#MAN................ THEY COULDN'T HAVE TAKEN SUNDAY INSTEAD???

[spark-circuit]

i'm sorry i know everyone's enjoying the sword festival right now but. b. i'm just still not over it man.

[axstoria]

Bruce sobbing until he throws up in his room one night after he finds out in Flashpoint that his baby would have been a priest, had he never met him.

Instead of growing up surrounded by guns and blood, Jason might have been taken in by the local church and raised as the pastor's son instead of his own. He would have had plentiful food and attended Sunday mass, clutching crosses and Bibles between his little fingers instead of batarangs. A cross would have danged around his neck, and the distinctive 'R' of the Robin uniform wouldn't have been plastered on his chest. He would have slept throughout the night, safe in those stained-glass walls, in his bed instead of out fighting crime.

He could have graduated high school, and all the church clergy would have sat in the stands to watch, cheering on their boy as he walked up to the podium to receive his diploma.

Jason would have gone to school—college—and become a man of the community. He would have found solace in the Lord instead of tucked away under a cape and cowl after long patrols. His boy would have inspired all those who stepped foot into his church, helped hundreds, and saved dozens of souls.

Depending on his branch, the boy could have gotten a wife and had kids. He could have been happy.

Yet, curse Bruce and his infinite charity, he couldn't bear to see a boy alone on the streets, left in the same situation he had been all those years ago. What man in his right mind wouldn't of taken Jason in that night?

He can't bring himself to think about it. His baby boy could have been alive and well this entire time, and Bruce wouldn't have ever known him.

The guilt he feels over that is worse than the guilt he felt when Jason died in that warehouse, knowing that he damn well could have prevented it, had it not been for his stupid, shadow-covered, bleeding heart.

[bingwriterxo]

first time

pairing: vada cavell x reader

summary: in which you and vada have your first time together

warnings: smut (character is 18+), 18+ (minors DNI), fingering

word count: 2200+

author's note: here she is: awkward, rambling vada. also (slight spoilers but...) [insert booksmart scene here]

"Mom?" you called out mid-yawn as you made your way downstairs, rubbing your eyes to try to wake yourself up more after the late-afternoon nap you had taken. When you were met with silence, you tried the other parent. "Dad?" Again, no response.

You shrugged as you walked into the kitchen, and your eyes narrowed as you caught sight of a piece of paper laying on the counter. You picked it up and read it over quickly, excitement surging through your veins.

Work trip this weekend. See you Sunday night. 

- Mom & Dad

vada can come over :)

The last part was scribbled on like an after-thought, and you knew your dad had written it. 

You dropped the paper onto the counter and pulled your phone from the pocket of your hoodie, immediately dialing your girlfriend's number. Leaning back against the counter, you waited for her to pick up. 

"Hey." Her voice was groggy, like she had also just woken up.

"Were you sleeping?" you asked. 

She hummed. "Yeah. Figured you were asleep when you didn't answer my texts so I thought I'd nap, too." You heard some shuffling on the other end and then Vada yawned. "What's up?"

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to stop yourself from grinning. "My mom and dad are gone for the weekend. They said you could come over. I've got the house to myself, so..."

"Movie marathon!" she shouted excitedly. You listened as she scrambled out of her bed, hopping around her bedroom in search for things to pack in her duffle bag. "I'll leave in, like, ten. Put something good on the TV!" You could hear her smiling through the phone.

"Okay, see you soon. Love you." 

She squealed. "Love you!"

* * *

The movie playing on the television was boring you half out of your mind. You had chosen a random one that you knew Vada had been wanting to watch with you, and you had tried to focus on it for the first half-hour, but something kept distracting you. Well, something aside from your girlfriend's nonstop rambling. 

"I used to have the biggest crush on Blake Lively as a kid, you know," Vada said, her eyes trained on the screen. Her hand was digging in the bowl of popcorn that was resting between the two of you, and you giggled as she shoved some of the snack into her mouth. "But, man, is Anna Kendrick hot," she mumbled around the food. "I mean, obviously I know she's hot, 'cause, like, I'm not blind, but something about her in this movie just hits different."

You weren't ignoring her, per se, but you definitely weren't fully listening, instead choosing to stare at your girlfriend's side profile as she munched on the popcorn and talked with her mouth full--a habit of hers that you had hated at first but now couldn't help find somewhat endearing (as long as you weren't looking at her face-on). 

"And, well, Blake Lively is Blake Lively, and who doesn't have a crush on her?" Vada continued. If you had been paying attention to the movie on the screen, you were almost sure you wouldn't have been able to hear any of it over the girl's talking, anyway, so it was better that you weren't watching, right?

When she realized she hadn't heard from you in a few minutes, she glanced your way, and you smiled softly. She offered you a confused grin. "Are you not watching?"

You hummed and turned back to the television. "No, no. I am," you lied. You could feel her eyes on you, and you knew that if you looked at her, she'd be giving you that damn lovestruck look she always had on her face when she was around you, the one that made you weak in the knees and had your heart beating rapidly.

"Y/N," she said, calling your attention back to her. You had been correct--she was staring at you with a half-smile, like she didn't even realize her lips were upturned, and soft eyes, 

"Yes?"

Her eyes flitted down to your lips quickly, then back to your eyes. "Can I kiss you?"

You giggled. "You don't have to ask, Vads. We're dating."

She shrugged, hiding in her shoulders for a moment. "I know," she said, voice shy and slightly embarrassed. "But I just wanna make sure every time. Because, like, what if one day I don't ask, and you don't want a kiss, and then--"

You pressed your lips to hers, effectively silencing her, and sighed when she kissed back eagerly. You reached down, pushed the empty popcorn bowl to the floor, and then easily maneuvered onto Vada's lap. She grinned against you, hands flying to your waist. 

"I always like when you're on top when we make out," she began, "because I like the weight." She paused, eyes wide. "I'm not, like, saying you're heavy or anything, not that that would be a problem if you were, obviously, but it's like a weighted blanket! You know, like how they can help anxiety and--"

"Vada," you said softly, eyes flickering between her own. 

She gulped, and her fingers twitched against your sweatshirt. "Yeah?"

"Could you just kiss me?"

She bit her lip. "Yeah. That I can definitely do." 

Vada stretched her neck up, and you leaned down. You met in the middle, lips moving feverishly against each other. Your arms were wrapped around her shoulders, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of her neck, while her hands slipped beneath the hem of your sweatshirt, her skin warm on yours. 

Her tongue swiped over your bottom lip at the same time as her fingers rose upward, the tips of her thumbs beneath your breasts. She pulled away quickly. "Are you not..." She moved her hands up a little more, feeling nothing except skin. "You're not wearing a bra."

You shook your head. "Nope." You grinned. "Is that a problem?"

"Definitely not," she breathed out, pulling you back into a bruising kiss. You groaned at the feeling, and she took it as an invitation, her tongue smoothing over your own. Vada's touch rose higher until she was palming your breasts softly, and you hummed against her.

After a moment, you nipped at her bottom lip and pulled away, your breathing heavy as you stared at her. Her pupils were blown, her lips were swollen, and you gulped before reaching down and pulling your sweatshirt off. Her eyes widened at the sight.

"Woah," she said as though she had never seen you topless before. You rolled your eyes with a smile because she had the same reaction every time the two of you did this, and then you leaned back in.

She seemed to still against you, and you reached down, urging her hands to keep moving. She took the hint, her thumbs beginning to circle your nipples, and you whined, your hips bucking up before you could stop them. 

Vada pulled away and dropped her head to your chest, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your sternum until she reached your breasts. She took one of your nipples into her mouth, and you threw your head back, a soft moan slipping from your lips. Her tongue ran along the bud while her lips sucked on it.

"Fuck, baby," you groaned, arching your back to push yourself into her touch more. 

Her hands dropped to your waist, though her mouth didn't stop, and she played with the hem of your shorts. "Do you wanna...?" she asked when she pulled back, staring up at you, her fingers dipping. 

"Yes," you said quickly, nodding to emphasize your agreement. "Yes, please."

Vada grinned, circled her arms around your waist, and then carefully laid you down on the couch, resting between your legs. Her mouth was quickly on your chest again as one of her hands slipped beneath your shorts, her finger running over your clothed slit. You squeaked in delight, hips canting up. 

"I can feel you through your underwear," Vada said. "You're really wet."

You nodded shyly, glancing away. "Yeah, well..."

She frowned and reached up, her free hand resting on your cheek and making you look at her again. "It's not bad. It's good. Really good, actually." She grinned, and you couldn't help your own smile. "Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, I have no idea what I'm doing, really. Well, I kind of do, since, you know, I also have a vagina, but, like, I've obviously never had sex with anyone else, so I don't know if I'll do it right, and I want your first time to be good."

"Vads, baby," you cooed. "It'll be great if it's with you."

"Okay, okay," she said. She leaned up and kissed you again, her hand slipping beneath your panties. You both groaned, you at the feeling and her at the feeling of you. She rubbed your clit experimentally and you moaned.

"Shit," you cursed. "Yeah, that's--that's good."

Vada started circling it softly, and you couldn't help your whimpering. She was careful, a little too careful, but you weren't going to rush her, especially since it felt amazing.

"You can..." You gasped as she sped up a little. "Yeah, I was gonna say--"

"That's good, then?" she asked. Her eyes were on you, watching all of your reactions, trying to make sure she was doing the right thing.

"Very," was your short response. 

"Can I...well, should I...go in?"

"Yeah," you murmured. "Yeah, okay."

Her hand pushed down just a little bit farther, and then--

Oh.

You gasped at the feeling. Vada glanced up. "Is that...okay? Or was it better earlier? Or--"

You gulped and looked down at her, offering her a half-hearted smile. "Babe...I--I don't think that's the hole you were going for..." you whispered, trying not to embarrass her. Her eyes widened, and a blush immediately painted over her face. She pulled out and then pulled away, even though you reached out for her, trying to bring her back in. 

"Oh my god, oh my god. I am so sorry," she rushed out. "I just...I didn't even realize that I had gone down that far, and I just went for it, and--oh my god, I am so sorry, baby."

You grabbed at her shirt, pulled her toward you again until she was hovering above you. "It's okay, Vads," you promised. She was fidgety, clearly anxious, and you reached up, cupping her cheek. "Baby, I swear, it's okay."

She bit her lip. "I just fucked up our first time having sex. Oh my god, it's our first time having sex and I just...I just put my finger--"

You giggled a little. "It's okay. I'm fine; we're fine." You leaned up and kissed her gently. "Do you wanna try again?"

Vada looked at you hesitantly. "Can I?" she asked. "I kind of feel like I need to try to redeem myself and get my finger in the right place. Because, I swear, I know where it's supposed to go. I promise."

"Vada, please try again," you said, the pleading in your voice clear as day. "I really want you to."

She nodded. "Okay." She leaned down and pressed her lips to yours, a little rough in her nerves. You didn't mind, accepting the kiss happily. 

Her fingers started to roam down your body again, and you inhaled sharply at the feel of her slipping beneath your panties again. Her fingers started at your clit, rubbing quick circles, and you moaned into her, her mouth catching the sound. 

"Okay," she said, determined. "This time I got it." Her finger slipped downward, and you felt her pressing against your entrance. "That's right, right?"

"Yes," you said. "Yes, baby. Please, just--"

She pushed her finger into you and you groaned, back arching. "God, you're tight, baby. Feels so good."

"Fuck," you mumbled as she started thrusting. She curled her finger whenever she was fully inside, and it wasn't hard for her to find the rough spot of your walls. "Shit, shit, Vads."

She grinned and dipped down to your neck, lips hot against your skin. You could feel her kissing and nipping and sucking, but you could only pay attention to the fact that she was in you. 

"You can," you started breathlessly, "you can add another one." 

Vada hummed into your neck and slipped a second finger in you. You gasped at the stretch, hands flying to grip her hair. Her thumb reached up to play with your clit, and she quickened her pace. You were rolling your hips against her, whimpering.

"You're so pretty," she said, voice muffled. "So good, baby."

The praise pushed you to the edge. "Vads, I'm gonna cum," you whined. She thrusted into you hard once, and then again, and then you were cumming around her fingers.  At the same moment your orgasm washed through you, her teeth nipped at your pulse point, and you shivered, fingers tightening in her hair and a moan of her name falling from your lips.

She pulled out of you gently, grinning smugly as she did, and you watched as she brought her fingers to her mouth, licking them curiously. Her eyes widened. "Okay," she said decidedly. "Next time, I'm going down on you."

You chuckled and bit your lip. "You think there's gonna be a next time?" you teased.

Vada frowned. "I thought I redeemed myself pretty well," she huffed. 

"I dunno. We might have to do it again...just to check."

She grinned. "Not a problem with me." And then her lips were on yours again and her hand was sliding down your front. 

[hittmeandtellmeyouremine]

ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

pairing: college!harry osborn x college!fem!reader

summary: you had known peter parker for a few months now and he had mentioned having a roommate a few times but you never really pay attention to it. well you're left with no choice but to acknowledge it when you're met with him instead of peter while returning notes peter had so graciously let you borrow. maybe he should have so graciously told you he wasn't going to be home but you'd yell at him about that later.

warnings: swearing, brief mention of family issues.

word count: 3.3k

a/n: this is the introduction to my heaven is a bedroom series which uses characters and events from sam raimi's spider-man universe. since this is the introduction you can read it by itself or with the rest of the series! it is mentioned that the reader is a woc but you can ignore that if it doesn't apply.

if there was one thing college had brought you it was the sweet boy you could call a friend, peter parker. you had met peter during your freshman year at columbia university. you had both been placed into biology, seeming as you were a bio major and he was a bio-physics major. peter just so happened to come in late the first day and the only seat left was next to you, i guess no one wanted to be sitting all the way on the left side of the room.

you became friends pretty quickly and even became lab partners. peter was probably the only college boy you actually enjoyed being around. he was sweet and honest, wasn't very reliable though. at least from what he had told you when you finally got him to talk about the girl he liked. you watched peter's eyes light up every time he mentioned her name, smiling to yourself at how head over heels he was for her.

you were entering your third month of college, aka it was finally october. the previous week you had gotten too caught up at the shelter and missed class. thankfully peter had showed up on time that day and was helpful enough to lend you the notes, saying something about how it was the least he could do considering how many times you've lent him yours. as promised, you were on your way to return them to him now.

you had never been to peter's apartment, there was never a need until now. usually it was him returning the notes to your apartment. he had mentioned that he had a roommate. you couldn't remember what he said his name was but it was his childhood best friend. it didn't really seem too shocking because you had the same situation. what college student didn't have a roommate? what person living in new york didn't have a roommate? well, unless you were rich.

the building seemed nice enough as you rode up in the elevator, peter's notebook in hand. the lecture that you had missed had been on arachnids and peter's notes were expert-level. he had even taken the time to drop out some of the species. as the elevator gets to the top you realized you probably should've called to tell him you were coming over. in your defense, he just told you to drop them off on sunday and that was today. he never gave you an exact time so he would probably be home all day.

right?

the elevator finally came to a stop at the ninth floor. you opened up the gate and stepped off, stopping in front of the door and knocking on it. you heard some shuffling and smiled to yourself a bit. knowing peter he had probably forgot you were coming over. you heard footsteps coming towards the door before it unlocked and opened.

wait, this isn't peter.

"hi?" the guy said.

he was cute. he was really cute.

he was tall, a little lanky looking. he had brown hair and honey brown eyes to match. he was wearing a blue button up, the collar of a white tee shirt poked out where the first two buttons failed to meet their match. there was a black watch on his left wrist. he had on these small, little reading glasses. you must've interrupted something.

"hi. i must have the wrong apartment. i'm looking for peter parker?"

"oh pete does live here. he's just not home right now" he answered, flashing you an apologetic smile.

so this was the roommate peter had mentioned.

"he should be back soon though. come in" he said before he stepped to the side and let you into their apartment.

"thanks" you smiled as you stepped inside and glanced around.

it was a nice apartment. you first walk into the kitchen. they had a dinning room table in front of one of the two big balcony doors. there was a small living room area beside the dining room table, in front of the other balcony door. stairs to the left of that, assumedly leading to their bedrooms. their office space was to the right of the stairs.

your eyes fell back onto the dining room table where there were notebooks and textbooks scattered.

so you did interrupt something.

"i'm sorry if i interrupted anything. i was just dropping off the notes he'd let me borrow. he told me to come on sunday" you explained.

"oh don't worry. you didn't interrupt anything, i was just doing some homework. pete stepped out early this morning but i'm sure he'll be back soon if you want to wait. i'm harry, harry osborn" he said, sticking his hand out.

his eyes seemed to linger on you a bit.

wait. osborn as in oscorp? the multi-billion dollar tech company?

"i'm y/n. peter and i are lab partners"

you shake his hand. his palm is kind of sweaty. he nods slowly, like he's putting the pieces together.

"did peter not mention that?"

"well he did, he just never mentioned that you were a girl"

you cocked your head at him a bit.

what was that supposed to mean?

he must've noticed the change in your facial expression because he was quick to explain.

"n-not that there's anything wrong with that. i just didn't realize pete had it in him"

you looked at him oddly again.

"no, i mean not like that. it's just that peter doesn't do too well talking to women. he sort of um... freezes up"

you had heard all about peter's inability to speak to women. he was constantly telling you about his failed attempts at making a move on mary jane watson. the poor guy was like a lost puppy in that department.

but harry wasn't doing any better right now.

"sort of like you're doing now?" a small smirk creeping onto your face.

"yeah, sort of" he chuckled, looking away. "do you want something?"

"no. thank you, but i actually should get going. i have a shift i need to get to. could you just let peter know i dropped it off?" you asked, handing him the notebook.

his gaze fell to the notebook and then back up to you as he grabbed hold of it. those puppy eyes seemed almost pleading. like there was something else he wanted to say.

but he didn't.

"yeah of course. i'll let him know you stopped by"

"thank you", you smiled, "it was nice meeting you harry"

he opened the front door for you and you looked back at him briefly as you walked out.

"no problem, nice meeting you"

-

"harry, no"

"oh come on pete! please?" he pleaded.

"no. i'm not getting involved" peter said, throwing up his hands.

"you have to pete. you're my only in"

ever since peter got home harry had been down his throat. actually, more like on his knees. begging peter to give him information about y/n.

"harry she's going to eat you alive. you ever heard that song "maneater"? yeah that's her"

"well if she's so bad then why are you friends with her?"

"oh she's a great friend but i've seen her crush pretty much every guy who tries to make a move with her's ego. and harry, your ego can get pretty big"

for every time peter rambled to you about mary jane, you told him a story about your massacre of a love life. that wasn't an insult either, that was the way you liked it.

"gee thanks pete" he deadpanned, "my ego will live. i still don't understand how you never told me about her!"

peter distinctively remembers a time that he was walking out of class with you. you two were in the middle of a conversation about the lecture when a guy from class stopped you. it was an obvious attempt to as you out but all the guy got from you was a dirty look and a short, uninterested response. then you continued on as if that interaction had never happen, resuming your conversation with peter.

now every time that guy sees you in class he avoids you like the plague. and you act like he doesn't exist because, to you, he doesn't.

"i didn't know it was so important to you" peter said sarcastically as he started up the stairs, chuckling.

"peter i haven't even been able to finish my homework, that's how important it is to me"

peter stopped mid step, noticeably fed up with harry's investigating.

"she mentioned going to a shift later. at least tell me where she works?"

peter internally smiled. harry had practically taken the short time you were here and engraved it in his memory. surely he had the resources to find out more about you on his own but peter figured he'd make his life a little easier. knowing harry wouldn't let him get through his homework if he didn't.

"she doesn't. she volunteers at the animal shelter." peter admitted before going to his room.

a smile took place on harry's face.

-

a few days later you were at the front desk of the shelter, filling out the paperwork for a new dog that had come in. you heard the front door open, thanks to the bell on it, and footsteps that stopped before you. you started greeting whoever it was without looking up.

"hi. what kind of animal are you looking for today?"

"well i was hoping you would help with that"

wait a minute. you had heard that voice before.

"harry?" you questioned as you looked up.

"hi y/n" he smiled

what was he doing here?

"i didn't know you and peter were looking for a pet"

he shrugged.

"figured there's no harm in looking"

"no, i guess there isn't" you smiled

"so will you help me?"

-

you had given harry a tour of the shelter. starting with the cats, moving onto the dogs. he didn't really strike you as an animal person but he seemed to like whatever you liked. he also seemed more interested in you than he was in the animals. the shelter didn't take smaller animals so after the dogs there wasn't much else to show. coincidentally, as your tour was coming to an end so was your shift.

"i have to go clock out" you told him as you guys had returned to the lobby.

"well i can wait here. if you want to go grab a drink or something?" he asked.

"a drink?" you questioned with a raised eyebrow.

usually, this would be an immediate no. you didn't have time for this. you were busy enough with classes and volunteering. you didn't need any distractions.

usually, you would write this off as a waste of time. you had no interest in dating or hooking up so what was the point? it's not like you needed a friend either. i mean you had plenty of friends.

right?

you had plenty of friends. you had clover, your other two long distance best friends, your sister, and... peter. they were more than enough. you didn't really have time for anyone else. really.

"well like a coffee or something, whatever you want" he saved.

his nervousness made you smile.

damn it.

"sure harry, give me a minute" you agreed before turning and going into the break room.

you'd be a liar if you said you hadn't thought about harry. the minute you got home you and your roommate had did some stalking to find out what you could about him. you felt bad about it but him showing up here made you feel less bad about it. he had obviously been doing his own research.

harry was the only son of norman osborn. clover had given you wide eyes when you guys found that out. not that it mattered much to you but it confirmed that osborn was indeed for oscorp. apparently, his father was a billionaire.

a rich, pretty boy was almost never a good combo. but for right now you seemed to have the upper hand. you just needed to keep that advantage.

you came back out with your jacket in hand as you made your way over to harry. new york was in fall now which called for a few more layers. you had been wearing a red spider-man baby tee, a black pleated skirt with thermal black tights and tall, black uggs.

"so you like spider-man?" he asked with a smile.

he has a pretty smile.

"you don't?" you asked as you slipped on the jacket and zipped it halfway.

"he's a cool guy"

he held the door open for you as you walked out before leading the way towards a coffee shop he said he had heard was good.

"what are you going to school for?" he asked you.

he has his hands in the pockets of his jacket. the cold wind was making the tip of his nose and ears turn red.

like a little rudolph.

"i'm a biology major" you answered.

your hands were also shoved in the pockets of your jacket. your tan skin made the redness in your face less obvious on you than it was on him but he could still see it. he made sure to.

"that tracks"

you gave him a bit of a side eye. if you hadn't known he had done his research on you before, he just gave it away.

"i just mean because it seems like you like animals. your eyes kind of lit up every time you introduced me to one"

so he's observant.

"you're not wrong. that's what i'm going to school for" you admitted.

and interested. maybe.

"to work with animals?"

"yeah, to be a vet."

"no wonder you're friends with peter. you must be like wicked smart" he chuckled.

you continued to talk until you got to the coffee shop. turns out he's an only child, you're not. he never mentioned a mother, so it must just be his father. he talks so highly of his father, but there's a bit of a falter there. you knew that falter.

stop psychoanalyzing him.

you watched his face drop when he went to order for you two and you told him you don't actually drink coffee. he apologized profusely for not asking before but you told him you'd live. he got you a hot chocolate instead.

when you guys left the coffee shop harry said he would walk you home so you led the way this time. you both sipped on your drinks and continued conversation. apparently, harry also goes to columbia but he was a business major with a minor in engineering. your paths would hardly ever cross on campus.

you had sort of wrote him off to be this fuckboy, you still kind of do. the business major thing doesn't really help his case. but this little walk with him had made you realize he wasn't so terrible.

that didn't mean you were gonna let him off so easily though.

you stopped in front of the building, harry looked confused when he realized what building you two were in front of.

"i told you i would walk you home" he said, frowning a bit.

"i walked you home instead, my place is further" you said, nodding in the direction opposite of the one you guys came from.

that was a lie. but it was too early for him to know where you lived. you had to keep that upper hand.

"i wouldn't mind walking a little bit y/n, really. "

okay so maybe he was actually interested.

"i know but its alright. i gotta get home." you said as you started to walk away from him. "thank you for the hot chocolate!"

harry watched you walk away from him with furrowed brows as he watched you go the same direction you had just came from.

"i thought you said your apartment was further away?!" he called after you.

"i lied!" you yelled back, smirking to yourself.

-

"y/n! i think you should give him a chance!"

you and peter were similar in the way that you both were roommates with your childhood best friends. right about now you wished you weren't.

"a chance to what? fuck me?"

you two were more different than you were similar. clover liked to see the best in people. that wasn't her fault though. she had never exactly been given a reason to do otherwise.

clover came from two loving parents. she was an only child but her parents treated you like a second daughter. sometimes you thought they treated you better than your own parents did. you tried to push that thought away though. it made you feel guilty.

they were the reason you and clover were living together right now. her parents were both tennis players and they must've been good at it because they were are loaded. they started investing in property at some point. and when their daughter told them she wanted to move to new york for college with her best friend, they made it happen.

they bought the whole apartment building actually, making sure to leave the best apartment available for their daughter and you. its insanity but you couldn't be more grateful for them. they did for more you than your own parents did.

"maybe. maybe more, maybe less" she protested

you laughed and shook your head at her. you had predicted this would happen. you were gonna avoid telling her in the first place but she saw the empty hot chocolate and started questioning.

"you've lost your mind. absolutely not clo"

she groaned like you had just told her she was grounded. which, for the record, clover's parents never grounded her. you grabbed bug and headed towards your room.

being a regular volunteer at the shelter gave you the privilege (and curse) of being able to foster some of the animals. you had to limit yourself to one and you picked bug. bug was a big black cat who enjoyed messing with clover during his free time. she wasn't huge on cats and he made it his business to harass her when you weren't home. you didn't mind, it evened the score for when she harassed you like she is right now.

"y/n please! this could actually mean something for you!" she protested.

for clover, this was the equivalent to you shutting off her favorite rom com right before things started to get good. her words not yours.

"it was just hot chocolate! plus, i don't want it to mean anything. i will live just fine without harry. didn't you say yourself that he had a reputation?"

during our light stalking session she said she had heard about him, a few girls had mentioned his name. then she admitted that was a lie and a lot of girls had mentioned his name, on various occasions. apparently he had spent the first few months of college getting some experience under his belt.

probably wasn't too hard for him once girls figured out who his father was.

you remember peter complaining about it once. saying how harry was falling behind and he had to threaten him to not help him anymore if he didn't get his act together.

or was it harry's father?

you couldn't exactly remember.

maybe that's why he was studying when you went over.

"we don't exactly know what that reputation is though! it could just be gossip or he could've changed!" clover called.

you scoffed as you entered your room, "yeah, fat chance clo!"

"a talking stage won't hurt!" she called after you before you shut your door and set bug down. you watched as he made his way onto you bed and laid himself out.

"might hurt" you mumbled.

-

up next: ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1

[sunny-mercya]

Cold Coffee

James Maguire x Male Reader

Fandom -> Derry Girls

Requested by -> Anon

Masterlist

The once streaming hot coffee mug—which was scorching when poured into the silly with faces of cartoon characters decorated grey coloured mug—had long gone cold in James hands, who didn't really drank from it anyways—only taking minimal sips from it—but not that he seemed to realise at all, too focused on the boy before him.

When James had strutted down the old creaky squeaky stairs of the [Surname] household, on such faithful sunday morning—having spend the whole weekend over at [Name]'s—and making his way into the crowded kitchen, he literally had thoughts—sending prayers to the Lord above—that he perhaps had died in sleep and this is now an afterlife looping dream.

Seeing you in your baggy oversized shirt—with another row of some cartoon characters printed on it—and the short, orange in colour, pyjama pants, just took James breath away for a moment of minute—making him sucking in a breath.

James had seeing you in many clothes before—from school uniforms, sportswear, daily wear, swimtrunks to even only clad in boxers and their white school shirt—which was because of Mrs.Quinn, who wanted some more dark clothes to wash and demand from the whole squad the uniforms without room for arguments—and he also had seeing you in these pyjamas the whole weekend.

It's just, maybe it's the sunlight—which peeked through the windows and slight open curtains—which makes you look so fairy like, James wasn't sure if that's the right word to use even, so breathtaking in his eyes—that he had to gulp.

»Jamesie! Goo' morning! Ya slept'a wella? I've make us some coffee, well actually'a Dad did, but I'mma put sugar cubes and milk in it'a so I do have helped.«

You gave James his mug of coffee, once he had taken a seat at the small kitchen table—saying a quiet thanks to you, which sounded more like a meek whisper and you couldn't help yourself but to tease him just a bit.

»Don'tcha be shy now, James, it'a after all just'a mere coffee« you said, chuckling a bit when seeing your boyfriends confused face and slight flushed cheeks.

»I ain't scared of some Coffee?« still James eyes the mug with caution—as the amount of sugar cubes in it, a few swimming on top, looked dangerously high of upcoming future diabetics.

»Behave ya two. I ain't wanna funny business from ya two under my roof.« the voice of your dad, who seemed to have appeared from nowhere, had spooked James just a bit.

Now, despite your dad—who James and the girls were allowed, more like granted permission, to call Francis—being 1.80 in height—having the body shape of either an professional boxer or dock worker and the appearance of a pup owner (he does have quite the tattoos and piercings and that certain kind of scowl)—and looking like some scary guy to be feared off, he's in actuality a friendly man.

»Giving wee smooches ain't funny business, dad.« your bottom lip jutted out, creating a slight pout—and James, asking internally for the Lords forgiveness of his sinful thoughts on such a holy sunday, really wants to kiss you now.

Francis had half a mind to tell his dear precious son, that those “wee smooches” are indeed counted as funny business—especially with when it comes to the english fella, his son is having as a boyfriend now—but decided against it, not wanting to upset [Name], knowing well how affectionate his son was.

So instead, Francis only raised his eyebrow and glared half heartedly in a joking manner at James, before taking a plate of pancakes and venturing into the livingroom.

~~~

When Michelle came over around the late afternoon, letting herself in with the spare key—she and the rest of the squad has gotten one, in terms of emergencies—to drag James back home—well her mother said he could stay till Monday morning, but Michelle needs her partner in crime for whatever Erin seemed to have planned tonight—she narrowed her eyes in motherly disappointment, once discovering James on the couch and with a sleeping [Name] on top of him.

»Ya really wanna get booted outta this household, don't you Jamesie?« Michelle hissed it annoyance, hands stemming onto her hips.

»Please, for the love of our Lord, explain what you mean with this, would you?« James annoyances spiked as well, coming out in a hushed whisper.

»You get all English handsy with [Nickname], don't corrupt him with your english gayness. Christ, if Francis see this, he banns you forever from this household.«

»[Nickname] has drank two whole mug of overdose sugary coffee and passed out on me as soon as we started to watch some Cartoons and that had been hours ago.«

»Oh. Well, that makes sense. Next time you tell me that sooner, asshat. By christ, was I worried there for a second.«

James looked at Michelle in disbelieving exhaustion, sometimes wondering why the girls are like this.

»Well, don't bother to come home tonight anyway. I'll tell Erin and the others you're making sure, [Name] doesn't collapse on the coffee. We're don't need ya ass anyway. Bye!«

Michelle was out of the house, before James could even think of a reply.

~~~

When you woke up some hours later, the first you did was smooching James faces with kisses over and over—getting up from him, stretching your body and proclaiming that it is time for pancakes now.

James face erupted into a shade of redness, when seeing your exposed belly and your kisses have ascended him into a putty mess beneath you.

»James?«

»Yeah?«

»I love ya«

And James thought, while replying you back—getting up from the couch himself and into the kitchen, kissing your cheek—that he too loves you, just how lucky he was to have you as his boyfriend.

And James also thinks, thanking the Lord sometimes for it, his mom leaving him in Derry—was the best thing to happen.

[wheels-of-despair]

Always Worth It | Ralph Penbury x You | Series Masterlist

Escape from Penbury Manor Summary: Mr. and Mrs. Penbury attend a Halloween party, but when the sun goes down, it's not all fun and games for the happy couple. Words: 4k

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Ralph asks, whirling around from his place at the window overlooking the sprawling grounds.

"Silence. Isn't it wonderful?"

A smile spreads across his sleepy face.

You've returned to Penbury Manor, but you're not alone. Victoria has invited you (and countless others) to a Halloween Bash, a weekend full of fun and friends and festivities. You and Ralph had been a bit hesitant to attend, but decided that if things became overwhelming, you could always just retreat to your bedroom. Or one of the rooms on the drafty third floor that probably wouldn't be in use. Or even Ralph's favorite tree. You'd become quite fond of the place during your long honeymoon, and convinced yourselves that even Victoria and her entourage couldn't dampen your spirits this time.

Until you'd walked in the front door and seen just how many people were here. You were both tired from the long drive - by yourselves this time. Ralph had taken driving lessons and become quite skilled in navigating the roads in his very own automobile. You loved going for drives together, but the distance to Penbury Manor was quite a bit longer than your typical outings. (The thought of spending a long weekend with Victoria and all her friends may have been a bit draining as well.)

But for now, it was just the two of you, in the bedroom you'd spent most of your honeymoon in. The bustle of activity downstairs was muffled by the closed door, and you were grateful for a moment to just relax together and recover from your journey. You kicked off your shoes, left your suitcases unpacked, and collapsed on the bed to recharge before dinner.

A knock woke you from your slumber an hour later.

"What is it?" Ralph asks, rubbing his eyes.

"Drinks and hors d'oeuvres are being served on the terrace, sir."

"Thank you, we're coming." Ralph calls to the closed door. He turns his head toward you. "We've been summoned."

You look down at your wrinkled dress. "I suppose we'd better change. If we showed up to a party in travel clothes, Victoria would have us skinned alive."

"She would." Ralph sighs, then shimmies off the bed. You stay put. Getting dressed again seems like such a hassle. Ralph glances at you, lying there like a slug, and smiles. He opens your suitcases and extracts the clothes you'd packed for tonight. You watch him match shoes and accessories through heavily lidded eyes and wonder how you got so lucky. The man is perfect. He crosses the room and stops at your side, extending his hands to help you out of the tall, extremely comfortable bed.

"Up you get, love. We don't have to stay very long."

You take his hands and slide down the beautiful blanket. Your stockinged feet meet the floor with a thud. You know you're already running late, but you have to take a moment just to wrap your arms around him. You've married the most amazing man in the world.

Ralph holds you until you've had enough - for now - and then you both begin the process of dressing for drinks with Victoria and half the young people of London.

The crowd was less intimidating outdoors. Victoria's guests were spread out and talking amongst themselves instead of rushing about and yelling and tripping over piles of luggage like when you'd arrived. This seemed far more manageable.

The sun was beginning to set, turning the sky a gorgeous shade of orange. The terrace was lit by fairy lights and softly glowing lanterns. Waiters bearing trays of drinks and hors d'oeuvres made the rounds. It seemed surprisingly low-key for an event planned by Victoria, but tonight was just for getting settled in; there was to be a masquerade ball Saturday night, and a costume contest on Sunday, and "gazoodles of other surprises" throughout the weekend.

You stuck to Ralph like glue as you wandered around with drinks in your hands and nibbled on hors d'oeuvres, meeting strangers and catching up with casual acquaintances. Several guests lamented that they'd missed your wedding, and were eager to know when you'd be adding Little Penburys to the mix. You smiled politely and kept up the required small-talk until time for dinner.

The crowd moved through the halls as one and filtered into the dining hall, which was fully decorated for Halloween. Pumpkins and vases of fall flowers were used as centerpieces on the long table. A large orange bow was tied to each chair back. There must've been a thousand candles lighting the room.

It was very well done. You were quite impressed with the team of decorators. (Victoria would take credit for this, and probably did supply an idea or two, but the Penburys have a well-paid party planner who typically handles this sort of thing.)

It was quite warm, between the all the people and the candles, and you would've preferred to have dinner outside under the lanterns and the night sky. But you smiled and sat next to Ralph and tried to enjoy the spooky, smoky ambiance of a well-planned party.

Until the amuse-bouche was placed in front of you.

You stared at the tiny cup of bright green soup and tried not to overthink it. It was just pea soup. People eat it every day. Is that… You poke at a mysterious lump with your spoon… and something that looks like an eyeball appears.

Everyone else discovers their surprises too, and laughs.

"How clever!" "Is that an onion?" "It looks just like a little eyeball!" "Oh, what fun!"

"Darling, are you alright?" Ralph leans close and whispers.

"Fine," you force a smile and focus on the tablecloth.

Soon, your untouched goop is taken away, and the table eagerly awaits the next course: soup.

Chunky red soup with pieces of floating meat that have been carved to resemble human toes. When the smell of it hits you, it makes your stomach churn. You push your chair back and scramble away from the table, not even caring that the grating screech of the chair legs on the polished floor probably drew everyone's attention. You just pray that you can make it to the nearest bathroom before everything you've eaten today comes up.

You made it to a potted plant in the hallway.

You held onto the sides of the planter after you finished heaving, trying to catch your breath. At least no one saw you.

"Are you alright, love?" Ralph asks quietly from behind you. You close your eyes in embarrassment, wishing you were invisible. But when you open them again a second later, you still see your hands gripping the edge of the planter, so you straighten, wipe your mouth just in case, and turn to face him.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"No, I'm sorry. That was disgusting."

Your eyes fall to the floor.

"The soup was disgusting," Ralph clarifies. "I wouldn't eat it either."

You look up and smile weakly, and then catch a flash of black and white out of the corner of your eye. You and Ralph both look toward it, to see a maid standing by the door shyly.

"Are you all right, Mrs. Penbury?"

You nod.

"Perhaps some tea and biscuits to settle your stomach?"

You start to shake your head, but Ralph accepts on your behalf.

"Bring it out to the terrace, we're going out for some fresh air."

Ralph drapes his dinner jacket across your shoulders, wraps an arm around you, and guides you outside.

The cool autumn night cleanses you almost immediately. The air smells crisp and fresh and nothing at all like that horrible soup. It's not hot or smoky, and there's no one out here but you and Ralph. It's exactly what you need. He steers you to a bench and makes you lie down. He sits on the edge and places a comforting hand on yours.

"Better?"

"Infinitely," you smile. You stare up at the stars until you hear heels clacking in your direction.

"Your tea has arrived, Mrs. Penbury," Ralph informs you. He helps you sit upright, and accepts the tray from the maid. He places it between you and watches you nibble on dry biscuits and sip your tea.

"Sorry I ruined your evening," you say sheepishly, brushing the crumbs off your dress when you've had enough.

"An evening spent with my wife is never ruined," Ralph states. "Would you like to retreat to the bedroom before dinner ends and everyone starts wandering again?"

"Under one condition."

"What's that, love?"

"You stop by the kitchen and get something to eat before you come up. You skipped dinner too. You'll be ravenous in an hour."

Ralph smiles. "Unwell, and still looking after me."

"I'm fine, Ralph. Completely cured." You stand and reach for his hand. He takes it, and you lead him back to the door. You walk together until you reach the bottom of the staircase.

"Go eat while I freshen up, and then perhaps we can relive the glory of our honeymoon." You wink at him, and he blushes. He bids you adieu with a kiss to the forehead before setting off toward the kitchens. You walk upstairs, clean up and put on your nightgown, and decide to lie down while you wait for him.

"Wake up, sleepyheads!"

There is nothing more unsettling than waking to the sound of Victoria Penbury's shrill voice.

"Go away," Ralph grumbles, snuggling closer to you. You're not sure how he's done it, but he's gotten you underneath the covers without waking you up. Well done, Mr. Penbury.

"Oh come on, dear brother, I only came to check on my darling sister-in-law. Are you alright, dearie? Tummy still rumbly?"

"I'm fine, Victoria, thank you," you say as cordially as possible. You wish she would go away. Forever.

"Wondrous! Then you should come upstairs and meet us in the old playroom in fifteen minutes."

"Why?" Ralph whines.

"It's a secret! Come on, it'll be fun!"

She stands there, watching and waiting for either of you to get out of bed. Neither of you moves. When her patience runs out a few seconds later, she marches to the end of the bed and rips the covers off, letting them fall to the floor. You whine. Ralph growls.

"Playroom! Fifteen minutes! Well, fourteen minutes now. I'm leaving you a flashlight on the table! Be there or be square!"

She leaves the door open.

You sigh. "What do you think she has planned?"

"Don't know," Ralph mumbles, finally opening his eyes. "Do you want to find out?"

"What are the chances she comes back and drags us there if we don't go willingly?"

"Astronomical."

"Let's get it over with," you sigh.

You haul yourselves out of bed and put on dressing gowns. She can make you get up, but she can't make you get dressed. Or be happy about it. You plod through the corridor and to the stairs leading to the third floor. Ralph turns on the flashlight at the bottom and lights your way up the winding stairs.

You see candlelight flickering from the door of the playroom when you reach the landing. You grip Ralph's hand a little tighter as you approach the room he hated as a child.

About fifteen of Victoria's closest friends linger around the walls of the old playroom, speaking in hushed tones. A woman you've never seen before is sitting at a round table in the middle of the room. Candles litter the floor, flickering dangerously in the drafty room. You and Ralph stand as close as you can, for both warmth and comfort.

"Oh good, you came!" Victoria squeals, ruining the dark ambiance. For once, you welcome her loudness.

"Is this everyone?" the mysterious woman asks in a gravelly tone.

"This is Madame Moreau, she's going to conduct a séance for us," Victoria explains. "Yes, this is everyone. The privileged few!" She laughs loudly, once again, ruining the sinister ambiance the woman had worked so hard to achieve.

"Gather 'round," the woman instructs. "If anyone is having second thoughts, please leave now. This is not a game, and it is not to be taken lightly."

Victoria and her girlfriends giggle, indicating otherwise. You don't know which is more disconcerting; the strange old woman, or Victoria and her girlfriends being this excited about a séance.

Ralph squeezes your hand. You look up at him, and see that he's looking a bit uneasy about the situation as well.

"Sit," the woman orders.

With a nervous look at Ralph, you reluctantly follow the other lads and ladies, careful not to knock over any candles or set your robe ablaze. You sit between Ralph and Victoria's friend Ernestine.

"Hold hands with the people on either side of you."

Ernestine grabs you with excited force, but you pay no mind to her painted claws. Your husband's hand is cold and clammy.

"Who will we be summoning tonight?"

"Cleopatra!" "Queen Mary!" "Marie Antoinette!"

The voices shout over each other until Victoria silences them with a shrill cry and a stamp of her foot.

"Shut up! We're summoning my grandmother!"

You feel Ralph tense. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, waiting for a signal that he's had enough.

"Tell me about your grandmother, child."

Victoria launches into a passionate speech about her grandmother, but you don't pay attention. You'd heard enough about her during your honeymoon. She was a miserable old hag who walked with a limp and a cane due to a horseback-riding injury, and made it her mission to prevent Ralph from experiencing any sort of joy in his childhood. Your focus, as always, is on him.

Ernestine squeezes your hand with her red talons, dragging you back to the present. Everyone else's attention is on Madame Moreau.

"Eleanor Beatrice Penbury, we summon thee…"

Ralph squeezes his eyes closed and begins to shrink in his seat. He's had enough.

You let out a loud puff of breath, as if you've experienced a sudden pain, and everyone turns to look at you as if you're possessed.

"I'm sorry, I fear I'm not well enough for this. Ralph, would you please escort me back to bed? I need to lie down."

"Yes," he says gratefully, scrambling out of his chair, just like you had only hours before. He helps you up, and you fake a wobble when you reach a standing position. He wraps his arm around you and quickly escorts you to the door.

"Ralph!" Victoria snaps. "You and your wet-blanket wife are ruining my séance!"

"My wife is ill," he snaps back. "Her health is more important than your stupid game."

You let him practically drag you from the room, and when the door is closed, you stand straight again. He looks at you curiously.

"I've had quite enough of that," you say quietly. "That woman was giving me the heebie-jeebies."

"But… you said…" Ralph looks confused.

You smile and cup his face in your hands. "I'm fine, pup," you whisper. "But I'll have no part in pretending to bring that old hag back. Shall we go back to bed?"

You let him go and take a step down the dark hallway, but he grabs you from behind and holds you in a tight hug. "Thank you," he mumbles into the side of your neck.

You place your arms over his and wait for him to detach himself so you can go back to bed. When he finally does, he sighs in defeat.

"I've forgotten the flashlight."

"Is there no electricity up here?"

He starts fumbling at the walls, feeling for a switch. You can hear him growing frustrated.

"Ralph?" you call quietly.

"Yes?"

"The moonlight from the windows will get us to the stairs. We'll just take them slow and be very careful."

"Are you sure?"

"I am."

"Let me go first," he insists. He reaches for your hand again, and leads you toward the stairs. You follow him down, one step at a time, one hand on the railing and the other on his shoulder. You both breathe a sigh of relief when you arrive safely on the warm and well-lit second floor.

You return to your bedroom, and Ralph breathes a sigh of relief when he closes the door. It locks with a click that echoes through the quiet room. You'd stayed in this room for months during your honeymoon, and he'd never locked it before. Perhaps the thought of his grandmother coming back scared him more than you thought.

You pull the blankets back onto the bed, shed your dressing gowns, and crawl beneath the covers.

"I love you, Ralphie," you remind him, snuggling close.

"I love you too," he whispers, holding you tightly.

You drift off together into a peaceful sleep… but it did not last for long.

"Did you hear that?" Ralph's panicked voice wakes you.

"Hear what?" you mumble.

"Listen," he urges.

You close your eyes and listen hard. Your breath. Ralph's breath. A hooting owl. And then… a scraping sound. It's a faint scrape, and then a light thud. It's coming from the room above you.

You turn your head to look at him, and find him petrified.

"It's her."

"Ralph, it's not her."

"It is. It worked. They did it." The tears threatening to spill from his eyes sparkle in the moonlight streaming in from the window. You cup the side of his face, and he nuzzles into your warm palm.

"Ralph, it's just one of Victoria's guests wandering around and snooping while they think everyone else is asleep."

He shakes his head. A tear spills over. You hate Victoria and all of her stupid friends and that strange woman for putting these scary thoughts in his head.

"Do you want to go look?"

"No!" he whispers loudly.

"What would make you feel safe?" you ask, wiping a tear away.

"Being home."

"Do you want to go now?"

Ralph frowns and thinks about it for a moment.

"Listen," you whisper, looking up at the ceiling. "It's stopped."

You both hold your breath for as long as you can, listening for the sound. You can't hear it anymore.

"Just a nosy guest poking around, pup," you assure him… and yourself. "They've found something more interesting to get into now. Think you can go back to sleep?"

He shakes his head, eyes still big and frightened. You don't really blame him.

"How about this," you propose, "We'll turn on all the lights and stay here in bed until sunrise, and then we'll decide if we want to pack up and go home."

"They'll think me a coward if they find out," he whispers tearfully. "They'll laugh at me."

"They will not," you state. "Between the sickness brought on by dinner and the claw marks Ernestine left on my hand, I may need to seek medical attention in the city." You wink.

He gives you a faint smile and nods.

You each slide off your side of the bed, quickly turn on all the lamps on your half of the room, and leap back under the covers.

Ralph still looks scared, and to be honest, it's getting to you a little too. You pull the blankets over your heads, so that you can't hear anything but your breath and beating hearts.

You hold him to you tightly and rub soothing circles on his back and begin to drift off. But just as you were approaching the edge of sleep, you heard it again.

Scraaape, thud. Ralph gasps. Scraaaape, thud. He trembles. You remove your hand from his back and pull the covers off of your head so you can hear better.

Scraaaaape, thud. Scraaaaape, thud. It's getting closer. Was Ralph right? Had those idiots actually managed to drag the old hag back from the grave to torment her grandson further?

"Raaaaaalph," a rasping voice whispers loudly. If Ralph's eyes get any bigger, they're going to fall out.

And then you hear a muffled giggle.

You are going to kill them all.

"Stay here," you whisper to Ralph, pulling away from him.

"No!" he whispers, reaching for you.

"It's alright, pup," you whisper back. "Stay put."

You creep toward the door as quietly as you can. You put your ear to the door and listen. Scraaaape, thud. You slowly turn the lock, waiting for another burst of giggles before letting it click. You glance over at Ralph, watching you with wide eyes from his place on the bed where you'd told him to stay.

Another scraaaaape, thud, and it's nearly upon you. A scratching sound follows, as if someone is dragging their fingernails down the other side of the door.

You put your hand on the doorknob and look back at Ralph. You've never seen him look so scared before.

"Raaaaaaalph," the voice rasps again. That's it.

You rip open the door and land a punch to the very solid figure standing on the other side of it.

It howls and crumples to the ground.

The other girls screech and squeal and come rushing over to the noisy white pile on the floor. Whoever it was had been wearing a bedsheet, like a ghost.

Several pairs of hands tug at the sheet, causing more howling from the person on the floor, and the fabric is finally pulled away to reveal Ernestine. She's sobbing and holding her bloody nose.

"How could you?!" one of the other girls shrieks.

"How could YOU?!" you counter. "Victoria!"

"It was only a joke!" she yells and pushes her way to the front of the crowd to face you.

"It wasn't funny," you hiss.

"Look what you've done to poor Ernestine!" she pouts, gesturing to her bleeding friend on the floor.

"Ernestine deserved it."

"Did not!" Ernestine wails. You return your attention to the girl on the floor, and notice that she's wearing riding boots instead of the heels she was wearing a the séance. A silver-tipped cane lies by her side. Victoria must've taught her how to mimic their dead grandmother's signature shuffle.

"I'll be taking this," you announce, swooping down to pick up the cane. "Now scram before I start using it!" You brandish the stick at them from just inside the doorway.

The girls scramble back, dragging a still-bleeding Ernestine with them. You watch until they're out of sight and then close the door, lock it, and turn back around.

Ralph is standing by the bed and staring at you with a look you can't quite decipher. Is he still scared? Is it because he thought his grandmother had returned, or because you'd been so nasty and violent? Did you take things too far?

A grin splits his face, and you breathe a sigh of relief. He steps forward and embraces you. You drop his grandmother's cane on the floor and hug him back.

"Told you it wasn't her," you mumble into his chest.

He laughs.

"Darling, I'm very sorry, but…" you sigh and look up at him, and his delight fades to concern. "But I really don't think we're going to be invited to Victoria's next séance."

Ralph cackles, then pulls you closer. "Oh no, how ever will we cope?"

"Do you still want to go home in the morning?" you ask.

"It's probably best," he snickers. "I liked it better when it was just the two of us here, anyway."

"You know, Mr. Penbury…" you say mysteriously, reaching for the collar of his pajama top. "I'm fairly certain it's just the two of us now." You grin and pull him with you and slowly walk backwards. When the backs of your legs collide with the bed and you lose your balance, he strikes. He gently tackles you onto the mattress, and you both land with a laugh and a bounce. He attacks your neck with kisses. You giggle and squirm and wrap your legs around him.

"It's a long time 'til sunrise," he mumbles into your neck. "Guess we'll just have to make love 'til morning."

"Oh no, how ever will we cope?" you ask quietly, brushing his messy curls out of his face with a fondness reserved only for Ralph.

You spent the rest of the night making the most of your brief return to Penbury Manor. In the morning, you packed your things and left while Victoria and all of her guests snored away… but not before flinging Eleanor Beatrice Penbury's silver-tipped cane into the pond.

[nyoomfruits]

Oh ! For the Fanfiction Trope MASH-UP, would you be willing to write about number 2 Royal AU, with number 98 curses for lestappen please 🙏

listen i was thinking about different curse ideas and then i suddenly remembered charles's monac curse and well... then i couldn't not write that. so!!!! driver!charles/prince!max au it is :)

prompt taken from this list, feel free to send me one!

royal au + curses

When you ask a driver what the best race to win is, they will give one of two answers; either their home Grand Prix, or Monaco. For Charles, these have always been one and the same.

And yet, he has never won.

A curse, they call it. Just dumb luck, Charles like to say.

But it still weighs on him, every year he DNF’s, every year he crashes into the barriers instead of crossing the finish line. At least he’s managed to do at least that, last year, in 2022. But this year, this year he’s determined.

He’s going to break the curse. He’s going to win.

He’s so laser focused, so all in, that he misses all the whispers around the paddock about important visitors until he slams head first into one of those visitors outside of the Ferrari motor home.

“I am so sorry,” says none other than Max Emilian, crown prince of the Netherlands.

“Oh,” Charles says, because well. He’s seen pictures of the man before, but it turns out they really don’t do him justice. Prince Max is gorgeous, with piercing blue eyes and broad shoulders and a very, very kissable mouth. “I mean, uh, I’m sorry. Your, uh, highness?”

Max laughs, the hand he used to steady Charles still on his shoulder, burning into Charles’s skin. “Please. Call me Max.”

“Right,” Charles says, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “Right, yeah Max. I can do that.”

Max sends him an amused look. “So, are you looking forward to the race?” He asks, and his hand slips off Charles’s shoulder. Charles immediately misses its warmth.

He pulls a face. “Sort of? I’ve not had the best luck in Monaco.”

“Ah, yes,” Max says, thoughtful look on his face. “The curse.” When Charles doesn’t say anything, just pulls a face, Max continues. “But you shouldn’t be worried. You’ve been driving well all season. Plus, you have pole. That’s already half the race.”

“You follow F1?” Charles asks, a little surprised. There something about Max, beyond the pretty eyes and the nice body, that is almost regal. Ethereal. It feels weird to picture him sitting on a couch in his sweatpants and a sweatshirt on Sunday’s, watching a race.

“Obsessed with it,” Max admits, almost a bit sheepish. “Begged my dad to let me drive kart when I was a kid. But apparently that wasn’t very appropriate, so,” He rubs the back of his neck, and gives Charles a ‘what can you do’ look. “Anyway, I like watching races a lot. The fast cars, the pretty boys,” He leans forward a little, and there’s suddenly an almost mischievous smile on his face, like he’s challenging Charles.

Charles blinks. Opens his mouth. Closes it. If he knew better, he’d say the crown prince of the Netherlands is currently flirting with him. But he knows better so that can’t be it. Right? Still. Can’t hurt to try. “Pretty boys, huh?” Charles says leaning back against the wall of the motorhome. “And do you have a favorite?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Max eyes are twinkling, and he’s leaning forward, his arm suddenly right next to Charles’s head, his face inching closer and closer.

Charles opens his mouth to say something, anything, but then suddenly there’s a pair of lips on his, hands on his waist gently pressing him into the wall, and he forgets how to breath for a second.

His hands shoot up to land on Max’s arm, his bicep, and for a moment he lets himself be kissed, loses himself in the moment. But then Max is pulling away, smiling softly at him.

“What was that for?” Charles asks, eyes wide and mouth kiss swollen.

Max shrugs. “Good luck charm, I guess.”

“Oh,” Charles says. Wants to say more. Wants to do it again. But then a harried Ferrari employee is rounding the corner and spots them, and starts yelling at Charles in rapid Italian about how he was supposed to be in the garage like ten minutes ago, and Max is being pulled in another direction by his security detail, and the moment is broken.

(It’s not until later, much later, when he’s on the top step of the podium, hoisting the trophy in the air, that he remembers.

The thing about curses, is that they can be broken. And the most common way, the best way, is true love’s first kiss.

Charles is feeling very excited about the Zandvoort Grand Prix, all of a sudden.)

[sunwarmed-ash]

Sinful Sunday Snippet

cuz im in a good mood 😘

Hankconvin-NSFW 🔞🔞

<1 MMS>

[U up?] 2:53 AM

Read at 2:53 AM

Gavin looks at his, unresponded to, dick picture again. It wasn’t a bad pic, it was arguably one of the best ones he’s ever taken of himself. But it was unprofessional, scratch that it was downright career suicide, to send a drunk (okay high, phck off,) dick pic to your direct supervisor. 

But Gavin and Hank were different. They had a history, and with Christmas next week… maybe he wasn’t handling the approaching holiday well. He tended to self-destruct a little, hence the eighth ounce of pot he’s already smoked and the stupid photo that’s been sent, received, and left on read for over 4 minutes now. 

His phone buzzes in his hand the next moment and his blood pressure sky rockets.

[Very] 2:57 AM

He didn't expect any response, let alone a potentially interested one. Another two agonizing moments pass and he gets another response, a picture message. And when he opens, his jaw drops in surprise. It's certainly not the response he expects. 

His eyes are currently making eye contact with the man in the digital photo who was not Hank but Connor, Anderson’s newest plastic fuck buddy. But that wasn’t even what surprised Gavin. What surprises him is the fact that the robot's mouth and throat have seemingly swallowed all 9 inches of Hank’s thick, monster cock and is looking up at the camera so pitifully like its still not enough to satisfy him. 

A sea of complex, conflicting emotions flash through Gavin’s body in a fraction of a moment. Anger, jealousy, arousal, fear, irritation, rejection; and it makes him want to toss his phone across the room and bury himself under another three joints. Instead, his cat chooses that moment to walk across his chest and knock his phone out of his hand anyway, demanding affection. Gavin would have been annoyed, if he didn't actually need a minute to breathe. 

Besides, they left him on read for a few minutes, they will survive.  

Gavin takes the moment to try to understand what he’s feeling, the jealousy and resulting anger mostly. He’s been trying to do better, and that includes attempts at understanding where all of his anger comes from. He got arm twisted into therapy a week after the Revolution and now here is, trying to get healthy and shit. But he is jealous. 

Why? He doesn't hate the view. Gavin thinks the picture of Connor’s stupid, smart mouth finally given something better to do than yap looks amazing. 

Maybe he's jealous because it's not him? 

No, that's not quite it. Probably more that he’s not there too. Gavin hates feeling left out, which is something he’s learned about himself after 6 weeks of compulsive therapy. And he’s always had a thing for Anderson. 

Or maybe Hank’s just letting you down easy… the darkest corners of his mind whisper. Because even weekley therapy couldn't silence all the pasts demons. They seem to always win in the end, because he’s typing,

[Sorry. See you got your hands full already.] Before he can stop it. 

Hank’s response this time is almost immediate. 

[That was an invitation Gav, not a rejection.] 3:02 AM

[If you're still interested, that is.] 3:02 AM

Hell phcking yeah he was interested. So much so he was practically flying out of bed, pissing off Venom, his 11 month old, all black, brat of a kitten. (Named because she literally climbs the walls of his apartment constantly and refuses to eat anything but tater tots). She hisses at him before running to her cat bed. Gavin sends one more text before walking out the door. 

[I can be there in 15] 3:04 AM

-

check back tonight at 10 PM Mountain Time for the full fic 😘

[alectoperdita]

WIP Snippet Sunday

From chapter 6 of In bed with the mob. (Yes, I haven't posted chapter 5 yet, but I want to edit them both together since they're the same narrative arc.)

---

No one needed to remind him how stupid and reckless it was to forgo condoms with a man with multiple sexual partners. He didn't need a lecture, least of all from Jounouchi himself. He already knew Jounouchi wasn't solely his, no matter how much he ached for that to be true.

Couldn't he pretend he was for one measly night? One moment?

Seto finally snapped. "Have you really been sleeping around so much that syphilis is a legitimate concern? If we're talking about common STIs, herpes or gonorrhea, hell, even HIV, is a greater concern. Shouldn't I be more worried about getting those from you? By the way, you've already put me at risk of all of those long ago by letting me suck your dick without a condom."

Jounouchi pursed his lips unhappily.

Blood pounded in his ears. Seto couldn't stop himself. He'd drawn verbal blood and he needed to deepen the wound. Though, he couldn't tell if he was hurting Jounouchi or himself more. "I don't presume to tell you how to live your life, Katsuya, but I expected you to have more self-respect than to fuck anything with legs. At least have the decency to be upfront with me from the start, instead of these whiny platitudes after the fact."

Deep down, he always knew they couldn't last. Not forever. Nonetheless, Seto had turned blind eyes and deaf ears to everything and taken the plunge. It was pathetic, but he was willing to take whatever scraps Jounouchi was willing to give him.

Well, at least after this was over, he had a few scorching memories to keep him company on sleepless nights in his own cold and empty bed.

[thruheavenandhighwater]

Pairing: Single Dad! Eddie Munson/ Steve Harrington

Requested By: NA

Word Count: 1,584

Series Summary: Eddie left Hawkins in 1986 with no reason to ever return. But now, a few years have passed and life has changed. Eddie finally returns home and has to deal with everything he left behind, including Steve Harrington. This story starts in May 1991.

Chapter Summary: Eddie's new car needs a lot of work. He finds a mechanic that is willing to fix it up for him.

Stranger Things Masterlist

Steddie Masterlist

Series Masterlist

~~~~~

On Sunday morning Steve showed up at the truck stop for lunch. He timed it just right today, walking through the door only moments after Eddie punched his timecard for the end of his shift. 

"So," Steve started as he took his usual seat at the bar. "How we feelin' about that car?" 

Eddie filled two coffee mugs, sliding them both to Steve before making his way around the counter. He sat next to Steve, wrapping his fingers around his mug. "Will he do $300?" Steve nodded before taking a drink from his own cup. "Then I'm interested." Steve smiled as the two made plans for him to pick Eddie up in a few hours.

The man selling the car was much older than Eddie. He acted a lot like Wayne. No nonsense, all business. He didn't want to make small talk with the boys when they showed up at his house. He counted the twenties Eddie handed him, then handed over the keys and title. 

"Needs new tires," was more or less the only words he said. Steve assured both the man and Eddie that he would make sure that was all taken care of. 

The next morning was Eddie's day off. He had been looking forward to spending time with Lucy and Wayne. He thought maybe they'd go to the park, or just a stroll around town and enjoy the nice weather. But instead today seemed as though it would be full of phone calls. Trying to find the cheapest insurance, the cheapest mechanic, the cheapest place to get new tires since he could put those on himself. 

"There's a kid at Joe's that does good work," Wayne told him after his third phone call of the morning. "Pretty boy, but he's good with cars." 

Eddie knew Joe and his shop well. He'd spent many a day and many a dollar there before he left Hawkins, when he still had the Chevy. He nodded, figuring Joe might be his best bet. Maybe, if he were lucky, he'd let Eddie pay off the repairs over time. 

When Eddie pulled his new-to-him car into the parking lot at Joe's, the dashboard clock had just ticked past 1:15. He'd ended up spending the morning with his family after all and Lucy was now safe with a neighbor. She was a few years older than Eddie and had two kids of her own. She assured him watching her while he ran to the mechanic would be no big deal. 

He put the car into park beside an old Ford pickup that had no hood or tires. A parts car. He looked out over the parking lot and spotted someone with their head firmly planted under the hood of a new looking Cadillac. 

He couldn't see who it was, but they were working hard. The sleeves of their white t-shirt rolled up, exposing toned, muscular shoulders. Sweat and grease gleaming under the early summer sun as he hunched over his work. Eddie couldn't help but to notice that his t-shirt was riding up in the back, exposing a strip of tanned skin just above his jeans. 

Eddie's mind was a million different places as he sat in his car. Would he be able to afford to fix this piece of shit? Is Lucy okay with the neighbor girl? Who was this "pretty boy" his uncle told him about? Was he the one up to his elbows under the hood of the Cadillac across the lot? Would he have to pay his neighbor for watching Lucy if it was less than an hour? Who the fuck is under that hood? 

Just as Eddie was reaching to open the car door, the mystery man turned to face him. Just like that first morning in the truck stop, Eddie was stunned to stillness. Steve Harrington. In all his glory. 

He smiled a soft, uneven sort of smile as he walked towards Eddie. He wiped grease from his hands on an old shop towel that he shoved into his back pocket as he got closer to the car. Eddie was finally able to swing the creaky door open, standing to greet Steve when he reached him. 

"Told ya I knew a guy," Steve laughed. 

"Conveniently forgot to mention that I also knew the guy," Eddie giggled. He was almost nervous, he realized. He shoved his hands deep into the front pockets of his jeans, feeling his cheeks go warm as the sight in front of him. 

Steve Harrington wearing jeans that didn't fit quite right. Covered head to toe in grease and oil. Eddie noticed again how toned his arms were. A few years of fixing cars must have turned him from the soft boy Eddie had known to a hardened, almost chiseled young man. Eddie felt his mouth go dry as he took in Steve's figure. 

"So, uh," Eddie caughed, the silence between them just a few moments past awkward. "How much you think it'll be?" He asked, kicking at the tire with the toe of his shoe. 

"Pop the hood?" Steve asked, but he was already taking steps towards the front of the vehicle. 

Eddie did as he was told. He reached into the driver's side door and pulled up on the small latch near the steering wheel. The hood popped and Steve lifted it over his head, resting it on the strut beneath it. Eddie was entranced by the way Steve's arms moved. He mentally slapped himself for looking at Steve like that when he was trying to help him. Sure, it had been a while since Eddie had gotten any action. But this was Steve. 

He came to stand beside Steve, crossing his arms as he looked over his shoulder. "Good news is the engine is actually in pretty good shape," Steve announced, looking up over his shoulder to Eddie. "Made sure of that before I even told you about it. But everything else seems to be at various levels of fucked." 

Eddie smiled down to him, "Gve me a list." 

"In order of importance; brakes, pads, alternator, and tires first. Have you been having trouble starting it?" 

"I've only driven it twice," Eddie giggled. 

"Right," Steve smiled. "Just asking because John said it would need a new alternator when we talked about it. That's why he dropped the price. But that's a fairly easy fix. Shouldn't take more than a few hours." 

"A few hours and how much money?" Eddie finally asked. 

Steve stood up straight, crossing his own arms to match Eddie's stance. He leaned back against the car, resting his butt against it, his head stopping just in front of the open hood. "I could do it for free," he offered with a shrug. 

"No," Eddie answered. "Not happening. How much?" 

"Look, Eddie, I'm not saying I'll give you a whole new car or anything. But we have plenty of less shitty parts lying around to get you by." 

"Okay fine, but you're not doing it for free." 

"I'm offering," Steve argued. "Just let someone be nice to you for once." 

"I don't need charity, Steve." 

"It's not charity. It's one friend who is able to help another friend. That's kinda what friends are for," he smiled. "Plus, I know you're trying to get on your feet. And I'm no expert, but I hear babies can be quite the money suck." 

Eddie sighed, his gaze falling to his feet. "So, you know about Lucy, huh?" 

"Didn't know her name was Lucy," Steve answered. His lips formed a smile around her name and Eddie felt a pang in his chest. He'd always liked Lucy's name, that's why he picked it from Billie's otherwise awful list of names. But hearing Steve say it with a lilt of affection made him like it that much more. "But even I could put two and two together when you were buying diapers at Melvalds the other day." 

"You don't have to do all this for free," Eddie argued again, a bit less urgently. "Don't think Joe would appreciate you being on the clock and not making money, anyway."

"Bring it by after 6 and he won't even know," Steve shrugged again. "I'll work on it for a few hours a night and you can pay with the pleasure of your company." 

"You'd really do that?" 

"I really would." 

Eddie wanted to hug Steve. He didn't, of course. Steve was covered in gunk and they'd never hugged before. But he wanted to. He accepted the offer,  begrudgingly agreeing to be back the following evening at 6 pm. 

When Eddie knocked on his neighbors door fifteen minutes later he couldn't stop smiling. She'd brushed off his offer to pay at first. When he explained that he'd need someone to keep an eye on her for a few hours a night while he got his car fixed, she was sweet and understanding. She finally agreed to let him pay her $10 a week for a few hours of sitting with her in the evenings. She laughed, arguing that he didn't need to pay her to watch his daughter sleep. But he insisted. 

Once the pair got home and he settled into the couch, he let himself think. He looked to Lucy, playing with toys on the floor. He glanced around him at the living room he'd grown up in. He realized in that moment that maybe moving back to Hawkins wasn't a punishment. Maybe he should have been here all along.

~~~~~

previous part // next part

~~~~~

[pbandjesse]

I hate day lights savings. I am so stupidly tired. Like I want to cry and put my head down. Ugh. I didn't even sleep terribly but I did not sleep enough. I couldn't fall asleep for a long time. And then we lost a whole hour! Horrible.

When I did wake up for real the sun was so bright and I was furious about it. Like just miserable and was not having a good time!!!

I got up and tried to shake off how upset I was but man. I was going through it.

I thought I would enjoy going to goodwill before I had to go to camp. But I couldn't figure out which goodwill I wanted and had to ask James for help. But like I was just not having fun.

I got dressed. I could not find the green puhtok shirt I wanted to wear so I wore the grey one. I tried not to be miserable.

I had a vegan sausage patty and two rice crispies for breakfast. I hung out at my desk in our bedroom and put on my jewelery and was very excited to wear my necklace that I made last night. Made is a strong word. The jewelery drill came yesterday and I was able to drill out the ring I wanted to turn into a pendant and it worked! I'm thrilled.

I left here at 1015. Even though the goodwill didn't open until 11? I thought I could walk around Aldi first.

And I did that but I didn't life this Aldi and it was very very busy. I felt very stressed. I felt very upset. I was texting Jess and just absolutely going through it.

I think some of my upset was being exhausted. But also just wanting to desperately going home and being alone. That's all I wanted. But there was to much to do.

I would finally get to walk around goodwill. I did not find shoes. But I did find a new fleece and it would only be $2.99! Amazing. And while the shape is a little funny, and gives me big shoulders, it's very cozy. And it's lined and I really like it.

I went to camp next. Somehow missed a turn and got confused and it took me an extra 15 minutes but whatever.

I missed Alexi's text about getting us something from dough run. But that's okay.

I had to tell Alexi that someone stole the quad poster from the car. I feel terrible about it. And she was so nice about it. I'm horribly embarrassed. Cause literally nothing else was taken from the car, except my Nike hoodie. And we are all like. What did they think it was?? It's a big black case. Elizabeth thinks they thought it might be a gun case? Who knows. But I am still really bummed.

This afternoon was super busy. First I had to drive around camp looking for the TV. Then headed to the lodge and directed some of the counselors that volunteered to work today to get soap and HDMI cords and move tables.

And for some reason they were not good at moving tables and I had to take over so they didn't hurt themselves. But they were great help and it was honestly just really nice to see them.

I would hang out with Josephine and Louisa and Kenny. Kenny made me do a scavenger hunt and then I made one for him (finding/hiding sticky notes around the lodge) and it was very fun.

And pretty soon it was time for tours! I gave 9 tours. I only took groups to youth village. And I would run them through a whole day of camp. What a week looks like. What drop off looks like. Some advice for things to pack. I answered questions and tried to make it fun. Like I would make the kids cover their ears when I told parents about sending mail (you just drop it all off on Sunday and we hand it out throughout the week) and then the kids would be like "we heard you!!" And I would pretend to be surprised.

It was fun giving tours. I love tours. But also I would get frustrated when my coworkers tried to bring their tours into the cabin we were in!! There are 4 others! Stop that!! Messing with my groove.

I would take a little break. The Friends of Puhtok group was there selling hotdogs. No veggie dogs so instead I got a roll and chips and put mustard and relish on it and ate my silly sandwich. The woman there thought I was very funny and we talked about metal casting and how cool it was we were able to do it with the older campers last year. And how we're going to do it again this year.

I would really enjoy talking to everyone today. Lots of really sweet people. Also some hardcore parents with tattoos and boots and I was like. Can we be friends??? It was a really fun day, even if I was exhausted.

Like by 3 I was like. I'm dying. But I gave 2 more tours. And would finish up right before 4. When Elizabeth said I could be free. She asked me to jump on a zoom call meeting tomorrow so we could discuss the week (everyone except me and Sarah are going to a conference) and I said sure. And would walk to the art building where my car was parked.

I texted Celia and she said she would meet me at Indian Ocean, the new Indian place that just opened.

And it was so nice! I didn't take any pictures but it was so pretty inside. Very blue. And big TV screens with fish. And very good music. It was great.

She told me all about her surgery and how the weeks been going. I told her about my struggles and wins this week. The updates at the house. We both got paneer and naan and it was so much food. Am very excited for leftovers.

We hung out for an hour. Telling jokes and being silly. I was very very tired but I was still having a good time.

We headed out and said goodbye and I went home. I was so happy to go home.

I would hug James and immediately go lay on the couch. I didn't event and my jacket off. I just laid on my face for 45 minutes before I even talked to James.

We would catch up about the day. And James would run to the store to get milk before making cinnamon Hawaiian rolls for us. Which would be fabulous. They also did some painting. I did nothing. And was so tired.

I am going to go take a quick shower and try to go to sleep. And just hope tomorrow is better. I want to enjoy the sun and not be angry at it.

Sleep well everyone. I love you all. Goodnight

[quinloki]

Family Ties

Fem Reader x Donquixote Doflamingo

CW: Language, violence, blood, moral ambiguity, murder, sexual themes and situations 18+ only

Chapter 1 - Table of Consent -

Chapter 8: Something Like a Date

Since you wore yourself out repeatedly the afternoon before, you slept like a rock and ended up awake and about at 4am. Oh how the tides had turned on how this Sunday was going compared to last week. You took a nice shower that you had hoped would be relaxing, but the idea of getting into clothes that had been gifted to you had gotten your imagination rolling again.

You had once heard Thatch tell Marco that a man only gifts a woman clothes to see them on his floor, and by that logic they had decided to buy you a set of lockpicks for your birthday instead of clothes. But now the jest was bouncing around in your head as you put on the sweats and shirt.

You had to admit you were grateful, of all accessories provided, lingerie wasn't a part of it. You had plenty of your own and given the modest cut of the dress you didn't have to worry about needing anything custom to go along with it. It had taken you a few moments to decide on what underwear to wear – the basics, and assume nothing will happen? Or dress to match and deal with the fallout of having thought ahead if something does happen.

In the end you went with dressed to match, since the idea of something happening and being in your boring underclothes felt more mortifying than anything else. At least if you ended up being teased for matching it would help you lean into things that were already happening.

You stepped outside a few minutes before 8, enjoying the morning air and preferring to watch the world go by vs pacing yourself into a frenzy inside. It was barely a minute later when an, admittedly modest, limousine pulled up to the end of your driveway.

An older gentleman, who looks like he worked out at every available opportunity to be that muscled at that age, steps out from the limo's driver side and approaches you.

"Miss (Y/N), shall I take your bag?" He inquires. His voice didn't have the deep timbre that Doflamingo's did, but there was a layer of long-held authority in it. You doubted his only job was chauffer.

"Yes, please – mister?"

"Just Lao, young miss. The young master suggested that if you insisted on calling me Mr. Lao I should address you as young lady." He adds, and a grin spreads across your face.

"Very well, thank you for coming to get me, Lao." You reply as he puts the small suitcase into the trunk.

"You're quite welcome, Miss (Y/N)." He opens the door for you, and you had the good sense to let him. As you step into the limo, you find you were not alone.

Doflamingo sat along the side in casual enough attire you were almost unable to stop yourself from making a face at the sight of it. He still wore his shades, but the t-shirt fit him in a relaxed way – quite the feat given his broad shoulders. You were surprised to see sweatpants not dissimilar in style from yours, and loafers to finish the look. You noticed he had even downgraded his usual metal watch to one with a leather band.

You couldn't help yourself as you settled in, and quipped. "Do you even own a pair of sneakers?"

"Due to my height, my shoes are all custom-made." He replies smoothly enough.

"That would be a no, then." You smile back at him as Lao gets into the driver's seat.

Doflamingo gives a faint smirk and turns toward the front of the limo. "We are ready, Lao."

"Very well, young master." Comes the reply, and the window separating the driver from the two of you rolls up as the limo rolled into motion.

Taking a better look around the limo, you realize it wasn't overly large, but with enough room that both Doflamingo and you had a comfortable amount of personal space, while not being so separated as to make conversation awkward. The black leather interior was broken by accents of velvet and a deep blood-red wood grain. It was certainly old-time elegant, and not as flashy as you expected.

"I admit, I appreciate you sending over clothes for today. I would've felt uncomfortably under dressed for breakfast if I'd chosen something on my own." You'd poked him a couple times and he hadn't teased in return, so you figured it was only polite to go easy on him. As he said before, today was for your enjoyment.

"I'm glad to hear it put you at ease." He purrs with a smirk. Teasing or not that voice was a sin. "Before we get too far into the day, I did want to ask if you were at all uncomfortable with going to my family's estate. I have alternative plans if you'd rather not, so don't feel pressured."

"Will your family be there?"

"They will."

"I'm okay with it then," you admit. "Being in a place like that and having it empty would be a bit unnerving, but it wouldn't be bad to see your family again." You see him raise an eyebrow and you sigh in mock defeat, pouting and looking away. "I feel a tiny bit guilty for leaving how I did last week."

"I see."

"Miniscule." You reiterate, going quiet for a few minutes before relaxing into the comfortable seats. The low, barely noticeable vibration of the car's wheels as it drove forward were starting to lull you into a nap, and you decide to fight against it.

"So where are we going for breakfast, your estate?"

"No, after some asking around, I was informed of a nice place not far from here that does an exceptionally good job with breakfast, and I thought it would be worth the risk to go there."

It was your turn to raise your eyebrows in surprise. "I... don't mean this nearly as mean as it's gonna sound, but you don't look like the kind of person who risks the unknown, Trouble."

"I assure you; I take plenty of risks." He replies, and you could swear there was almost the tiniest hint of a pout in his voice.

"Oh, I'm sure you take all kinds of risks, Trouble." You laugh. "What I mean is you seem like someone who mitigates risks to make sure any risk you do take still end how you want. Like if you went skydiving you'd pack your own parachute."

Or provide someone with clothes for a day on the town so you knew they'd wear something that matched your style. You thought to yourself, finally realizing all the reasons behind the offered clothes.

"A fair assessment, Miss (Y/N), and one I imagine I cannot deny in this case either."

The limo comes to a stop, and you hear Lao exit from his cab. He opens the door and Doflamingo steps out first, offering his hand as you come out behind him.

"Something like a date, indeed, what a gentleman." You tease, taking his offered hand and stepping out of the limo.

"I did promise." He states.

"You never said 'promise', but you're keeping your word, so I'll appreciate... that..." Your words die on your lips as you realize you are outside Sanji's café. A sign on the door indicates they were closed, but Sanji steps out and greets you.

"The private party has arrived, right this way." He offers cheerfully.

You weren't sure who you needed to kill for this first, Trouble or Sanji. You opened and closed your mouth a couple times trying to find the right words and a chuckle from Doflamingo causes you to turn to him first.

"Worth the..." you stammer, and then bite back what else was on your mind, unsure of if you wanted to say it.

Stomping over to Sanji, you go to snag his cigarette out of his mouth, but he removes it and holds it aloft before you can reach him, smiling all the while. "You could've warned me." You huff.

"My silence was appropriately negotiated." He beams, he was having the time of his life, this romantic idiot. "Besides, (Y/N), I promised."

"Tch." You walk past Sanji and into the café. It was done up a little more than usual, with nothing but a single table in the middle of the, granted, small interior of the café. Normally there weren't more than five tables as it was.

After Doflamingo enters, Sanji closes and locks the door, to make sure that none of his sleepy morning regulars blunder in past Lao accidentally. There are menus waiting for you and Sanji leaves to get coffee before coming back to take your orders. You have been keeping your arms crossed and grumbling in Sanji's general direction since entering the café.

"I hope you're not truly upset, Miss (Y/N)." Doflamingo says as you wait for your meals.

You finally crack a smile and shake your head. "I'm... not. I'm just," you scrunch up your nose a little. "I can't say I dislike surprises, cause good surprises are great, I've just been done in by my own morals is all."

"Might I ask you to elaborate?" He inquires. You could feel him taking in all of this as though he were compiling data for future use.

"For reasons I'm not yet okay with getting into, let's just say I take promises seriously. Someone's word can falter, cause sometimes we agree to something, and it slips our mind. No shame, no foul." You explain. "But promises are another matter. An invocation of honor. I don't promise lightly, and my friends seem to have adapted it."

A moment's silence. "Ah, I see. You expected your long-time friend and boss would give you a warning about my plan."

"I did, until he said he had promised." Your smile is genuine. "I'm not mad. A little salty that I feel like I've fallen into a trap of some sort, but not mad."

"Promise?" Doflamingo prompts, quite the smile on his lips.

Your face goes pink despite your efforts. "Promise."

You have a good meal afterward, filled mostly with small talk about the food. You say the most; rambling on about Sanji's cooking, about how bad you were when you first started helping him, and about how you only absent-mindedly put buttered bread in a toaster one time before you never made that mistake again. It was hard to keep conversation going with Sanji's cooking in front of you, however, and things naturally die down as you finish up your meal.

"I don't know how you do it, Sange," you say, not quite hitting the last syllable of his name. "But I feel perfectly full again. Like if I had one more bite it would be too much."

"Agreed. It was delicious and satisfying." Doflamingo adds. "Well worth the risk."

You almost choke and then laugh. "You really are a smarmy bastard."

"Nonsense," Doflamingo insists, standing up and offering his hand. "Today I'm a perfect gentleman."

"You're a perfect something," you quip taking his hand. It was warm, and expectedly large, and you were reminded of when you shook hands before, as though he wanted to kiss yours instead of shaking it. "Jury's out on what, exactly."

He unlocks the door in a smooth motion and holds it open as you leave the café and go back into the limo. Lao assists you back in again, and this time Doflamingo sits next to you in the same backseat. There was still some space, and he kept his hands to himself, but the proximity was threatening to stir your imagination.

"We're not going far." He states, as though giving an excuse for why he hadn't moved to a different section of seating. "There's a small carnival between here and the estate and I had assumed it would be a good place to walk after breakfast."

"Oh, Binks' carnival," you are doing your best to seem completely unconcerned about the arrangement, you didn't want to scoot away and give the impression he was having an effect on you. "That's not a bad place for a stroll. Especially this early on a Sunday, there won't be many people."

The walk around the carnival grounds was relatively uneventful. Neither of you said a whole lot, but it wasn't uncomfortable. At one of the stands you leaned into the whole 'something like a date' concept, and asked him to buy you something to commemorate the day.

He makes a face. "Something from here?"

"Yes indeed Mr. Money-bags-inc." You flash your best teasing grin. "I want you to pick out some hokey cheap carnival gift. The ordeal will make this more of a proper repayment."

"Oh?"

"Well, I can already tell you're not particularly enjoying the idea of it." You grin. You feel like the Cheshire Cat, except with more sass. Sitting down on a nearby bench, you gesture for him to peruse the stalls, your feet kicking back and forth and the shit-eating grin still plastered on your face.

With a sigh, and a smile, he goes over to the stalls. You had to admit watching him walk away was a bit of a treat, he had an ass that didn't just look good in a suit, and it was a good thing you were already seated or you would've been tempted to smack it. You decide to distract yourself by poking at your phone for a little while, so as to not get caught staring.

You kept your eyes on your surroundings regardless and caught sight of someone you hoped would continue to not notice you. The officer appeared off-duty, which was surprising all on its own, you were pretty sure Agent Smoker only had one setting. But it seemed he was doing some volunteer work, as he was completely without any cigars, and surrounded by a small gaggle of children.

Kudos to him for doing the Big Brother thing and looking like an actual human begin while doing so. You notice Tashigi with him, coming back with two more kids following her, and trays of food for everyone. They disappeared off in a direction you were resolved to avoid, at least for today you didn't want to have to deal with either of them.

Not they were bad or treated you unkindly. Smoker wanted you to go into the force as a linguistics analyst or some other equally boring desk job. Tashigi thought you'd make a good agent if the desk job sounded too boring. Both knew who your biological dad was, and who you considered to be your real father. You imagined they were just trying to keep you out of trouble.

Bit late for that, though.

Doflamingo returns after a few long moments and sits down beside you. He holds out his hand, whatever he had decided on apparently fit inside of it.

"My dear," He says, and you weren't sure if he was playing at the role of A Good Date™, or if the 'something like' had started to fall away into actual date territory.

You put your hand out, palm up, expecting him to put it in your hand, when instead he slips a beaded bracelet around your wrist. The material holding it together was stretchy, the beads were small marble sized orbs of polished wood. For carnie fare, it was surprising good quality, and looked quite elegant.

You smile. "Leave it to you to find the highest quality carnival gift I've ever seen."

"I do my best within the situation." He replies with a chuckle, and you feel a heat in your cheeks rise.

Before you even left the carnival grounds you knew those cheap wooden beads were already more important to you than they should've been. It was a shame there was no way they'd go with the evening gown, and you certainly weren't going to risk them swimming.

You head back to the limo, and while you let Lao open the door, you step back and make a dramatic flourish with your arm, bowing. "Age before beauty, Trouble, I insist."

The cheeky action earns you a small chuckle and Doflamingo gets into the limo first. Your win, you imagine, but he sits in the back-side seat again. If you didn't want to sit beside him, you'd have to step over him. This slick bastard.

You decide to turn your win into a draw, and sit down beside him. He already has one arm draped across the back of the seat, and you opt to sit close enough to be under his arm while not right next to him. Between his reach and your height, it wasn't like you were really super near any part of him.

"Now we're headed to your estate?" You prompt, putting a bit of lift on the word estate as though you were teasing him for being rich.

"Mmm," He agrees as he leans into your teasing. "We're headed to my estate, in my limo, driven by my chauffeur, so that my savoir can swim in my pool and relax before dinner." Oh, when he smoothed out his voice and teased you it was better than you had imagined.

"Savior, huh?" You muse, trying to distract yourself from the effect his proximity and tone were having on you. "I wouldn't go that far. If those SUVs hadn't belonged to your family, it would've been a total botch job on my part."

"And yet the end result has been thus." His seems to pout.

You turn toward him a little, looking up and giving him a crooked smile. "You sound irritated by that. Are you angry someone had to step in and help?"

A frown twists his face for a second, before he was back to his usual expression. "Not even slightly. I feel as though you are undervaluing what you did, and that is unacceptable."

"Oh." You lean back into the seat, heat going to your ears. "Well... my apologies, then." Being told to value yourself by an international underworld mob boss was certainly an experience. "So, uh, tell me about your family. If I'm going to meet more important people, I'd rather not do so cold."

"Very well, my dear."

He spent the rest of the car ride telling you about his family. Names and basic descriptions. you'd met Vergo and Diamante before, and briefly interacted with Dellinger, and Lao was driving the limo. When he spoke about his family there was a kindness in his voice you hadn't expected. He very obviously cared about these people, even if they all worked together for often nefarious reasons, and you were absolutely certain he'd burn and salt the world to protect them if that's what it took.

In the twenty or so minutes of the ride you learned about sixteen members of the family, and some of their more particular quirks. Pica had a unique voice, and he was quite sensitive about it. Giolla's taste in art suited her but it was a bit outside what would be considered typical. When he talked about Dellinger you admitted to having praised his heels. That earned you a smile, before he moved on to Senor Pink. This poor man had been through the ringer, and how he coped could be shocking if you weren't prepared for it.

Aside from Baby being needy, the rest of the family seemed fairly normal. Sugar was the youngest, but she was Monet's baby sister and not the only child at the estate either. While you hadn't met Violet, you had spoken with her, and that covered the immediate family for the most part.

When you arrived at the estate, you had to admit that Doflamingo was in a different class from Pops, it was almost twice the land and building size. Which wasn't too surprising, since the immediate Family of Donquixote was quite a few more top officers than Pop had. You imagine the number of subordinates was a number of people that was a real nightmare to keep organized.

There wasn't a chance to go swimming. You saw the pool, and the gardens, and the dinning room, kitchen, living area, work out room, Sugar's playroom, Dellinger's heel collection, half – if not all – of Giolla's favorite art pieces, and were told about the deep history of some of the estate's older heirlooms by Lao. You had been effectively kidnapped by Doflamingo's family. Not even Doflamingo could save you.

Sugar had immediately decided she liked you and was putting random bow clips in your hair while you painted Dellinger's nails after an hour or so of being dragged around the estate. Sure, some of these people were a little quirky, but you couldn't say that your friends were exactly normal either.

"There you are." Doflamingo's voice was full of amusement. You probably look like a reject store front display with enough unmatched barrettes in your hair to make clacking noises if you moved your head too fast.

"Here I am." You reply, not looking up from what you were doing. "I'm almost finished with Dellinger's nails, give me a moment."

"We still have some time to spare, though I apologize there won't be enough time for you to swim before we need to leave." He didn't sound too apologetic, and you imagine it was because you had been effectively claimed by his family.

"(Y/N) can come over again and swim whenever she wants." Sugar declares. "You weren't only going to visit today, were you?"

"If you're only here for today you can't leave to go to some stupid restaurant." Dellinger adds. "You're going to come back, right, right?"

You finish with Dellinger's nails and smile. "I mean, that's kind of your boss's call."

"Young master, you have to let her come back!" Sugar demands, flashing an impressive pair of puppy dog eyes at Doflamingo.

"Young master pleeeeease?" Dellinger begs, drawing out the long word in a childish whine and trying to imitate Sugar's puppy dog eyes.

You get up and walk toward him. "I feel like you're going to be outvoted if you don't acquiesce." You tease, pointing to the clips in your hair. "I've been adorned with highly valued prize items after all, you might have a rebellion on your hands."

"Rebellion!" Sugar says forcefully.

Dellinger turns to her hurriedly. "No rebellion Sugar! Focus on the prize items!"

"Highly prized (y/n)!" Sugar put her fist in the air.

Your face goes beet red at the unexpected qualifier, and Doflamingo licks the bottom of his lip before his face splits into a devious grin.

"Highly prized, indeed." His voice rumbles quietly, but you weren't sure if the others had heard him. "Miss (Y/N) is allowed to return if she wants to," he says, loudly enough for Sugar and Dellinger to hear. "But we cannot force her, she's not a part of the family."

There was an unspoken yet that drove its way into your brain, and you had the distinct impression of being hunted again. You could feel heat in places that weren't just your face and then shoved your children-inappropriate thoughts back down into the corner of your mind before turning toward Sugar – who has turned her puppy dog eyes on you.

"Since I've been invited, I'll come back." You assure her, taking out some of the clips. "So make sure you keep these safe and you can fancy up my hair again next time, okay?"

Sugar nods happily in response and her and Dellinger start chattering about all the things they could do the next time you visited while they help you remove the rest of the clips. In the few minutes it took them to empty your hair of clips you were certain they'd listed off enough events to ensure you'd be visiting several more times.

Leaving the others behind, the two of you walk down the hallway together. Despite the bustle of the estate, you realize that there wasn't anyone else around. You very quickly became very aware of being alone with him.

"There's been a room and bath prepared for you," Doflamingo begins, "so you can relax and clean up at your leisure before dinner. Lao has already put your luggage in the room for you." He stops in front of a door, opening it and allowing you to step through. "If you need anything, the common room is in that direction," he points, "please don't hesitate to ask."

"Ah, um... thank you." You manage, walking by him into the room you found yourself a full bundle of nerves. You kept expecting, or wanting, him to just reach out and do as he pleased, or maybe as you pleased.

"You're welcome, Miss (Y/N). I had been informed by your talented café boss that you do appreciate space and quiet. After the welcome my family unexpectedly bestowed upon you, I believed this would be an acceptable adjustment to the schedule." He didn't draw nearer, or loom, or do anything ungentlemanly, but you still felt the small hairs on your neck stand on end.

You chuckle a bit as you step further in and appreciate the room. It was luxurious, but not ostentatiously so, and the door leading into the private bath was open. There were several bookcases, seating for people who were visiting, and an impressive four poster bed that was separated slightly from the more common area of the room by drapes and an elegant room divider. There was a TV as well, and a computer – not that you were going to log into someone else's family network during your short stay, but the efficiency of items in the room was appreciable.

"I believe I was correct earlier," you muse, turning toward him with a smile. "You really do mitigate all possible risks, don't you?"

He chuckles. "Such mitigation seems hardly effective recently." He admits, his voice slipping from the near-business tone he'd been using most of the day, into something more akin to a purr.

Oh. Oh I was not wrong. Things had gone from business to interest at the café, and there was no mistaking that interest was fast becoming desire. Assuming it hadn't already gotten there before now, and he was just putting on a solid gentlemanly display this entire day.

"Until later, Miss (Y/N), please relax to your heart's content." He bids you farewell and closes the door.

You gulp, alone in the room, and silently wondering if a fling was even an acceptable possibility at this point. If he was as skilled in other activities as he was in well, in whatever all this was, then it might be impossible to just dip a toe in the proverbial pool.

If the vibe was appropriate during dinner, it wouldn't be a bad idea to brooch the topic. Leaving things unresolved wasn't really your style, and if being blunt scared him off easily, then that would resolve things.

And if it didn't, then, well, that was not something entirely undesired. 

[naoko-world]

The good place final review

Last Saturday the wonderful @thecrazyashley-blog casually mentioned The good place in my DMs, telling me I may definitely love it, and she was so right! I literally couldn't stop, I started to check it out a bit on Saturday, started season 2 on Sunday, and finished it today Thursday (at least at the moment I’m writing that)!

Synopsis:

After her death, Eleanor is sent to the good place...But by mistake. And it's up to Chidi, the only one who knows it, to save her from being sent to the bad place.

Of course, a lot of spoilers incoming!

Overturning the cliches:

I love how I expected a lot of things that never were revealed true. Like I feel I've often been taken for an idiot! And the first revelation to make me feel that way is the Taiwanese monk being actually Jason Mendoza, a man from Jacksonville, FL, of Philippines origin who did robberies on earth with his dad and his best friend.

Another one of them is the judge actually being not so sensible and all-knowing and more like a stubborn, hard to convince, series addict.

Also how you expect things like the characters having their life improved when they're send back to earth to actually become way worse. Or worse: Trevor who doesn't stay long in the end when you expected him to be a pain in the ass for many episodes.

And, of course, the mass of revelations like how they're actually all in the bad place, or how the bad place didn't do anything bad that would have sent everyone to the bad place.

I feel like an idiot but I love it lol!

The characters:

Now I'll be talking about the characters! 

I love how they're all so different and somehow so perfect for each other to improve.

As some examples: Chidi needed Jason to learn how to be more spontaneous, Tahani needed Eleanor to become more humble, and Eleanor needed Tahani to trust people more.

My favorite character is Tahani because she's like an incredible woman who was doing good deeds on earth like donating to charity, but whose only motivation was to be more popular than her sister Kamila. What I find the most meaningful regarding her problem is that her jealousy literally killed her! She was so driven by it that she pulled a statue of Kamila toward her, which crushed her to death in front of a whole crowd.

But then, she realized what the real problem was: the pressure her parents put on both of them, and Kamila was also suffering from it!

And the four main human characters are living about the same thing through the 4 seasons for their own problems.

I love Michael & Janet’s too, how they are slowly becoming more human, literally for Michael.

The main villain is pretty neat too, he has a kind of evil in him he can't even control but makes him so interesting.

The philosophy in the series:

The heart of the series is the philosophy. To save Eleanor, then Jason, then Tahani, then Michael, then a bit everyone, Chidi is using philosophy as a way to make you think about the concepts of good and bad.

Like it could have been made in a boring way, so we would feel we're in a classroom instead of watching a comedic series, but it actually blends perfectly with the tone of the series! It's so fun to watch Chidi move before his board and explain the concept to his students.

I love too how it shows how useful, but also how complicated it can be!

I'll give the trolley problem as an example! First, the series talks about the base: a group of people on a railroad, a single one on another. Then, the single person is someone we know. Then, it's about who to save between patients in an hospital, to end with how to tell the family they're dead and why. It's not that obvious to understand the good choices to make to be a good person in these cases.

Life is complicated:

But they're even more complicated nowadays, and we start to understand it from season 3, when the four humans are sent back to earth to prove they could have changed there too.

But a lot of disappointment ensue. When acting for good causes, Eleanor gets in exchange a miserable life, Chidi learns that eating a muffin he loves will participate in children's work and it makes him hesitate on everything again, Tahani is living for fame again while she tried to live a more humble life, and Jason lost too many dances competitions not to finally give up on earning an honest life.

That aspect though is perfectly summarized when talking to the judge of the afterlife afterwards: if you want to buy a tomato it's very complicated not to buy a tomato that'll cost you points because of some consequences it'll provoke, even with the access to Internet. The judge tried, and when looking for a tomato exactly like she wanted she found porn.

Even Dough Forcett! That man found out about the reality of the afterlife and got so obsessed by it he lived a miserable life! Even he will not be able to reach the good place!

And that's true! Why the afterlife will need to change, and I love how they changed it! In the bad place...And in the good place too. It was a surprise to discover what actually happens there, but actually pretty logical.

The end:

Then you have the end of the series: how do we resolve these issues?

Season 4 is basically about these questions, and the answers are so satisfying! Like eating chocolate after a bad day (or after the end of a series that made you cry...)! I love too how they convince the judge, but then the judge wants to reboot humanity so they must find another solution very quickly.

Then they go the The good place and there people basically became zombies because they just live their eternal life because they don't have any other choice.

But what is even more satisfying is each main character's fate! I won't spoil them there just in case but it was so perfect for them, especially Tahani! I mean, she was made for this fate!

Also I think Chidi and Eleanor's is what made me cry too...Though I'm so happy they ended up as a happy couple! They're the best couple I love them.

If I had to talk about every aspect of that series that review would go way too long! So I'll end it there, and with a promise to myself I'll watch it again because it's totally worth it!

[flaresanimedump]

AU where Fukuzawa, teased once again by Fukuchi for being such a loner, decides to get a little catboy just for company. Emphasis on little. So he orders one from catboys r us dot com, and when the box arrives he expects to open it to find a cute little kitten... but finds a cat young man instead.

Ranpo is wild and energetic and destructive - and way too big for any of the supplies Fukuzawa got in preparation. He's determined to call the company once he gets Ranpo down from the top of the fridge, then when he gets Ranpo untangled from the miniblind pull cord, then when he gets Ranpo to stop yowling loud enough to alarm the neighbors - and on and on until it's already too late in the evening to call.

When Fukuzawa's finally able to sit down and rest he's covered in scratches and his house is in shambles. Fukuzawa's not sure if Ranpo's worn himself out or if he's just plotting his next move, but he's grateful the little menace is at least finally, finally holding still. And watching Fukuzawa. It's actually the first time Ranpo's really looked at him since he arrived, so immediately preoccupied with the once neat apartment as he'd been.

Slowly he crawls his way over to Fukuzawa's side. And nudges his head into Fukuzawa's hand.

Fukuzawa has half a mind to throw him out the nearest window, but, if he's honest with himself, he's been dying to pat Ranpo all day. Despite his streak of devastation Ranpo is so adorable he's barely managed to scold him. So against his better judgment he runs his hand carefully over Ranpo's hair. Ranpo's tail rises into a happy curl. He snuggles up beside Fukuzawa like he hasn't spent the day shredding anything he could get his claws on (including Fukuzawa), flattening his ears so Fukuzawa can stroke his hair better, turning his face up and pressing happily into the attention.

A little warning voice in Fukuzawa's head says he shouldn't be rewarding Ranpo's behavior. But there was something about the way Ranpo had glanced at him in the moment before he gave in and stroked his head. It wasn't an apology. Ranpo seemed to think he'd done nothing particularly wrong, which made his expression - an expectation of rejection - all the stranger a sight. So he ignores the voice and indulges himself.

Ranpo is too big for the bed Fukuzawa bought him. While Fukuzawa considers this Ranpo climbs under the covers of Fukuzawa's futon like he owns it, and Fukuzawa doesn't have the energy to argue. He'll call the company in the morning.

But the morning is Sunday morning. He resigns himself to another day of chasing Ranpo around. Ranpo is delighted with pancakes for breakfast, barely gets in the way at all while Fukuzawa's cooking. Actually, Ranpo's downright cooperative for most of the morning. He still eyes the furniture like he wants to see the color of its insides but he forgoes causing havoc in favor of gluing himself to Fukuzawa. He wants to play, or he wants to be patted, or he wants to climb Fukuzawa (he figures out this is Ranpo wanting to be picked up and held after the third time and wonders if part of the problem is that he's not well-versed in caring for other creatures), and with every bright-eyed stare from Ranpo's upturned face Fukuzawa feels his weak, treacherous heart growing more taken with the rambunctious adolescent catboy they'd mixed up with his actual order.

"Maybe this is for the best," Fukuzawa mutters to himself, Ranpo laying across his lap and batting at his scarf. "I couldn't possibly have handled you as a kitten if you're this adorable now."

Ranpo flushes to his hair. But then he smiles, bright and happy, and Fukuzawa blinks down at him in surprise.

"Can you understand me a little?" He scratches Ranpo's head and gets a pleased mew in response. "What a bright thing you are."

Ranpo can in fact understand him completely. The only mistake the company made in the mixup was not watching Ranpo close enough when he was returned to the factory after the deaths of his former owners. It was Ranpo who put himself into the box, leaving no trace but a computer error that would (with luck) be fixed and accounted for without displacing any other catboys from good homes. A clever little escape from the fate that awaited him.

Catboys were not supposed to understand, nor were they supposed to talk, nor were they supposed to be able to create clever little computer errors and escape into the arms of lonely former assassins. Ranpo is not a normal catboy. His former owners were aware of and welcomed this, but no one since had been pleased with the development. This one too, despite all of his strangely tolerant acceptance of Ranpo so far, would probably be angry at being sent a defective catboy.

But it's hard not to talk. It's hard not to talk when the apartment has miniblinds that haven't been opened in the three years Fukuzawa has lived in it because he's so used to operating in darkness it hasn't occurred to him to enjoy the sun now that he can. It's hard not to talk when Fukuzawa has nothing to entertain himself with but a sword and a few books and a phone like he's some kind of monk. It's hard not to talk when Fukuzawa is so soft and so pretty and likes him. He isn't going to be able to keep not talking forever. But the longer he does, the more chance Fukuzawa might be too attached to him to send him back when he finds out.

Fukuzawa has work to do that afternoon and carefully moves Ranpo off his lap, and Ranpo might have complained had he not then passed him a toy that really needs to die.

Fukuzawa sits and reviews the details of the bodyguarding escort he'll start tomorrow (and realizes belatedly that his call to the company will be further delayed by it). He's to guard a local official (who has done nothing to hide his shadier agreements with the local gangs, but Fukuzawa can hardly blame him when they run the streets) through a meeting in an old factory building downtown. Ranpo chews on his toy and watches him read over the mission again. He's reviewing the recent surveillance photos of the factory itself when Ranpo snatches one from the table as he sets it aside.

"Ranpo," Fukuzawa sighs in what has already become his designated Exasperated-With-Ranpo tone. Ranpo makes no move to run off with the photo, though Fukuzawa feels the threat looming as Ranpo presses the corner between his lips and flicks his tail, pleased with his catch.

"I'll play with you more when I'm finished," Fukuzawa assures him. He strokes Ranpo's head again and tugs the picture from Ranpo's mouth. Ranpo holds it with his teeth for a second, his intelligent green eyes flicking to Fukuzawa's, before he lets it go.

Fukuzawa scratches behind his ears and Ranpo purrs. He's about to return the photo to the pile when a discoloration in the image catches his attention. He swipes over it with his thumb, but the smudge stays in place. Only it's not a smudge. It's a small yellow light shining where no electronic should be. Tucked into the dark crevasse created by a support beam and a hallway is what appears to be a flash grenade on a remote detonator. Someone has laid a trap.

"Good kitty," he murmurs to Ranpo.

Only the official and the local gang should know about the meeting, but both benefit greatly from their alliance and had little to gain by breaking it. A third party? There were rival gangs in the area. Perhaps one wanted to steal the alliance with the official and planned to do it by framing the other as assassins. Fukuzawa would need to study the building layout and find alternate escape routes and points vulnerable to attack.

He pulls the blueprints from the file and spreads them over the table to study, Ranpo chirruping and hooking his chin over Fukuzawa's shoulder as if interested. Fukuzawa pets him absently while planning their new approach.

That night he lies awake and thinks about how strange it feels to have someone in bed beside him. Ranpo isn't as tiny as he'd expected, but Fukuzawa can't imagine how anyone smaller would have fit against his much larger frame. But then he hadn't intended for the catboy to sleep in his bed. He realizes he could have gone and gotten Ranpo his own bed earlier and decides to go to sleep rather than analyze why it hadn't crossed his mind to do so.

In the morning he goes to the job. He informs his client of the trap but, as he'd expected, Natsume insists on going to the meeting anyway. He does at least call his gang contact and inform them of the flash grenade. The gang makes quick work of it, and they find a few more but luckily nothing deadly. Fukuzawa is still cautious. He takes Natsume on an alternate route to the factory and slips into the building through a side entrance he'd found on the blueprints. They encounter no trouble. The meeting goes almost too well. Fukuzawa frowns at the shadows on the walls, the echoing empty hallways, the high windows in the factory's cavernous main floor while his client does his business. He's on high alert by the time they step outside. Not one threat has been made to the client's life and it sets his teeth on edge.

"I suppose your little catch scared them off," Natsume declares.

"Maybe," Fukuzawa replies, distracted.

"Come on, relax! Prevention is nine tenths of the cure, as they say. You did good work."

"I had some help."

"Oh? From who?"

"Me!"

The voice comes from the roof. Fukuzawa has to squint to see Ranpo through the glare of the reflected sun, perched as he is on top of a row of dormer windows.

Even more startling is the fact that he isn't the only one on the roof.

A man loses his footing at Ranpo's call, slips, slides down the rusty tin, and crashes to the ground at Fukuzawa's feet. A camera clatters after him, pieces flying off where it lands on the hard cement drainage system along the side of the building.

Seeing as the man is firmly unconscious, Fukuzawa turns his gaze back to the roof.

Ranpo is much more graceful in his descent. He hops from the dormer windows to the tin, slides down with his tail flicking for balance, then leaps from the edge of the roof into Fukuzawa's waiting arms.

"What on Earth are you doing here?" He asks, holding Ranpo close.

"Backing you up!" Ranpo chirps. "Government Guy is up for reelection, right? Pictures of a meeting like this would be a huuuuge scandal, he'd get voted out for sure. The flash grenades were this guy's dumb backup plan if he got caught."

Fukuzawa looks at the unconscious man. Then at the camera. Then at his stunned client.

Then he looks back at Ranpo.

"You can talk."

"Government Guy does good stuff, right? You wouldn't protect him if not. The guy running against him wants to crush all the local gangs, but that'll go nowhere and lead to a lot of dead bystanders. So I helped!"

"You-" Fukuzawa sighs. "You should have just warned me so I could take care of it." He frowns. "How did you know?"

"Nobody else would gain anything from messing with a boring meeting like this. And those were police flash grenades. It'd be easier for a gang to use a bomb rather than go through all the trouble of getting their hands on government-issue equipment. But his running opponent was in law enforcement for twenty years."

Fukuzawa stares. "...Huh."

"Are you mad?"

"I didn't know your bodyguard business was a partnership," Natsume interrupts before Fukuzawa can reply. He's unraveled the film into an overexposed spool of useless plastic. Fukuzawa straightens, apology ready. "I'm impressed. That was an inspired play - this man works in my office. Anything I knew he would know."

Fukuzawa glances back at Ranpo.

"What?"

"Did you know?" He asks quietly so Natsume wouldn't hear.

"Yeah? Government Guy put the cameras in. That one stun grenade in the picture was between three better hiding places for anyone on foot, but all the other spots were in full view of the camera. Whoever hid the stun grenades must have known where the cameras were, so they had to work in his office."

"...You are incredible," Fukuzawa murmurs, and Ranpo's eyes go wide but Fukuzawa has already turned to look at the client. "I apologize for the cloak and dagger."

"No no, you've gone above and beyond my expectations. Seems I've some house cleaning to do. I'll have to have someone pick this sap up," he nudges the unconscious man with his boot.

Fukuzawa sees Natsume around the building to his car and stands quietly as he drives away. Ranpo rocks on his heels and fidgets until Fukuzawa says "Let's go home."

Fukuzawa is lost in thought. Ranpo continues to defy his expectations. Could the genetic processing that produces catboys concoct someone like him on occasion? But no, he would have certainly heard about it if there had been several catboys like Ranpo. As a fluke, perhaps. He was simply a remarkable, impossible chance existence.

His thought process is derailed when Ranpo launches himself into his arms. Fukuzawa might have stumbled if he weighed anything.

"It's not a big deal!" Ranpo cries. "I know it's weird that I can talk! But it's not a big deal! I still like it when you pet me and I like to play! I'm still fun! Please don't send me-"

Fukuzawa wraps him in a hug, holding as tight as he dares.

"I'll have to call the company," he says, stroking Ranpo's hair, "to thank them for sending me such a wonderful partner."

[hedonistic-peacock]

Family Ties

Fem Reader x Donquixote Doflamingo

CW: Language, violence, blood, moral ambiguity, murder, sexual themes and situations 18+ only

Chapter 8: Something Like a Date

Since you wore yourself out repeatedly the afternoon before, you slept like a rock and ended up awake and about at 4am. Oh how the tides had turned on how this Sunday was going compared to last week. You took a nice shower that you had hoped would be relaxing, but the idea of getting into clothes that had been gifted to you had gotten your imagination rolling again.

You had once heard Thatch tell Marco that a man only gifts a woman clothes to see them on his floor, and by that logic they had decided to buy you a set of lockpicks for your birthday instead of clothes. But now the jest was bouncing around in your head as you put on the sweats and shirt.

You had to admit you were grateful, of all accessories provided, lingerie wasn't a part of it. You had plenty of your own and given the modest cut of the dress you didn't have to worry about needing anything custom to go along with it. It had taken you a few moments to decide on what underwear to wear – the basics, and assume nothing will happen? Or dress to match and deal with the fallout of having thought ahead if something does happen.

In the end you went with dressed to match, since the idea of something happening and being in your boring underclothes felt more mortifying than anything else. At least if you ended up being teased for matching it would help you lean into things that were already happening.

You stepped outside a few minutes before 8, enjoying the morning air and preferring to watch the world go by vs pacing yourself into a frenzy inside. It was barely a minute later when an, admittedly modest, limousine pulled up to the end of your driveway.

An older gentleman, who looks like he worked out at every available opportunity to be that muscled at that age, steps out from the limo's driver side and approaches you.

"Miss (Y/N), shall I take your bag?" He inquires. His voice didn't have the deep timbre that Doflamingo's did, but there was a layer of long-held authority in it. You doubted his only job was chauffer.

"Yes, please – mister?"

"Just Lao, young miss. The young master suggested that if you insisted on calling me Mr. Lao I should address you as young lady." He adds, and a grin spreads across your face.

"Very well, thank you for coming to get me, Lao." You reply as he puts the small suitcase into the trunk.

"You're quite welcome, Miss (Y/N)." He opens the door for you, and you had the good sense to let him. As you step into the limo, you find you were not alone.

Doflamingo sat along the side in casual enough attire you were almost unable to stop yourself from making a face at the sight of it. He still wore his shades, but the t-shirt fit him in a relaxed way – quite the feat given his broad shoulders. You were surprised to see sweatpants not dissimilar in style from yours, and loafers to finish the look. You noticed he had even downgraded his usual metal watch to one with a leather band.

You couldn't help yourself as you settled in, and quipped. "Do you even own a pair of sneakers?"

"Due to my height, my shoes are all custom-made." He replies smoothly enough.

"That would be a no, then." You smile back at him as Lao gets into the driver's seat.

Doflamingo gives a faint smirk and turns toward the front of the limo. "We are ready, Lao."

"Very well, young master." Comes the reply, and the window separating the driver from the two of you rolls up as the limo rolled into motion.

Taking a better look around the limo, you realize it wasn't overly large, but with enough room that both Doflamingo and you had a comfortable amount of personal space, while not being so separated as to make conversation awkward. The black leather interior was broken by accents of velvet and a deep blood-red wood grain. It was certainly old-time elegant, and not as flashy as you expected.

"I admit, I appreciate you sending over clothes for today. I would've felt uncomfortably under dressed for breakfast if I'd chosen something on my own." You'd poked him a couple times and he hadn't teased in return, so you figured it was only polite to go easy on him. As he said before, today was for your enjoyment.

"I'm glad to hear it put you at ease." He purrs with a smirk. Teasing or not that voice was a sin. "Before we get too far into the day, I did want to ask if you were at all uncomfortable with going to my family's estate. I have alternative plans if you'd rather not, so don't feel pressured."

"Will your family be there?"

"They will."

"I'm okay with it then," you admit. "Being in a place like that and having it empty would be a bit unnerving, but it wouldn't be bad to see your family again." You see him raise an eyebrow and you sigh in mock defeat, pouting and looking away. "I feel a tiny bit guilty for leaving how I did last week."

"I see."

"Minuscule." You reiterate, going quiet for a few minutes before relaxing into the comfortable seats. The low, barely noticeable vibration of the car's wheels as it drove forward were starting to lull you into a nap, and you decide to fight against it.

"So where are we going for breakfast, your estate?"

"No, after some asking around, I was informed of a nice place not far from here that does an exceptionally good job with breakfast, and I thought it would be worth the risk to go there."

It was your turn to raise your eyebrows in surprise. "I... don't mean this nearly as mean as it's gonna sound, but you don't look like the kind of person who risks the unknown, Trouble."

"I assure you; I take plenty of risks." He replies, and you could swear there was almost the tiniest hint of a pout in his voice.

"Oh, I'm sure you take all kinds of risks, Trouble." You laugh. "What I mean is you seem like someone who mitigates risks to make sure any risk you do take still end how you want. Like if you went skydiving you'd pack your own parachute."

Or provide someone with clothes for a day on the town so you knew they'd wear something that matched your style. You thought to yourself, finally realizing all the reasons behind the offered clothes.

"A fair assessment, Miss (Y/N), and one I imagine I cannot deny in this case either."

The limo comes to a stop, and you hear Lao exit from his cab. He opens the door and Doflamingo steps out first, offering his hand as you come out behind him.

"Something like a date, indeed, what a gentleman." You tease, taking his offered hand and stepping out of the limo.

"I did promise." He states.

"You never said 'promise', but you're keeping your word, so I'll appreciate... that..." Your words die on your lips as you realize you are outside Sanji's café. A sign on the door indicates they were closed, but Sanji steps out and greets you.

"The private party has arrived, right this way." He offers cheerfully.

You weren't sure who you needed to kill for this first, Trouble or Sanji. You opened and closed your mouth a couple times trying to find the right words and a chuckle from Doflamingo causes you to turn to him first.

"Worth the..." you stammer, and then bite back what else was on your mind, unsure of if you wanted to say it.

Stomping over to Sanji, you go to snag his cigarette out of his mouth, but he removes it and holds it aloft before you can reach him, smiling all the while. "You could've warned me." You huff.

"My silence was appropriately negotiated." He beams, he was having the time of his life, this romantic idiot. "Besides, (Y/N), I promised."

"Tch." You walk past Sanji and into the café. It was done up a little more than usual, with nothing but a single table in the middle of the, granted, small interior of the café. Normally there weren't more than five tables as it was.

After Doflamingo enters, Sanji closes and locks the door, to make sure that none of his sleepy morning regulars blunder in past Lao accidentally. There are menus waiting for you and Sanji leaves to get coffee before coming back to take your orders. You have been keeping your arms crossed and grumbling in Sanji's general direction since entering the café.

"I hope you're not truly upset, Miss (Y/N)." Doflamingo says as you wait for your meals.

You finally crack a smile and shake your head. "I'm... not. I'm just," you scrunch up your nose a little. "I can't say I dislike surprises, cause good surprises are great, I've just been done in by my own morals is all."

"Might I ask you to elaborate?" He inquires. You could feel him taking in all of this as though he were compiling data for future use.

"For reasons I'm not yet okay with getting into, let's just say I take promises seriously. Someone's word can falter, cause sometimes we agree to something, and it slips our mind. No shame, no foul." You explain. "But promises are another matter. An invocation of honor. I don't promise lightly, and my friends seem to have adapted it."

A moment's silence. "Ah, I see. You expected your long-time friend and boss would give you a warning about my plan."

"I did, until he said he had promised." Your smile is genuine. "I'm not mad. A little salty that I feel like I've fallen into a trap of some sort, but not mad."

"Promise?" Doflamingo prompts, quite the smile on his lips.

Your face goes pink despite your efforts. "Promise."

You have a good meal afterward, filled mostly with small talk about the food. You say the most; rambling on about Sanji's cooking, about how bad you were when you first started helping him, and about how you only absent-mindedly put buttered bread in a toaster one time before you never made that mistake again. It was hard to keep conversation going with Sanji's cooking in front of you, however, and things naturally die down as you finish up your meal.

"I don't know how you do it, Sange," you say, not quite hitting the last syllable of his name. "But I feel perfectly full again. Like if I had one more bite it would be too much."

"Agreed. It was delicious and satisfying." Doflamingo adds. "Well worth the risk."

You almost choke and then laugh. "You really are a smarmy bastard."

"Nonsense," Doflamingo insists, standing up and offering his hand. "Today I'm a perfect gentleman."

"You're a perfect something," you quip taking his hand. It was warm, and expectedly large, and you were reminded of when you shook hands before, as though he wanted to kiss yours instead of shaking it. "Jury's out on what, exactly."

He unlocks the door in a smooth motion and holds it open as you leave the café and go back into the limo. Lao assists you back in again, and this time Doflamingo sits next to you in the same backseat. There was still some space, and he kept his hands to himself, but the proximity was threatening to stir your imagination.

"We're not going far." He states, as though giving an excuse for why he hadn't moved to a different section of seating. "There's a small carnival between here and the estate and I had assumed it would be a good place to walk after breakfast."

"Oh, Binks' carnival," you are doing your best to seem completely unconcerned about the arrangement, you didn't want to scoot away and give the impression he was having an effect on you. "That's not a bad place for a stroll. Especially this early on a Sunday, there won't be many people."

The walk around the carnival grounds was relatively uneventful. Neither of you said a whole lot, but it wasn't uncomfortable. At one of the stands you leaned into the whole 'something like a date' concept, and asked him to buy you something to commemorate the day.

He makes a face. "Something from here?"

"Yes indeed Mr. Money-bags-inc." You flash your best teasing grin. "I want you to pick out some hokey cheap carnival gift. The ordeal will make this more of a proper repayment."

"Oh?"

"Well, I can already tell you're not particularly enjoying the idea of it." You grin. You feel like the Cheshire Cat, except with more sass. Sitting down on a nearby bench, you gesture for him to peruse the stalls, your feet kicking back and forth and the shit-eating grin still plastered on your face.

With a sigh, and a smile, he goes over to the stalls. You had to admit watching him walk away was a bit of a treat, he had an ass that didn't just look good in a suit, and it was a good thing you were already seated or you would've been tempted to smack it. You decide to distract yourself by poking at your phone for a little while, so as to not get caught staring.

You kept your eyes on your surroundings regardless and caught sight of someone you hoped would continue to not notice you. The officer appeared off-duty, which was surprising all on its own, you were pretty sure Agent Smoker only had one setting. But it seemed he was doing some volunteer work, as he was completely without any cigars, and surrounded by a small gaggle of children.

Kudos to him for doing the Big Brother thing and looking like an actual human begin while doing so. You notice Tashigi with him, coming back with two more kids following her, and trays of food for everyone. They disappeared off in a direction you were resolved to avoid, at least for today you didn't want to have to deal with either of them.

Not they were bad or treated you unkindly. Smoker wanted you to go into the force as a linguistics analyst or some other equally boring desk job. Tashigi thought you'd make a good agent if the desk job sounded too boring. Both knew who your biological dad was, and who you considered to be your real father. You imagined they were just trying to keep you out of trouble.

Bit late for that, though.

Doflamingo returns after a few long moments and sits down beside you. He holds out his hand, whatever he had decided on apparently fit inside of it.

"My dear," He says, and you weren't sure if he was playing at the role of A Good Date™, or if the 'something like' had started to fall away into actual date territory.

You put your hand out, palm up, expecting him to put it in your hand, when instead he slips a beaded bracelet around your wrist. The material holding it together was stretchy, the beads were small marble sized orbs of polished wood. For carnie fare, it was surprising good quality, and looked quite elegant.

You smile. "Leave it to you to find the highest quality carnival gift I've ever seen."

"I do my best within the situation." He replies with a chuckle, and you feel a heat in your cheeks rise.

Before you even left the carnival grounds you knew those cheap wooden beads were already more important to you than they should've been. It was a shame there was no way they'd go with the evening gown, and you certainly weren't going to risk them swimming.

You head back to the limo, and while you let Lao open the door, you step back and make a dramatic flourish with your arm, bowing. "Age before beauty, Trouble, I insist."

The cheeky action earns you a small chuckle and Doflamingo gets into the limo first. Your win, you imagine, but he sits in the back-side seat again. If you didn't want to sit beside him, you'd have to step over him. This slick bastard.

You decide to turn your win into a draw, and sit down beside him. He already has one arm draped across the back of the seat, and you opt to sit close enough to be under his arm while not right next to him. Between his reach and your height, it wasn't like you were really super near any part of him.

"Now we're headed to your estate?" You prompt, putting a bit of lift on the word estate as though you were teasing him for being rich.

"Mmm," He agrees as he leans into your teasing. "We're headed to my estate, in my limo, driven by my chauffeur, so that my savoir can swim in my pool and relax before dinner." Oh, when he smoothed out his voice and teased you it was better than you had imagined.

"Savior, huh?" You muse, trying to distract yourself from the effect his proximity and tone were having on you. "I wouldn't go that far. If those SUVs hadn't belonged to your family, it would've been a total botch job on my part."

"And yet the end result has been thus." His seems to pout.

You turn toward him a little, looking up and giving him a crooked smile. "You sound irritated by that. Are you angry someone had to step in and help?"

A frown twists his face for a second, before he was back to his usual expression. "Not even slightly. I feel as though you are undervaluing what you did, and that is unacceptable."

"Oh." You lean back into the seat, heat going to your ears. "Well... my apologies, then." Being told to value yourself by an international underworld mob boss was certainly an experience. "So, uh, tell me about your family. If I'm going to meet more important people, I'd rather not do so cold."

"Very well, my dear."

He spent the rest of the car ride telling you about his family. Names and basic descriptions. you'd met Vergo and Diamante before, and briefly interacted with Dellinger, and Lao was driving the limo. When he spoke about his family there was a kindness in his voice you hadn't expected. He very obviously cared about these people, even if they all worked together for often nefarious reasons, and you were absolutely certain he'd burn and salt the world to protect them if that's what it took.

In the twenty or so minutes of the ride you learned about sixteen members of the family, and some of their more particular quirks. Pica had a unique voice, and he was quite sensitive about it. Giolla's taste in art suited her but it was a bit outside what would be considered typical. When he talked about Dellinger you admitted to having praised his heels. That earned you a smile, before he moved on to Senor Pink. This poor man had been through the ringer, and how he coped could be shocking if you weren't prepared for it.

Aside from Baby being needy, the rest of the family seemed fairly normal. Sugar was the youngest, but she was Monet's baby sister and not the only child at the estate either. While you hadn't met Violet, you had spoken with her, and that covered the immediate family for the most part.

When you arrived at the estate, you had to admit that Doflamingo was in a different class from Pops, it was almost twice the land and building size. Which wasn't too surprising, since the immediate Family of Donquixote was quite a few more top officers than Pop had. You imagine the number of subordinates was a number of people that was a real nightmare to keep organized.

There wasn't a chance to go swimming. You saw the pool, and the gardens, and the dinning room, kitchen, living area, work out room, Sugar's playroom, Dellinger's heel collection, half – if not all – of Giolla's favorite art pieces, and were told about the deep history of some of the estate's older heirlooms by Lao. You had been effectively kidnapped by Doflamingo's family. Not even Doflamingo could save you.

Sugar had immediately decided she liked you and was putting random bow clips in your hair while you painted Dellinger's nails after an hour or so of being dragged around the estate. Sure, some of these people were a little quirky, but you couldn't say that your friends were exactly normal either.

"There you are." Doflamingo's voice was full of amusement. You probably look like a reject store front display with enough unmatched barrettes in your hair to make clacking noises if you moved your head too fast.

"Here I am." You reply, not looking up from what you were doing. "I'm almost finished with Dellinger's nails, give me a moment."

"We still have some time to spare, though I apologize there won't be enough time for you to swim before we need to leave." He didn't sound too apologetic, and you imagine it was because you had been effectively claimed by his family.

"(Y/N) can come over again and swim whenever she wants." Sugar declares. "You weren't only going to visit today, were you?"

"If you're only here for today you can't leave to go to some stupid restaurant." Dellinger adds. "You're going to come back, right, right?"

You finish with Dellinger's nails and smile. "I mean, that's kind of your boss's call."

"Young master, you have to let her come back!" Sugar demands, flashing an impressive pair of puppy dog eyes at Doflamingo.

"Young master pleeeeease?" Dellinger begs, drawing out the long word in a childish whine and trying to imitate Sugar's puppy dog eyes.

You get up and walk toward him. "I feel like you're going to be outvoted if you don't acquiesce." You tease, pointing to the clips in your hair. "I've been adorned with highly valued prize items after all, you might have a rebellion on your hands."

"Rebellion!" Sugar says forcefully.

Dellinger turns to her hurriedly. "No rebellion Sugar! Focus on the prize items!"

"Highly prized (y/n)!" Sugar put her fist in the air.

Your face goes beet red at the unexpected qualifier, and Doflamingo licks the bottom of his lip before his face splits into a devious grin.

"Highly prized, indeed." His voice rumbles quietly, but you weren't sure if the others had heard him. "Miss (Y/N) is allowed to return if she wants to," he says, loudly enough for Sugar and Dellinger to hear. "But we cannot force her, she's not a part of the family."

There was an unspoken yet that drove its way into your brain, and you had the distinct impression of being hunted again. You could feel heat in places that weren't just your face and then shoved your children-inappropriate thoughts back down into the corner of your mind before turning toward Sugar – who has turned her puppy dog eyes on you.

"Since I've been invited, I'll come back." You assure her, taking out some of the clips. "So make sure you keep these safe and you can fancy up my hair again next time, okay?"

Sugar nods happily in response and her and Dellinger start chattering about all the things they could do the next time you visited while they help you remove the rest of the clips. In the few minutes it took them to empty your hair of clips you were certain they'd listed off enough events to ensure you'd be visiting several more times.

Leaving the others behind, the two of you walk down the hallway together. Despite the bustle of the estate, you realize that there wasn't anyone else around. You very quickly became very aware of being alone with him.

"There's been a room and bath prepared for you," Doflamingo begins, "so you can relax and clean up at your leisure before dinner. Lao has already put your luggage in the room for you." He stops in front of a door, opening it and allowing you to step through. "If you need anything, the common room is in that direction," he points, "please don't hesitate to ask."

"Ah, um... thank you." You manage, walking by him into the room you found yourself a full bundle of nerves. You kept expecting, or wanting, him to just reach out and do as he pleased, or maybe as you pleased.

"You're welcome, Miss (Y/N). I had been informed by your talented café boss that you do appreciate space and quiet. After the welcome my family unexpectedly bestowed upon you, I believed this would be an acceptable adjustment to the schedule." He didn't draw nearer, or loom, or do anything ungentlemanly, but you still felt the small hairs on your neck stand on end.

You chuckle a bit as you step further in and appreciate the room. It was luxurious, but not ostentatiously so, and the door leading into the private bath was open. There were several bookcases, seating for people who were visiting, and an impressive four poster bed that was separated slightly from the more common area of the room by drapes and an elegant room divider. There was a TV as well, and a computer – not that you were going to log into someone else's family network during your short stay, but the efficiency of items in the room was appreciable.

"I believe I was correct earlier," you muse, turning toward him with a smile. "You really do mitigate all possible risks, don't you?"

He chuckles. "Such mitigation seems hardly effective recently." He admits, his voice slipping from the near-business tone he'd been using most of the day, into something more akin to a purr.

Oh. Oh I was not wrong. Things had gone from business to interest at the café, and there was no mistaking that interest was fast becoming desire. Assuming it hadn't already gotten there before now, and he was just putting on a solid gentlemanly display this entire day.

"Until later, Miss (Y/N), please relax to your heart's content." He bids you farewell and closes the door.

You gulp, alone in the room, and silently wondering if a fling was even an acceptable possibility at this point. If he was as skilled in other activities as he was in well, in whatever all this was, then it might be impossible to just dip a toe in the proverbial pool.

If the vibe was appropriate during dinner, it wouldn't be a bad idea to brooch the topic. Leaving things unresolved wasn't really your style, and if being blunt scared him off easily, then that would resolve things.

And if it didn't, then, well, that was not something entirely undesired. 

[galactia]

Stares very deeply into Kaeya’s eyes. She can make something out… (for suspicious sunday funs 👀)

suspicious sunday shenanigans - signe can see the 'worst' thing someone has done, and feel their emotions as it happened

"Signe?" Kaeya's eye met hers, and though he met her stare, it was hardly with the same measure of intensity. A low huff of breath, near a chuckle, parted his lips, "... Something on my face?"

"I'm not from Mondstadt. I'm-... I'm Khaenri'an."

".... What? Kaeya-... what are you saying?" Incredulous, even distant. The voice of a drifting man returning to focus. Diluc's eyes were watery, as he turned his head.

"I'm Khaenri'an, 'Luc. Cursed people destroyed by the gods? Yes. My birthright. The man who abandoned me, m-my.... biological father, he-..." Stuttering hadn't been Kaeya's way since he was a boy, but he stumbled now, over how to say this. Over how to admit- "He meant for me to be an informant. A spy. So that if the Khaenri'an ever rose to glory again I'd-...I-..." It sounded dirty, wrong. He didn't meant it that way. As a boy it simply had been.

"You-... what? What are you admitting to? What have you done?" Diluc's voice shook, and it tore into Kaeya to hear it, but the guilt was a howl in his head and an iron vice in his chest and he couldn't breathe. He just had to finish-

"gods-.... I never told father." The words rushed from Kaeya's lips, "I didn't know how. I didn't think I could. I-... think I should have. And I couldn't go another day without you knowing the truth." An exhale, blue eyes on his brother, palms out, up.

"Crepus body isn't even cold, and you are telling me-... you had something to do with father's death? That you..... that you're a spy, a traitor?" The strength had returned, and Diluc faced him fully now, brow darkened to a grieved and angry furrow.

"No. No! 'Luc no. I would never hurt Crepus. I loved him, as you did. I-... this was a mistake. I should have waited. I'm sorry-" The cold trickled through him. This really had been the worst, goddamn mistake. What was he doing? Tonight? Crepus was dead. Their father was dead. He should be comforting Diluc, not-... this.

"No." Diluc's voice almost roared at him, and Kaeya's head snapped back up, "Stand and face me. How could you. How could you lie to father and to me, all these years? So it was all a lie! Everything? How could you do this!"

Kaeya shook his head, "Diluc, please. I'm so sorry. I was wrong to tell you, tonight of all nights. And maybe I was wrong to keep it a secret at all. But no-... it wasn't all a lie. You're my brother-"

"Traitor." Diluc hissed, and it was so unlike him. So-... enraged. Kaeya blinked, taken aback, feeling as if he'd been slapped.

"No, 'Luc-"

"Traitor!" Diluc shouted instead, eyes as red as his vision that pulsed at his hip. His palm found purchase on his claymore and Kaeya stepped back.

"'Luc, wait!" He deserved this. He'd brought this on himself. Stupid, stupid boy. Selfish- Kaeya was shaking, eyes welling and spilling over, "Diluc-"

"Draw your sword, traitor!" The growling of fire and Diluc's choked, furious roar rushed toward him.

The bite of metal and scorch of fire tore into his face, bursting across his right eye with pain as he lifted his sword, parrying the blow only just as a cry of pain strangled from his throat. The skin of his hand blistered, burnt, and it was the second blow that singed through his clothes, falling short of cutting deeply into his chest (met again, only just, but his sword) but boiling his skin in its path. A rush of frigid air seemed to take into his lungs, and from his blade and hand frost leapt outward, pushing back at Diluc's blade and sending steam (as cryo met pyro) flying toward both of them.

Kaeya fell back, crumpling onto the floor, nearly sobbing as he pressed his palm to his face. There was blood between his fingers and running from his chest- He couldn't see-.... it hurt-!

Through tears, he saw a blue glow, and in his other palm lay a vision, marked with the symbol of cryo. Oh gods-

"Lady Signe?" Kaeya's voice in the present, "Are you all right?"