#How do you approach someone who is holding down back and crouching when they have both a fireball and an invincible flash kick

[vivlily]

"ba baba baa" - Vatista

no beam below

[luveline]

Ok what about a lil fic of Remus being snappy with his gf leading up to the full moon? Just some angst and then fluffy ending with them reconciling

thank u for ur request! —remus says something he shouldn't before the full moon, and later campaigns for your forgiveness with affection and a confession. fem!reader, 1.2k

Remus lays on the couch with his forearm pressed to his eyes. It's the day before the full moon, and he feels the hours approaching like a death sentence every time. You hover in the doorway, watching, unsure of how to help. He gets the same every month (or rather, every cycle). 

Irritable. So anxious he can't breathe properly, let alone enter conversation. 

You hate seeing him like this. Your Remus, who spends every moment you're together trying to make sure you're as happy as you can be. 

Cautious, you round the sofa to crouch by his face. You hold out your hand, trailing a gentle fingertip down the length of his arm, tripping over pinched skin ridged by scars. He's beautiful no matter what, but he gets insecure about how he looks every full moon. You know he thinks he's a monster. You've no way to prove it to him beyond this. 

"Hey, handsome," you say softly. "I know you're not hungry, but I made dinner anyway if you feel up to it. And I know," —you drop your voice to a near whisper— "I know you're not in the mood, but I'm here. I can sit here and stroke your hair in silence all night if that's what you want, my love. I'll do whatever you want." 

"Then leave me alone," he says. 

Half snap, half firm defeat. You wince at the ire in his voice. It won't ever be nice to have someone you love speak to you like you're getting on their nerves, but you know what it is he's facing. You know this is hard for him to cope with. You can forgive him for everything if he makes it through this in one piece. 

"Okay. I'm sorry. I love you, Remus." 

He turns his head toward the sofa cushions. 

You leave the room with a heavy heart. In the kitchen, you try to eat, but every mouthful makes you feel sick, your eyes welling with tears as you chew. You're hurt, he's hurting, and this really, really sucks. 

The smell of dinner starts to amplify the nausea. You grab your plate and carry it to the back door, scraping your leftovers straight into the rubbish. You wash your plate and leave it to drip dry on the draining board, your eyes burning. You sniff, wiping your nose in your sleeve. 

You're hoping desperately that Remus will come around before bed, but he stays where he is. Thinking he's finally found sleep and wanting to leave him to that blissful reprieve, you creep through the living room and down the hallway into the bedroom. Tears fall as you change into your pyjamas. You're so tired that you barely have time to cry yourself to sleep. 

You're not sure how much longer it is when you wake. A familiar hand cups your cheek. 

From the warmth of your skin, he's had his hand there for a while. 

"I'm so sorry," Remus says. 

You don't know how he knows you're awake. He must have been watching you long enough to spot the difference. Honestly, you're not sure you want to see him yet, because you love him so much, and it breaks your heart to be at the end of his disdain even when you know the cause. 

You struggle to see him in the dark. 

"I should never have spoken to you like that." 

Your eyes close of their own accord, exhausted and sore from crying. "You didn't mean it." 

"I wish you'd shout at me," he murmurs, sliding his hand over your ear. His thumb draws along the shell of your ear. 

"I'm too tired," you mumble. 

Remus' head shifts closer to yours. Sharing the same pillow, his hand falls to your shoulder, his arm wrapping around you, a firm bicep pressed to your front. 

You let yourself lean into it. His breath warms the space between your brows. 

"It's no excuse, but I… I can't think of anything else but the pain, sometimes. I get so angry about it, because I'm–" He stops short, swallowing audibly in the otherwise silent room. "I'm scared. But I would be a hundred times more terrified if I didn't have you, knowing you're there for me, unflinchingly, before and after it happens, it helps me get through it. It's not fair that you give me so much peace and I just… 

"I'm sorry, dove. I don't mean to take advantage of your… heart." He says heart like he's been winded. He hadn't sounded finished, but everything stops at that word. 

You force your eyes open. He's looking at you with an unspeakable amount of love, kind to keel you over if you were standing. His eyes are pitch black in the lack of light, irises melded with pupils, giving him an even sorrier gaze. You raise a sluggish hand to his where it rests behind your back and pull it back to your face. You miss his touch. 

"I love you," you say. 

"I know," he says, his jaw tensing in an attempt to stage off tears. "I love you, too." You watch them collect in the corners of his eyes, following one as it slides to rest in the dip of his nose bridge while he lies on his side like this. 

"So don't be sorry." 

"But I am sorry. I can't fathom why I think it's okay to treat you that way." 

"You don't think at all, Remus. I'm not being flippant, but you're busy worrying about the worst of it." You shake your head gently. His hand twitches against your cheek. "I don't blame you." 

"I know," he utters. 

You stare up at him as he sits enough to tower over you. His smile is sorry, in love and ashamed. You want to tell him how it doesn't matter, that it's okay, but you're thinking maybe you need him to say it first. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Remus, you only told me to leave you alone." 

"I need you to know that any other time, you're all that I want. You're everything. I couldn't ask for more than you. Please don't think I'm cruel," he pleads in a whisper. 

You lift your chin incrementally. "I'd never think that." 

His apology kiss is coddling. Like he's worried he'll hurt you, like he's holding back, he kisses you like you can't handle more than a chaste press of the lips. 

"I love you," he says into it. 

You lift your head to kiss him harder. You love him, and you won't break. You can be exactly as strong as he needs you to be, so long as love waits at the end of the night. 

"I love you." A huff of a laugh escapes him. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?" Caution has his joke falling flat.

You nuzzle your cheek against his, knowing you'd forgiven him just as soon as he'd snapped. "If you let me stroke your hair. Did you eat your dinner?" 

"I'll eat it tomorrow," he says. A white lie, you both know, but he slides down further under the sheets so you can reach his head. 

You card your fingers through his hair until you've both fallen asleep. 

[wileys-russo]

leah williamson, “dont give me that look, i don’t like that look” changing room with arsenal!reader please🥹🫶🏻

l.williamson II the look

"alright girls! relay time." david the step in trainer for the afternoon yelled out with a grin, the rest of the staff pairing you all off to make two teams.

"as a team you will hold hands as you go through the course girls, if someone lets go or falls over you go back to the start. once you reach the blue poles you will break apart and take turns one by one sprinting to the end and back going around the pole at the end. each team will get a baton to be passed onto the next girl, you drop it on the handover then you run again, repeating until your entire team is back." david explained, everyone nodding their understanding and you chuckled watching leah shush a few of the younger ones with a stern look, clearly taking this as seriously as she could.

"ready on three!" david called, both lines of women crouching and ready as your girlfriend smirked across from you, the pair of you on opposite teams and knowing how fiercely competitive leah was, the results of this would be interesting.

"two, one...go!" you both took off, stood at the front and leading your teams around the obstacle course set up by the trainers, giggles filling the air as everyone tripped and stumbled, doing their best not to take the team down and cause a restart, but the series of very different heights and speeds made this anything but easy.

you did your very best to lead your team through though you knew leah bested you at that as you couldn't stop laughing and she couldn't stop shouting like a drill sergeant.

"go lots!" you all hurried to detatch as you arrived to the blue poles, leahs team just having a lead as lotte and stina raced off together for the first lap.

"yes foxy!" you clapped as the girl grabbed the baton, sprinting off and giving your team a tiny gap as beth fumbled the baton and needed to return to the start, shooting your girlfriend a smirk who groaned.

"beth come on man butter fingers honestly!" leah moaned as the blonde finally passed the baton over successfully and re-joined the group.

"oh its for fun leah, lighten up for god sakes you're such a stick in the mud!" beth rolled her eyes pushing the blonde shoulder, ignoring leahs 'constructive feedback' as she was now clearly the only one taking it seriously, everyone elses jeering and laughs of delight filling the air.

"yeah baby, lighten up." you teased as she heard but ignored you, kyra tagging alessia who bless her heart tripped over her own feet earning leahs team their lead back as alessia stumbled off to try and make up time.

"its fine less just brush it off!" you yelled after her, all of you clapping and supporting as once again leah was instead yelling at her team to hurry, kim next up who sprinted off as alessia smacked the baton into katies hand.

"good job twinkle toes." you grinned to the taller blonde who groaned and playfully punched you, collapsing to the ground beside lotte. you continued to all yell and cheer for your team as leah continued to try and motivate hers through different ways.

"this is like when we did the pacer test at school. horrendous!" alessia sighed, chugging a bottle of water with a shake of her head, the day unnaturally hot and you were all feeling it.

the lead was never more than a few seconds, bouncing from leahs teams to yours as both of you purposefully hung back so you could race one another. you may have had different approaches to it but there was no denying you were both determined to beat the other.

the final duo before the two of you finished it up were the aussies, steph for leahs team and caitlin for yours as both you and leah were screaming encouragement, the training staff watching on in amusement as the rest of the girls sat down with their waters.

caitlin just had a head on steph and slipping the baton into your hand you took off getting a good start over your girlfriend who you heard curse angrily behind you as she grabbed the baton and sprinted to try and catch up.

so much so that she didn't go around the pole at the end rather just touching it with her hand while you did it properly which lost you your lead, your whole team protesting heavily as leah crossed the line just before you, dropping her baton and pumping her fists as her team started to celebrate.

"nah thats bullshit she cheated!" you puffed, hands on your knees as you caught your breath and your team backed the accusation. "nah you're all just sore losers mate!" leah beamed, arms slung around lia and kim.

"rules were around the pole, leah only touched so her team is disqualified. winners!" david declared pointing to your team who all cheered, jumping on top of one another as leahs team exploded in protest, david waving it off as he and the rest of the staff began to walk off the pitch.

"you're all just sore losers." you mocked your girlfriends earlier words as the group split up and started to head back inside the training centre for lunch. you tried to hug leah who huffed and side stepped you, storming off inside as you watched her go with a laugh.

"doghouse for you mate." katie barked and pulled you into a headlock, dragging you with her back inside and to the change rooms, chants of victory filling the room as your team reveled in their win.

"hello loser." you appeared in front of leah with a grin, the blonde ignoring you making you shake your head and knock her legs apart, standing closer to her.

"don't give me that look, i don't like that look." leah mumbled catching the somewhat stern way you stared down at her. "because you're being a child." you bumped your knee against hers. "you cheated so you lost, karma." you reminded as your girlfriend mumbled something inaudible.

"you know if the shoe was on the other foot you'd be mugging me off left right and centre lee." you reminded, arms wrapping around her neck as you moved even closer as she huffed and looked up at you with a frown.

"don't pout baby, you should have played fair and you'd not paid the price." you laughed but bent down to kiss at her puckered bottom lip anyway, earning the two of you a wolf whistle.

"fuck off cooney-cross." leah warned leaning around you to shoot the younger girl a glare as she paled and near sprinted out of the room. "leah!" you laughed pushing at her shoulder as she shrugged and looked back up at you, tapping her lips expectantly.

"my girl i fear its gonna take a lot more kisses to make the pain of this loss go away." leah sighed dramatically, her head resting on your stomach as she was sitting down while you stood, rolling your eyes and pushing her fringe out of her face.

"well its a good thing we have the rest of our lives to make up and make out then my love."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Dogs III

Keira Walsh x Laura Feiersinger x Child!Reader

Summary: You meet Laura

"She's a kid," Keira says," Not a bomb. You don't have to be so worried."

Laura sits at her kitchen table, back ramrod straight as she taps her nails anxiously against the wooden finish. Her knee bounces as she glances at the door.

The custody schedule for you between Lucy and Keira is fairly fluid. It mainly follows Narla's custody schedule but you can still decide to stay a day or two extra at your other mother's house if you want to.

You were with Lucy and Ona this week and now's the swap over so you're coming back to Keira.

Laura had timed her visits to overlap with your weeks with Lucy just because the boundaries were always a little blurry. Keira had never expressed an interest in having the two of you meet, especially not so early in the relationship.

Laura assumes that there were lots of talks between Lucy and Keira about how to approach your interactions with their partners. With Ona now at Barcelona with you, it was difficult to keep you away.

Keira's described you as highly social so there was no way you'd just avoid someone so, with your meeting with Ona imminent, Keira had put out feelers to see if Laura would have liked to meet you too.

She had gotten into this relationship knowing that Keira had a kid. It was hard not to know when the whole community (players and fans) had blown up one day when you'd been revealed to the public. Laura hadn't gotten into this relationship with the idea of never interacting with you.

She thought she was ready but now all she can think about is how anxious she feels.

The ring of the doorbell feels like a death sentence and Laura remains rooted in her seat as Keira goes to open the door.

"Mummy!" You cheer, slamming into her legs to hug her tight.

Keira stumbles a little, her hand moving to cup the back of your head with a soft smile on her face. "Hi, pup."

"She's had breakfast," Lucy says, unclipping Narla's leash to let her run free in the house," And she's got a few leftover snacks from yesterday."

"Okay. Thanks."

"Oh! And we went to the carnival yesterday and Ona won her a few stuffed animals so they're in her bag."

"I'll chuck them in the washer," Keira says, grabbing your bag," Who knows how long those toys were hanging up there."

"I'm going to head off then. I'll see you at training on Monday."

"Pup!" Keira calls," Mum's going now! Say goodbye."

"Bye, Mum!" You chirp," Love you!"

"Love you too."

The dance swings shut and Laura's breathing picks up a little bit.

You're a bit preoccupied with Keira and don't even seem to have noticed Laura sitting there.

Keira's crouched down at your height as she looks through your overnight bag and all the new toys you have as you try to explain each one and how Ona won it for you.

"Hey," Keira says softly," I want you to meet someone."

You frown, head cocking to the side in confusion. "Why?"

"Well, you know how like Mum and Ona are dating now?"

"I like Ona," You say," Has puppy called Coco."

Keira nods. "Well, I'm dating someone too and I'd like you to meet her."

Laura holds her breath. She'd been warned in advance about meeting you. She knew that you hadn't exactly taken well to Ona at first. She's prepared herself for this kind of thing.

Little steps first.

Keira turns you around and points at her.

"This is Laura, my girlfriend."

You frown at her, hair swaying as your head tilts even further to one side. "Is Laura?"

"Yep. This is Laura."

"Play football too?"

"Does Laura play football too?"

"Yes."

"She does," Keira says," She plays for Austria."

You frown deepens. "Austria is country? Like England?"

"That's right."

You take a step towards Laura, wandering over until there's barely any space between you, head tilted up to stare.

"You like puppies?"

"Er...yes, I do."

Laura crosses her fingers.

You don't talk for a moment before a massive smile appears on your face. "I love puppies!" You point at your t-shirt. "See! Puppy on my top! Is called a King Charles puppy!"

You seem so excited now and Laura feels all of the tension melt away as you rock back and forth on your feet, waffling on and on about dogs.

"We have puppy!" You tell her," My Narla!" You turn around. "Narla! Narla!"

Narla pokes her head up from where she's made herself comfortable on the sofa and you shoot off to get her.

"See," Keira teases," She's not that scary."

"I don't know," Laura jokes back," Any kid with that much knowledge about dogs is a little scary. She's so tiny. Where does she keep it all?"

You haul Narla off the sofa and into your arms, toddling back to Laura.

"Is my Narla!" You tell her and Laura has to smother her laughter at how resigned Narla is to this treatment," Mum says is West Highland Terrier! She's pretty!"

Narla huffs a little bit and cranes her head back to lick you on the nose, sending you into a peel of giggles.

"Why don't you put Narla down?" Keira asks gently," And go and find your big dog book for Laura? I'm sure she wants to learn about other dogs too."

You nod quickly, placing Narla gently on the floor before you're off like a shot to your room.

"She's got a big dog book?"

Keira nods. "Every breed in the world. She likes having it read for her bedtime story. I think I might have memorised it by now."

You come sliding into the room, both of your arms wrapped around your dog encyclopaedia.

Laura slips off her chair and goes down to your height, smiling at just how excited you are.

"So many puppies," You say," What you want to see first?"

Laura glances back at Keira, who nods, before smiling back at you, getting comfortable on the floor.

"Why don't you show me your favourite breed?"

[tinylilacbun]

Hey! How are you? Hope you’re doing well. I was wondering if you can do a big brother rafe where the sister is like 3-4 and they went out to get ice cream and she gets lost and he’s freaking but she freaking out and she runs into JJ and he helps her find him. Whould love to see what Rafes reaction would be seeing JJ carry his little sister in his arms.

Mini Cameron Lost

Pairing: brother!rafe cameron x toddler!sister!reader, jj maybank x toddler!reader

Warnings: reader gets lost, rafe and jj not going at each other's throats for once

A/n: I LOVE THIS REQUEST! You're reading my mind cause I've been thinking about something like that a few days ago 🥹 and I'm doing good thanks for asking 🫶🏻

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You have been asking Rafe for days to take you out for ice cream and he finally caved in after your constant whining and begging. Now you both stand in line of a nice ice cream shop.

You are holding onto one of his fingers, waiting patiently for your turn when the ringing of Rafe's phone can be heard and he pulls his hand from your grasp so he could fish it out from his pocket.

That few seconds of letting you go was his great mistake as a stray cat caught your attention from the corner of your eye, your feet taking you in its direction without a second thought.

As expected the cat starts walking away and around a street corner as you start to approach it. You pick up your speed as well, toddling after it. Soon the cat jumps over a fence and you frown, realizing your chance to pet it is gone.

You didn't notice that you had been following the stray for a while so as you turn around and can't see Rafe anywhere you start to panic.

"Rafey?" You call out, bottom lip wobbling when no answer comes.

While you were helplessly walking around in search of your brother Rafe was freaking out himself. The second he ended the call and looked down at his side his heart practically dropped when you weren't standing next to him.

He instantly starts looking for you, his hands in his hair and shouting your name. "Shit, shit, shit. Fuck!"

Meanwhile you were crying and still walking around aimlessly. Through your blurry vision you can't see someone approaching you, suddenly bumping into a set of legs and landing on your butt.

"Whoa, careful there." JJ chuckles but quickly stops at noticing how distraught you are, crouching down in front of you. "Hey...you good?"

You only sob in response, rubbing your eyes frustratedly. "Wan' Rafey..."

JJ's eyes widen, realizing who you are and looks around for any sign of the kook who he can't stand even if he tried and vice versa. He quickly snaps his attention back to you when your crying gets louder, instinctively reaching under your armpits to pick you up.

"Hey, shh. Guess you got lost, huh? Don't worry, imma help ya find him, yea?" He bounces you a few times to try and soothe you.

Rafe was losing his mind, he has been searching you now for 20 minutes and was freaking out. He is about to call his dad, still looking around frantically when his eyes caught something.

He visibly relaxes when he sees JJ approaching him with you held on his hip. "Think you lost this, man."

"Thank god..." Rafe mutters, quickly closing the distance and doesn't hesitate to take you from JJ when you reach out for him, sobbing all over again the second you're in his arms. "You scared me to death, kid."

He holds you tightly, afraid you're gone the second he lets go again. He only pulls back to look you over for any visible injuries. "You okay? Not hurt anywhere?"

You simply press your face into his neck, grabbing his shirt in your hands and sniffling quietly.

JJ coughs awkwardly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "She was walking around near the cut. You're lucky I was the one who found her and not some junkie."

Rafe glances at him, rubbing your back subconsciously. "Thanks..."

"Ah, don't mention it." He waves it off.

"No, I'm serious. Thank you. I don't even want to think about what could have happened if you wouldn't have found her..." Rafe sighs, his hold on you tightening even more at the thought of something terrible happening to you because he didn't watch you for a second.

JJ simply nods, reaching up pat your head two times. "Better keep an eye on that one." He remarks before walking off.

Rafe just rolls his eyes, kissing the top of your head multiple times. "Never run off again. Can't believe you made me thank Maybank." He grumbles. "Now, let's go get you that damn ice cream."

"With spwinkles?" You ask quietly and he chuckles.

"You got it, with extra sprinkles."

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Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @iris-xoxo-juhu

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity

[lehguru]

BE MINE + ONE PIECE MEN

request: them asking the reader to be their partner + luffy, zoro, sanji & law

info: gn!reader, i forgor how i characterize them so bear with me, also this is me trying to crawl back to one piece so im sorry if its rlly bad; not proofread!!! (i should start asking ppl to beta read those istg)

monkey d.luffy didn't really straight up asked you to be his partner. luffy being luffy, he walked up to you one day and said that you were his partner. you, having feelings for the captain for a really long time now, chuckled nervously, asking "what do you mean?". as he explained that nami told him that if he liked you, then he should ask you out, you could hear the red head sighing from somewhere—you knew at least half of the crew was watching you two right now. you laughed softly at the proud smile he wore and nodded, agreeing to be his.

roronoa zoro was almost the same as luffy, but at least he had the decency to actually ask you about it. during a beautiful day, you were on one side of the little garden that was built in the thousand sunny's deck, helping robin to water the plants. out of nowhere, a shadow was cast upon your crouching form; looking up, you noticed the green haired swordsman and smiled at him, getting up. "yes, zor—"

cutting you off, he asked in the same stoic tone he almost always had: "do you want to be my partner?". your eyes went wide and you let out a small exclamation of surprise. taking that as a denial, he turned back and started to walk away, but you managed to yell out his name. "yes! i will be your partner." the man huffed and nodded, but you could see a slight blush dusting his cheekbones.

when the subject is romance and love, you always expect sanji to be a master at it. out of everyone, he should be the one knowing how to ask someone to be his significant other, but he has never felt this... strongly about someone like he feels about you. when he approaches you to ask that, he's holding a little box with your favorite dessert, his long slender fingers shaking a little as words seemed to catch on his throat for the first time in front of someone he loves. he took a deep breath, a bead of sweat dripping down the back of his neck, you touching his arm and asking 'is everything okay, sanji?' with your sweet voice sent him over the edge. "do you want to date me?", his words were clear for him, but for you, he simply spat all of them out at the same time. you told him to breathe and say it again, and he did, his eyes looking at the floor with the shame of the rejection that would surely come his way. your head almost bumped on his as you jumped on his arms, screaming a yes and giggling loudly. he hugged you and spun you around, giggles of his own leaving his pink lips.

trafalgar d.water law didn't want to acknowledge his feelings for you. you were one of his closest friends, one of the few people he trusted the most—you knew things about him that he never told another soul; so he was afraid of losing you. terrified even. he had lost enough people that he loved during his life and he couldn't bear to lose another one. but... his other friends knew a little too much about his "silly" feelings.

"c'mon man, go ask them out." law saw himself being cornered by penguin, sachi and bepo one day, all of them with playful expressions. "the worst you can get is a punch."

he tried to ignore them, ignore how his cheeks seemed to be heating up, but they were being so obnoxious and annoying, he couldn't handle them anymore. with a burst of rage, he yelled at them, "can you shut up? i don't like them and they don't like me, either!"

"like who?" your voice made his heart leave his body and he felt like stabbing the three men—and bear—that were running away now. "no one." law replied, scoffing to himself for the slip up. "torao! tell me! come on!" now you were the one bugging him and he rubbed his face with his hand. you poked his cheek, giving him a little pout. "law, please!"

"it's you." he snapped, making you freeze. "it's you, dumbass." surprising the man, you started to giggle, making him go from annoyed to even more embarassed. "what?" you kissed his lips softly and started to walk away, saying that you accepted to be his partner.

2024 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used in them belong to their respective creators!!

[dixonsgirl93]

Locked in with Daryl Dixon

Daryl Dixon x Fem!reader

Warnings: smut, mutual hand jobs

Word count: 1.2k

Requested by anon

~~

Daryl motions for you to get in the boot, you clamber inside, quickly followed by him who ties the trunk shut with a bloodied rag. The growl and shuffle of walkers gets louder, the car rocking as they bumped into it. They banged on the trunk door, smelling the sweat on you both.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, hoping the rag would be enough to keep you both safe. The trunk was getting increasingly humid, sweat dripped down your back and into your eyes. You tried several times to wipe it away to no avail.

Eventually you were met with a storm, along with the noise of the dead, the sky crackled with thunder, the wind howling in the gaps around you. As if the night could get any worse.

On the bright side, you had Daryl with you who had shuffled back to give you more space in the cramped trunk. While you were grateful, also having claustrophobia, you also wished he’d hold you. You wished a lot of things but knew you wouldn’t get it. Being at least 10 years younger than the man, he probably saw you at best as a little sister. You sighed unintentionally, expressing your disdain for the whole situation.

“You all right?” Daryl’s rough voice came from behind you. You nodded, not trusting your voice. “You sure? You been breathing heavy for hours. You got asthma?” You shook your head.

“I’m fine.” You whispered, shakily, proving you were anything but.

One particular loud bang of a walker on the trunk made you jump and yelp. A warm, heavy hand squeezed your hip gently.

“Don’t worry. We’re safe enough.” His voice was a low rumble in his throat. The vibrations of his chest against your back sent coils of pleasure to your groin.

Another loud clap of thunder as the storm passed overhead made you jump again. You always hated sudden loud noise like that. Daryl’s hand snaked around your waist and pulled you in to his chest, his hand flat against your stomach. You became ultra aware of every part of your body that touched his, momentarily forgetting the storm and the walkers.

You froze for a moment, taken aback at his sudden touch. You had no idea how to approach this. You were sure, however, that this was merely a comforting gesture and not because he had feelings for you.

During the night, while you both lay there, huddled close, another, smaller wave of walkers pass, bumping into the car and startling you awake. For a moment you forgot where you were, feeling only the heat and the pressure of someone holding you. Panic rises in you before a hand gently squeezes your middle.

“Hey. It’s okay. It’s me.” A reassuring voice grumbled next to your ear. He sounded a little groggy too, like he’d been napping. Although you were sure he hadn’t, he was always too wired in situations like these.

You start to fidget and try to stretch your limbs and your back and accidentally press into Daryl’s crouch. His hand freezes on your middle.

“Don’t wiggle so much.” His face, his voice, buried in your hair, almost growls and that’s when you feel a new pressure press against your ass.

“Oh.” You whisper and his hand moves over your hip and to hold you there, squeezing gently. A soft grunt escapes him and you decide to test him, pushing your ass back into his crotch again.

“Stop. Please.” His voice comes out strained. Was he really turned on by you? You do it again, wiggling a bit for emphasis. His hand swings around your middle again and he pulls you tight into him, pushing down on your hips so his erection was right against you. You can’t help but moan, soft and breathy. His hand lets go and moves over your thigh, up over your hip, over your arm and back down again leaving your skin feeling electric.

At some point the storm outside passed and the walkers became fewer. Daryl decides to slip a hand under your shirt to massage a breast. You moan and your head falls back a little, enjoying the feel of his large, warm, calloused hand on you.

“You like when I do this?” Daryl’s ragged voice broke the silence. You nod and decide you really wanted to touch him too. Slipping a hand behind you and over his crotch you cup his erection through his jeans. He lets out a grunt and his dick pulses against your hand.

“You’re being so unfair, Daryl.” You whimper, massaging his erection.

“Says you with ya hand on ma dick.” He grunted, effectively humping your hand. “I know I’m being selfish, but you’re enjoying it. So who’s the real winner, here?” He pressed his face in your neck and nuzzled, kissing gently.

Without a word Daryl moved his hand from your shirt and glided it down your body to the buckle of your jeans, here he gently, quietly undid them and slipped a hand in. His fingers found your clit and circled gently. You moaned and grinded back on him, craving more.

“Easy girl, you’re rocking the car.” He murmured into your ear, his breath sending shivers over your skin. You whimpered as his hand sped up, two delightful fingers sending waves of pleasure through you. It wasn’t enough.

You move your hand from outside his jeans and clumsily try to put your hand inside, wrapping a hand around his veiny, throbbing, raging hard cock.

“Fuck.” You gasp, as he thrust into your hand. You were both so desperate for each other, needy, horny as hell but neither of you moved much, neither of you dared turn or shuffle out of clothes in case you brought attention to the car.

“If I keep doing this, reckon you’ll cum on my hand, princess?” He growled, his voice low and hungry. Wetness pooled and the sound of his fingers working on you made it loud in the trunk. “You’re so wet, does my voice turn you on?”

You nod. Your other hand reaches and presses his onto you, increasing the pressure and building up the orgasm, ready for release. Daryl circles his fingers faster and a loud moan escapes you.

“That’s it. Come on.” He urges, thrusting more into your hand. You gasp, gripping his dick as your orgasm comes to the surface, letting out a grunt of pleasure. “Good girl.” He grunts, breathless, as his cock throbs hard before a hot liquid pumps over your hand. He whimpers as his dick becomes sensitive, getting every drop of his cum out onto you.

“Fuck.” He whispers, breathless. He moves his hand from your clit and hugs you around your waist, making sure you stay as close as possible to him.

A couple of moments pass in near silence, both of you spent. You take your cum-covered hand out of his pants, wiping on a rag in the car, smiling at the fact any of it even happened.

“Hey.” You whisper, nudging Daryl gently. “It’s quiet outside. We can leave.” You untie the rag and both of you climb out, buttoning your jeans back up.

Daryl looks up at you and smiles cheekily like he’s just got away with stealing candy.

[urinarythreatinfection]

All the child fics I see have the child as a little ray of sunshine that’s loved to pieces by everyone, but I think it would be a little funny if they found a kid that was rather awkward instead. If you have any suggestions on other awkward kid reader like scenarios or other characters go ahead and request.

Shanks, Buggy, and Smoker with an Awkward!Child Reader.

Shanks

“Oh! Hey, there’s some kids here.” Shanks crouches down and speaks to you, but you quickly shake your head. “Listen, I know you aren’t the best at socializing but just try it out. Just for a bit?” He’s a bit worried, you don’t get to be with other kids much being on the Red Force. Looking into his eyes you start to feel a bit guilty, eventually nodding your head. Shanks smiles brightly “Great! C’mon, I’ll make sure you’re safe, okay?” He picks you up and goes over to the kids playing. Once you’re both close enough he sets you down, but you just stand there. He gives you a little push and you stiffly walk to the kids. They spot you and you freeze.

“Huh? Who are you?” They walk over to you and you go as still as possible. “Hello?” One of the kids waves a hand in front of your face but you just stand there like a statue. Shanks looks on, worried that you’ll get bullied. He shakes his head.

‘No, I should have faith in them as their father.’ He thinks to himself as the kids gather around the new strange child. They just kind of stare at you. One of the kids pokes you and you flinch.

“They move! How do you get all frozen like that, are you made of stone?” Your eyes slowly trail to your dad, nervous. He just gives you a thumbs up. Shanks gets approached by someone.

“Chief? Oh it’s you!” Shoot, he’s starting to get recognized, this damn hair. He has to entertain them a bit before they finally go away. Shanks quickly looks back to you, worried. The kids have.. started stacking things on you.

“Woahh…”The kids marvel at you. You have multiple blocks on your head, your stillness keeping them from falling. That’s… one way to socialize I guess. Your record is 10 blocks.

Mihawk

Mihawk holds you in his arms, he had taken you in a few months ago even before Cross Guild. To be honest, he was hesitant to bring you with him, but it was already known he had a child by this point. It’s safer to keep you where he can be with you, it’s one of the reasons he joined. Having a stable place to stay is best for you. Another worry he had is that the clown and Crocodile would be a bad influence on you, that you would turn into some sort of delinquent. Children can be unpredictable, and easily manipulated. However, that ended up not being the case. In fact, they seemed to be a good influence. Not because they were passing on good features, no, it was simply because you disliked them enough that you marked them as “bad examples”, he couldn’t be more relieved. It’s unfortunate you don’t make friends but this is better than becoming anything like Buggy or Crocodile. They had even attempted to appeal to you, trying to befriend you to have some sort of connection to Mihawk. Buggy so that Mihawk would be softer on him, Crocodile so that Mihawk would have incentive to be loyal. It didn’t work out. Crocodile realized very fast you were terrified of him, he isn’t the best with children either; and there’s too much risk trying to get close to you when your father hates when you’re scared. Buggy however…

“Hey, kid, here.” Buggy offers you candy, you stare at it then slowly back away, clearly uncomfortable. “Ah, uhhh.. What about this?” He starts to juggle, but you also look nervous, looking away. ‘This damn brat, aren’t kids supposed to like clowns?’ He curses in his head, but keeps a smile on his face. Finally, in one last effort, he pulls off his head and starts to do tricks with his limbs. “See? Cool isn’t i-” When he looks at the spot you were in you’re gone, like a mouse that skittered away. “God dammit, fucking kid.” Right as he says that he feels an intimidating presence behind him, hawk eyes digging into his back. He might be fucked.

Smoker

“Sea prism works on devil fruit users like Captain Smoker and this person. That’s why you don’t have to be scared, they can’t do anything to you.” Tashigi explains to you, holding the sea prism cuffs. She’s babysitting you for a bit while Smoker is taking care of business since you can’t exactly be left alone at your age. You had gotten startled by a prisoner being led to jail earlier, so she was explaining how they’re harmless with the cuffs on; even showing them to you. “You want to hold them?” You slowly nod and hold them in your little hands, they’re kind of heavy. While you’re looking at them Tashigi looks to the door, Smoker is back. “Ah Captain Smoker you’re ba-”

Click

…Oops. You put them on by accident. Immediately you start to panic, trying to get them off your wrist. “Ah, wait, I can just take them off for you. Stand still!” You’re panicking too much though, waving your arm around while Smoker sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Before she can grab you though, you end up flinging the cuff off of your wrist. It was too big to fit you anyway, the key wasn’t needed. Unfortunately, you end up flinging them directly at your dad, hitting him on the head. He flinches and falls back, the sea prism making him weak. “Captain Smoker!” He falls to the ground and you freak out like a startled cat, running around the office while knocking things over. Tashigi, flustered, doesn’t know what to do first. The cuffs slide off of his body and he moves again, grabbing you by the back of your shirt like a kitten. “I’m so sorry, sir I didn’t think-” He raises a hand to stop her.

Your father looks at you, your face guilty, and sighs. “It’s fine.” The office is a mess now, it’s actually a bit impressive. At least he doesn’t have to worry about people catching you. “No more cuffs.” He’ll worry about the office later, you’re more important.

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Ch 12

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

Another chapter as promised. Prepare for Finnick to enter his trust issues era…

Content Warnings - people were tortured, someone canonically attempts to kill Katniss (Peeta *cough cough*)

You wake up on a hovercraft, unsure of what happened. Peeta, Johanna and Annie are also in the room, but only you are awake. Was Annie also in the capital? She must have been. You’re thankful she looks unharmed.

Peeta and Johanna did not seem to get the same treatment as you and Annie. Peeta is extremely malnourished and is covered in cuts and bruises. Looking at Johanna, you would have thought she was dead if it wasn’t for the slow rise and fall of her chest.

One of the soldiers notices you are awake and slowly approaches you. It’s not till he does that you notice they cuffed your hands and you’re chained to the wall.

“Miss Y/L/N,” the man states as he crouches down to your level. "My name is Boggs and I’m from District 13. We rescued you and the other tributes from the capital and are bringing you to 13. Do you have any questions?”

“Can you take these off?” you ask him, holding up your cuffs. He looks a bit surprised at your question.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he states. “Based on your file it states that you are to be restrained as you may be a danger to others, especially when waking up.” He seems to be reading this information from an electronic tablet he’s holding.

“I bet it also says I don’t talk,” you mutter.

“That would be correct…” he says, realizing that you are talking to him.

“Well I don’t need these anymore,” you state. “I’m not a danger to anyone. The capital fixed me. I’m completely harmless.”

“I’m afraid my orders state you must remain cuffed until you are cleared by the doctors in District 13,” he replies.

“And how long will that be?” you ask.

“We will be landing in an hour,” he responds.

An hour feels like eternity when you are waiting for your freedom. Boggs confirmed to you that Finnick is alive in District 13 and somewhat well. Apparently he’s been having a really hard time coping with your absence and is excited for your return. He really missed you.

District 13 is chaotic when you land. Annie is allowed to walk off of the hovercraft on her own but Johanna and Peeta are loaded up onto stretchers and whisked away to the hospital.

Even though you tell them that you can walk just fine, the doctors make you sit in a wheelchair so they can chain you to it while a soldier pushes you. Nobody here trusts you not to act out.

“Where’s Finnick?” you ask the soldier pushing your wheelchair.

“Not sure,” he grunts. “They won’t allow you visitors until they decide you aren’t a threat.”

You arrive at your room and they transfer your restraints to the metal bed.

“Oh I’m not the one you should be worried about,” you tell the man. “Peeta on the other hand…”

You’re cut short by the sound of someone yelling out for you.

“Finnick?” you yell back. “Finnick!”

The blond comes sliding into view when he’s held back by two District 13 soldiers. You want to cry at the sight of him. He looks like he hasn’t slept or eaten in days. His fingers are bloody from the rope in his hands and he looks like a lost puppy.

“Y/N!” he calls out. “Let me see her!”

“I’m sorry Mr. Odair,” one of the guards says. “She is not allowed visitors until she has been cleared by our doctors.”

“Oh god doctors?” Finnick asks. “She hates doctors. If anyone is going to set her off it’s a doctor. She killed two of them in the capital.”

The soldiers radio for backup, thinking you’re even more of a threat.

“Let me see him!” you yell. “I won’t hurt anyone. They fixed me.”

“I’m the only one who can calm her down,” Finnick explains. “If she gets out of hand I’ll sedate her. Give me some sedatives.”

The doctor outside my room agrees to Finnick’s plan and the soldiers finally let him in. He shoves the sedatives into his jumpsuit pocket before bursting into the room.

“Finnick!” you exclaim, holding your chained arms as far out as they can reach. You need to hold him, to make sure he’s real.

“Y/N,” he sobs, finally breaking down. “I’m so sorry. I missed you so much.”

“Come here,” you tell him, motioning for him to sit on the bed next to you. He hesitates before reaching out to gently touch your hand.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yes now get over here,” you state, nearly yanking him on top of you.

He climbs into your small bed and you nuzzle up against him. The cuffs dig into your wrists but you don’t care.

“I’m so happy,” you hum.

Suddenly chaos erupts down the hall and a soldier bursts into your room, gun pointed at you.

“Mr. Odair,” he states. “Step away from Miss Y/L/N.”

“No,” you state, holding Finnick closer to you. “He stays.”

“Something is wrong,” the soldier tells Finnick, ignoring you. “Mr. Melark just tried to kill Katniss.”

Finnick tenses up at this news before slowly climbing out of your bed and backing away from you.

“That’s because the capital trained him to do that,” you try to explain. “They didn’t do that to me. I’m not going to kill anyone.”

“There will be no visitors to any of the rescued victors until they are individually deemed safe,” the soldier states. “Mr. Odair you are wanted in command.”

Finnick gives you a worried look as he leaves, wondering if you might turn on him at any moment.

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[kaiserposting]

Michael Kaiser — Stench

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 9k TYPE: Angst, Childhood friends, Making up, occasionally funny WARNING(S): Poverty, implied/referenced child abuse, house break-in, spoilers for Kaiser's backstory, if I missed something lmk NOTE(S): This is a two shot but I'm posting it here combined for my own convenience. The numerals show how the chapters are separated and indicates a long time skip.

I.

Someone’s coming closer and closer. It’s hard to catch Kaiser off guard — he’s sensitive to the slightest of sounds, so he can hear them approaching from behind without trouble, these sloppy footsteps slapping against the cement as if the owner is wearing really shitty shoes. He freezes with the ball still in his hands, doesn’t dare look back and check who it is, an irrational part of his brain suspecting it to be his father.

It takes a while for whoever it is to cross the distance, and then an unfamiliar voice rings, “Hey.”

Kaiser glances over his shoulder finally. You stand there, peering down at him while he’s sitting, cigarette spreading fumes in the air even though you don’t look any older than him. He doesn’t say anything to acknowledge you, though, just stares, tense and confused about your intentions.

You crouch down so you are at eye level with him. The bad smell follows, wafting by his nose and he holds down a cough on the off chance any noise might set you off and make you violent. You pull it out of your mouth and flick it away from him, apparently possessing enough decorum to stop blowing smoke in his face. “Why are you always doing that?”

“Huh?”

Kaiser knows what you mean, but he can’t help asking. After all he’d noticed you before all those times just like you’d noticed him. Every day you hang around the solitary playground at a distance while he messes around with the ball, though he never expected you’d speak to him. If anything you never pay much mind to each other.

You usually leave like you’re on some kind of schedule, but you’re up close to him now and he can see you’re in a similar condition to him — bruises and dirt littering your skin, tattered and ill-fitting clothes barely hanging onto your frame. The offenders behind your loud entrance he identifies as the torn pink fuzzy slippers he always sees you wearing, smeared with faded mud. Certainly not the most reliable footwear, but you’re in a better boat than he is on that front, what with him not wearing any shoes at all. Not his fault he outgrew his last pair, although naturally his father found a way to blame him. He’s creative like that.

“You’re always kicking the ball and punching the shit outta it.”

Embarrassed by the reasoning behind his behavior maybe, Kaiser averts his eyes. He hopes not responding will dissuade you from interacting with him.

It doesn’t work. “What’s your name?”

“… Michael.”

“So basic, but fine. I’ll call you Micha, ok?”

“You don’t need to call me anything.”

You offer your name in return. After taking another drag, you smile and ask, “How old are you?”

“Thirteen,” he says, figuring this is unimportant enough information that he can offer it without consequences until you grow bored and go away.

You grin at him and squint your eyes. The expression makes you seem smug for no discernible reason. “I’m fourteen, so I’m your senior. You can call me boss if you want. Got it, small fry?”

What an annoying attitude. He places the ball over his stomach and adjusts his position so he’s hugging his knees, this surly expression on his face. “It’s not even that big of a difference…”

“You sound so pensive when you talk. Hey, why do you kick the ball even though you don’t have shoes? Doesn’t it hurt?”

What else is someone supposed to do with a piece of trash except hurt it? Expressing such a sentiment out loud seems shameful, though. “Why are you smoking even when it’s bad for you and stupid and tacky? Why are you asking dumb questions even though you’re not getting anything out of it?”

You burst out laughing. “Woah, relax. Touchy.” When he doesn’t respond and instead continues scrutinizing you with scorn (which at this point you deem undeserved), you say, “I stole ‘em off someone. What’s stopping you from stealing a pair of shoes?”

“They’re too big to steal. It’s impractical.”

“You think small, but fair enough,” you say, before standing up, still grinning. Then you wave. “I’ve gotta go now. I’ll see you tomorrow, Micha.”

“Who said I want to see you?”

You laugh again as if his rejection is funny, but trudge on away from him. “C’mon, lighten up.”

Kaiser scoffs, pressing his cheek against the ball, tightening his hold against it. There is nothing to lighten up about.

___

Kaiser hasn’t taken any particular liking towards you, but you do hang out together every day since you approached him. He’s not sure why he tolerates your presence. Maybe because you’re resourceful — stealing is so much easier when you two coordinate. Or maybe it’s nice to talk to someone who doesn’t seem to want to strike him down and strangle him.

Currently you’re at the playground again. The lighter you use has some ugly, childish print on it. Kaiser is trying to inflate his ball with the air pump you swiped together from a shop in town earlier after you made fun of how ‘sad and flat’ it was and came up with the idea. When he hears the flicker and then registers the smell, Kaiser asks, “How many do you smoke a day?”

“One is to be stylish. Two is if I didn’t appreciate the first one enough. Three is if I still don’t feel like shitting.”

Kaiser frowns in disapproval at the moronic remark. Funny in an ironic sort of way how this lifestyle has you sounding like a ridiculous, fake adult — neither child nor mature, but something else entirely. A different category of human. He wonders if you think the same about him. “You fucking smell. How many are there in a pack?”

“Twenty,” you say after uselessly flipping over the lid, even though for one it’s not full and you already know the answer anyway, so it’s not necessary to check.

“So if you smoke three a day then you have to… steal one every two weeks?”

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion at this assessment. “No, that’s not right. It’s like once or twice a week depending.” Then you do some weird counting on your fingers for a while. “But even if it was exactly three a week, that’s like six point six or some shit like that. Dummy.”

“Shut up, shithead,” says Kaiser, embarrassed.

“Ok.”

“Leave me alone. I didn’t think about it too much.”

“I’m not even saying anything.” A moment of silence passes until an enlightened remark comes to mind. “Hey, Micha.”

“What?”

You scoot a little closer to him. Kaiser gets nervous at first and freezes, but calms down when it seems you’re not inching your hands towards him. Though the relief is short-lived because then you take an exaggerated sniff of the air and grin. “You stink too.”

He glares at you.

The ball ends up fine. Sure, it’s still beat up and dirty as most things around him, but at least it’s functional enough to kick again, and that’s what’s important.

___

“What now,” says Kaiser with an attitude of being greatly inconvenienced before plopping down next to you on the sidewalk.

You continue counting, trying to keep track of how much money you have on you. A series of gross, dry coughs escapes your mouth. When the fit near passes, you spit on the ground as if to ease your throat, hitting your chest for good measure. Kaiser watches the display with an impassive look on his face. Eventually you turn towards him and ask, “What’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Ok.”

“You’ve been quiet, not talking to me.”

“I’m gonna go get a haircut so I’m trying to see if I have enough,” you say, figuring he’s wondering about what you’re doing in a roundabout way.

Kaiser rams his head into his knees and makes some kind of noise which you can’t categorize between acknowledgement and disapproval.

You say, “Those children from the schoolyard were telling me having a bad haircut is ‘social suicide.’ Like ‘getting stabbed’ everyday. Apparently it’s the bowlcut that’s really shameful.”

“Other people have such stupid problems,” he says, irked, resentful. “I just cut it with scissors at home.”

“Yeah, man, I can tell. They wash your hair at the hairdresser though, so I wanna go now.”

“You really hang out with them? What do you even talk about?”

You shrug, pulling out a cigarette and then the hideous lighter. The smoke will waft by his nose again and irritate him. It’s unpleasant. The smell he associates with you is unpleasant, but it’s also yours so it’s kind of conflicting. “Recently I’ve been telling them I’m a ghost from the forest.”

Kaiser remains unamused the way you’ve always known him, but after some contemplation graces you with a snort, which makes you smile in return. He asks, “They don’t believe that. Right?”

“Maybe. They’ve got a what-do-you-call-it… You like football, don’t you?”

“A pitch.” He rolls his eyes as if forgetting the word is some kind of crime. Back he goes to frowning.

“Yea, they have that. You should sneak in with me sometime.” You shrug again as if the suggestion isn’t a big deal. “It’s fun.”

His nose scrunches at the thought, forehead wrinkling. It pisses him off just imagining it — truly a sickening concept. Why would you subject yourself to such a thing? Mingling with children who have nice things and an education and clean clothes and probably eat proper meals every night with their families. He doesn’t want to exchange pleasantries with people who can afford to concern themselves with social suicide. Stomach twisted in knots, Kaiser almost hurls, but somehow swallows the bile back down.

“Never,” he denies with finality.

“So dramatic, Micha.”

“Like you’re any better. You don’t care about anything. At all.”

At the sound of his tone getting more sulky than usual, you decide to spare him another glance. “Aww, are you tearing up?”

“No,” Kaiser lies, lips wavering. Unable to hold it in yet desperate to hide, he settles for covering his face with his hands, folding over himself. “I just fucking… hate this place. And I want out so… so bad.” Aside from the muffled sobs, there are also voice cracks littering his admission.

The thing is: you don’t really know what to do to make it all better.

___

Kaiser feels like he’s about to get a cramp from keeping his leg in this position for so long, lifted up and extended. Recently he stole a pair of sneakers from the thrift store, but the soles ended up falling off. Now you’re lathering everything in glue and wrapping it in tape in an attempt to salvage the situation.

“I’m not sure this is how it works,” he says. It’s kind of meek — a pathetic mumble — but you can recognize unwarranted criticism when you hear it.

“Take it or leave it.” You snap off the tape and move onto the next shoe.

When a snarky or otherwise offensive response doesn’t immediately come to mind, Kaiser resigns to silence. He continues observing you while you squeeze out copious amounts of glue. For a moment the only noises between you are those of your sniffles, the obnoxious huffing in of snot.

A few raindrops pour down, pelting your heads at the same time. You hiss when you realize your hard work is about to go to waste while all Kaiser provides in terms of reaction is a blink and a downwards twist of his lips.

“I don’t wanna go home,” you say, sounding distant, which he doesn’t hear from you much — usually there’s a lilt of amusement in your tone, some kind of playfulness lingering in all your words.

“I don’t either. It’s pointless anyway because you’ll get drenched by the time you go home and then there’s nothing to dry yourself with properly and it’s all one huge pain in the ass.”

“Right.” After signaling your agreement with his assessment, you shrug off your hoodie and stretch, trying to drape it enough so that it shields the two of you from the rain. Kaiser accommodates your goodwill by adjusting his position, scooting over next to you and cramming so he’s taking as little space as possible. It’s not an adequate cover by any means and you can tell his shoes will break apart again. But Kaiser is hugging you around the waist, resting his cheek against your neck, and you don’t have to deal with being at your place yet, so it can’t be all that bad.

___

“You look like a pufferfish,” you say unhelpfully.

Kaiser narrows his eyes at you in that way he tends to do which you haven’t seen anyone else replicate exactly. It’s kind of amusing when he does that, especially when one of them is irritated and droopy. “And you look like a spoiled apple.”

“Don’t mind. It’s a lot of bad things happening to me in that house.”

“I know,” says Kaiser.

You rub your cheek and then some more under your eye where the spots are the brightest. It makes him wince because your hands must be dirty, what with everything you two get up to in a day. Since Kaiser’s father strangles him, he’s always swollen and not so much bruised, but he thinks your parents must only leave it at punches while making up for it with enthusiasm. “I kinda like touching them when some time passes.”

“You’re sick.”

“Honestly I was, but it went away. I think I might have an ingrown toenail though.”

“No… I mean in the head.” To emphasize his point, Kaiser reaches out to probe your temple with his index finger. There’s another scratch blooming there, only coming to attention once his focus lands there, but it’s a waste of energy fixating on any of the small ones — he just can’t help but notice sometimes. “By the way, I don’t need to know what kind of toenail you have.”

You laugh, apparently finding his remark funny somehow. Then you reel your hand back before bringing it back down quickly as if you’re about to slap him. Still retaining his common sense, Kaiser flinches and tries to defend himself with his forearm. The reflex is foreign since he usually takes it lying down without moving an inch when it’s his dad.

His reaction makes you laugh harder for some reason, and you don’t smack him at all. Kaiser glares at you for your unfunny prank but you disregard it. Your hands settle around his throat instead, lightly tracing over the purple fingerprints, still fresh from last night. Almost immediately he clenches his teeth, tightlipped, breaking out into a sweat, expecting a harsh squeeze which never comes.

Kaiser wants to scold you for your idiotic behavior, yet he doesn’t. Maybe your hands aren’t for harm, he decides. And then he reaches out too, pressing his knuckle against the darkest contusion on your face. Your eye twitches closed. It turns into a strange fascination then, your skin touching his and his touching yours in places others had hurt. A ritualistic erasement.

___

You’re splitting the money again after selling off another valuable. It was some kind of fancy watch you two stole this time, more ballsy than usual. Once you pocket your share, you ask, “Are you saving up?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna move? Where?”

Kaiser shrugs. “I don’t care. Anywhere but here.”

You hum and walk ahead of him, probably looking for one of the drinking fountains in the area.

Either compelled by unusual curiosity or bothered by your silence, he says, “You wanna make it the fuck out of here too. Where would you go?”

“To the beach.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes behind your back, finding your answer stupid. Sure, the beach is an exotic idea considering he has never been to one, but all he can imagine is the sand sticking to his skin and the gross seaweed he’s seen in commercials inside stores and such. But on second thought both of these things are probably way less gross than the environment he spends every day in. He lets out a performative huff anyway and says ‘huh’ as if to demand an elaboration.

“I wanna be free like one of those seagulls that fly over the sea. D’you wanna be a seagull with me, Micha?”

“No. That’s dumb,” he says. You ignore him. Kaiser steels his nerves for a second and, after a dry swallow, takes a step so that he’s walking next to you rather than lagging behind. Then he brushes his fingers against yours lightly before making a sweaty, half hearted attempt at holding your hand. His cheeks are warm in a way he hasn’t felt them before. “Take me to your shitty beach someday.”

You make a more competent attempt at hand holding, grasping his fingers in yours until they’re interlacing, and then you swing your arms up and down. Kaiser has enough sense to be embarrassed by this, but doesn’t tell you to stop. He doesn’t know why, but this is the kind of contact he feels the need to savor. “So you do want to be a seagull.”

“Not interested.”

“You’re such a sourpuss, Micha, never playing along with anything.”

“It’s not my fault you make it sound dumb- Well, do you think it’s any use? Hoping for something like that…”

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up.”

“I won’t give up,” he says. “I just don’t know if it’ll work.”

“Come on. We’re gonna get out of here together someday. That’s gotta work.” You lift his arm in the air next and try to make him spin like a dancer. Though Kaiser is used to standing still and limp and letting things happen to him, the attempt doesn’t come out successful. At most he does a slight twist.

“Yeah. Together,” he agrees, like a promise. He imagines messing around with you in the sand with the sun warming his skin in contrast to the perpetual chill he’s become used to. Honestly despite belittling the idea earlier, it doesn’t seem so bad in his mind.

___

Kaiser yawns while sitting next to you on a bench, eating a burger. Since you’re famous for your generosity and kindness and all (not), you decided to ‘splurge out’ by buying food for you both from some shitty hole in the wall. It’s the most filling meal you’ve had in a while. You’re still chewing when you ask, “Are you tired or something?”

He rubs his eyes. “My father was fucking making noises throwing up all night.”

“Ah, your worthless sperm donor.” You nod sagely in acknowledgement.

“Yea, him. It reeked too and when I went to clean it, there were whole chunks in his vomit.”

You scoff. “Don’t clean after him.”

“Not like anyone’s going to clean it if I don’t.” Two more yawns accentuate his sentence. You reach out to throw away the container. For a second you consider keeping the plastic cutlery and maybe washing it at the drinking fountain later, but that seems too desperate even for you. Kaiser says, “I’d take a nap right now if I could, but I don’t want to go back yet.”

“It’s sunny today for the first time in a while. Would be a waste.” You watch Kaiser while he wipes his mouth and his fingers with the napkin. The dark circles around his eyes are worse than usual. “You can lie down on me and sleep if you want.”

“Huh? Really?”

“Yea, it’ll probably be really boring, but I’ll tolerate it,” you allow, ever so charitable.

Kaiser frowns, contemplating. He’s silent for so long, you forget you even suggested anything, but he eventually shifts around and rests his head on your lap, tense. You rake your fingers through his hair. “Don’t smoke,” he warns, but it’s kind of difficult to act butthurt when you’re being so… gentle with him.

“I won’t.”

“Seriously, don’t smoke right now.”

“I said ok already.”

Now that the matter is settled, he decides to trust you and flutters his eyes closed. Though your thighs and the bench aren’t the most comfortable places in the world, to Kaiser who only knows the cold hard floor, such an opportunity is borderline luxurious. The tang of the cigarettes clings even to the fabric of your pants, to your fingers — his favorite smell. You continue stroking his scalp and he dozes off with ease within minutes. Even though he’s snoring already, he moves to wrap his arms around your knee as if he feels a compulsive need to hold onto something in his sleep.

Kaiser looks surprisingly peaceful and precious right now. You hope he’s having a nice dream if any. A long stretch of ennui is ahead of you.

___

The antics have been ramping up as of late. In your defense, you weren’t sure how you were supposed to resist urging Kaiser to break in with you when you noticed the house with the open first floor window, clearly vacant. Though at first he displayed kleptomaniacal tendencies and wanted to rummage through the drawers for anything expensive, you deemed it too risky since you had no idea when the owner would come back. And then you told him you were merely interested in taking a proper shower.

Now you’re almost dry, waiting for Kaiser to finish. You can’t remember the last time you were so free of grime. Wearing the old clothes again almost feels shameful, like a step back. You sniff your armpit like a weirdo and realize your skin smells good .

Kaiser takes a while to come out and emerges looking like he underwent some kind of magical girl transformation. He’s trying to soak up the water from his hair with a towel, sending specks flying everywhere and dripping down his shirt when you blurt out, “You’re handsome.”

In a fashion you’d consider comedic, he stops dead in his tracks to gape at you with flushed cheeks. “What?”

“Your face is pretty.” He blinks. A crease appears on his forehead in apparent disapproval, though you’re not sure what he’s mad about (it’s a compliment!), especially when he’s still blushing. You make a vague hand gesture near your head to clarify your next point, “Try untangling it with your fingers.”

It takes Kaiser a good few seconds to get with the program before he twitches to attempt and follow your advice, but you both freeze when you detect the unmistakable sound of a door closing and locking downstairs. You push him back into the bathroom and close it behind yourself as gently as possible. Then you drag him back to the tub and gesticulate incomprehensibly some more to signal you should both get in and hide before sliding in behind the curtain and reclining on your side. Kaiser follows after you, but you think you might be doomed. It’s still wet, too, which is unpleasant, but not a priority considering the upcoming disaster.

Kaiser opens his mouth to speak, so you clamp it shut with your palm before putting your index finger over your lips. He embraces you, and he’s trembling, and then he hides in your neck as if you’re going to save him from whatever is about to come.

Like you’d assumed, the house owner enters almost immediately. You’re nauseous, stomach clenching. Kaiser is making a stunning impression of a corpse the way he’s not even breathing anymore in his attempt at being quiet. Your muscles are so tense on alert that it hurts and each passing second puts you more on edge.

Thankfully the flush comes and then the running water and then the person leaves with a click. Their footsteps get fainter and fainter until another door opens and closes. You stand and step out, trying not to make a noise still. Before going out into the hallway you throw a glance over your shoulder just to make sure Kaiser is still walking behind you, which he is.

Your movements are slow and light. The escape, especially while making your way down the stairs, is drawn out and excruciating. You hop out through the window you came in from. There you are outside, somehow without incident.

You turn to look at Kaiser again once you hear the rustle of the grass accompanying his jump. With the adrenaline still kicking, you break out into a sprint, eager to get far away. Kaiser catches up to you and you burst out laughing but you’re not even sure why, since you don’t find any of what transpired particularly amusing. A slight smile appears on his face when he recognizes the sound.

___

The next day you notice Kaiser isn’t at the playground, even though he always gets there before you do. No biggie — you can exert some patience.

After a while you start tapping your foot. It’s not like you have a watch to check what the time is or how long it’s been or a phone to ask him where he’s at. So you settle on putting on a show of irritability.

Nothing. Your legs hurt so you go sit down on the swing. You’re getting pretty old for the playground anyway, you think as you pull out a cigarette and light it, eyes darting around. Parents and their children, but no sign of Micha.

You exceed your usual three and end up burning half the pack in your attempt to occupy yourself during your waiting. It relaxes you usually, smoking, when you have a lot of shit juggling around your brain, but it doesn’t work this time.

Did something happen?

… Did his dad finally kill him?

___

Kaiser doesn’t show up at the playground ever again no matter how many times you go.

___

It’s another day where you need to shield your eyes from the sunlight with your hand. You’ve been seeing more of those since you ran away. Must be allegorical or some shit.

From your peripheral vision, while you walk down the street, you pass by a store that has one of those TVs on display, playing a sports game. You spare a moment to look, intrigued, nostalgic in a way — it reminds you of when you were little, when that kind of thing was more common.

They’re playing football, you realize, and you find that evocative too. Some guy scores a goal and they zoom in on him even though he’s not celebrating, instead choosing to stand there like a statue with his arms crossed. Like he’s too cool to get excited, which strikes you as obnoxious.

Then they show his face in full, up front.

You know that face. You’d recognize that face anywhere.

The back of his jersey reads ‘Kaiser’ and yet you never knew him as anything besides his first name.

At first you’re relieved considering you were under the impression catastrophe must’ve befallen him, but the solace doesn’t last long. When the realization hits, your eyes widen and your lips fall into a thin line. It's similar to a punch in the gut how all the air seems to vacate your chest. All this wind around you and you can’t get any.

The only person you ever loved left you behind without a second glance in your direction.

___

II.

Michael Kaiser is mildly inconvenienced. Billions injured on the scene and millions more will die.

So maybe he’s been ranting at someone who he didn’t even glance at, eyes closed, mind way too lost in his reverie. A part of his brain doesn’t even comprehend he’s in fact speaking to a person instead of a cardboard cutout. It’s to his complete shock and bafflement when after so much babbling he receives a reply. “Hey, Mr. Kaiser was it? Shut the fuck up.”

He flutters his eyes open to give the ingrate a glare and speak his mind some more, but he freezes on the spot at the sight in front of him. His blood runs cold, heart stuttering in his chest.

He’d know that face anywhere, even if right now it’s more unamused and neutral — nothing like the expressions in his memories. He’s not sure why his body is reacting like this either, tensing up with a nervous jitter in his system.

Wasn’t he supposed to have left all that stuff in the past? Yet a single look at you is enough to cause this response: this uncertainty, like he’s still a little boy who veers towards hopeless and incompetent, and fuck, why are you giving him such a dead stare?

Do you not recognize him?

Do you not love him anymore?

It’s a rash thing to focus on as his immediate concern especially when he hasn’t been killing himself with worry over you or anything during your years apart, but right now when you’re in front of him it’s all he wants to know. Which is cruel and selfish in a way, in his specific Kaiser-ish way, how he’s first preoccupied with himself before he wonders about your state of mind or living situation. A need to bait for a sign you still care about him torments him even if it might be drastic right off the bat.

When no ingenious idea for such a thing comes to mind and Kaiser realizes he’s been staring at you like a moron, he says, “Don’t call me Mr. Kaiser. It makes me sound old and decrepit.” And that isn’t what you of all people should be referring to him as.

You continue assessing him in a manner which can be described as judgmental at best. “Isn’t that what you said your name is during your little monologue?”

“You already know what my name is.” The awkward silence which follows is almost unbearable. Kaiser scratches himself on the neck even though he’s not itchy just to pass the time. Finally he snaps, “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Sorry to break it to you, sir, but most employees anywhere aren’t happy to listen to ten minute long demented tirades about non-problems.”

“Well maybe I overreacted a little,” concedes Kaiser and gives you what he thinks is a suave smile in an attempt at downplaying how uneasy he is. He thinks you can feel it. He thinks you’re doing it on purpose, hurting him with intention. “Are you seriously going to act like you don’t know me?”

Your pitiless gaze sticks to him like glue even when you take out the ice cubes and throw a generous amount into his drink before sticking a paper parasol in it with lots of spite, which is what the big stink he threw a tantrum over was all about. Kaiser wants to tell you that you’re very hot when you’re no longer a starving punching bag, but thinks better of it. Doesn’t seem charming even coming from him. 

“There.” You slide the cup across the counter towards him. “I fixed your shitty smoothie.”

“It’s not a smoothie!”

“A mocktail is basically juice.”

Wrapping his fingers around it, Kaiser doesn’t leave. Instead he chooses to stay and observe you in silence, jaw clenching.

“You can go.”

“I’m not going until you admit you know who I am.”

“What, are you famous or something?” you ask, bemused.

Kaiser is on the cusp of hypertension because you’re doing it on purpose and you’re not even doing it well because you want him perfectly aware of what you’re up to. You’ve never done this — hurt him before, let alone by design — so Kaiser almost assumed you were incapable of it. Though it makes sense that you are. After all, you’re the same type of inhuman he is, and he’s done this if not worse hundreds of times, and even reveled in it. Yet the realization you’re not what he remembers of you stirs disillusionment within him. The nature of it, he doesn’t quite grasp.

Kaiser contemplates causing a scene more than he already has, but he’s not sure how to do so while still getting what he wants. Trying to joke even though above all he wants to throw a tantrum, he whines, “You’re so immature.”

“I’m sorry that my reaction to getting threatened with a lawsuit over ice cubes was immature, Mr. Kaiser.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about!”

Your exterior remains listless and vacant, and Kaiser wants to scream the longer you scrutinize him in this manner. Eventually you spin your finger near your temple as if to call him delusional, then move onto taking the order of someone else.

His eyes narrow until you’re so blurry he can barely see you, perhaps either to censor you from his sight or because a milder expression wouldn’t suffice in communicating his disdain. With a final grit of his teeth and maybe a visible vein on his forehead, Kaiser stands up to leave. Fine. You win this one, but it’s war now.

The scorch of the sand under his feet startles him. He kind of forgot how hot it was, what with getting so distracted. Another comeuppance on a list of many. Today is punishment.

Dramatic inner soliloquy aside, Kaiser makes it back to the beach bed quickly, still reeling over that interaction. You’re here? You’re here, in front of him again, and apparently you’re not too happy to see him.

In the most disinterested tone he can muster, Sae asks, “Did they fix your smoothie?”

“It’s not a fucking smoothie!” With the grace of a lobotomized koala, Kaiser drops it over the small table separating them and barely resists the urge to hurl it at Sae. This would do wonders for his mental health short term, but again he’s trying to feign decorum.

With his trademark deadpan, Sae pretends none of that just happened. Kaiser turns around to look back at the hotel bar where you’re gesticulating at your coworker. Both of you seem immensely annoyed, wild and animated while you converse.

“Fuck, they’re totally complaining about me.”

Sae follows the line of direction through which Kaiser is stalking you. After a few seconds of analysis, he says, “Those are definitely the ‘this shit stain just threatened to sue me,’ ‘wow, really, what the hell’ faces.”

Kaiser snaps his head to look at him with genuine surprise. “What- How’d you know?”

“... You’re so embarrassing, it’s predictable.”

“And you’re annoying,” he says. “I’ll tell Coach to get rid of you and airdrop me Ness.”

“It’s cute that you think the coach cares about your opinion on me enough to replace me. The same as thinking the strippers at the club like you, in a way.”

There is a while of silence where Kaiser’s just snarling while Sae seems like he couldn’t give less of a shit. Then he adds his finisher,

“Or I guess in your case it’s like thinking the bartender actually cares about your order.”

Oh, fuck this vacation.

___

The heat is unbearable.

You step out into the sun and saunter up the wooden path to take your break away from the beach. Sweat has been exuding from your skin for the last few hours. Even so when you make it to the sidewalk, you keep your eyes trained on the scenery as you trudge on to your destination. The sand, the sea, the plants — some natural and some artificial.

Before long your legs take you to your usual street vendor, where you’ll order a shitty pancake that won’t do much to nourish you, but it’ll be so sweet that you’ll be too nauseous to get hungry for a while. The queue isn’t unbearable.

Not until you sense someone hovering behind you, followed up by a hand settling on your shoulder. You turn around to grace the offender with a disgusted side glance, but you’re so baffled to see Kaiser there, you just… freeze.

He’s sneering at you. In fact he looks so happy with himself, you want to vomit. Preferably on him.

“What a coincidence,” he says without even a sliver of shame.

You roll your eyes and face front again, deciding it’s in your best interest to feign ignorance to his existence. Taking this as a sign to elevate the antics to a more obnoxious level, Kaiser resigns himself to the role of one of those domesticated leeches, hanging off you now, fully wrapping his arm around your shoulders. His gaze is burning into your side profile to the point it’s unnerving and you can feel the artificial smugness emanating from his form.

“I thought we were done talking yesterday.”

“Really? You did? How naive,” he coos at you mockingly.

It is convenient that during this time of need — when you’re lacking a good comeback — your time to order comes up. You talk to the guy working about your aforementioned shitty pancake. The moment you shut your mouth, however, Kaiser starts listing off things you’re not even keeping track of like you’re hanging out together or something.

With a mild dispute over whether it’s ‘backwards’ that they do not accept payment through a card, which makes you want to die because you’re a regular here and now the employee who knows you by face will associate you with this pest, Kaiser pays for your thing, too. On the one hand you’re prideful, but on the other you’ve lived the life of a bottomfeeder who takes every scrap they’re given without question, and it’s the kind of conditioning you can’t let go of. So you allow it.

He ends up with an inordinate amount of food in his hands, too much for one person to eat. You’re still doing your ignoring shtick even when Kaiser pulls you down to sit next to him on the table. Content with pretending he doesn’t exist as he is dead to you, you bite onto your food in relative peace, mind drifting somewhere else. Until he speaks that is. “This must be our fateful meeting.”

“I don’t see what’s so fateful about it if you followed me?”

Unbeknownst to you, Kaiser too is adept at the ‘hearing only what he wants to hear’ game. So he moves on with the conversation without any indicator of comprehending what you just said. “I think it’s quite ironic, actually.”

“What are you on about now?”

“You told me you want to go to the beach once. And where do I find you? On the beach. It's an astral influence, I’m sure.”

“Ah? I don’t remember telling you that.”

You’re blinking at him in mild confusion. This hurts Kaiser a hundred times more than when you were deliberately going out of your way to act dismissive of him because he can tell you mean it. To think one of the moments he clung onto the most had slipped your mind.

His eyes are wide and his lips stand still in a thin line, so he forces himself to smirk again and glosses over the information which just shattered him. “So you admit you know me then?”

“No, Mr. Kaiser, I have no idea who you are. I’m thinking you should admit yourself to a hospital. They say false memories are an important symptom in psychopathology.”

“Very funny. I prefer Micha or at least Michael, though.”

“Do I give a fuck?”

He scowls at you. “Yes.”

You finish off your pancake and wipe your hands with the napkin in mild disgust. Kaiser laughs at the wrinkle of your face while you do so, and then he scoots an inch closer.

“Help me finish it all off.” He gestures at all the paper plates.

Pinching between your fingers, you tug the first thing that seems appetizing closer to your side of the table. Kaiser scoops up some of the portion for himself and dumps it in another meal. You ask, “Why are you trying to suck up to me?”

“Aw, is it so wrong to want to treat my closest friend?”

You scoff. The movement of your eyelids fascinates Kaiser — you never really showed any annoyance towards him before, so he finds these expressions of distaste fascinating even if they make him sick. “We haven’t seen each other in four years, so if I’m still your closest friend somehow, that’s just sad. Be for real if you’re gonna be anything.”

“You’re being so difficult! What did I even do?!” To be honest, he’s lying and his gaze isn’t even shying away from you while he’s lying, not even a twitch. He knows you, so he knows that you’re mad he couldn’t be assed to tell you where he went even though he obviously could. He thinks playing dumb might be more in his favor here, though, so he’ll do that. “I don’t even like going to the fucking beach. I’ve been going every year to different places searching for you.”

The unbridled perturbation on your face upon hearing this is quite amusing. Priceless even. You were calling him crazy merely for the sake of fucking with him, and perhaps it was your earnest attempt at gaslighting him but you’re not about to admit it. Right now, though, you think he is genuinely insane.

“You’re saying that to appease me,” you accuse, hoping you’re correct, but also not. The idea he might’ve thought about you like you did about him while you were separated enthralls you, though you can’t let him win you over his bullshit.

“Maybe,” says Kaiser, trying to be mysterious.

Since he obviously wants you to ask him for an elaboration, you deny him the satisfaction.

“How much do you make working at that shitty bar?”

“Enough.”

“I should take you back to Spain with me,” Kaiser decides. With too much confidence at that. “You’d have anything you could ever want.”

It is not like it was before. He’s not acting the way he used to. You suppose you aren’t either. But anyway, you thought it inconceivable that he would ever joke — is he joking? — or make the absurd statements he’s been making. It’s natural, in a way, since you’re also not of the same temperament as before.

With a huff, you say, “You’ll never be my sugar daddy, Kaiser.”

“You’re no fun nowadays.” There’s an amused lilt in his tone while he sneers — you think the way he smiles is fake. You recall he was kind of quiet and awkward and stilted, unnatural at first maybe because he was out of practice in communicating with others, but now he speaks with insincere charisma, like a showman. Yet still the things he says so casually are off-kilter, ruining whatever illusion he’s attempting to sell. “And I said to call me Micha.”

“I don’t need to call you anything.”

It’s all about the metamorphosis. It’s about becoming each other so you’re never truly apart.

___

You’re crouching under one of the tropical trees overlooking the road by the wooden path leading down the beach. The shade is insufficient and the heels of your feet are digging into your ass to the point it hurts. Before your break, the thought of smoking a cigarette had entered your brain so you obeyed it as it was too pervasive even though you don’t enjoy lighting up anything during such weather, believe it or not.

Your eyes are glossy since you’re spacing out, taking puffs. When two silhouettes come to a halt right in front you, only then does the absentminded trance end.

Kaiser waves at you with unnecessary enthusiasm which is just for show. They’re late, arriving way past their usual time. Earlier when he and his companion didn’t show when you expected them to, you assumed maybe their vacation ended and they’d headed home.

The other guy is sullen, but at least his eye lashes are long, which must count for something. After sparing you a glance, he turns towards Kaiser and says judgmentally, “You’re still harassing staff.”

“I’m not har-”

Not giving a shit, the other guy straight up leaves, not bothering to participate in the discussion on a topic he brought up. You watch in mild bafflement as he walks off without a care.

“Ignore him,” Kaiser says. A plastic smile overtakes his face before he squats down next to you, butting into your body with his and almost toppling you over. This is probably bad for his knees, and you’re half exposed to the sun now. Somehow he has created several problems where there were none. “You still smoke.”

You don’t reply, but maintain the common decency not to blow any in his face. He should stay away from you. Isn’t he an athlete? Shouldn’t he be cautious about secondhand smoke? You consider putting it out altogether, then, so you stub it in the almost empty can of the fizzy drink you’d been drinking earlier.

“What kind of lighter do you have now? Has your taste gotten any better?”

No response again. He places an arm around your waist. Through touching you so often it’s like he’s trying to hammer it into your head that you were close, and yet intangible things seem to evade Kaiser, so maybe he’s struggling to conceive of any other way to reestablish your connection.

“You still smell the same. Like nicotine.”

“Well, you smell the way you used to, too.”

The space between his brows wrinkles and his nose twitches in irritation at your words. “The fuck do you mean? No, I don’t.”

“Let me spell it out for you in a way we both understand.” For the first time since your strange reunion, you reciprocate the physicality and pull him in by the shoulder till you’re forehead to forehead so you can look him in the eyes while explaining. “When I saw you a few days ago for the first time in so long, it was like you basically still had a sign that says ‘broke ass bum.’”

He gapes at you with incredulity, this offended expression on his face.

“I mean,” you say, snickering in bewilderment at the absurdity of his previous actions, “you were gonna sue me over some ice cubes, really? Acting like a spoiled little prince to disguise where you crawled out from? I think you and I have got the kinda stench not even all the Dior in Avenue Montaigne can wipe off.”

His fingers would’ve dug hard into your flesh if your shirt wasn’t in the way with how his grip tightens in response. The grit of his teeth exposes more of them. Strangely, you think he has nice gums. “Why the fuck are you being like this?”

“‘Cause you were content to forget all about me, but you don’t want me to be angry at you either. You should’ve just been polite and pretended you didn’t recognize me. But no, you want it all. I hate people like you who make no sense.”

“You’re just jealous,” Kaiser accuses, trying the snobby angle. If he’s pretentious then he’s not hurt by you claiming you despise him. At least that’s what he settles on.

“Sure. That could be true as well.” You stand up and take the can with you to throw away.

Kaiser plops down on the sand, tired of squatting, and doesn’t bother watching you plod back to the bar but the sound of your footsteps rings heavy in his ears until it dissipates. He hugs his knees like the wet wipe he is at heart.

The kindest person he’d known was a scammer and a liar and a thief and who knows what else. It hurts like nothing else to bear the weight of your desertion.

This must be cellular rejection. You should’ve been ecstatic to see him on account of your shared inhumanity. Does it not matter to you anymore, the fact that you and Kaiser are the same?

… Right; you’re not the ball. When he hits you, you can hit him back.

___

The beach is desolate and eerie at night. Kaiser came out to brood, which was fine because Sae didn’t care to ask him where he was going when he left the room. Unlike during the day, the sand is cool under his feet now — what an obtuse observation to make, all things considered. He’s annoyed and frustrated at himself as usual when things don’t go his way.

There’s a light illuminating someone’s face where they recline on one of the lounge chairs. It’s blue, meaning the source is a phone. Kaiser startles because he assumed he was alone.

And you startle when you see him staring at you in the dark, but instead of screaming all you do is let out an unconvincing gasp and turn on the backlight to reveal him. Kaiser covers his eyes with his forearms and turns away, letting out some vampiric kind of noise.

Then you frown and go back to tapping away on your shitty mobile game. “You’re such a creep honestly,” you say in distaste.

Once he gets over the assault you just committed on his admittedly sensitive eyes, Kaiser sits down next to you uninvited.

“It��s a coincidence,” he snaps. “I don’t want to be around you either. You’re so fucking exhausting. Can’t talk to you like a normal person at all because of your stupid grudge.”

“Then why are you still trying?”

Of course, there are many answers to that question. Some including but not limited to I think I can still love you like before and I miss you and I regret not sending you that postcard and I hate how you’re mad at me, but I can’t seem to get it right. Though such pathetic things aren’t in Kaiser’s nature to spew, so they never make it past his throat. The words constrict around his neck like a noose.

Instead of answering, he says, “You’ve got a phone now. You should give me your number.”

“No.”

“You’re just trying to make my life difficult for no reason!”

You give him another one of your blank stares. In the dullness of the night, obviously the gesture stays meaningless, though Kaiser can sense the bemusement in your silence at least.

Seeing that ignoring the problem at large isn’t turning out to be the winning move, Kaiser sighs and tries to think of what to say. There’s probably some kind of trick to this, some way he could fool you into overlooking his transgressions. Though when you were friends, he never did that to you, and you never left him then. Maybe it’s not necessary. In this situation, it’s proving to even be detrimental.

Kaiser picks at the skin on his neck. It’s to his benefit you can’t see each other well — he’s not sure he’d be able to spit it out without the detachment of the environment. “Listen, I’m not good at this shit, but… If I have to be honest, I was really paranoid. I didn’t want to think about the past and I didn’t want to get dragged back into it, so I was too scared to even write you a letter to tell you I’m fine. But stumbling on you again, it’s probably fucking stupid but I don’t want to lose track of you anymore. It’s lonely.”

“I wasted a year of my life thinking you were dead,” you say.

“I’m sorry.”

“Tomorrow’s my free day.”

There’s an uncertain excitement in Kaiser now, as if you might be yanking his chain and he doesn’t want to commit to the feeling right away. “Sure, I’m leaving after tomorrow, so that works. Meet me here and we can catch up.”

“I see this shitty beach enough as it is,” you say.

“Yeah, but not the way you’re supposed to.”

You shrug.

Without prompting or any indication that you care, Kaiser says, “I have a horrible sunburn.” He will always find something to bitch about. It’s like he’s never satisfied.

After a few swipes, you unlock your phone and pass it to him so he can add his contact information. “Then use aloe vera or something. What are you, stupid?”

“I don’t have any,” justifies Kaiser, inputting the digits. His tone is defensive because this is the first he’s heard of it, but it’s not like he’ll admit that.

Your forgiveness is fake, in a way. It’d been a grudge you held for a while and a betrayal you wouldn’t tolerate from anyone else. Maybe you’ll hold it over his head if he displeases you. So it’s not real forgiveness, is it, more so a lenience, a testament to your past, that your love for him somehow prevails over your need to enact the lex talionis.

___

The sand sinks under your weight with each step you take, waves lapping over the shoreline, seagulls and children squealing in the background. Sunset makes everything easier on the eyes and the heat is finally settling down since it’s getting late into the afternoon.

You had a nice time catching up with Kaiser in another part of the city, although he displayed a susceptibility to tourist traps. He gloated a lot, and you pretended you didn’t know about half of it from reading his Wikipedia page that one time when you were fostering your hate boner for him. You told him about how you ran away and ended up in another country and about how you’re still on the missing persons site.

Now you’re going back by the seaside instead of through the streets. You walk side by side, your ankles touching the water. Kaiser’s grin is wide, which makes him seem smug, but this time it doesn’t strike you as forced so maybe he is simply carefree. It’s an unusual sight for you — Kaiser, genuinely smiling.

“I think I’ll come see you again when it’s off season. Or maybe we can arrange for you to come visit me instead. I’ve got all sorts of things I want to show you,” he says. He never really had anything to give you before, and now he takes pride in having the means to do so, regardless of whether you’re interested or impressed.

“Whatever, Micha. You’re so full of it. I bet it’ll be lame or you’ll forget you promised.”

He remains pleased despite the teasing, even happier if possible. “It’s fine if you say pointless shit like that, I don’t mind a challenge. All I have to do is prove you wrong.”

___

Lol at the end of finishing this I teared up in Frustration because I couldn't write this the way I envisioned it and then I couldn't save it through editing either (<- guy who's defiinitely normal and casual ) and I kinda just wanted to be done with it so I'm not gonna hold it hostage any longer either. Idk I'm just mad and depressed about it rn i guess. Thank U all for tapping in

[rae-writes]

familiars

Mammon, Satan, Asmo || 0.8k wc || crack post [to make up for all the angst recently] ft. menace mc (Tannie's is my favorite bc that's literally me)

Mammon

The second born was on his way to Lucifer’s office again when he saw you plopped on the common room floor

You had tons of materials surrounding you : scissors, needles, thread, fabric, small stickers— even glitter glue! 

Mammon didn’t have the time to stop and ask why, he just chalked it up to his little human just doing their weird little human things

After he was dismissed from Lucifer’s office (and after a 3 fucking hour long lecture), he made his way back to the common room, but you were gone

In your place was a yellow sticky note that read “Hey Mammon! Don’t freak out, I just went outside for a bit <3” 

And that made him freak out even more

Because it was raining like all fuck out there

So he scrambles to the entrance hall and throws open the front door, ready to yell, when he just stops 

You’re crouched down on the steps with an umbrella over you while his crow familiars hop around your feet

They’re all decked out in tiny rain hats, rain coats, and some of his older ones even have small rain boots

Currently, you’re putting a glittery gold lookin set on Mammon’s youngest crow and the demon’s heart swells

The crows notice him fairly quickly and begin to jump around even more, making you look back and beam 

“Hi Mamoney! Alright little fella, you’re all good to go now! Go say hi to Mammon!” 

He could cry. Literally sob at how fucking cute this is

“Aw, guys! Look at ya!” He pets them over their hats, grinnin’ ear to ear, “Mc. You didn’t tell me you wanted to parent the kids with me.” 

You laughed, making him grin even more. “You mentioned them getting cold when they got rained on so I figured I’d help out! Don’t they just look so cute?!” 

Mammon’s eyes were practically heart shaped, “y-yeah…”

(he absolutely gets you and him a rain set so you can all go out in them like a big family) 

(and yes his brothers made fun of him for it and no he didn’t care— especially not when you slapped them with your wet rain hat)

Satan 

You and Satan were out on a simple walk. A relaxing, uneventful walk

That is until you get approached by a fucking unicorn

You don’t know what the hell to do or say- you just kinda stand there staring for a minute while Satan pets his uh…friend. He chuckles at your response, raising an eyebrow when you hold a single finger up

“Someone either slipped me some severe drugs or you’re just a stone cold traitor who did not tell me he was bffs with this gorgeous creature. Both of which I will take offense to.” 

“I deeply apologize for my transgressions, my love.” 

You glanced at the unicorn with a look of ‘can you fucking believe this guy’ before raising a hand, “May I?” 

You received a neigh, to which you leaned in closer and stroked up its nose, where you then received a delighted huff 

“I would die for you.” 

Satan snorted, shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. His laughter only got louder when his familiar looked at him with the equivalent expression of ‘how dare you keep this human from me’ 

“Yes, yes, I should’ve introduced you two sooner. Are we done pouting now?” 

You and the unicorn looked at eachother. Then at Satan. Then back to each other. “No.”

He smiled, still amused, “then how about a ride through town? I’ll walk beside you.”

“Like the peasant you are. Alright- onward, Uni! Let’s go kick a guy in the gut.”

...perhaps Satan had been leaving you alone with Belphie for too long

Asmo 

For once (though not for long), the House of Lamentation was peacefully quiet

Most of them were doing their own thing in the common room, existing without a hitch beside each other— a perfect day, in Lucifer’s opinion 

“EEEEKKK!”

The sound was extremely high pitched and cracked, but it was written off as ‘just Mammon doing something stupid again’ 

Yeah…until he walked through the door asking what the hell that noise was. Then they all did a headcount- you were the only one not present 

Asmo turned into the world’s biggest track star in that moment and made his way to you first, finding you floating in mid air at the entrance hall

And on the floor was a sleek black scorpion just…sitting there

“Hon…don’t tell me you’re scared of my gorgeous little baby?!” 

You stared at him like he was fucking nuts— which you thought so in that moment. “I’m sorry, I was a bit too focused on the stINGER!” 

“He doesn’t sting anyone unless I tell him too, Hon, no worries!” 

…’no worries’ he says, as if the creepy thing wasn’t among the most dangerous animals to humans. And a human, you were 

In fairness, the scorpion was not so horrible looking. It’s tail faded into a hot pink like Azzy’s horns and it’s feet(?) we’re tipped with gold. And it had a faint sparkly coat. Of course. 

“Okay…I can deal with this…I guess he is..kind of..pretty..?” 

“Indeed he is! I shine him myself! You wanna hold him?” 

“No, that’s alrig— STOP BRINGING IT CLOSER!”

[blindmagdalena]

Resignation

Summary: 18+ 1.5k homelander x reader, established relationship, dirty talk, thigh riding, grinding.

After you have a particularly rough day at work, Homelander offers you some sound career advice, and a little stress relief.

spiritual successor to Customer Service, but stands alone. this is for everyone who's sick of this capitalist hellscape, and the crummy jobs we're forced to work to survive. not proofread, we die like men. 🖤

Another day, another dollar, another near meltdown.

You spend most of your commute home trying to pull yourself together. After the day you’ve had at work, the last thing you need to do is burst into tears before you even made it home. It’s taking everything in you to keep it at bay.

There’s just something about you that apparently screams Hey! Abuse me! in the workplace.

At least you’ve got something to look forward to when you get home.

Or rather, someone.

“I’m home,” you announce tiredly, stepping inside. You kick your shoes off, and despite your mood, you smile at the pair of tall red boots that sit next to them. It took some convincing to get him to take them off consistently, but ever since he’s started spending more and more time hiding out at your place, you’ve insisted on some ground rules

“Living room,” Homelander calls back.

Walking in, you find him crouched in the living room, staring at your cat with a level of intensity you’re not sure what to make of. “Uh, something going on here?”

“Yep,” he answers evenly. “Asserting dominance.”

You watch your cat blink slowly before lazily rising, stretching into a wide yawn, and hopping down to greet you. Homelander stands, scoffing triumphantly. “I won.”

“Uh-huh,” you give back distractedly, bending down to scritch your cat's ears.

“Hey, what’s up?” He asks, frowning as he approaches. “Your eyes are all red.”

“Hard day,” you tell him, readily accepting his encroaching embrace. You sink easily into his arms, noting that his gloves are off today. That’s new. You slip your arms around his neck, your body tired and heavy as you trust him with the full weight of it. He holds you up effortlessly.

He exhales a huff of hot air right by your ear that gives you goosebumps. “Quit,” he says, his voice set low.

“That’s what you always say.” “Because I mean it,” he shoots back fiercely, pulling away to meet your gaze. “Quit. Fuck those assholes already. You don’t need them. You have me,” he says, reiterating a conversation the two of you have had at least a dozen times now.

Money is nothing to him. He could buy you out for three times your salary for the rest of your life with his pocket change.

“I can’t just not work,” you say, pulling your hands down from his neck to lay flush on his chest. “I need my job.”

“The only thing you need is me,” he stresses again, kissing you. He always feels like he’s restraining himself when he touches you, holding himself back from moving too hard, too fast, from devouring. It’s thrilling to lose yourself in. “Why do you insist on tormenting yourself?

Stomach fluttering, you can’t help but laugh at the slight petulance that slips into his voice. “Because if I give up and let you take care of me, you might get bored, and then I’ll have nothing,” you say, and though you mean to make a joke of it, to fill your voice with playful whimsy, the confession lands harder than you expected it to. You’re tired, you’re stretched thin, and as your own words sink in, you realize just how bad it’s gotten.

Homelander withdraws, leveling you with a look that confirms it: that wasn’t a joke, and neither of you are amused.

You blink several times, suddenly speechless. “I…” You realize your eyes are burning again, and with every blink, your vision gets more bleary. “I just meant…”

“Do you really believe that?” He asks, his brows pinched.

“No,” you answer reflexively, voice too sharp even to your ears. “No, not that… I don’t know, I was trying to make a joke, but maybe… I don’t know. I get scared sometimes,” you say carefully, trying desperately not to spill the tears gathering in your eyes. “That someday I’m not going to be enough because y–”

His lips meet yours before you can continue, muffling the rest of your sentence. His hands are impossibly warm as they sweep up your back, eventually cupping either side of your neck. He kisses you like he’s starving, like he needs the taste of you to breathe, like he would die without you. He kisses you until your brain feels foggy and there’s a dull throb between your legs.

“You’re ridiculous,” he all but growls against your lips, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “I’m not going to get bored. Good fucking luck getting out of this one,” he says, slipping a hand to the back of your neck and squeezing for emphasis. You shiver, your tears lost in the wake of the slow rolling heat moving through your body. “Besides, you know damn well you’re the one who’ll be taking care of me.”

You can feel his smirk against your lips, and you laugh unexpectedly, the sound of it bordering on the sob you had very nearly fallen to. “You need a babysitter now?”

“Why, are we roleplaying? That’s pretty naughty,” he purrs.

“Stop it,” you laugh, pushing his face away, but he doesn’t relent. 

“What? Sexy babysitter could be fun,” he says, kissing a trail up your neck.

“Pervert,” you accuse, turning your face to kiss him. He accepts greedily, tongue slipping between your lips. You sigh a soft moan into his mouth, which only encourages his hands to wander even more, eventually settling on your ass. Without warning, he grabs tight and hauls you up, hitching your legs around his waist, swallowing up the startled gasp you give.

He settles down onto the couch, and maneuvers you until you’re straddling his thigh. You can feel the magnitude of his strength thrumming between your legs, pressed up tight against that same throbbing heat he ignited in you with those fervent kisses.

Cupping your face, he pulls you down for more of the same.

“Go ahead,” he says against your lips, his own curved into a gloating smile. “Grind. I can smell how bad you want it.” His voice is low, as coarse and sweet as raw sugar. His words hit you like a punch to the gut, worsening the pulse of your need.

Immediately, you start to rock your hips, grinding down against him. He rewards you with a hand on your thigh, squeezing as it slides slowly higher, his thumb skirting along your inner thigh. “No more stress,” he murmurs, the words warm on your lips. “No more tears. Just you… with me… mine.”

The way he rumbles that word against your ear sends a shiver trilling up and down your spine, the heat at the center of you spiraling up, up, up, blossoming throughout your entire body. He flexes his thigh and gives you one sharp little bounce on it, wringing a moan out of you. You roll your hips faster, tightly clenching your thighs on either side of his. You push both hands up into his hair and hold on tight, panting into the crook of his neck.

Homelander slips both hands back to your ass, gives a generous squeeze while he helps your body move, rolling it in time with the way he flexes and occasionally bucks his thigh against you. “Say it. Say you’ll quit, and you’ll be all mine,” he demands softly, grip flexing on you. There’s a neediness at the edges of his voice. “Give me that. Give me you.”

You screw your eyes shut, keening breathlessly. The grind of fabric against sensitive skin is almost too much, too dry, but it’s fucking good, too. You’re getting wetter and wetter, losing yourself to the relentless pace he sets for you, and the hungry way he kisses at your throat. 

“C’mon. Give it up. Give me everything. M’never letting you go,” he pants, at which point you realize he’s also grinding against your leg. The arousal–the sheer animalistic need–in his voice makes your stomach flip, and with one last shuddering noise, you’re coming against his leg, moaning loud in his ear as the wave of pleasure slowly wrings out every last bit of tension that you had been holding onto.

You collapse against him, your arms hanging limply around his neck. He nuzzles at your jaw, kissing a trail to your lips. You reciprocate lazily, your eyes closed as you luxuriate in the aftershocks of the unexpected release.

“Quit,” he whispers persistently, lips pressed to the corner of your mouth. “We’ll take care of each other.”

“This is playing dirty,” you slur, feeling stupefied in your post-orgasm haze.

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” he says, taking your hand from around his neck, and slipping it between his legs. You bite your tongue. Christ, he runs fucking hot. Even through the fabric of his suit, you can feel the throb of his cock. “You’re gonna be writing your resignation letter in my cum by the end of the night.”

You make a sound somewhere between a laugh and an unsteady moan, clenching against his thigh. “Okay,” you say, lifting your head to kiss him. “Prove it.”

Much to Homelander’s delight, you submit your notice of resignation the very next day.

[webslingingslasher]

What if trouble was having like a crisis at a party or something, maybe like a panic attack and she either hides in a bathroom or runs to someone like Ethan or one of her friends and Peter finds her and is like ??? You didn't feel like you could come to me? And this is during the situationship so she feels like it's nothing more than sex or he's made it clear that's all he wants yk <3

you've been giving peter the cold shoulder all night.

you swore things were fine, but once you had a couple drinks in you, the annoyance of last week's argument hung over your head. peter knows it too. he's tried to be extra nice tonight, but you made sure to stay clear of him until you needed a refill.

'you wanna come hang with me and ethan for a sec?'

'nope, thanks for the drink. talk to you when i need a new one.'

the night took a drastic turn when you slipped away for the bathroom, finding yourself bouncing between bodies and flashing lights, vape clouds and screams, you break free and heave for air.

you tried to find solace in the bathroom, but you never noticed how small it felt. focusing on deep breaths until someone pounds on the door, 'hurry up! i need to pee!' it's a whined out by a person significantly more drunk than you.

there was no comfort or quiet where you went, your only option was backing up into a corner and holding a hand over your chest, doing your best to keep your heart from beating out.

you weren't sure how long had passed, but you felt like you had lead feet. everything was too much and you were shutting down, even if you wanted to move and make a break for peter's room, or the basement, you were stuck.

ethan finds you in a dark corner in the back of the house, he's unsure what you're doing at first, approaching like normal, his hand rubs your shoulder.

'doin alright, trouble?' when you gasp for air he tries to find your face, 'hey, you okay?'

you shake your head, 'i think i'm having a panic attack but i... i don't know why.' you lean into ethan’s touch as you slowly sink to the floor.

'shit, i... hey, want me to go get parker?' he's already moving, you pull at his hand. 'no. no, get ally or, or prince.' you tuck your face in your knees, doing your best to breathe deeply, while ethan looks for a friend.

skating  between bodies, he finds ally. she's with paul, who's with parker. doesn't matter, you're about to explode and you need her.

'ally, you gotta- ally we need to go. right now.' the urgency has her stepping forward, 'why? where are we going?' ethan breathes out your name, 'she's freaking out, i dunno. she said to get you.'

peter steps up, 'woah, what's going on?'

ethan has no time for it, he tugs on ally's arm, 'we gotta go.' ally sends peter a soft shrug before she's doing her best to keep up with ethan.

peter get's an achy feeling before following both of them, ally's already on her knees in front of you patting your hair. ethan's chewing on his nails when he notices peter, 'panic attack.'

it's all he needs to hear, peter crouches to your level. 'hey, trouble. want me to get you somewhere quieter?' your hand reaches for his on the floor, patting around until he holds it out for you. 'is that a yes?'

your breath is racing, your heart pounding, the noise is piercing and you can't move. you refuse to cry at a party in front of everyone, it’s why you're keeping your eyes squeezed shut.

you hate that he's here, that he's watching it go down, but you're so very thankful he's able to carry you to safety.

'i'm gonna pick you up, okay? i'm going to take you up these back stairs and into my room, is that okay?' you hold ally's wrist in your other hand. 'ally can come, she can stay the whole night in there with you, if you want.'

the tiniest of nods sent peter to move quicker than he ever has. he tapped your knees so you could stretch them down, an arm wrapped under your thighs and one behind your back, he secured you into his hold as he lifted you.

your hands clenched his shirt, it was less about it being peter and more to do with grounding yourself. tucking your head into his chest when he took the stairs two at a time.

'i'm rounding the corner, trouble. ally, wanna get the door for me?'

when his bedroom door shuts behind you it's dark, the music muffles. your heart rate lowers, it's like you can breathe better, no longer fighting to keep air.

peter gently sets you on his bed before crossing over to his windows, ripping the curtains open to let the moonlight fill his room. it's bright enough you can see everything.

ally holds you to her chest, 'oh my goodness, did you see something, or hear something?'

peter shakes his head, 'she was overstimulated.' your eyebrows furrow in ally's shirt, not even you had made that connection, but he did.

'ally,' peter didn't want to sound like a prick, but, 'maybe...' he made a pushing motion with his hand. 'maybe give her some space, just for a second.' she steps away, you feel so relieved from every ounce of pressure you had downstairs, you flop backwards onto peter's bed and sigh.

seconds pass, you feel embarrassed after breaking down in front of peter, especially when he made it clear he was in no rush to be your boyfriend, if ever.

you raise your head up to look at him, 'overstimulated, huh?' peter shrugs, 'i've been there too a few times.'

ally sat on the bed next to you, 'want me to play with your hair?' when peter said it, you felt it. you wanted to be alone in a dark room, maybe not totally alone, but you wanted someone who would just sit there until you needed them.

'um,' you stop her hand gently, 'would you mind if i said i kinda want to hang out with peter instead?' ally quickly stands, 'oh no, not at all! i totally get it, sometimes no one can comfort me like matty. text me if you need me, okay?'

you nod and wait until the door clicks, you pat the bed, waiting until peter sits before you talk.

'sorry. this is probably weird for you. i just know you don't care enough to talk to me or touch me so, you know, just chill here unless i quit breathing or something.'

you can hear nothing but muffled bass and shouts downstairs, it's a comfortable silence.

'hey, trouble, can i talk to you about something?' you hum in response, you can almost hear him thinking.

'i know you put a lot of emphasis on the boyfriend thing, and i know you hate it when i avoid it. but, i'm just not there yet. and i hate that dumb 'it's not you, it's me' stuff, but it is.'

you stay silent.

'and... i know i say dumb stuff a lot, but you are so much more than just a hookup to me. so when you hit me with the you don't care, it really, really hurts my feelings. because, i care about you a lot. i mean, i'd... i'd do anything for you. and i know that doesn't seem like a lot, but for me, that means everything.'

you know he's trying, but that conversation from weeks ago still holds a sour taste on your tongue. you mumble the words with grit, 'yeah, do anything except dumb boyfriend shit.'

'stop.'

'you said it, captain. not me.'

you can feel the frustration brewing in his chest.

'you push and push and when i finally open up you throw back something i said during a fight and under pressure. would it be fair that everytime you compliment me, i follow it up with a 'oh, but do you really? because the other week you called me a fucking coward.'

silence. you don't like when he's right.

'i know you didn't get the answer you wanted, and i'm sorry, but you can't bully me into a relationship. it just doesn't work like that.'

you know it doesn't, but it makes you feel a little better. sometimes dogpiling on peter makes you feel level footed, even if it's only for a second before he's making you feel guilty.

'i just want more, peter. and i don't mean that in a 'keep pressuring you into being my boyfriend' way. i don't know how to explain it.'

peter nibbles at his bottom lip, 'can you try?'

'i just want you to talk to me, and tell me things about yourself, or your childhood. i want you to tell me about the things that made you laugh that day, or show me your interests, or hobbies or really anything that's past surface value.'

you follow up with, 'i think i just want to know i have your commitment.'

you're glad you can't see his face, he's too quiet, you think this is the part where he officially breaks it off.

'you did a good job at explaining it.' his dismissal is enough to send you screaming and running, but he adds more before you could move.

'you have my commitment, trouble. i don't want anyone else but you, and if we need to have the conversation now, i'm off limits. i have been for a while, i'm sorry if i haven't made that clear.'

tilting your chin you get a glance of him, 'off limits?'

peter crosses out his body, 'trouble only zone. i'm talking about no flirting, deleting dm requests, harsh rejection and absolutely no touching.'

'trouble only?'

peter's shoulders drop in relief when the previously unrecognized tension lifts from the room.

he nods, 'only trouble can hear about my day, and childhood, and my hobbies. and touch, trouble can touch as much as she wants, whenever she wants.'

peter has one more thing to add.

'trouble, if i'm going to be anyone's boyfriend, i'm gonna be yours.'

he knows how to keep you latched. it works like a charm. but you can't let him know that.

'hm, if i'm gonna be anyone's girlfriend, i might be yours.'

'then i might be the luckiest guy in the entire world.'

you hum, his admittance made you warm. kicking your shoes off you wriggle higher unto his bed, 'sorry, no more party for me tonight. i'll get a ride home later.'

peter's busy moving closer to you in the sheets, 'you can stay here tonight.' his bed is ultra soft, you don't know how he's able to leave it in the morning. 'tempting, but i'm not in the mood to bang tonight.'

'good, neither am i.' you snort, 'really?' peter nods in your peripheral, 'it takes two to tango, trouble.'

it's calm, then he asks softly, like he's scared of you rejecting him, 'do you wanna cuddle?' your head turns, he's just as breathtaking in the moonlight.

you're already scooting back into him, 'really? don't you have a party to attend?' peter wraps his arms around you, tugging you close and tight, he wouldn't let you slip away if he could help it.

'nah, i'd rather tell you all about my aunt may.' 

[strnilolover]

how do vampire!matt and human!reader meet?

okay so i’m gonna clarify before i write this. matt isn’t like the vampires from twilight, i honestly don’t know what he would be from. BUT! he can be in the sun and all that, maybe he’s like the vampires from vampire diaries. he’s also 121 yrs old and reader is obviously of age 😋

ANYWAYS, i see them meeting in a park. You are taking photos of random things you find pleasing to the eye (trees, flowers, etc.) and you spot Matt lounging at a tree and you think he’s beautiful and want to take pictures of him 😋

It’s a quiet afternoon, and you were wandering through the park that was just a few blocks away from your house. Carrying your camera, you had been taking pictures all day — pretty flowers, golden sunlight filtering through the trees, and candid shots of passersby — but after a while, you seemed to have run out of ideas and things to capture through your lenses.

You were walking down a bark path, weaving through trees and walking by people sitting off on the benches tucked behind bushes. When you had reached the end of the trail, your head turned to look around — seeing if anything caught your eye. Until they landed on a person, a man leaning against a tree.

He was undoubtedly a very attractive man — and the way the sun was portrayed on him, made him seem so…majestic.

Your heart pounded slightly, and you hesitated — contemplating if walking up to this stranger was a good idea. Though she quickly disregarded those thoughts, taking a breath and walking over. You offered a shy smile as you approached him.

“Hi… sorry if this is weird, but you look — uh — like someone who belongs in a magazine or something. Would it be okay if I took a few photos of you?” you asked, holding your camera up in front of you to reason with your statement.

The man looks up, slightly startled by your approach but quickly masking it with a small, amused smirk. “A magazine? That’s a new one,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “You sure you’re not mistaking me for someone else?” he says, giving a small chuckle.

You laugh nervously, shaking your head. “Nope, definitely you. I mean, you don’t have to if it’s uncomfortable or anything. I just… thought it might make a good shot.” you reassured, not wanting to make him uncomfortable at all with your random request.

There’s a moment of silence as he studies you. Most people don’t approach him like this — there’s usually a sense of unease they can’t place — but you doesn’t seem afraid of him at all.

“Alright,” he finally says, his tone soft. “But only if you show me the photos after.” he teased.

Your eyes light up, quickly positioning yourself and snapping a few shots after directing him a little on where to stand. You talk as you work, asking about his day or why he’s here, and he answers in his usual reserved way, though there’s a warmth in his responses.

When you were done with the few shots, you walk back over to him from the spot you had been crouched in, showing him the photos. He’s quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable.

“You have a good eye,” he says finally, glancing at you. “You see things differently.” You blush at the compliment, brushing it off. “It’s just the camera. You’re the one who made them interesting.” you mumbled, rubbing your arms.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I think you give yourself too little credit.” he admits, looking her over. She shrugs, “It’s just something i like to do in my free time — nothing too big.” and he hums, nodding his head.

Before things got more awkward, you reached your hand out. “I’m —“ you say, properly introducing yourself to him. He looked down at your outstretched hand, smiling softly. “Matt.” he said, placing his hand into yours and shaking it. His grip was surprisingly strong — and firm.

Before you parted ways, you impulsively offered him your contact info, saying, “In case you ever want to see the photos again — or, you know, model professionally,” with a playful smile.

Matt takes it, tucking it away with a quiet, “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

And as you walked away, Matt watches you go, his curiosity piqued. There’s something about you — the warmth in her smile, the way she didn’t hesitate to approach him — that lingers in his mind. He wonders if fate had a hand in their meeting, and for the first time in a long while, he feels a spark of connection to someone new.

© strnilolover

[danikamariewrites]

Taken (part 1)

Cassian x f!reader

A/n: I realized I haven't written much for Cass so I decided he gets a two-parter

You can read part 2 here

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, violence, Beron Vanserra being a dick

The room had gone silent, there was a slight ringing in Cassian's ears. Someone had taken you. Someone had taken you from your home. And he wasn’t there to protect you or stop it or kill the person who dared touch you. You’re his mate, and he failed at the one job he had, protecting you.

“Cassian,” Rhys spoke softly, noticing Cassian's hands were curled into fists at his sides. The red siphons strapped to the back of his hands were glowing as his rage simmered. “We will get her back. Whatever it takes. Azriel should be back soon, he said he has a lead.”

He knew what you would say to him if you were here right now. ‘Don’t worry Cass I’m fine. I can handle myself.’ He knew you could. He had been training you since the mating bond snapped. But you didn’t grow up like him. Training every day, honing your body into a weapon.

You grew up studying history, learning languages, and everything about the courts of Prythian. Your mind was strong. You were witty and the smartest person he’d ever met.

Cassian always joked that he was the brawn to your brains and that’s why the cauldron had mated you. But smarts didn’t always get you out of a sticky situation.

Azriel burst through the door, Feyre and Mor on his heels. Cassian turns to face his brother, his rage nearly boiling under his skin. “Who. Took. Her.” He demanded through gritted teeth.

Azriel took a cautious step forward, putting on the mask of Spymaster, attempting to remove his personal feelings from the situation. “Y/n put up one hell of a fight. The house was a mess but I was able to recover this,” Azriel holds out an armored shoulder plate in his scarred hand. “She knew to leave a clue, Cassian. We’re going to find her.”

Cassian took the armor from his brother, examining it. It was bronze, with the insignia of Berons personal hit squad carved on the curve of the metal. Rhys rounds the corner of his desk to examine it.

“Get Nesta and the Valkyries ready, you two get ready as well,” he says to his mate and Mor. “We need to form a plan,” Rhys commands. “No!” Cassian's booming voice echoes around the office. His family pauses, waiting for him to explode.

He shoves the armor into Rhys’ chest. “I’m not fucking waiting for you. I’m going ahead. I’ll see what we’re dealing with.” He stomps towards the door, Azriel stepping in his way. “Cassian, you know how bad of an idea that is.” Cassian growls at his brother but Azriel doesn’t back down.

“I hate to do this Cass,” Rhys starts, Cassian’s back stays turned to him, “but Az is right. As your High Lord, I am ordering you to wait until we are prepared to leave.”

———

You heard a door open and shut echo across the cavernous dungeon, and a male's angry voice muffled by whispers. You didn't dare open your eyes out of fear the guard stationed at your cell door would announce it. So you lay on the floor, pretending to be unconscious.

It was better to catch people off guard when you could, Cassian taught you that. Cassian! Judging by the small amount of sunlight coming in through the tiny window in the cell, it was late and he had to know you were missing by now.

You had tried to reach out to him through the bond a few times but it was no use. Your abductors had used a lot of Fae Bane to subdue you, and the wards around the Forest House were strong. Beron was a very paranoid person and left nothing to chance.

The male's heavy footsteps approach, accompanied by two other pairs. You tried not to let the scent of your fear be known. “Open the door.” You know that voice. Beron had come to see you himself. Something had to be going on if he was desperate enough to have you kidnapped.

He entered the cell, crouching over you. He grabbed your face, squeezing hard. Your eyes fly open, anger overtakes your features as you struggle to get away. He pulls you into a standing position as he looks down at you. “Now, now y/n. You should know better than to struggle.” you stop, your breathing heavy. You weren't an idiot. You wanted to live long enough to attempt an escape, so you'd obey for now.

Beron roughly pushes your face, letting go. Never breaking eye contact you growl out, “What do you want?” He backhands you across your face so hard you fall, hitting the stone floor. Recovering quickly you scramble away from the High Lord of Autumn clutching at your face. You could feel a large bruise forming.

He stands scowling at you, “It's too early to be taking that tone with me y/n. But I will sate your curiosity.” you push into the damp stone wall, hoping you'd fall through it and escape.

“You are Rhysands go-to for translating languages and whatnot.” ok, so he knew your job title. Big deal. “I've come across something rather rare, my people have looked at it but the incompetent fools failed at translating it. You will translate it for me.” He stares down at you expectantly.

It's clear the other High Lords didn't know about Beron's little find, but you had to make sure. “I take it the other High Lords are unaware of this.” He huffs out a laugh. “No, and it will stay that way. You do serve another purpose being here though.” you tilt your head giving him a curious look.

“Your little inner circle is keeping secrets. I didn't think Rhysand would be so careless but alas, I found this in my idiotic son's study.” Beron takes a crumpled piece of paper from his breast pocket holding it out to you. You lean forward slightly to make out the message.

Shit. That was one of the first letters between Rhys and Eris after Hybern. Shit, shit, shit. And Beron knows they’ll show up for you. It's not a secret you and Cassian are mates. Shit. This is a trap. And you're the bait.

The panic showed on your face as Beron smirked at you, knowing he won. He turns to leave, saying, “I'll send guards for you when I'm ready.” The cell door slammed shut and the guard went back to his watch position as Beron and the other two walked away. He was going to leave you here all night. Just to emphasize how powerless you were in this whole situation.

———

By the time the plan was set and everyone was armed to the teeth Cassian was fuming. Too much time had passed for his liking. He was going out of his mind, thinking of all the negative what-ifs. And he couldn't feel you down the bond.

He had reached out a million times and nothing. It was still there but that wasn't enough for Cassian. If he kept thinking about it he was going to be sick.

Rhys’ voice broke him from his thoughts, “You know what your assignments are. We have no room for error. And remember, this could very well be a trap we're walking into. So stay alert.” Everyone nodded.

The plan was that Azriel would winnow in first, then send the all-clear to Rhys for Feyre and Nesta, then Mor and Emerie. And he and Rhys last. They would sneak into the Forest House from four different spots. Nesta and Emerie would take out guards where they could. Mor, Feyre, and Rhys would keep trouble off their backs and find Eris. And He and Azriel would head for the dungeons to get you out.

Rhys grabbed Cassian's arm. The world fell away, darkness consumed his sight, and then the forest of Autumn bathed in moonlight was around him. The air smelled crisp and earthy.

He took a deep breath and followed his brother toward the Forest House.

—��—

You couldn't sleep. You tried different spots on the floor but your anxiety kept your heart pounding at the thought of Beron coming back for you.

You were sitting against the wall, knees pulled into your chest. The guard had yelled at you an hour ago for fidgeting too much, so you've been sitting in this position since. You didn't want to see what he would do if you moved around again.

You began absent-mindedly running your fingers against the stone wall. On your second pass over a certain spot, your finger caught slightly. You ran your finger over the spot again. And traced the crack in the wall up and over.

Laying your palm over the space you felt a slight breeze. This wasn't just a crack in the stone, it was a door to a secret passage. At that moment something in your brain clicked. You've studied every High Lord in Prythian, even the layouts of their houses.

You knew exactly where this passage led. The guard was your only problem. You could do this. Cassian taught you how to sneak up on people. You just had to stay calm.

You moved into a crouching position and slowly made your way over to the bars. His quarterstaff was held lax at his side. You stuck a hand through the bars grabbing the staff. Before he knew what was happening you brought the staff up to his throat. Grabbing the other end you pulled him against the bars, choking him until he passed out. You let him down slowly, so his body didn't make noise.

You push and push against the secret door. After a few minutes, it finally gives in. You start crawling in the dark and dusty passageway. It clearly hadn't been used in centuries.

You didn't want to get ahead of yourself, but this escape route was looking promising.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

[sintiancat]

Tord laughed, looking down at Edd and Matt from his giant robot.

‘’Hey, Edd! Thanks for holding onto this for me!’’ He shouts, smiling from ear to ear. ‘’I’ll have to go now though. The world’s not going to take over itself!’’

‘’But I thought we were… I thought we were friends!’’ Edd shouts, salty tears quickly leaving his eyes.

The old friend he’s known for so long and cherished with all his heart, betraying him.

Just like that.

Like it never meant something for him.

‘’HA! No? What would I need friends for when I’ve got this!’’ He cackles, but stops abruptly. His eyes widening as he remembered something important.

‘’Mh. But you know... there is something- no, someone I do need.’’ He says, his eyes darting around the neighborhood. ‘’I need her.’’ He mumbles, his eyes continuing to search desperately for her.

Edd and Matt look at each other, agitated and worried.

Some seconds pass by, and the silence only becomes louder.

Everyone seems to wait for something.

...

But nothing happens.

You don’t appear.

‘’CUT!’’ The director announces, promptly standing up from his seat. His hands rubbing his lower back, as he stretched.

‘’Ugh. Where’s the main love interest? She was supposed to enter scene as soon as he said that!’’ He frowns, reading the script one more time as he shouts your name.

You jolt, head turning abruptly at the mention of your name

You looked like a deer caught in headlights, and when you made eye contact with the director, you slowly left the pastry you were about to eat back with the rest of the food on set.

‘’What?’’ You frown, ‘’I’m not supposed to enter scene yet.’’ You huff, about to take the pastry again.

Except you can't.

You feel a hand rest on your shoulder, beckoning you to turn around as you hear someone say your name soon after. ‘’The script changed’’ Paul informs you, his thick eyebrows furrowing to show his confusion ‘’Edd was supposed to tell you this morning.’’

You tilt your head, ‘’He didn’t’’

‘’I did!’’ Edd says, approaching the two of you. ‘’When we were having breakfast, remember?’’

Your eyes squint as you recall the events of this morning. When Edd was eating the promotional cereal ‘’Eddsworld’’.

‘’I just remember you talking with your mouth full.’’ You blink, ‘’You should really stop doing that by the way, we can’t understand you and you know how annoyed Tom gets after.’’ Edd laughs, nodding.

‘’I know, I know.’’ He sighs, his lips parting to comment again. But instead, he only gasps.

‘’Where’s Tom?’’

Paul eyes widens, his cigar about to fall of as he wastes no time to run to the set. Edd rushing to do the same.

‘’Oh shit. Don’t tell me you guys left him inside the debris?!’’ You panic, following after the two to help your friend out of the destroyed house.

Matt and the director were already there, lifting the remains of the house to get Tom out.

Well, the director was the one lifting. Matt was panicking as he called Tom’s name horrified.

With more of the crew helping you quickly took him out, the man with spiky hair groaning in pain.

Matt and you sigh, a bit more relieved at the sight of Tom, who was at least still conscious enough to curse.

From the corner of your eye, you see how some crew members help Tord step off the giant robot, the Norwegian running towards Tom to make sure he wasn’t badly injured.

Tord lifts him up, seating him down so a crewmate could quickly aid him.

Tom tries not to wince as he feels the alcohol-soaked cotton ball touch his injury.

‘’I didn’t receive the signal,’’ He hisses, ‘’I stayed there for whole five minutes.’’

‘’There was not clear communication.’’ The director huffs, crossing his arms. ‘’Someone forgot to inform people about the change in script.’’

Edd looks away, whistling as he kicks a pebble.

‘’Why am I not surprised…’’ You hear someone mutter

Sighing, you crouch down at Tom’s level.

‘’Tom.’’

‘’Yeah?’’ He looks your way, his tired eyes making eye contact with you.

You have a tiny smile on your face, as you lean closer to him.

Your lips parting to whisper into his ear.

‘’Idiot. I fucking told you to accept the stunt double.’’ You pull his ear

---

heres my two cents to the ew x reader community. i dont think ive ever seen an actor au in the fandom tbh

also hi tumblr how do u