doesn't even try to learn. He thinks you're better suited for it because you're a woman.

Don't get me wrong, Dave is not some fucking misogynist. He will support you in your career and support your passion and women's rights. He doesn't think that women are only good for cooking and bearing children, but... Dave grew up in a traditional home with a traditional division of roles. And he just never felt like cooking.

You don't even know if he's bad at it because he's just never tried it.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't help you with other household chores. Dave doesn't mind cleaning. In fact, he's actually really good at it, because it's part of his job (cleaning up the crime scene). He can also do laundry or iron his shirts without any problems, but... He stays away from the kitchen.

But that doesn't mean you have to cook all the time. If you don't feel like it, no problem. Dave will make sure to take you out to a restaurant or order takeout at least three times a week. You are his princess and he will never let you think otherwise.

Besides, the kitchen is sometimes not meant for cooking (if you know what I mean.)

🍔 Frankie Morales

To say that Frankie is a disaster in the kitchen is an understatement. Frankie tries really hard, but he can burn anything... You never thought that somebody could burn scrambled eggs.

But he is a great helper in the kitchen. Nobody cuts vegetables as quickly and precisely as Frankie. To top it off, he never has a problem doing shopping for groceries. He doesn't even need a list. Just tell him what dish you want to make and he will know what to buy.

Frankie also knows all the best places to eat cheap and delicious food.

But surprisingly. Frankie is excellent at making barbecue. You don't understand how this is possible, but it is. And no one makes burgers as delicious as Frankie.

🍲 Din Djarin

Din hardly cooks. Most often, he makes broth and always adds too few spices. Sometimes he will also roast what he hunt over the fire, but he doesn't care what he eats.

Years spent as a bounty hunter and many planets visited had taught him to eat anything. Literally everything. Sometimes you think Din's stomach is made of beskar too.

Unfortunately for you, Grogu also has some strange food preferences (like father like son). You've seen him eat a frog more than once! But he, like you, thinks that soup with live 'octopus' is not normal!

That's why you forced Din to add a kitchen to your little house on Nevarro.

"Yes, Din, we need a kitchen!"

And you like cooking, especially for Grogu, who always accompanies you in the kitchen, because this little one is always hungry. But Din appreciates your cooking too, and you know it when he sneaks up behind you while you're cooking and gives you a sweet kiss on the cheek.

🥗 Marcus Pike

Marcus loves cooking for you! And he's great at it, he just needs to have time for it. He used to order takeaway food very often, but not because he didn't like cooking, because he didn't have time.

But since you became his wife, he slowed down, wanting to focus more on family life. Cooking is his form of love language.

Sometimes you even have to force him out of the kitchen and tell him that this time you will make dinner. But even then, Marcus will offer to help you with cleaning and washing the dishes.

Marcus loves experimenting in the kitchen. He doesn't always get everything right, but you always praise him because you love seeing his happy smile and his eyes shining with joy.

If you get pregnant, Marcus will fulfill your strangest kitchen whims.

🧇 Javi G

Javi (like Oberyn) never had to learn to cook, he always had cooks or could afford expensive catering. However, Javi is not against cooking, especially if it makes you happy.

Just tell him what kind of dishes you like. Italian? Mexican? Chinese? No problem. Javi will hire a top chef to give him a cooking lesso.

Then he will proudly cook you your favorite dish. He will watch with impatience and nervousness as you take your first bite. When you tell him that something is delicious, Javi will go crazy with joy.

Of course, he won't finish with just one dish. After all this is Javi! Your hyperactive, passionate husband. So you can count on lots of interesting dishes cooked with love.

But of course Javi will also take you to expensive restaurants. Sometimes he just wants to spend more time with you and hold your hand while you wait for someone else to cook for you.

For the first time, I am ready to cheat on my husband Oberyn with my husband Jack or with Marcus… Oberyn, don't look at me like that, if it weren't for the servants, we would eat fried scorpions every day…

Pernament tag list: @harriedandharassed

[littlehypnone]

Of Sunlight

WC: 3k

Relationship: Little Aeon and Caregiver Swiss (also Little Rain, CG Mountain and CG Aether)

Tags: Cuddles, Play Date, Fluff, Food, Slice of Life

Day in the life of little Aeon and caregiver Swiss

Notes: Commissioned by @everybodyshusband <3

Read under the cut or on AO3.

Aeon wakes up slowly; his senses tuning into his surroundings one by one. He wiggles in his bed and curls up more tightly around his favorite plushie—a little bat, just like him. He’s too sleepy to realize that he’s still regressed and where he is just yet, though; he chuffs and nuzzles his cheek into the warmth under him.

It’s another hour before Aeon’s eyes finally open. He yawns and stretches and rubs his eyes and feels something rumbling under his ear and tightening around him. The little ghoul feels silly when he realizes it’s Swiss! He remembers now that yesterday ended with a bedtime story and cuddles in the multi ghoul’s bed. He chirps happily as he cuddles closer to him.

“Good morning, buggy,” the vibration of Swiss’ gravely morning voice coming from his chest makes Aeon feel all warm and cozy—safe.

“Mmm, hi Swissy,” Aeon purrs. “‘S n–nice.”

“It is,” the other confirms, not pointing out that the quintessence ghoul is still little. Why would he? It’s not an issue in the slightest; he just wants his bug safe and happy. “I like having my cuddly buggy with me.”

Aeon giggles at the name, “An’ I l–like havin’ my warm Swissy wiv me.”

It takes another while for them to roll out of bed and start getting ready for the day. Swiss helps Aeon pick an outfit to match the weather, wash their face, brush their hair and soon enough they’re on their way down to the kitchen; their hands clasped together.

“What do you want for breakfast today?” Swiss asks as he is already rummaging through the cabinets. They’re always full of absolutely everything and even though the pack tried a system of each having an assigned shelf for their favorite food and snacks, it all blurred soon enough and now it’s just…chaos.

“Hmmm…” Aeon hums, thinking, “I fink the–the rice f–flakes.”

“With raisins and all?”

“Yes, please!”

“You’re such a polite little ghoul, buggy,” Swiss smiles at him and the quintessence ghoul blushes pale lilac. He loves when Swiss is all nice to him like that, it makes him feel so loved. “I’m on it.”

Aeon focuses on playing with his bat plushie by the table as the multi ghoul works on their breakfast. He can see Swiss stirring the pot with the slowly warming up milk, preparing the rice flakes and the raisins and setting up mugs for their drinks, coffee and hot chocolate.

In no time at all it’s all ready and Aeon claps excitedly when Swiss sets everything up in front of him. “You m–made a face!”

“That I did.” The multi ghoul smiles proudly as Aeon smiles at the raisins laid out on top of the milk in the shape of a crooked smiley face. “Enjoy it, buggy.”

Both of them eat their breakfast rather quickly and soon enough Aeon is slurping up the last bit of his hot chocolate. He looks up at Swiss and snorts out a laugh when he sees foam from his coffee sitting on his mustache. “Swissy! Your f–face!”

“Huh?” the multi ghoul pretends to be completely clueless. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Your m…m–m–mustache is white,” they keep on giggling and pointing at him despite struggling a little with the longer word. Swiss dramatically acts out having a revelation and finally wipes the foam off.

“Better?”

“Bet–ter,” Aeon confirms. The multi ghoul sends him a toothy grin and stands up to gather up the dishes. “Swissy, c–can we visit Aeth?”

“‘Course we can!” the multi ghoul assures, but after a moment he realizes there might be a hidden question in there. “Are you alright, though, buggy? Why do you want to visit him?”

“‘M okay, not h–hurt,” Aeon giggles at how Swiss’ brows furrowed in worry right away, “miss Aeth, ‘s all.”

“Okay, okay, you silly little creature.” The multi ghoul shakes his head with a smile. “Let’s go and from there we can go to visit Mounty in the greenhouse, too. I heard there’s a little lady in there with him today, maybe you two could play for a while?”

“Rainy?” Aeon gasps, already excited at the prospect of playing with his best friend.

“Yup! I’ll message Mounty and ask what their plans are, okay?”

The quintessence ghoul nods eagerly. Swiss goes back into the kitchen to dispose of the dirty dishes and grab his phone that he left on the counter. Aeon can see him typing up a quick message before he shoves it into his pocket and returns to the small ghoul.

“Do you want a ride?” Swiss winks with a grin as he points at his back with a thumb.

Aeon could never say no to a piggy back ride and so he smiles widely himself and nods. “Yes, p–please!”

“Alright, then, buggy, hop on,” the multi ghoul chuckles and crouches down to allow Aeon to climb on. He doesn’t get smaller when regressed, but he’s a slight ghoul anyway. He obliges and once he’s glued himself to Swiss’ back he starts purring immediately. “Ready? Off to see Aeth we go!”

The  infirmary is quite literally on the other side of the Abbey, so getting there takes them a small eternity, but Aeon couldn’t be happier about such a journey on Swiss’ back. He doesn’t mind it either; an adorable purring little backpack is a great companion.

“Do you want to surprise him, buggy?” Swiss asks once they finally get there, still outside the door.

“Yes!” the little ghoul cheers and scrambles to get off of the multi ghoul’s back. “Wanna su’pise Aeth!”

“Alright, let me check if I can see him,” Swiss giggles, cracking the door open just enough to take a look inside the main room of the infirmary. Aether is there with his back turned to the door and he seems to be taking inventory; rummaging through shelves and taking down notes. “Okay, buggy, if you sneak in quietly he won’t see you. You can go up and hug him, how’s that?”

Aeon nods with a wide grin. Swiss opens the door some more and lets him in.

He watches from a distance as the little ghoul does his best to creep up on Aether; he’s a little clumsy and the older quintessence ghoul most likely already heard him or felt his energy, but he’s nothing if not a good actor.

“Oh, hello there!” Aether laughs as Aeon gets to him and glues himself to his back, wrapping his arms tightly around him. “Didn’t see ya there, kid.”

“W–we came to visit ‘cause I m–missed you,” Aeon confesses, nuzzling their face against Aether’s shoulder.

“That’s nice of you, I’m always happy to see you,” he chuckles, turning around in Aeon’s arms to bring him close to his chest in a bear hug. “Who’s with you, kiddo?”

“Swissy!” The aforementioned comes in through the door with his signature grin plastered on his face. The older quintessence ghoul rolls his eyes at him with a smile on his own.

“Hi, spark,” Aether greets him and earns himself a peck on the cheek. “What have you two demons been up to today?”

“Nothing much yet,” Swiss shrugs. “Buggy was very sleepy, wasn’t he?”

“Yeahhh…” Aeon agrees. He still didn’t let go of Aether, but the other doesn’t seem to mind. “Bu’ we w–wanna go t–to Mounty an’ R–Rainy.”

“I’m sure they’d love to have you, kiddo. Do you wanna sit down for a moment?” The little ghoul nods into his chest and pulls away to take a hold of Aether’s hand instead. The other walks them to his little office and flops down onto a big chair before patting his lap in an invitation. Aeon, of course, takes it and curls up against the older ghoul in a cat-like manner. “There we go, all cozy.”

“How’s it in here today?” Swiss asks him, sitting on the edge of Aether’s desk.

“I’m not going to use the s-word,” he laughs, “but there haven’t been any incidents yet.”

“Gotcha.” The multi ghoul nods. A relative silence falls after that, interrupted only by the most adorable quiet purring coming from the little ghoul curled up in Aether’s lap. He and Swiss gesture and mouth to themselves above Aeon’s head about just how precious he is.

It’s a while before someone moves—the big ghouls think Aeon has fallen asleep. At some point a sibling of sin comes in needing Aether’s assistance, though, so Swiss and Aeon decide to get going.

“I’ll text Mountain to tell him we’re on our way,” Swiss tells the little ghoul.

Before they leave, Aether squeezes Aeon once again and gives him a few lollipops to share with Swiss, Rainy and Mountain. The little ghoul is overjoyed. He and Swiss leave the infirmary and the multi ghoul offers Aeon a piggy back ride again; he takes the offer, of course. A few minutes into their walk Swiss feels a vibration and hears a ping coming from his phone. He pauses and fishes it out to check the notification.

“Mountain asks if we can bring some snacks for lunch on our way,” he turns his head to look at Aeon as best as he can with him hanging off of his back. “What do you say?”

“Yes, snackies! Le’s go!”

“Alright, then,” Swiss giggles and turns in the ghouls’ den direction.

Aeon is so much happier after visiting Aether and the prospect of playing with his best friend; he’s kicking his legs and humming as the multi ghoul carries him down to the kitchen.

“Okay, what do we take?” Swiss asks when they reach the kitchen and he sits the little ghoul on the counter. “Definitely some Capri-Sun for you.”

“For Rainy t–too!” Aeon reminds him. “An’–an’ the crackers, Rainy loves the c–crackers.”

Swiss could just about melt at how caring, kind and considerate Aeon is, big or small.

“Capri-Sun and crackers for Rainy, got it,” he says as he throws them into a basket. “Something else you want?”

“Hm…” he considers for a second, “the–the ap’l sauce! For me an’ Mounty.”

Swiss and pulls some apple sauce packets from a cupboard.

“Ap’l s–sauce for Mounty ‘cause i’s green like h–him,” Aeon explains and the multi ghoul nods in acknowledgement, smiling.

“Anything else, buggy?”

“Somefink for y–you!” the little ghoul points out. “You like the c–cookies.”

“Oh, I really do like cookies, you’re right,” Swiss hums and gets a pack into their basket. “I think that’s all we need, hm?”

“Yes! Wanna p–play wiv Rainy now!”

“So excited, aren’t you?” Aeon nods; so excited indeed. “Alright, but I’m afraid you have to walk this time, I have to carry the basket.”

“Dat’s fine,” the little ghoul shrugs and hops off of the counter. “Le’s go!”

He’s out the door before Swiss even grabs the basket, laughing. He follows two steps behind Aeon until they’re outside and halfway down the way to the greenhouse.

“Can I r–run?” he asks, giving Swiss his best puppy eyes.

“Yeah, you can, buggy.”

“Wohooo!” He grins and turns on his heel right away.

“Just be careful!” Swiss calls after him. It’s not a huge distance to the greenhouse from there and the way is rather even so the multi ghoul doesn’t worry. He watches as the little ghoul runs with his tail swishing behind him and storms into Mountain’s greenhouse.

Swiss makes his way down slowly and with care to the snacks he’s carrying. When he gets inside he sees Mountain standing over and watching with a smile as the two little ghouls hug each other. Swiss grins and comes up to the earth ghoul to hug him, too.

“Hi, big guy. They’re so cute my heart hurts,” he chuckles.

“They really are,” Mountain agrees. “You should’ve seen them when Aeon just got here.”

“Ah, can’t miss it next time.” Rain and Aeon finally pull away and the little water ghoulette runs up to greet Swiss—one of her favorite caregivers—while Aeon goes to Mountain.

“Hey, princess,” the multi ghoul murmurs into Rain’s hair as she throws his arms around him.

Aeon all but climbs Mountain at the same time. “I g–got ap’l sauce for you!”

“Did you, now? That’s very nice, Aeon, thank you!” the earth ghoul giggles, holding him up under his legs after he wrapped them around his waist. The quintessence ghoul holds on tightly for a little while longer—just as Rain is holding onto Swiss—but eventually they all part.

“Alright, who’s hungry?” Swiss asks, holding up the basket they brought. “We’ve got snacks!”

“Yippee!” Rain cheers, clapping her hands as she sits on a big picnic blanket Mountain spread out in the middle of the greenhouse. Aeon grabs something from the basket before joining her.

“I have c–crackers and Capri-Sun f–for you, Rainy,” the quintessence ghoul hands them to her, both blushing slightly.

“It’s my favorite crackers!” Rain beams as she grabs the snacks and inspects them. “Thank you, Ae!”

“You’re wellc–come,” Aeon giggles. Swiss sets the basket between the two little ghoul’s and sits with Mountain a little to the side, giving Rain and Aeon some space for themselves.

The little quintessence ghoul grabs himself a juice, sticks the straw in and starts to slurp happily, but his brows furrow when he notices Rain struggling with opening it.

“D’you wan’ h–help, Rainy?” he offers shyly.

The little water ghoulette only nods and hands her Capri-Sun to Aeon for him to open. It really is tricky sometimes and no one is better skilled in it than him. He hands it back to her with a bright grin, so proud of himself and happy to help his friend.

“Thank you,” Rainy mumbles. After that it’s all a blur for her and Aeon, really. They share their snacks—Swiss and Mountain gasp when Rain gives Aeon one of her crackers; she rarely shares those, they’re special—and once the basket is empty, they jump up excited and full of energy to play. The caregivers keep an eye on them for the next few hours as they run around the greenhouse and outside of it, playing in so many creative ways. They play hide and seek and tag and some game without a name that is apparently based on hanging things off of their horns. They both have so much fun that day it feels like it’s going to be impossible to get them to their beds.

Mountain and Swiss only decide it’s time for Rain and Aeon’s day to end when both littles start yawning and rubbing their eyes. Their decision is only proven right when they don’t protest being picked up and carried back to the Abbey.

The dinner in the den is planned quite late today because of Aether’s long shift in the infirmary, which means Swiss and Mountain having two littles on their hands have to come up with something else themselves. They make it work; the earth ghoul takes Rain and Aeon to entertain them—and keep them from falling asleep—on the couch in the common room while Swiss makes them all grilled cheese and pours some juice into their sippy cups.

Both littles are exhausted after the long—but super fun—day they had, yawning every two minutes as Mountain does his best to distract them from the tiredness tugging down their eyelids.

The grilled cheese by Swiss—no one misses the joke potential there—is always delicious and even despite their compelling need to sleep, Aeon and Rain devour it like never before. When the plates are clean, Mountain picks Rain up and sets her on his hip and they both murmur the others’ goodnight. Swiss grabs Aeon, too, switches the common room lights off and carries the little quintessence ghoul to his bedroom.

“I’d let you skip the shower tonight if not for the dirt on your face,” Swiss remarks, swiping a gentle finger through the aforementioned mud on Aeon’s cheek.

“I c–can show’r, ‘s okay,” he assures the multi ghoul and he doesn’t doubt it.

“Alright,” he smiles, “I’ll prepare some cozy jammies for you and leave them by the tub, okay? Then I’ll wait here for you.”

“Mhm, ok–kay.”

“Off you go then.” Swiss ruffles his hair. “Just be careful, don’t slip, buggy.”

Aeon nods once again and disappears into the bathroom. As promised, the multi ghoul gets his jammies and once he hears the shower curtain being closed and the water being turned on, he steps into the bathroom and lays the clothes on a tray by the tub.

As he waits for the quintessence ghoul to be done, Swiss takes care of the nest; fluffing up and rearranging the pillows and blankets. He sits Aeon’s plushie atop it all—handling it with the care it deserves—changes into pajamas himself and waits. He emerges from the bathroom soon enough, with wet hair and a tired face.

“Really sleepy again, aren’t we, buggy?” Swiss asks, but not to tease. Aeon gets extremely cuddly and soft when he’s like this and the multi ghoul can never get enough of spending time with him.

“Mhm…’m real s’eepy,” he confirms before letting out yet another yawn.

“You’re adorable,” Swiss mutters, making Aeon smile softly. “Come on, bedtime.”

The little ghoul obliges, crawling into the nest and wiggling his body to bury himself under all the comforters. He grabs his plushie and brings it close to his face to rub it against his cheek. Swiss feels like he could melt into a puddle at the spot as he watches him.

He gets in after him and lays on his side—head propped up against his bent arm—letting the little ghoul choose if he wanted contact or not; and if he did, what kind. Of course it was easy to presume that Aeon would shuffle closer, but Swiss always gives him space to make a choice.

The little quintessence ghoul lays his head against Swiss’ arm and puts his face close to his chest—he loves being all small and safely tucked against the bigger ghoul. Swiss wraps his free arm around him and holds him close.

“C–can I get a bed st–story?” Aeon whispers after a minute; barely audible as he’s already falling asleep.

“Of course you can, buggy,” Swiss answers equally quietly. He leans down to kiss his forehead before starting the tale. “Once upon a time, deep in the woods, there was a tunnel. It wasn’t a normal tunnel, it was a magical one made of big trees…”

Aeon is fast asleep before Swiss even gets to introducing the main character.