#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?"

[mmso-notlikethat]

Bucktommy Ι WC: 3400 Ι Christmas fic Ι cw: unintentional self-harm

I might have some kind of fixation with writing them drunk but well... I love seeing them messy and pathetic sue me 😞

also on ao3

"Bar fights on Christmas Eve. Why is this a thing?" Hen muttered.

Eddie adjusted his gloves, surveying the scene. "Maybe Santa didn’t bring what they wanted."

Chimney chuckled. "Or someone sang ‘Last Christmas’ one too many times."

Buck stayed quiet, his mind already churning with a mix of irritation and exhaustion. As they approached, a police officer waved them over.

"This one’s yours... I think," the officer said, jerking his thumb toward someone sitting on the curb. Buck’s stomach sank as soon as he recognized the messy mop of dark hair.

"Tommy?" Buck’s voice came out in disbelief.

Hen tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. "Oh no.”

Tommy looked up, his face marked with a bruise along his cheekbone and a faint cut near his eyebrow. His hair was disheveled, his shirt wrinkled and slightly damp as if someone had spilled a drink on him. Despite all of this, he grinned widely. "Heyyyyy! Look who’s here! Evan! No Buck!! My favorite ex!"

Chimney blinked, caught between disbelief and amusement. "Okay, Christmas just got interesting."

Buck groaned, already dreading whatever explanation was coming. "What happened?"

Tommy tried moving, the cuffs clinking as he gestured grandly. "Do you know how great you are, Evan? You’re like—like Santa, but with better arms!"

"Okay, he’s drunk," Eddie said, trying—and failing—to hide his amusement.

Hen smirked. "No kidding, detective."

The officer sighed. "Bar fight broke out. He didn’t throw any punches, but he got hit, refused medical attention, and wouldn’t leave when we asked. Kept insisting he was fine."

"I am fine," Tommy slurred, his voice betraying just how much he wasn’t. "They didn’t mean it. They were just… passionate about pool tables."

Eddie raised an eyebrow. "They punched you in the face."

"And the ribs," Tommy added cheerfully. "But I didn’t hit back! Isn’t that the Christmas spirit?"

Chimney snorted, already enjoying this far more than he should. "You got sucker-punched, and your takeaway is holiday cheer?"

"Forgiveness is key, Howie," Tommy declared dramatically. He leaned back slightly, his cuffs clinking. "I’m basically a saint."

Hen crouched in front of him, tilting her head. "How much did you drink?"

Tommy squinted, holding up his fingers. "Two? Maybe four? Could be six. Math’s hard."

The officer crossed his arms, visibly irritated. "He was trying to mediate, but when things got heated, one of the guys turned on him. Said something about him 'looking smug'—whatever that means."

Tommy perked up. "I do look smug! It’s my default face."

"Congratulations," Buck muttered. "You got punched for your great personality."

Hen smirked. "To be fair, it’s a punchable face."

"Thanks, Hen. Love you too," Tommy shot back, swaying slightly. "But seriously, I didn’t even fight back. I just told them to calm down, and, bam, fist to the face. It was… educational."

Eddie crossed his arms. "You learned nothing."

"I learned not to stand too close to drunk strangers holding beer bottles," Tommy said wisely.

The officer announced. "Look, if you can take him off our hands, I’m willing to let him go. Just… keep him out of trouble."

Tommy perked up. "See? I’m very cooperative. Just ask—what’s your name again? Officer Friendly?"

Buck said shocked and unbelieving “Let him go? You said he didn’t even hit back! Why is he even cuffed?? Why didn’t you just let him leave?”

The officer shrugged. "He was being stubborn. Kept saying he was fine, didn’t need help, and that he was 'the spirit of Christmas.' You try reasoning with that."

Tommy nodded proudly. "I am the spirit of Christmas. Forgiveness, love, and mild head injuries."

Chimney shook his head, grinning. "Oh, this is gold. Someone should write this down."

Eddie crouched beside Tommy, examining his bruised face. "Doesn’t look like it’s broken, but you’ll need an ice pack.”

The officer muttered something under his breath while uncuffing him, and Eddie stood up to help Tommy stand.

"You’re lucky they didn’t haul you in," Eddie said, steadying him. "But seriously, you okay?"

Tommy waved a hand, swaying slightly. "Never better. Just a little… dented."

"Dented," Buck repeated, his jaw tightening as he noticed the way Tommy flinched when Eddie accidentally brushed his side. "We’re checking those ribs now.”

Tommy looked at him with an exaggerated pout. "Evan, you’re still bossy. I missed that."

Buck rolled his eyes, biting back the mix of worry and frustration bubbling inside him. "Let’s go."

Tommy suddenly leaned toward Buck, sniffing dramatically. "You smell good. Like cookies. Did you bake? You totally baked."

"Sit down, Tommy," Buck said, guiding him toward the ambulance. "And stop sniffing me."

"Can we keep him like this?" Hen asked. "He’s much more entertaining."

"Yeah, it’s like finding a unicorn," Eddie added. "Drunk, unfiltered Tommy. Never thought I’d see the day."

Once Tommy was helped into the ambulance, Buck followed close behind, his jaw tight with concern. Tommy sat on the gurney, looking dazed but still trying to joke.

"See? I’m fine. You’re overreacting. Classic Evan."

"Take your shirt off," Buck said, already pulling gloves on. "We need to check for bruising."

Tommy leaned back against the gurney, his grin widening lazily. "Oooh you are a medic now? If you wanted to see me shirtless, you could’ve just asked. No need for the whole Christmas emergency."

"Tommy, stop," Buck said, exasperated, his voice sharp with worry. "Just let me check."

Tommy shook his head, folding his arms defiantly. "Nope. Not letting you play doctor."

Hen stepped in, putting a hand on Buck’s shoulder. "Let the professionals handle this, Buck."

"I can handle it," Buck argued, his eyes fixed on Tommy. "He’s hurt."

Chimney appeared on Buck’s other side, smirking. "He’s always been stubborn. You’re not gonna win this one. Let us do our job."

Buck hesitated, his hands falling to his sides as Hen gently nudged him out of the way. She crouched in front of Tommy, her voice calm but commanding. "Alright, Tommy. You don’t get a choice. Shirt off, now."

Tommy sighed dramatically, wincing slightly as he pulled off his jacket and shirt. Underneath, dark bruises were spreading across his ribs and a faint red mark lingered along his shoulder.

Hen frowned. "That looks nasty. You’re definitely going to the hospital."

"It’s just a bruise," Tommy said with a wave of his hand. "Tough guy stuff, you know."

Chimney raised an eyebrow. "Tough guys don’t take punches like that without flinching. Which you did, by the way."

"That’s because I’m cool under pressure," Tommy said with exaggerated flair.

Buck, standing nearby, crossed his arms tightly, his jaw set. "Cool under pressure doesn’t mean you don’t need help. You’re going to the hospital, Tommy."

Tommy tilted his head toward Buck, his smile turning genuine.

Buck didn’t wait for him to speak, his eyes flicking to the bruises before meeting Tommy’s gaze. "Let’s just get you taken care of."

Hen cleared her throat. "Alright, playtime’s over. Chim, get the monitor. We’re not taking chances with those ribs."

Tommy slumped back against the gurney, his grin faint but still there. "You guys really are like family. Dysfunctional, but family. Awesome."

As Hen and Chimney worked, Buck hovered nearby, his concern palpable. Tommy—even drunk—noticed, his voice softening. "Hey, Evan. I’m okay."

"You don’t look okay," Buck said, his voice clipped.

"But I will be," Tommy murmured. "Thanks… to you and all of you."

The ambulance hummed quietly as it crossed the dark streets, the faint sound of sirens cutting through the stillness. Buck sat on the bench across from Tommy, his eyes fixed on him as Hen drove and Chimney worked on notes up front. Tommy leaned back against the gurney, arms folded across his chest, his bruised face turned toward the ceiling.

"You going to tell me what happened?" Buck asked, breaking the silence.

Tommy tilted his head, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "What? Didn’t the officer give you the play-by-play? It’s pretty simple, guy punches me, I forgive him, everyone moves on."

Buck’s jaw tightened. "That’s not what I meant."

"Well, you gotta be more specific, Evan," Tommy said, the grin widening. "I’ve had a lot of adventures tonight. Bar fights, karaoke, getting arrested… It’s been a full Christmas Eve."

Buck leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "I mean why you were even there. Why were you drinking alone? Why did you let someone hit you and just—wave it off?"

Tommy shrugged, his expression still light. "Maybe I was spreading Christmas cheer. You know, turn the other cheek and all that."

"Tommy," Buck said, his voice sharper now, "this isn’t funny."

"Neither are you, but we all have our flaws," Tommy quipped, winking. "Come on, lighten up. It’s Christmas."

Buck’s patience frayed. "You’re covered in bruises and sitting in an ambulance, and you’re joking. Why can’t you just be serious now for five minutes?"

The grin on Tommy’s face faltered, and he turned his head away, looking at the far wall of the ambulance. His voice, when it came, was quieter. "Because serious didn’t help."

The tension in the small space grew, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. Buck exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to rein in his frustration. His eyes drifted to Tommy again, and that’s when he noticed it—his eyes, red and puffy, like he’d been crying before the fight.

"Tommy…" Buck started, his voice softer. "Have you been—"

"Don’t," Tommy interrupted, his tone flat. "Just… don’t."

Buck fell silent, studying him closer. The faint hollows beneath Tommy’s cheekbones were more pronounced than he remembered, and the way his jacket hung slightly looser over his frame caught his attention. He wasn’t skinny, but he was leaner—more muscular, yes, but not in a healthy way. It looked like someone who’d been skipping meals and pushing too hard.

"You’re not eating enough," Buck said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Tommy glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "Didn’t realize you were also a nutritionist now."

Buck’s concern only deepened. "You’re overworking yourself. You’ve always done that, but this—this is different."

Tommy’s jaw tightened, and he looked away again, his voice barely audible. "I’m fine, Evan."

"No, you’re not," Buck shot back, but Tommy didn’t respond. He stayed quiet, his gaze fixed on the window as the city lights blurred by.

After a long stretch of silence, Tommy murmured so quietly that Buck almost missed it. "I HATE Christmas. Stupid captain—‘You are taking Christmas off, Kinard.’ Stupid, stupid."

Buck glanced at him, startled by the soft admission. Tommy’s head lolled slightly to the side, and his eyes were heavy-lidded, but the slurred bitterness in his tone cut through the haze of drunkenness.

“Stupid Christmas. Stupid captain made me take it off. What else was I supposed to do?”

"Tommy…" Buck started, but Tommy didn’t look at him. Instead, he muttered something unintelligible and leaned back against the gurney, his expression shutting down entirely.

The ambulance fell silent again, save for the faint hum of the engine. Buck leaned back against the bench, his hands gripping his knees as he tried to process what Tommy had said—or what he didn’t say. He wanted to push, to get answers, but the look on Tommy’s face—the shut-down, closed-off expression—stopped him. For now, at least.

…

The fluorescent lights in the hospital room buzzed as the doctor stood at the foot of Tommy’s bed, flipping through his chart. Tommy sat up slightly, one hand rubbing his forehead as he squinted at the doctor. He was more coherent now, though his eyes still held a hint of fatigue.

“Here’s what we’re looking at,” the doctor began. “Bruised cheek bone, two stitches on the cut above your eyebrow, bruised ribs, and—” he paused, giving Tommy a pointed look, “—a mild concussion. Turns out you did hit your head during the fight. But with how drunk you were, it wasn’t immediately obvious if it was the alcohol or a concussion causing your symptoms.”

Tommy groaned, leaning back against the pillows. “Great. So I’m a walking disaster. Is that what you’re saying?”

The doctor didn’t smile. “I’m saying we’re keeping you overnight for observation. It’s standard with head injuries, and given your condition—”

“I’m fine,” Tommy interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “Look, thanks for the concern, but I don’t need to stay here. I just need some water, maybe a snack, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “You have a concussion and bruised ribs. This isn’t up for debate.”

“Debate? Come on,” Tommy said, his voice edging on pleading. “I’ve had worse. I’m a firefighter, I know what I’m saying. Just let me go home, and I’ll sleep it off.”

“You’re staying,” Buck’s voice cut through the room before the doctor could respond.

Tommy turned his head sharply, his tired eyes narrowing. “Why are you even here?” he snapped. “Just go. You got me checked in, that’s enough. Thank you very much!”

Buck didn’t flinch, didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he took a step closer, the tension in his face eased, despite the frustration still lingering in his voice. “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re staying the night. End of discussion.”

Tommy scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest before wincing as the motion aggravated his bruised ribs. “Unbelievable. You think you can just waltz in here and—”

“Tommy,” Buck interrupted again. “You need to rest. Stop arguing.”

For a moment, Tommy just stared at him, his jaw clenched tightly, but he didn’t have the energy to keep up the fight. He let out a frustrated sigh, looking away. “Fine. Whatever.”

Buck nodded once, then turned toward the door. “I’m going to tell everyone your state and that you’re staying the night.”

That stopped Tommy cold. “Everyone?” His voice was sharper now, his head snapping back toward Buck.

Buck paused, glancing over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “Everyone who needs to know.”

…

When Buck came back Tommy was lying back against the pillows, his face slightly turned to one side. His breathing was slow but uneven, like he was trying to stay awake despite the pull of exhaustion. Buck sat in the chair beside the bed, scrolling through his phone, his leg bouncing slightly in nervous habit.

Minutes passed, the quiet of the hospital only broken by the occasional beep from the monitor. Tommy stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open. For a moment, he just lay there, staring at Buck, who hadn’t noticed he was awake. Tommy’s gaze lingered on him, taking in the familiar slope of his shoulders, the furrow of his brow as he focused on his screen. Finally, Tommy sighed, his voice soft and scratchy.

“Another Christmas at the hospital. Old habits die hard, huh?”

Buck’s head snapped up, startled. “Uh, you woke up.”

Tommy smiled faintly, shifting slightly on the bed. “Yeah, happens sometimes.”

Buck leaned forward, tucking his phone away. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything? Should I call the doctor?”

Tommy shook his head and immediately regretted it, wincing as pain shot through his temple. “Ow. Nope. Definitely no head shaking.”

Buck stood quickly, his concern sharpening. “You okay? Want me to get someone?”

“I’m fine,” Tommy said, his voice sharp. He looked at Buck and gave a small, sheepish smile. “Thanks for staying, though. Uh… sorry about your shift.”

Buck moved to stand beside the bed, waving it off casually. “Bobby gave me the rest off. I’ll cover another shift later. It’s fine.”

Tommy winced again as he shifted to sit up a little straighter. “Yeah, sorry… you know you didn’t have to.”

Buck’s expression relaxed, but there was a weight to his gaze as he looked down at Tommy. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then, without warning, Buck reached out, his hand brushing gently against Tommy’s bruised cheek.

Tommy froze, startled by the touch. His instinct was to lean back, but instead, he found himself leaning into Buck’s palm, almost without thinking. “Uh, what…”

“Tommy... you’re hurt,” Buck said, his voice quiet and firm.

Tommy blinked at him, then let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Duh.”

Buck didn’t move his hand, his thumb grazing just below the cut near Tommy’s eyebrow. “No, Tommy,” he said, his voice heavier now. “You’re hurt.”

The words landed with a weight that seemed to knock the air out of the room. Tommy stared up at him, his expression unreadable, until his eyes began to glisten. He blinked rapidly, turning his face slightly to avoid Buck’s gaze. “I’m fine,” he murmured.

“You’re not,” Buck said, lowering his hand but not stepping away. “And you don’t have to pretend with me.”

Tommy swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he tried to push the emotion back down. “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he said finally.

Buck pulled the chair closer and sat down his eyes drifted to the bruises shadowing Tommy’s cheek and the faint red line where the stitches had been placed, “You don’t always have to handle it alone, you know. You can… let someone in. Let me in.”

For a long moment, Tommy didn’t respond. Then he exhaled slowly, leaning his head back against the pillow.

“I think I forgot how.” his voice quiet, almost fragile. It was the kind of admission that wasn’t meant to be heard aloud.

Buck’s chest tightened at the words. He gave a faint, sad smile. “Then we’ll figure it out.”

Tommy’s gaze flicked toward him, a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, maybe hope, but definitely vulnerability. It wasn’t a side of Tommy Buck had seen often, and it wasn’t one Tommy would have willingly shown under normal circumstances. But here, under the dim hospital lights, stripped of his usual defenses, he couldn’t hide.

Tommy shifted slightly, his fingers absentmindedly brushing the edge of the hospital blanket, where Buck's hand rested. “You’re stubborn, you know that?” he muttered, his tone lighter now, though the exhaustion still lingered.

Buck let out a small laugh. “Takes one to know one.”

Tommy smirked faintly at that, but the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I don’t know why you’re still here.”

Buck leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Because you need someone to be.”

Tommy swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know if I deserve that.”

Buck’s response was immediate, no hesitation in it. “You do.”

For a moment, Tommy said nothing, his eyes drifting toward the window, where the faint glow of the city lights filtered through the blinds. “I’m not good at this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Buck straightened slightly, his gaze steady and unwavering. “You don’t have to be. I told you we’ll figure it out together.”

Tommy looked at him again, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. Instead, he nodded—just a small, almost imperceptible movement—and leaned his head back against the pillow once more.

Buck hesitated, then said quietly, “Uh… Merry Christmas…?”

The words seemed to break something loose in Tommy. He suddenly sat up, his movements sharp and panicked, a decision he regretted immediately. His face contorted in pain as he squeezed his eyes shut, a wince escaping his lips. “Shit,” he hissed, his hand instinctively clutching his side. “Shit, Evan, it’s Christmas!”

Buck blinked, caught off guard by the outburst. “Tommy—”

“You should be with your family, not in a hospital!” Tommy’s voice cracked slightly, and his hands trembled as he rubbed at his face. His breathing hitched, and for a moment, it looked like he was on the verge of tears. “I didn’t mean to— You shouldn’t be— God, this is all—”

“Tommy,” Buck interrupted softly, standing and taking a step closer to the bed.

Tommy shook his head, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You should be with your family. Or—hell, with the 118—they’re your family anyway.”

Buck sighed, ducking his head for a moment as he tried to steady himself. Then, with quiet determination, he moved closer, cupping Tommy’s face with both hands and gently forcing him to meet his gaze.

“Tommy,” he said firmly, his voice steady and filled with certainty. “Don’t you get it? I am exactly where I want to be.”

[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 🫶🏻

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

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

[kkayyerr]

Struggling and cuddling.

Summary: Rafe and JJ trying to tolerate each other for the little!reader‘s sake, until one evening JJ suddenly regress for the first time in front of his „enemy”.

Pairing: Daddy!Rafe x little!reader x little!JJ.

Warnings: Age regression, slight swearing.

Rafe was used to JJ always being cranky, especially after the fights with his father. No matter how much they despised each other, they had to cooperate because you seemed to love them both equally. They got used to each other’s behaviors, not enjoying the company of one another, but at least learning to be more calm while spending time together. However, JJ’s mood today was hard to tolerate. He was going off on you, being extremely rude to Rafe, cursing him off right in front of you, which he usually would never do. Rafe wasn’t scared of fighting JJ; it wouldn’t be the first time that he would deal with the Pogue. However, his feelings about the whole situation were odd. Something was wrong with the boy, but Rafe just couldn’t find out what. 

Rafe approached you while you were sitting on the carpet, coloring pictures with your favorite crayons. He hated the thoughts of you being present in the serious and stressful conversation, so he crouched down in front of you, giving you a head pat to get your attention. 

 

„Baby, can you please go and play in our bedroom for a little while?”

 

You looked at him confused. He usually would tell you that when you had misbehaved. Why would he ask you that when you didn’t do anything wrong? 

 

„Why?”

 

Rafe sighed. He didn’t know how to exactly explain this. He obviously didn’t want your precious little mind to be filled with adult problems, so he knew that he had to just make something up quickly.

 

„Me and JJ want to make a little surprise for you, okay?”

 

Your demeanor quickly changed to a happy one, and you quickly got up from the floor, taking all the crayons and coloring books with you to the room. Rafe gave you a soft smile that quickly disappeared when you had closed the door behind you. 

He turned around and approached JJ, trying to control his temper, even though he was very intimidated right now. 

 

„What the fuck is wrong with you?”

 

The words sounded more curious than angry. Rafe actually wanted to know what was happening. Not because he cared about JJ, of course not. He just wanted to make sure that his personal problems wouldn’t affect you. 

JJ didn’t answer. He didn’t seem angry or pissed like earlier; his face expression was numb. It looks like he was struggling to understand his own emotions, and Rafe knew exactly how it feels, even though he wasn’t planning on admitting it. 

 

„Can you at least try to communicate like an adult?”

 

Rafe’s tone was a bit snarky, but deep down he was starting to get worried, not knowing why exactly he even cared. JJ didn’t answer this time either. Rafe was starting to feel a little bit frustrated when he saw a familiar scene. JJ was standing there, sucking on his thumb just as you used to do whenever you would regress. Rafe’s eyes widened for a moment, but then he relaxed, knowing that at least he knew what he was dealing with right now. 

He carefully put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and sighed with relief when he didn’t push it away. 

JJ felt a strange wave of comfort washing over him as Rafe’s hand touched his shoulder. Surprisingly, his touch was soft and gentle. JJ wouldn’t admit that, but it was exactly what he needed in the moment. 

 

“You can go home if you want. I’ll tell her something.”

 

Rafe didn’t have time for another sentence. JJ quickly turned around and hugged him, probably seeking comfort from at least someone. Rafe’s eyes widened; it was not what he was expecting at all. Though he didn’t push him away. He just awkwardly petted his back, not knowing how to react. 

 

„Alright, dude. I get it, you’re a little bit clingy right now, yeah?”

 

He wasn’t planning on teasing him, but he just couldn’t hold himself back right now. Who could’ve thought that he would have two pogues who trusted him enough to regress in front of him? 

JJ pulled away, looking a bit embarrassed by his behavior that he couldn’t control. He was way too hungry for affection right now to think about their previous fights. 

 

„Can you use your big boy words and tell me what do you need?”

 

JJ shyly pointed his finger at Rafe, trying to explain his needs non-verbally. Rafe understood perfectly what he had meant, but he wanted him to do as he was told at least once. 

He raised his brows, hinting that JJ might want to actually use his vocals, if he wanted to get something.

 

„You."

 

Rafe felt weird pleasure hearing those words. It was almost funny how easy it was to make you two fall for him, even though he wasn’t planning on using it against you, at least not yet. 

He chuckled a little bit, getting closer to JJ just to ruffle his hair. The boy’s face finally brightened up. 

 

„I’ll be sure to remind you of that moment every time you  behave like an arrogant asshole.”

 

JJ pouted, and Rafe pinched his cheeks just to make him smile again. Both of them were interrupted by the sounds of your little footsteps. They immediately turned they had in your direction, both smiling softly at the sight of your confused face expression.

 

„Daddies, what happen’?”

 

Your question was almost funny, and Rafe tried his best to hide his little smirk but eventually failed. He looked at the JJ once more, admiring his blushed cheeks. 

 

„It seems like we actually have a surprise for you, little one.”

Taglist: @tinylilacbun @rafecameronsloverrrrr @aew-regression-cove

[scoupsakakitty]

hii!! i love your works and was wondering if you could write a nana tour Vernon fic, where when they go to vernon's room seungkwan has to go in and check first because vernon and reader were together and then he tells reader to hide in the washroom or something?? you can write it as you wish, and please ignore if you're not comfortable

Hidden Moments | idol!Vernon x Reader | fluff

The soft hum of conversation from the hallway grew louder as Vernon closed his hotel room door behind him. You leaned against the small desk, watching him with a lazy smile as he set his phone down on the nightstand.

“Think they’re going to catch on soon?” you asked, teasingly, referring to the other members of Seventeen.

He shrugged, a small smirk playing on his lips. “If we keep sneaking around like this, maybe. But I think we’re doing okay so far.”

Your relationship wasn’t a complete secret, but it wasn’t exactly public knowledge either. The two of you had been seeing each other for a while now, quietly stealing moments whenever Vernon’s chaotic schedule allowed.

He crossed the room, standing in front of you and placing his hands gently on your waist. “I like this though,” he murmured, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. “It’s just us for a while.”

The moment felt warm, intimate and then there was a knock at the door.

Both of you froze.

“Vernon? Open up, I need something,” Seungkwan’s voice called from the hallway.

Vernon’s eyes widened slightly as he glanced toward the door. “Uh, give me a second!” he replied, his voice steady despite the panic in his expression.

You bit your lip to hold back a laugh. “He can’t see me here,” you whispered, already moving toward the bathroom.

Vernon nodded quickly, ushering you toward the door with a sheepish smile. “Stay here,” he whispered before you slipped inside.

Moments later, you heard the room door open, followed by the unmistakable voice of Seungkwan.

“Why did you take so long?” Seungkwan asked suspiciously.

“I was… uh, cleaning up a bit,” Vernon lied.

“Cleaning? Really?”

The sound of footsteps made you tense.

“Wait, did you have someone in here?” Seungkwan’s tone was accusatory, and you imagined him narrowing his eyes at Vernon.

“No! What are you talking about?” Vernon said, a little too quickly.

“I don’t believe you,” Seungkwan replied, his voice dramatic. “I’m going to check.”

Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening.

“Hyung, seriously, there’s nothing—”

But Seungkwan didn’t wait for Vernon to finish. The sound of approaching footsteps made your heart race. You barely had time to think before the bathroom door creaked open.

Seungkwan peeked inside, his gaze falling on you crouched awkwardly by the sink. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

“Oh,” he said flatly, blinking a few times. Then, he turned back to Vernon, who stood behind him looking sheepish. “You’re unbelievable.”

Vernon scratched the back of his neck. “I can explain…”

Seungkwan raised a hand to stop him. “No need. I’m just going to pretend I didn’t see anything. But next time,” he looked back at you, “hide better.”

With that, Seungkwan left, muttering something about how he deserved an award for putting up with everyone.

When the door closed, Vernon let out a breath of relief, turning to face you as you stepped out of the bathroom.

“Well,” you said, trying not to laugh, “that could’ve gone worse.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Next time, we’re locking the door.”

You grinned, pulling him into a hug. “Next time, we’ll be more careful.”

“Deal,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

Despite the close call, you couldn’t help but feel that moments like these messy, imperfect, and shared only with Vernon were your favorites.

————————————————————————————-

[snow-snowball]

🧸ྀི A man! 🧸ྀི

What lads men doing for you?

characters: Sylus; Xavier; Zayne; Rafayel.

a/n: English is not my first language, so I apologise for any mistakes. Requests are open!!!

It's New Year's Eve in four days. I would love for you to decorate my Christmas tree!

warnings: Mentioning clubs, drunk people, clingy men, kids, not highly toxic jokes.

Sylus:

• He won’t let you feel uncomfortable.

• Is the club music too loud? Sylus will throw out the DJ to lower the volume.

• Is the company unpleasant? He will wrap his arm around your shoulders and lead you away.

• Is some guy staring at you strangely? Sylus will take care of him without hesitation.

• Today was another visit to the club. You didn’t give Sylus a heads-up, and now you regret it. You’ve had too much to drink and are struggling to walk. It feels like you might break your ankles in these heels. Leaning against the wall of a tall building, you touched your hot face with an equally warm hand. Your eyes struggled to make sense of the figures around you.

• “Hey, gorgeous! Need some help?” a strange male voice called out. The stranger stood too close, his hands already reaching for your shoulders when suddenly, black and red threads wrapped around him and lifted him away.

• “Keep your filthy hands to yourself.” Oh, that voice—you could recognize it anywhere. Your man arrived just in time, as always. You heard the man's screams, the crack of bones, and Sylus’s heavy footsteps. “Here I am saving you again, kitten.”

• “Sylus?” You swayed and fell right into his arms. “I missed you so much!” To be honest, Sylus likes it when you’re drunk because you become quite clingy. “These stupid heels hurt! Can I take them off?”

• He supported you with one hand while the other removed his shoes. Then he crouched down and placed you on his knee. Sylus began to take off your heels and slipped on his shoes instead. “Is this better?” he asked, gently standing while holding your heels.

• “Oh! So comfortable!” You clapped your hands joyfully, and in response, he leaned down to kiss you on the forehead.

Xavier:

• He always walks ahead of you, shielding you with his broad back.

• As one of the top Hunters, Xavier takes on the most perilous missions. When you join him on assignments, he turns into a protective hen. “Hold on. I’ll check it out.” Or “Shh, there’s someone over there. I’ll handle it; you stay put.” Or “Don’t interfere; I’ve got this.” At first, it stung, making you feel like a burden. But that couldn’t be further from the truth! Xavier just wants to keep you safe and sound.

• His worry for you even led him to argue with his superiors. When they refused to make any changes (Xavier believes you should get easier tasks), he got angrier than ever before.

• It seems that Hunter has everything under wraps, but when it comes to his beloved, he just can’t keep his emotions at bay.

• He protects you even during casual strolls. Xavier is always alert, ready to take on any threat just so you’re okay.

• When unfamiliar guys approach, he draws you in closer and shoots them a cold glare. With that displeased look, he wards off anyone who dares to come near. “Wow, you’ve really got a jealous streak!” you chuckle, watching him shoo away yet another suitor.

• “Jealous?”

• “Well, it’s when you think that someone you care about might go off with someone else. You’re deeply attached, and you feel a pang when someone tries to steal your partner. Something like that.” You smile awkwardly, realizing how silly it sounds.

• “Yeah, probably.” Xavier’s words hit home. “I’d protect you from anyone in this world.” He gently brushed your cheek and pulled you closer. “Especially from men who have their eyes on my treasure.” His soft lips brushed against yours. Through that tender kiss, he tries to convey what he can’t say aloud.

Zayne:

• This doctor won’t let you lift anything heavy.

• Heading to the store? He’ll tag along to haul all those bulky bags for you.

• Want to move the couch to make the room look nicer? Better step aside. Zayne will handle it all.

• Right now, you’re secretly trying to drag heavy boxes filled with useless junk up to the attic without your husband knowing. But you miscalculated the distance from the wall and crashed into it, sending the boxes tumbling. The racket alerted your husband, and he surveyed the scene with a disapproving look. “Why didn’t you call for me?” First, he helped you up, then you both gathered everything that tumbled out of the boxes back inside. After a heavy sigh, he stacked the boxes and lifted them effortlessly. Once everything was stowed away in the attic, Zayne came back down to you. “So, why didn’t you tell me?”

• “You were busy working, and I didn’t want to bother you.”

• “And that’s why you thought it was a good idea to do this on your own? Y/N, you’re my woman. You shouldn’t be doing all the heavy lifting when I’m around.” He pulled you into his chilly embrace, but the warmth of your body soon turned it cozy. “You could’ve hurt your back or worse.” Zayne pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

• “Sorry for worrying you.”

• “It's all good,” he sighed. “But don’t let it happen again. The mother of my future children needs to stay healthy.” He smiled and ruffled your hair.

• “Mother of your future children?”

• “You thought you could get away from me? Not a chance. I want to build a family with you. I want kids, and only with you.” Zayne's words made you blush. Despite his serious nature, he loves to playfully tease you just to see the flustered look on your face.

Rafayel:

• He always opens doors for you and pulls out your chair like a true gentleman.

• This man is far too glamorous and sophisticated for this world.

• Today, like usual, he decided to take you to the most upscale restaurant. You’ve realized time and again that in his suit, Rafayel is just too hot to handle.

• He loves it when your outfits match; it shows everyone around that you’re a genuine, loving couple.

• As he opened the car door, he waved his hand gallantly, inviting you to hop in. You laughed, lifted the hem of your dress, and slipped into the car.

• Once you arrived, the artist was the first out, opening your door and helping you out. Wrapping your arm around his, you beamed and rested your head on his shoulder. “Today, you’re glowing with happiness—it’s nauseating,” your husband joked, pretending to feel ill.

• “Oh, you rascal! I’m just…” you turned away, slightly embarrassed. “I’m just happy to have you with me.”

• “Ah, that’s it!” He said, holding the door open and ushering you inside. “How adorably sweet!” The artist chuckled, and as you made your way to the table, he pulled out your chair, sat you down, and scooted you in. “In that case, order whatever your heart desires, babe! Let’s blow this card’s limit!” He slapped the table, placing his credit card beside your hand.

• “Wow, what a surprise!” You feigned amazement. As you browsed the menu, you sneaked glances at your man. Rafayel met your gaze. “Why are you staring so hard?”

• “I love you.”

• “What?”

• “I said, ‘hurry up and order.’ I’m starving over here.” You noticed his ears turning red, and with a giggle, you intertwined your fingers with his. Rafayel looked at your hands, half-lidded eyes taking in the moment. He brushed his thumb over your knuckles and gently raised your hand to his lips, kissing it. “I want to spend my life taking you to fancy restaurants.”

© 2024 do reblog, but don’t copy or publish my work on other platforms, or translate (without my permission) into other languages. Any coincidences are coincidental! The dividers belong to me! If you want use them, just tag me: @alexvolleyball

[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.

[notlhecxzsa]

It Still Hurts Underneath My Scars - N.R

Summary: Natasha was supposed to go home, but what happens when she unveils something—hidden deep beneath those smiles, making her also run right back to the past. Will this turn out well for both of them?

Author's Note: Ahhh this is a hot 4k+ word and just like what I said, here comes all the angst I could give the world.

Warning: Yelling, broken glasses, cursing, so mean!natasha, crying, blood, injuries, bruises, trauma, poor sad baby Y/n (she deserves every good thing in the world, yes.) Tell me if I missed something!

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3rd Person's POV:

Natasha woke up at the faint sound of metal clashing onto the ground, with eyes snapping open and body sitting up straight immediately she quickly withdrew a gun inside the small table beside her bed. With steps cautious and quick, she approached the door and quietly opened it. As another clanking of two or more heavy material, she approached the kitchen where the sounds are coming from.

Maybe, it was coincidental or maybe the time is just in the mood for games that Natasha was not prepared for. With her gun pointed to the culprit of the sound, it was faced directly to the younger one's figure, if she was to pull the trigger she would hit bullseye, that's for sure.

With 2 pairs of wide eyes, one with shock and the other with a noticeable fear, Natasha pulled down her gun, her facade straightening up while Y/n stayed staring. The tremble of her chest as she took deep breaths—too deep breaths for Natasha's liking can be noticed from afar.

"What the hell are you doing? I thought someone had broken in." She did not intend for it to come out so harshly, but the unsettling feeling in her chest is just so hard to ignore. What even is it? Fear? Anger?... Worry?

She walked towards the counter, putting down the gun as she watched as the gaze of the small girl seemed stuck with a glue on it. She didn't know what pushed her to hide it away, putting it on her waist, tucking it in on her pants, away from eyes that seemed to be going through a thousand miles.

There was a moment of silence, Natasha almost felt the unsettling rumble in her stomach overtake her being. So, she decided to speak up once again, "I asked you a question." Rounding up the counter to get a glass of water, she saw just how much mess has been made.

A broken mug with spilled coffee, clattered empty pot and a pan, there's also some water splattered around the girl's feet. A deep frown settled on her face as she looked up once again to gaze at Y/n's face, trying to search for her eyes but found nothing when she saw that she was looking down.

"I-... I di-... I'm so- I'm so sorry... I don't- I didn't mean to... W-Wait..." Crouching she immediately touched the pot and the pan, one hand each. And each hand, Natasha could visibly see how much it trembled, the pump of her chest now more seen by the naked eyes.

As the young woman moved around, giving Natasha a glimpse of the distressed face she was wearing. This is the first time that Natasha had seen her with that kind of expression, in this type of condition, but she was stuck on her own feet as she watched.

She watched as she picked the shards of sharp glass off of the floor with her bare hands, making Natasha's eyes widen in fear as the worry in her chest grew, now having a clear understanding she was feeling.

"Wait! Stop that." Launching forward, she took a hold of both of the thin arms that are covered with sleeves, one of the many long sleeves that Y/m wears.

As soon as her hands got in contact with Y/n's forearm and and upper arms, Natasha pulled her upwards. With a force applied and the grip she that the older woman has on her, Y/n's face scrunched bitterly as she yelped. Her hands flapped up and tried to pull her body away from Natasha.

"Ah!" It went unnoticed by Natasha who seemed to be in trance, getting Y/n out of the surrounded glasses. "N-Natasha..." Tears pricked her eyes as she looked up, her body being manhandled away from the scene while Natasha's gaze was stuck on the ground, observing the trail of glasses, water and coffee in order to get the younger woman in her arms to safety.

Biting her lips, tears swam around her eyes before it ran down on her cheeks. "Are you an idiot? You can't fucking pick up those glass with your hands! You will hurt yourself. Are you even thinking?" Blurting out words she didn't think of, words out of the raging storm in her mind, blinding her from the way Y/n kept flinching on her grip.

Y/n could feel a faint taste of rusty blood on her lips with how much she's biting down so hard in it. Her whimpers drowned out by the scolding she's receiving as the hold reminded her of something familiar.

Soon enough she was settled down beside the counter, far from the chaos and mess she made. Her form trembled as her breathing became ragged. Her arms ached, she could feel the blood rushing inside the bruises that littered around her body. She couldn't even find enough courage to move and help Natasha out who swept the glass and wiped the substance on the floor.

She's supposed to clean that up! She messed up so bad, and she knows it. The aching arms are quickly forgotten when fear starts to overcome her mind, spreading like a poison ivy. With tears flooding her cheeks, she bent down and started picking the broken glass that was near her, flinching when it cut right through her skin.

"Y/n!" Natasha watched as the young woman continuesly pick up the glasses with trembling hands. One hand kept picking it all up while the other holds the shard of glasses—she wasn't holding it, she was gripping it. "Hey! Y/n!" Stepping forward, she took a hold of the petite body once again, never missing how it tensed under her touch, making her almost pull away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please, don't- don't hurt- No, no, no..." Natasha heard the whispers that came out of her mouth, making her frown go deeper as she pulled them up together. She felt Y/n trying to pull her arms away, so she gripped tighter. "No!" It came out meekly, a small high pitched voice.

"Hey..." That must have been the softest voice that came out of Natasha ever in her life. Finally realized just how much mess and chaos has been done, not just in her kitchen floor, but to Y/n. "Hey, hey, hey..." She walked the two of them towards the other side of the kitchen island, her grip softening as one of her hand snaked around Y/n's waist.

"Please... don't hurt me... I'll clean it up... good- I'll be good." At the sound of her voice, Natasha could feel her knees weakening for unknown reason.

"What?- I- I won't hurt you." Analyzing the angelic face of Y/n, she couldn't help but notice the distant gaze she has and seemingly to in some kind of trance.

Looking down, she caught the sight of Y/n's shaking hardened fist, then up to her chest that jumps up and down hysterically, just then she noticed how ragged her breath is. "Hey, breath. It's okay, it's all fine..." Her hands seemed to have its own brain as it automatically cups her cheeks, trying to trap her gaze into hers. "Y/n, detka, hey, I'm not mad, it's okay. The mess is cleaned up already, hey..." Seeing the irises of her eyes moving side by side hysterically, Natasha realized that she can't see clearly, along with the tears in her eyes.

With her vision unfocused, her ears only ringing, Y/n could feel her blood running cold as she tried to catch her breath. There was a pressure on both of her face but she couldn't feel it properly, she doesn't know what it is. God, she can't have another meltdown here, not when she's just new here. Natasha might think of her weirdly, she might even get more angry.

"Hey, Nat?- What-" Natasha's head whipped around to see Maria standing by the kitchen hallway. Was she that too caught up with the girl in front of her that she did not notice the other presence breaking inside of her penthouse? No, she couldn't be. "What happened?" With worry evident in her voice, Maria rushed to their side, her hand reaching out to touch Y/n's lower back.

Natasha has her locked up in her arms, so Maria couldn't really do anything much. With both of Natasha's hand caging Y/n's small body, she pulled her in even more. There was a sudden click inside her that made her pull her in, she doesn't know if it was because of the worry i side of her growing or maybe the way Maria had reached out for her girl.

"Maria, get the aid kit inside the bathroom. Also get some towel and a bowl of water." Natasha's voice commanded before bending down to pick up the girl in her arms bride style, realizing that she wouldn't be walking.

Maria immediately ran to get what was needed, looking down at the mess that was made on the kitchen floor, she frowned and started pondering or what had happened. Then suddenly, flashes of the bruises she saw on Y/n's arms blinded her thoughts, clenching her jaw she imagined the worse.

The was Natasha was gripping her, holding her tightly did not sit right as she thought of it right now. The way she overtowered the small girl as Y/n trembled in fear. Fuck, Natasha couldn't be...

"Hey, let me get that..." As soon as she set Y/n down on the couch, she take a hold of her fisted hand that is still holding the pieces of sharp glass tightly.

Holding it gently in her hands, she caught a glimpse of something as the sleeves of Y/n's clothing hike up. Frowning, she reached forward and pull it up even more out of curiosity. Blood drained her face as the bruises that littered around it became visible in her eyes. Her hold on her earlier couldn't have done that, no. It is clear that it is made days or weeks ago.

Averting her focus back on getting the glasses out of Y/n's hands, she felt her heart started to pump faster. She hated it. She shouldn't be feeling like this, no, she can't feel like this.

"Here..." Without looking up, she took the kit from the hands of her friend and started tending on Y/n's hand, now in complete silence as her mind ran miles.

What is there that she still doesn't know?

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Maria's POV:

"You're still here." I turned to see Natasha walking towards the railing of her balcony, gazing towards the scenery in front of us, not bothering to throw me even just a glance.

I looked back to where I was staring, inhaling a pound of air before letting it all out. "Your actions opposes the assumptions I have in my mind." I started, just then, I felt her eyes burning holes on the side of my head. "You're not..." I gulped down an invisible ball of saliva in my throat. "You're not the one who did those to her, did you, Natasha?" Catching her eyes, a frown started forming her face before her stance became tensed.

A reaction I knew all too well. But, not what I expected to receive with this topic.

"What?" She asked and I could hear the pure confusion lacing through her voice. A sound that demands an immediate and straight answer. I looked away and started answering.

"The last time I was here. I saw her arms. Beaten. Raw. I'm starting to thinking it's all over her body, I also... thought that it was you." I looked back to her face when I saw it snapped to look inside the penthouse. A faint glitch in her facade that she only wore when we thought her father had found out about her hidden treasures. Fear. Worry. "After earlier, I saw... I saw how you cared for her, Natasha-" I almost jumped at the sound of her voice.

"I didn't." I shook my head and chuckled lowly, bending down and putting both of my elbows on the railing. How I could see right through her.

"I wouldn't blame you for starting to feel like this. I watched you, Natasha." Turning only my head to look at her, a knowing glint shining in my eyes as her gaze locked in mine. Showing her that I know, and she doesn't have to hide it.

No matter how much she wants to, no matter how much she needs to. No matter how much she will deny.

"Just like how you watch her."

I waited... and waited. But, a response never came. Sighing, I stood up straight. Turning my whole body towards the sliding door but made no move to approach it. "I care for her..." I started, once again. "Not the way you do, of course." Just then, it all came down to me just how much I got so attached to this girl, how much her attentiveness and hospitality had made my heart moved like no one. Clint's right, we're all really getting soft because of her. "She's a sister I have never had. Tell me what you want me to do, I will help you. I will bring what you need, and I will come wherever you want me to be."

Still, I was met with silence. Clearing my throat before sighing, I started walking towards the door.

"Hill." Now, that's what I was looking for.

Looking back, I catch the fire in her eyes even though her face is stone cold. I knew by then, it will catch up to those who have sinned.

"I want everything." She said in a monotone, with her jaw clenched, she turned around and I was faced with her back.

I nodded, even though she couldn't and wouldn't see me. "You got it, boss." I said before stepping inside the penthouse, my eyes immediately locking in on the figure that is sat on the farthest edge of the couch, as if it will ground her—protect her from everything.

I analyze her body for a minute, she doesn't have her socks on as usual, making me catch a glimpse of a faint bruise that is long but not deep from what it looks like. Taking a deep breath, I decided to go, taking a last look on her face, staring into nothingness with seemingly no thoughts behind her eyes.

God knows what is unleashed.

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(Flashbacks) 3rd Person's POV:

A giggled escaped the 13 year old girl as she read a book that was given to her by Lucille. Something funny had happened on the character that made her stomach tingle and let out a giggle, unaware of the pair of eyes that is burning holes in the whole of her body.

Just as she let out another giggle, the sound of a gun booming that is all to familiar to her ears went off, making her jump with no sound escaping her lips. Just like what Lucille had thought her, no noise means less hits. As her heart raised, beating faster, she stood up, leaving the book on where she was sitting, with a promise to get it back later before running off inside the huge mansion.

The same pair of eyes followed her, a knowing glint of who she was, the same pair of eyes that studied her dull life but found it the most interesting. Walking towards the huge tree, under the shade of it is where she took the book. Knowing that her Dad is enjoying his time with their family's friend, she knew they wouldn't even notice that she's gone, too busy playing with different guns.

She studied the surroundings and did not wonder just how much Y/n loves it here. She remembered the time she met Y/n here, she remembered that the young girl was still 3, munching on a cookie that looks like she will be killed if she was found eating it.

"Hey..." An 8 year old Natasha spoke, a certain softness present in her voice.

The little one jumped, dropping the cookies as she did so. Those cute chubby cheeks with some crumbles of cookies made Natasha want to pinch it. She looks angelic, Natasha wondered if maybe, they do hide angels around here because she certainly just met one.

"I not eat the tookies!" The visible lisp came out, making a smile break through Natasha's face. With those frowning small eyebrows, Natasha could feel her stomach doing flips because of the cuteness.

"But, you did." Natasha started, smiling teasingly as she walked closer. "And you have cookies all over your face." Natasha explained, her hands going to her hips, just like what she sees on her father.

"I didn't..." Smearing her small hands on her face didn't do her any good, as now her face is more covered in crumbles and a faint chocolates here and there. "See? You ate the tookies! Maybe..." A laugh broke from Natasha, even as a mere child, she's never the one to laugh a lot. Hearing the unbelievable assumption that has been made towards her made her surrender in defeat—once again, something she does not usually do.

"Okay, then. Whatever you say... cookie monster." She said before she saw Y/n smile—a name she discovered from her parents. "Would you like to play?" She asked, observing how Y/n looked down at the cookies that fell earlier with somber eyes.

Natasha felt bad, knowing that she accidentally scared her and now she doesn't have anything to eat. "No, Lutcy will be mad if I get dirty. I won't get more tookies." She explained, and Natasha smiled.

As if she didn't eat one already.

"I'll give you more cookies! We have so many at home." Natasha said, making the small girl snap her head up at her.

"Weally?" A toothy grin made its way on her face, making Natasha smile unconsciously and nodded. "Otay, but- but we gotta make- we gotta bring Tammy along with us... he gets very lonely." The small girl almost scream in excitement, Natasha only nodded before she followed the little one.

Following the 13 year old girl, her steps in track and with a certain speed to catch up. There were a couple of turns until she was met with the end of a hallway. Clutching the book in hand she approached the slightly ajar door.

She stood there, frowning when she tried to listen to the other side of it and was met with silence. She was sure Y/n had ran in here, catching a glimpse of her hair as she went running inside. Her hands reach out to knock, but then again was met with nothing, only a faint shuffling that reassured her someone was inside.

Breathing deeply, she push the door, it was a tight space, a storage room, yet it is clean. As soon as the door is wide enough, she saw the trembling form of a girl. She observed how her shoulder heavied with each breath she took.

"Were you scared?..." Natasha started, gazing at the way the younger one's head popped up to look at who followed her. "By the guns, I mean." Natasha noticed how tears are brimming up in her eyes—those same eyes she never once forgot.

The same ones that haunted her in her sleep.

Receiving no response, she took a step forward before crouching in front of the girl. "You left this." She raised her hand and offered her the book, which was immediately taken by the girl. Just then, Natasha noticed the gauze wrapped up around her arm, more bruises surrounding it that is mixed of color green and purple.

Frowning, she looked at the girl's eyes, only to find it gazing at the book, avoiding her look. "What happened to you?" She could remember those other times she met the girl, the same color littering her body, the same condition designed her skin.

Finally, their eyes met, but only a shake of a head is what she received as another faint gun shot rang in the atmosphere making the girl jump from where she was sitting and pushed herself further on the wall. Natasha, without flinching, as if the sound puts her to sleep at night, turned her body and pushed the door close.

Turning back, she sat on the floor, offering a small smile. "Don't worry, you won't get hurt." Noticing the way Y/n's eyes kept looking back at her and the door. "You won't hear it anymore. If you still do, you just go like this..." Putting her hands on both of her ears, Natasha simulated what should be done.

Only gazing at the red head, Y/n felt a certain familiarity with her face. She was the kid of those friends of her parents that would come and go here. But, still, shying away from the girl in front of her, Y/n knew very little of socializing—experiencing it scarcely.

Seeing uncertainty swimming around the doe eyed gaze of the younger girl in front of her, Natasha went forward, putting her own hand on Y/n's ears that are covered by her hair. With the space between them almost closed, Natasha could finally analyze the face that kept chasing her waking hours.

Natasha does find her beautiful—ethereal even, but she has no explanation as to why she feels this way—remembering the young one this way.

"Do you hear anything?" Natasha felt the shake of her head, their eyes staying lock in each other's. "That's good..." Natasha said before pulling away and going back to sit on the floor, now with a much more closer distance with the girl.

It was like a magnetic pull that keep wanting her to get closer and closer. She doesn't know what it is, yet she did not fight against it. It feels just right.

"Are you going to stay here?" Natasha asked, the girl did not answer, only keep looking at Natasha now with eyes full of curiosity and familiarity. "We can stay here—I can stay here with you." Natasha said, before her eyes dropped down to look at the movement of the girl's lips. She's smiling, Natasha thought, but only a little.

In the moment, both of their hearts grew, sitting in silence, hidden from the world that is destined to break and make them.

(End of Flashback)

°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~

Natasha's POV:

I stood in the kitchen, looking over at the girl that is sat in the living room. I opened the television when I went inside from the balcony, seeing how eerily quiet here—the same noise the surrounded the atmosphere before Y/n started living here.

I was supposed to leave and go to the manor today, but something just keeps me from going. Something is grounding me from walking right through the door and get back with my life.

"What did you want to say? Make sure to not waste my time." I sneered at Yelena as we stood in the building's parking lot.

"Father's plans changed—I shouldn't be telling you this, but..." Gazing straight into my sister's eyes, I knew she wouldn't keep something from me. "I though I should let you know." Crossing my hands, I gave her my full attention.

"The wedding's not gonna happen..." I frowned, my insides shaking with something I can't put a finger to. Searching for any lies in her eyes, she explained further, "But, everything is still going. The marriage..." My shoulder visibly relaxed, I doubt that she did not notice it, seeing the way her eyes went on my sides, a knowing glint in her eyes as it reach my gaze. "... it's all settled in the paper..." She trailed off.

"Hmm?" I raised an eyebrow, urging her to continue.

"Papa discussed something with Y/n's parents, I didn't hear much but what I know is that after everything, they will be cutting Y/n off of their will... you will have it all." My frown deepened, my chest tightening with something I can't name.

"What the hell do you mean about that? What? Are they going to just throw her away like she's not their daughter?" I blurted out, Yelena's lips turned up a little—damn it, Natasha, get your shit together.

"She's just simply the paper in between their business, Natasha. After the marriage, you and I both know she's nothing to father..." She started. "...and to her parents... I don't really know, but that is the only thing I've heard. After that, I think it's up to you whatever happens to her... she'll be your wife...on paper, at least." She searched for something in my eyes, something I'm unsure of.

I have never felt so out of control. I couldn't control the thoughts and feelings circling around my insides. I couldn't even begin to figure it out.

"And you and I both know she means nothing to you..." She started, making my eyes dart straight into her eyes.

My face hardened, not letting her show a bit of emotion.

"Isn't that right?..." She asked, and I could tell the slightly visible teasing tone lacing through her voice. "Natalia?-"

"Shut the fuck up before I make you." Surging forward, I pushed her, making her tumble, if it weren't for the car behind her she would've fly down to the floor.

She chuckled lowly. "I still haven't met my future sister-in-law, when can I visit her-" My hand immediately reach out roughly and punch her on the cheek, making her tumble on the side.

"I won't let her near you—all of you." I gritted through my teeth. She knew about it. She's hitting all of my soft spot, and she might be the one whom I call my best friend before, telling her everything, but not anymore.

Not after she chose to stay with our parents when I offered her the chance to run away with me and build a new life.

"Even after all these years, Nat?" She asked, looking to side as if her face got locked after I punched her.

My eyes lit fires as I burn holes on the side of her head. My fist clenching on my side as I fought the urge to kill her right there and then.

"I don't wanna see your face here."

But, how can I leave when I finally have what I've yearned for all those years. I didn't even ask for it, didn't work for it yet it came down falling into my lap.

As I continued gazing at her, for once in my life, fear started to creep up. Fear of the unknown, where will this lead me? Weakness is something so foreign to me, just like how love and care is, but taking in what Maria had said earlier.

I did care.

But, not for anyone.

Only for her.

°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~°^~

Author's Note: Finallyyyy, ahhhh, everything in my mind is falling into place. Hope you enjoyed this one! More angtyness coming your way, darlings (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

[sinful-sonnet]

Soft Like Home

Joel miller x plus sized reader

W/C: 1k

A/N: I’ve been plus sized since I had my baby so I desperately needed this :’-)

The sun had just started its descent, casting a warm golden light over Jackson. Joel Miller was back from a long day of patrol, muscles aching but heart light as he approached the small home he shared with you and your one-year-old daughter. He could hear her giggles echoing from inside and felt a small smile tug at the corners of his lips.

Inside, you were on the floor, your daughter babbling excitedly as she clutched a wooden block in her chubby hands. You looked up when Joel walked in, the light catching your features, and Joel thought — not for the first time — that you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

But you didn’t feel it. Not today.

You had slipped into a loose sweater and leggings, your go-to outfit since the baby was born. While you adored your daughter, pregnancy had left its mark on you. Your belly had softened and hung slightly over your waistband, no matter how much you tried to will it away. It made you shy away from certain clothes, especially anything remotely fitted or sheer.

As Joel leaned down to kiss the top of your daughter’s head, his eyes flicked to you. He noticed the way you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, the way your arms crossed over your middle when you stood up.

“Hey, darlin’,” Joel greeted softly, his voice warm and rough like the earth.

You offered him a small smile. “Hey. How was patrol?”

Joel shrugged, crouching to help your daughter balance as she toddled toward him. “Same old. Missed bein’ home, though. Missed my girls.”

The words sent a pang through you — guilt and longing tangled together. Joel had always been attentive and kind, but you couldn’t help the voice in the back of your mind, whispering that he deserved better.

After dinner, Joel found you in the bedroom, folding laundry. The soft light from the bedside lamp highlighted the tension in your shoulders. He came up behind you, resting his hands gently on your waist.

“You’ve been quiet,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You froze under his touch, instinctively tugging at the hem of your sweater to cover yourself more. “I’m fine.”

Joel wasn’t buying it. He turned you around gently, his hands firm yet tender on your hips. His gaze searched yours, the intensity of it making your heart flutter and your throat tighten.

“Talk to me,” he urged.

Your defenses crumbled under the weight of his concern. “I just… I don’t feel like myself anymore, Joel.” Your voice wavered, and you gestured vaguely at your midsection. “I don’t like what I see. My body… it’s not what it used to be. And I feel like—like you deserve someone who still looks good.”

Joel’s brow furrowed, a mixture of sadness and frustration crossing his face. “You think I care about that?”

You bit your lip, looking away. “Maybe not, but I do.”

Joel tilted your chin gently, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice low and steady. “This body — your body — it gave us our daughter. It kept her safe and brought her into this world. And now it keeps her fed, keeps her warm, chases after her when she’s raisin’ hell. How could I not love that? How could you not?”

Your throat tightened, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “But it’s… it’s not—”

“It’s you,” Joel interrupted, his hands moving to cradle your face. “And I love every inch of you, darlin’. Every mark, every soft spot. You think I don’t notice the way your belly feels when I hold you at night? Or the way it looks when you laugh? It’s my favorite damn thing about you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Joel caught it with his thumb. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your mouth. “Always have been. Always will be.”

You melted into him, his words wrapping around you like a blanket. For the first time in months, you felt the weight on your chest start to lift.

Later that night, when the house was quiet and your daughter was asleep, you found a soft, fitted tank top tucked in your drawer. It was sheer enough to make you hesitate, but Joel’s words echoed in your mind.

You slipped it on and walked into the living room, where Joel sat with his guitar. His fingers stilled on the strings when he saw you, his eyes softening.

“You’re a vision,” he said, setting the guitar aside and reaching for you.

And in his arms, you started to believe it.

When you both finally crawled into bed, Joel pulled you into bed. The fitted tank top you’d chosen still felt like a bold decision, but Joel hadn’t stopped looking at you with that warm, adoring gaze since you put it on.

Now, as he lay beside you, his strong arms wrapped around your waist, he pressed you close. His chest was solid and warm against your back, his hand resting possessively on your soft belly.

“You feel so good, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion and affection. “So warm, so perfect.”

You sighed, your tension melting away as he nuzzled his face into your hair. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

Joel chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Have I ever lied to you, sweetheart?” His hand rubbed slow, comforting circles over your belly, as if to emphasize his point.

You turned slightly to face him, your nose brushing against his. His eyes were soft in the dim light, filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache in the best way. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“For what?”

“For loving me like this.”

Joel’s brow furrowed, his hand cupping your cheek. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he said firmly. “It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t born of insecurity or sadness. You tucked your head against his chest, letting his steady heartbeat soothe you.

As he held you close, his fingers still brushing over your belly in soothing strokes, Joel pressed a kiss to your hair. “Get some rest, darlin’,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. Always.”

In his arms, with his love wrapped around you like a shield, you finally let yourself believe it.

[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